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

by Eliza Parsons

  "Not so," quickly replied Ferdinand, apprehensive that his friend was jealous of his attention to Miss D'Alenberg; "I am rejoiced to see her so unexpectedly recovered, and admire her as greatly as ever I did; her pleasing vivacity will, I hope, be of service to her friend.—Yet you must allow, the Count's death so recent, a man whom she so passionately loved, 'tis rather extraordinary that she appears to be so little affected."

  "Not at all," answered the Count; "she had long ceased to esteem him; his conduct merited her scorn; and his late attempt against her must have eradicated every trait of affection; nor could she think herself safe from his machinations whilst he had existed. Her behaviour, therefore, is very natural;—she is freed from a villain, who had cruelly used her, and relieved from that fear and anxiety which must have embittered every hour in his life time. I applaud her for not pretending to a regret or sorrow, it was impossible she should feel."

  "Do you suppose, then," said Ferdinand, "'tis so easy a matter to teach the heart to resign its affections; can the unworthiness of a beloved object so soon eradicate all tenderness from a bosom accustomed to love?"

  "I know at least, that it ought to be so," replied the Count; "because love ought to be grafted on esteem; and the loss of one should be the death of the other."

  "Should be," repeated Ferdinand with a sigh.—"Alas! how seldom is the refractory heart under the guidance of reason."

  Being joined by their friends, the conversation became general, and they walked together to the Baron's house.

  They had hardly dined, when a servant entered and said, a man on horseback had a letter for Count Ferdinand, which he refused to deliver to any but himself.—Surprised, he hastily run to the door; the man respectfully gave him the letter "from my master, Count Rhodophil Renaud." Ferdinand, with a trembling hand, broke the seal:—The contents were these:

  "My Dear Brother,

  "Life is ebbing fast; all hopes are over; if you ever wish to see me more, lose no time; set off directly; I have things of consequence to impart, for your interest; if you ever loved me, hasten to the dying

  "RHODOPHIL."

  "Good God!" exclaimed Ferdinand, "how long has my brother been ill?"

  "He has been drooping some time," answered the servant; "but 'tis only a week since the doctor told him his danger, and the Countess is half distracted; for I have heard that day and night he wishes to see you."

  "Go to the next inn," said Ferdinand; "refresh yourself; order post horses from the post house; I will be ready in two hours to accompany you."

  Excessively agitated, he returned to his friends, produced the letter, and announced his intention of quitting Vienna immediately.

  This design produced a general concern; every face was clouded.

  "I will go with you," said the Count.

  "Indeed you will not," replied Ferdinand; "it was your intention to stay some time longer; the business we have been engaged in may require your presence here; I cannot ask you to my brother's castle; a short time may decide how I am at liberty to act; I shall write the moment I get home."

  "Indeed," said Mr. D'Alenberg, 'this is very unlucky, and will shorten our stay in Vienna."

  "Perhaps, then," said the Baron, "we may all soon follow you; for I have business that calls me into Bavaria, though I postponed it until the time for your departure was fixed, and which indeed I concluded would not happen for some time."

  "I wish," said the Count, "you would permit me to go with you; I feel as if I ought to go."

  "Not a word on the subject," returned Ferdinand; "I leave you here to answer for me to Miss D'Alenberg, to her friend, and all other claims upon me; have the kindness to acquaint the ladies of the necessity which tears me from them for the present, though I hope it will not be long before we meet again."

  "I hope the same," said Mr. D'Alenberg; "for you possess my warmest esteem and best wishes."

  Ferdinand felt the kindness of his friends, and withdrew, to hide his emotions, and prepare for his journey.

  "You will excuse me," said Mr. D'Alenberg, "if I leave you; I like not the parting minute, and have an unpleasant task to perform, in preparing my young folks to receive you in the evening without your friend. I shall expect you, however; we will mingle our regrets."

  He left them; the Count repaired to Ferdinand's apartment; again urged his wish to accompany him; but the other as firmly refused it.

  "Stay here," said he, "'till you hear from me, and then perhaps I shall solicit, as the first wish of my heart, what I now refuse, the company of my friend."

  The Count was silenced, though not satisfied, and assisted very reluctantly in settling things for their separation. The moment arrived; the post horses were at the door, and they parted with equal regret on all sides. Ferdinand determined to take no rest until he arrived at Lintz, but merely changed horses, and proceeded with the greatest expedition. The servant informed him he had business of consequence to do for Madam, the Countess, at Lintz, but which would not detain him many hours.

  Here then Ferdinand thought he might rest, and to Lintz they at length arrived, excessively fatigued with long and hard riding. When Ferdinand had ordered some refreshment, the servant left him, and he seized five minutes to write a few lines to Count M***; the man was not long absent; they retired for a few hours to sleep, and then rose to pursue their journey with fresh spirits.

  They had got near five miles from Lintz, and had ascended a steep hill, which was covered with trees.—On one side, you saw the plain through which the road lay; on the other side was a craggy mountain, at the foot of which run the river: The path-way was narrow; one horse only could with safety proceed at a time: Ferdinand was turning his horse round a clump of trees, when he received a shot, that brought him tumbling on the earth, and in the same moment, before he had recovered any recollection, he was precipitated down the broken mountain, and fell into the river, so bruised and senseless, that when he recovered his reason, he could scarcely recollect what had befallen him, nor the smallest idea from what hand he had received the injury.

  Providentially, in rolling into the river, one of his hands got entangled in some low bushes, that grew on the edge of the water, that he was suspended from sinking, as he might otherwise have done, and the chill of the water restored his senses, but he saw the water was coloured with his blood, and felt that he was growing very faint; he therefore made an effort, by clinging fast to the wood and weeds, to drag himself out, and with some difficulty succeeded.

  He found the shot had gone through the fleshy part of his right arm, and slightly wounded his side. With no small labour he got his coat off; for he had many bruises which began to grow painful; he tore his shirt, and with that and his handkerchief, bound up the wound as well as pain would enable him to do; but the effort, loss of blood, and the soreness of his limbs, rendered him extremely faint, and he had just time to drag himself farther on the bank, when he again felt his senses leaving him, and supposed death was at hand.

  He returned a second time to life, but so enfeebled, and in so much pain, that he found it impossible to rise, and saw no prospect of relief: He looked round to see if the servant was in a similar situation, but no object met his view, and he had much reason to fear that he was killed upon the spot, and thrown into the river, where he sunk; for he had no doubt upon his mind but that he received the wound from some banditti, and even seemed to have an idea of seeing some objects among the trees just as he was wounded; and he supposed, by falling from the horse, he had accidentally rolled down the mountain, as their intention was doubtless to plunder him. Having settled the matter in his own mind, he pitied the fate of the servant, and lamented the distress his brother and friends would feel, when hearing no intelligence of him.

  Hopeless of assistance, he thought his struggles for life, had only protracted his fate a few short hours, when he must inevitably perish; his only chance of help was the passing of a boat, and that hope was a very feeble one.

  He happened to have two small bis
cuits, which he had put into his pocket at one of their last stages, but which he found broken in pieces by his fall; for the present he wanted no refreshment; his faintness arose from pain, and the sickness occasioned by rolling down such a tremendous height, which, when he raised his eyes to view it, he considered it as next to a miracle that he had not been dashed to pieces.

  For some hours, he remained comfortless and despairing on the bank, when suddenly he saw a figure issue from a cavity in one of the hanging fragments of the rock, that appeared like something human, though bent almost double with age; a blanket wrapped round him, with holes to let out his arms, and tied round the middle with a cord; a long beard, and feeble steps, proclaimed his age and weakness. As this object approached nearer, Ferdinand saw his head was uncovered, exposed to the weather, his venerable silver locks flowing round his shoulders.

  He was so struck with wonder and admiration, that he had no power to cry out; and, as he lay, the weeds and wild shrubs almost hid him from being seen. The old man was passing on slowly, and seemingly deeply meditating, when the other exerted himself to say, "Stop! Oh! stop!"

  The man started.—"From whence comes that voice?" said he, advancing, and presently discovered Ferdinand.

  "Gracious Father!" exclaimed he, "who are you, and how came you here, my son?"

  "I fell from the brow of the hill into the river."

  "Wonderful Providence! What, unhurt?"

  "I cannot say that," replied he; "I am very much bruised, I believe, besides being wounded by a pistol in my arm and side, which occasioned my falling."

  "Alas! my son, how shall I help you;—you cannot rise."

  "Indeed I cannot; but perhaps I may endeavour to crawl a small distance, if there is any place to receive me."

  "Try, then, my child; for I have a comfortable cell, if 'tis possible for you to reach it."

  Ferdinand, suddenly inspired with hope, and fresh desires for life, exerted himself with uncommon resolution, and though he felt agonies of pain, he bore it without a groan, so anxious was he to obtain rest and help.

  Such is the natural fondness for life implanted in the mind of man, that when sickness and despair has annihilated hope, and taught the suffering wretch to look forward to the close of his existence, as his only refuge from misery, if some unlooked for crisis changes the nature of his disorder, or a dawn of better prospects is presented to his view—he no longer courts death as the end of his troubles, but with new desires, new hopes, he struggles to retain and preserve life, though sure of encountering future ills, and of going through the same sad scene again.

  So was it with Ferdinand, to whom an existence for many months, nay, even for years, had been an evil, he thought, he should have felt grateful to be released from, but the near prospect of death had taught him a different lesson; he found he had still some ties on earth that clung to his heart, and whom he shuddered to think of parting with for ever.

  Eager, therefore, to profit by the old man's offer, he so successfully laboured, that he got to the part of the rock from whence he saw him emerge; but it was a work of extreme difficulty, and with all the assistance that old age was capable of lending, that he crawled up the broken fragments, and at length crept through the cavity into a spacious cell. The moment he entered, the spirit that had supported him failed, and he fainted.

  The venerable man poured water upon him, and when he perceived returning life, forced a little wine down his throat, that revived him.—He next examined his bruises, and anointed them with some oil, the only thing he had that could do good, and having shook up his mattress of straw, he covered it with a blanket, and laid Ferdinand upon it. In a very short time, overcome with fatigue and weakness, he dropped asleep, and enjoyed comfortable rest for more than six hours.

  When he awoke, though stiff and sore, yet his spirits and strength seemed much recruited; the good man gave him some bread and wine, and with a few simple herbs and oil, prepared to dress his wound and bruises.—Luckily the ball passed quite through his arm, and wounded his side, without lodging in it; therefore his venerable host gave him hopes no ill consequences would ensue from that; the bruises would be more troublesome than the wound; but as he observed, 'twas a miracle that every bone had not been broken.

  Ferdinand mentioned to him the accident as well as he could recollect; for the whole was so momentary, that he was hardly sensible how it happened. The old man paused, and considered.

  "Possibly," said he, 'there may be banditti in the neighbouring hills and woods, but I never heard of any accident there; 'tis a strange business; but thank Heaven, my son, whatever was their evil intent, you have escaped with life; and if in a few days you are able to walk, there is a castle not far off, where you will be better taken care of than by me."

  Ferdinand thanked the venerable man, and was grateful to Heaven, who had so wonderfully preserved him. The simple remedies applied to his hurts, agreed perfectly well with them; and in the course of two days he began to feel considerably better.

  CHAPTER IV

  During this time he had inquired of his host "how long he had lived in that rock?"

  "Many years (replied he;) I had once a place at Court, was esteemed by the late Emperor, and not a small favourite with a Lady he loved. I often attended him when he visited her privately, and I happened to be young and pleased her fancy: I do not pretend to defend my conduct, I ought to have remembered the Emperor was my master and benefactor; but the seductive arts of women it is difficult to withstand, and perhaps I made no efforts for the purpose; be that as it may, the intrigue was discovered, the Lady was disgraced and confined; a criminal accusation, certainly without the least foundation, was set on foot against me; I fled to save my life, for a price was set on my head.

  "In a boat I got landed on this side of the river, and strolled to these mountains, resolved to hide myself in a cave till the search was over, and then leave Germany for ever. Climbing the different rocks I at length discovered this cavity, and took courage to enter it: I found it such as you see, whether made by the hand of nature, or the work of some unhappy proscribed man, I know not. This I made my resting place; water and a few herbs, that grew wild here, was all I had for three days, and I found life could not long be supported in that way.

  "The fourth day I followed the course of the river a good way, and saw one of the packet-boats, that goes between Ulm and Lintz, with passengers, going by: I called to them, and they drew near; I entreated some provisions; they offered to take me on board; that I declined, telling them peculiar misfortunes had made society hateful to me, and that I had resolved to live in an uninhabited place. The people I believe supposed me to be deranged, but very humanely supplied me. I had not fled without money, which, in the situation I had chosen, was likely to last me a great while; I bargained therefore with the master of the packet-boat regularly to call near that spot, and relieve my necessities, for which I would pay him liberally. This he never failed doing, and though doubtless I ran some risque from the variety of passengers who saw me, yet, whether want of curiosity, indolence, or compassion, saved me I know not; but I suppose the Emperor's wrath abated, and I was totally forgotten.

  "I had resided here near two months without venturing to climb the hills, or explore the country beyond the spot I inhabited; but the failure of the regular packet, from what cause I know not, had exhausted my provisions, and gave me a prospect of approaching death if I was not relieved. I saw several boats pass, but at too great a distance to make myself heard. The weather set in cold and dreary, and I was almost in a state of despair, which at length conquered my fears of being discovered, and I resolved to ascend the hills, and penetrate through the woods.

  "One morning I set off, but from want of food was too feeble to proceed with any expedition; however I persevered, and with much labour got round the side of these rocky hills to a most beautiful wood of chestnuts, about three miles from hence, and in the midst of the grove saw a Castle. Overcome with fatigue, without hesitation, I advanced and r
ung at the gate; a man appeared, to whom I mentioned my necessities. I was courteously invited in, had some food given me, and questioned how far I was travelling? Without any disguise I freely told my place of abode, and that hunger had driven me to make application there.

  "This story was related to the Lord of the Castle, and I was ordered to attend him. He was a venerable old man, two youths, his sons, were with him. Without telling my name, or assigning my motives, I briefly said, misfortunes had deprived me of my fortune, and driven me from my country.

  "The old Lord blamed me for seeking an abode among the mountains, told me that a young and active mind ought not to indulge in solitude and idleness, that there were other countries, and many situations, in which a young man might be useful to society, and creditable to himself.—He was certainly right, but I felt no inclination to seek my fortune, without a name I dared avow, or recommendations to give me consequence.

  "I liked the solitary rambling life I had led for some time, an habitual indolence, perhaps an unsocial temper, and I acknowledge, not the smallest inclination for a military life, had altogether received strength from the silence and obscurity of my present dwelling; I therefore declined all his kind advice, and indeed offers, evaded his inquiries, and persisted in my resolution of living among the mountains, woods and glens, so that I could find sufficient sustenance.

  "When he found my determination was fixed, I thought he eyed me with contempt: 'A young man to live secluded from society, and from choice lead such an inactive desultory kind of life (said he) can have but a very weak mind, an ignoble soul, or must have deserved to be proscribed by mankind: However, as a fellow creature, you claim relief, therefore I will order for you a few necessaries that may make your cave comfortable, and twice a week my steward shall have orders to relieve your wants. I am going to leave this country in a few days; but will take care you shall not want the means to support your existence.'