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

by Eliza Parsons

  She had just unlocked the cabinet, when she felt her arm suddenly grasped. She started; and, turning with quickness, beheld her father. The dagger instantly dropped from her trembling hand; and, recoiling a few paces, she stood motionless, gazing alternately at it and St. Julian.

  With the quickness of lightning he snatched it from the ground: but scarcely had his eye glanced on it, ere he let it fall; and, turning with a death-like countenance to her, demanded, in a faltering voice—from whence, or from whom she had got it?

  "From D'Alembert," replied the almost fainting Madeline.

  "From him! (repeated St. Julian, striking his breast, and starting); Oh, heavens! by what means did it come into his possession?"

  "I know not," said Madeline.

  "But you know the fearful story with which it is connected."

  "Oh, my father! (cried Madeline), do not question me."

  "This instant (exclaimed he in a frantic manner, advancing to her, and grasping her hands), declare what D'Alembert said; without hesitation, without equivocation, let me know all he told you."

  "Oh, my father! (said Madeline sinking on her knees), do not be thus agitated."

  "Once more (cried he), I command you to tell me all that passed between you and D'Alembert; if you longer delay, you will work me up to frenzy."

  Thus urged, Madeline, in scarcely intelligible accents, and still kneeling, revealed the dreadful conversation. After she had concluded, St. Julian continued some minutes silent, immovable, and in an attitude of horror which almost froze her heart. He then knelt beside her; and, wrapping his arms round her, strained her in convulsive agitation to his breast, and leaned his head upon her shoulder.

  At length, raising it, he looked up to heaven—"Almighty God! (he cried) I bend before thy will; thy chastisement is just, though dreadful; and vain are the arts by which we would elude it. The hour of retribution, though sometimes delayed, is never forgotten. Oh, my child! dear pledge of a tender, though disastrous love! sweet image of the most lovely and injured of women! conscious that I merited the vengeance of Heaven, not on my own account, but thine, did I wish to ward off the blow of justice; I wished to save thy gentle nature from the bitter pangs of seeing thy father dragged to torture, and the yet bitterer pangs of knowing he deserved it. But that wish is frustrated at the very time when its frustration was least expected; no doubt for the wisest purposes, to prove to mankind that guilt can never hope for lasting concealment. How my unfortunate story became known to D'Alembert, I cannot conceive; but that it is, that fatal instrument of death too plainly proves. Yes, he spoke truth when he said the blood of innocence had polluted it; it did, and now cries aloud for mine."

  "Oh, horror!" groaned Madeline.

  "In mercy, in pity to me (exclaimed St. Julian, again straining her to his bosom), try to compose your feelings! Oh, let me not have the excruciating misery of thinking I destroyed my child: exert your resolution, my Madeline, and live to reconcile mankind, by your virtues, to the memory of your father."

  "But though D'Alembert (cried Madeline, whose recollection sudden horror had for a few minutes suspended), is acquainted with your story, there is a method (she continued, rising from the floor), to prevail on him to conceal it."

  "A method which I will never suffer you to adopt (exclaimed St. Julian); Oh, never shall my child be sacrificed to save my life."

  "Ah, little do you know the soul of your child, if you suppose she will leave untried any expedient that may save you. Hear her solemnly swear (cried she, again kneeling), by that Being she worships—by the spirit of her mother—by all that is holy in his sight, to become the wife of young D'Alembert, if by doing so she can bind his father to inviolable secrecy."

  "My inestimable child! (said St. Julian, raising and embracing her); alas! what a wretch am I to think I have doomed you to misery!"

  "No (cried Madeline), you have not; my fate cannot be miserable if I know it has mitigated your's."

  "I will no longer delay revealing my sad story to you (said St. Julian); perhaps after hearing it, some other expedient than a marriage with D'Alembert may strike you for preserving me.

  "You expect, no doubt (resumed he after he had secured the doors, and seated himself by her), a tale of horrors; alas! that expectation will be but too dreadfully fulfilled!"

  CHAPTER V

  Prepare, to hear

  A story that shall turn thee into stone.

  Could there be hewn a monstrous gap in Nature,

  A flaw made through the centre by some god,

  Thro' which the groans of ghosts might strike thine ear,

  They would not wound thee as this story will.

  "Do not be too much shocked, my love (cried St. Julian) on finding that I deviated from truth, which in the course of this narrative you must discover; that deviation was occasioned by tenderness for you; for I was well convinced of the misery you would feel if I confessed the involuntary suspicions you entertained of me on our first coming to the castle were well founded;—alas! they were too just!"

  He stopped for a minute as if overcome by agony; then again addressing her—"you recollect, I suppose (said he) all the particulars I informed you of in our journey hither?"

  "I do," said Madeline.

  "I told you (resumed he) of the letter I received from my brother, requesting me to leave my elizium on the Alps, and of my meeting him in the pursuance of it in the forest of Montmorenci. He was so much altered, that had I met him elsewhere by chance, I should scarcely have known him. He told me he had been long indisposed, and that it was in consequence of his indisposition and the languid state of his spirits, that he had requested to see me, certain that my presence would operate like a rich cordial upon him.

  "In the cottage where he had lodged me on the commencement of our acquaintance, he again procured a chamber for me; it stood at the extremity of the forest, and belonged to a brother of Lafroy's, who was then valet to Lord Philippe; and by him I was introduced at it as an unfortunate young man taken under the patronage of his Lord.

  "Every morning I met my brother, but met him without having the pleasure of seeing his health in the least amended. My regret at the continuance of his illness, joined to my uneasiness at being absent from home, rendered me extremely unhappy. I had been about a fortnight at the cottage, when one morning as I was preparing to walk out as usual to meet Lord Philippe, a letter arrived by a strange servant from the castle, informing me that he was so extremely ill he could not leave his room; and therefore requested, as the length of his confinement was uncertain, I would no longer delay returning home on his account.

  "Notwithstanding this request, notwithstanding my strong anxiety, my ardent wishes to be again in that dear home, which contained a being more precious to me than existence, I could not bear the idea of departing, till assured he was at least out of danger."

  "I wrote to this purpose, and entreated to hear from him as soon as possible. The day wore away, however, without any other tidings from the castle. As I sat, at its close, in a melancholy manner in my little chamber, ruminating over past scenes, and sometimes trying to cheer my heart by anticipating the happiness I should experience in again folding my Geraldine to it, I was suddenly startled by a loud knock at the cottage-door. Full of the idea of receiving a letter from the castle, I was rushing all impatience from the room, when the sound of a strange voice arrested my steps, and I was soon convinced that the man whom my host admitted had no business with me.

  "I therefore returned to my seat, and was again sinking into a reverie, when a few words from the next room, which was only divided from mine by a thin partition, completely roused me, and made me, I may say, become all ear.

  "'Well, Claude (asked my host in a familiar voice), what journey have you been taking this time?'

  "'The old one (replied Claude); I have been to see my godfather who lives upon the Alps; he always makes me a handsome present when I visit him.'

  "'So he should, I am sure (said his companion); visiting
him must be plaguey troublesome, considering the long and dangerous way you have to go.'

  "'Who do you think I met travelling that way this morning?' cried Claude.

  "'I am sure 'tis impossible for me to guess,' replied Josephe, the name of my host.

  "'No other than our young Lord the Marquis of Montmorenci's son,' said Claude, 'posting away as if the devil was at his heels.'

  "'Our young Lord! (repeated Josephe in a tone of astonishment), no, I'll be sworn you did not meet him; why, man, he is at this very moment confined to his room by a violent illness.'

  "'Well or ill, I say I met him (vociferated Claude, as if angry at being doubted), and your brother Lafroy along with him.'

  "'Your eyes certainly deceived you (said Josephe); what in the name of wonder should induce him to report he was ill except he really was so, or bring him the way you said you met him.'

  "'I certainly cannot assign a reason for his pretending illness (replied Claude); but I can give a very sufficient one for his journey to the Alps; has Lafroy never informed you?'

  "'No, never.'

  "'Ah, he is a close dog, he could have told you a great deal if he had had a mind, for he is quite in the confidence of his master. But to my story; you must know near the cottage of my godfather there stands a fine old castle, now inhabited by an Irishman of distinction, who was driven from his own country by some troubles in the state. On the two daughters of this nobleman the daughter of my godfather attends. About five months ago I was at his cottage. One evening, as the sun was setting, I attended him to collect his flocks which fed upon the heights surrounding the castle, and pen them for the night. While thus employed, from the court of the castle the most enchanting music stole upon mine ear: delighted with the sounds, I instantly paused, and turned to the place from whence they proceeded.'

  "''Tis the two young ladies you hear (said my companion); they both sing, and play upon the lute divinely; it often does my old heart good to hear them.'

  "'Lord (cried I), I wish I could have a peep at them.'

  "'You may easily gratify that wish (replied he), the wall about the court is broke in many places.'

  "I instantly flew to it, and beheld two of the most lovely creatures imagination can conceive. After feasting my eyes some minutes, I carelessly cast them upon two gentlemen who sat beside them; guess the astonishment of that moment when I discovered one of those gentlemen to be the Count St. Julian.

  "I directly hastened to my godfather; informed him of the discovery I had made; and enquired from him whether he knew what had brought the Count to the castle.

  "He smiled, and shook his head significantly. 'Chance (said he), first brought him to it, and inclination made him afterwards repeat the visit; he is a great friend to the family; he has lately provided a husband for the younger daughter.'

  "'He was secure of the eldest himself then I suppose (said I); for faith I think no man of any feeling could give up one handsome girl till sure of another to supply her place.'

  "My godfather smiled; and some expressions dropped from him which excited my curiosity: but I questioned him in vain; like your brother Lafroy, he was a close codger, and refused to gratify me. I then determined to apply to his daughter: she came generally every morning to pay her duty to him. If a real woman (said I to myself), she will be glad of an opportunity to communicate a secret. I accordingly watched for her the next day: she came as I expected; but, instead of letting her enter the cottage, I prevailed on her to take a walk with me. I soon introduced the subject I wished to converse about.

  "'Your father, my dear (said I), informs me that my Lord is a great friend to the family you live with.'

  "'Ah, Mr. Claude (cried she), those who imagine he is a friend to the family are sadly mistaken; it would have been a happy thing he had never entered it.'

  "'Why, my soul (asked I), has he stole away the heart of one of the young ladies?'

  "She shook her head;—"'It does not become me to tell family secrets.'

  "'No, to be sure (said I), not to strangers; but to a person you know so well as you do me, there is not the least harm in the world in telling them.'

  "'Ah, if you could but make me believe that, I could tell you something would astonish you.'

  "When a woman once begins to waver, we are sure of our point: I soon prevailed on my little companion to open her whole budget.

  "''Tis now some months (said she), since the Count St. Julian first entered Lord Dunlere's castle. Returning from Italy, he met with an accident near it which induced my Lord to offer him a lodging till able to continue his journey. The moment he and my lady Geraldine beheld each other, they were mutually smitten; and, in consequence of this attachment, they both devised a thousand excuses for his staying in the castle long after he was expected to leave it. At length he departed. Never shall I forget the wailing and weeping his going occasioned; my Lady Geraldine became but the shadow of herself, and wandered about like a ghost.

  "'One morning she called me into her chamber; and, after locking her door, 'My dear Blanche (said she with a flood of tears), I am now going to place the greatest confidence in you; a confidence which must convince you I think you a prudent, sensible, clever girl, one quite above the lower class.'

  "'I was quite confused by her praises, and could only courtesy, and say I hoped she never would have reason to repent any confidence she reposed in me.

  "'She then proceeded to say that the Count St. Julian had not only engaged her affections, but injured her honour; and that she was now in a situation that must soon expose her to open disgrace.

  "'I dare not tell my father or my sister (cried she); counsel me therefore, my dearest girl, how to act; though, alas! I have little hope that any advice will benefit me, as the silence of the Count since his departure inclines me to believe he will never fulfil his promises of marriage.'

  "'You must try him, Ma'am (said I as soon as I had recovered from my astonishment, and collected my wits together); write him one of the most cutting letters you can think of; and tell him you expect, as a man and a gentleman, he will make you immediate reparation for his injuries, by giving you his hand in marriage.'

  "'She accordingly wrote a letter to this purpose; and, at the expected time, an answer arrived, in which he informed her he still loved her to distraction; but that as to marriage, it was quite out of the question on account of his father, who would, he knew, if he so united himself, deprive him of all provision. He bid her, however, keep up her spirits, adding he would soon be at the castle; and had devised a scheme for preserving her from the indignation of her father, should her situation be discovered to him.

  "'Well, you may be convinced, we waited most impatiently for his arrival. He came soon after the receipt of his letter, accompanied by a very fine young man, the same you saw with him in the court last night; and my young lady was all anxiety till the scheme he had hinted at was disclosed to her. A villainous scheme, you will say,—no other than to have a marriage made up between my young lady and Monsieur Lausane, his companion.

  "'He is a natural son of my father's (said he to my lady; for I was in a closet adjoining the chamber in which they sat, and consequently heard all their conversation); and I mean, as soon as I come into possession of my paternal fortune, to make a handsome provision for him; this I shall mention to the Earl as a means of inducing him to consent to your union with him—an union, by which you will be guarded against your father's indignation should he ever discover our connexion, as he must then know the dreadful consequences that would attend its exposure;—an union also, which will give me a pretext, from our relationship, of visiting you much oftener than I could otherwise do.

  "'It was long, however, ere he could prevail on my poor lady to agree to his proposal; and nothing at last could have extorted her consent to it, but the hope of being shielded by her marriage from the rage of her father. Her consent once obtained, every thing was soon settled according to the Count's wishes. It was with difficulty (continued Blanche) I cou
ld prevail on myself to keep what I knew a secret from Monsieur Lausane; it grieved my very heart and soul to think so fine a young man should be so imposed upon.

  "'But, Blanche (said I), did you not say that Lady Geraldine was in a certain situation, and will not a premature birth open the eyes of her husband to the deceit that has been practised on him?'

  "'Oh, we have guarded against all that (replied she); about the time she expects to be confined, the Count St. Julian is to feign illness at the castle of Montmorenci, and write to his brother to pay him a visit. He is then to keep him there till my lady is recovered, and the child sent out of the way, whom he has promised to provide for.'

  "How shall I describe the feelings that rose in my soul (proceeded St. Julian), as I listened to this horrible narrative? Not a doubt could I entertain of its authenticity; every recollected circumstance—the sudden friendship of my brother, notwithstanding the prejudices instilled into his mind against me by his father—the ready compliance of Lady Geraldine with my wishes, notwithstanding the short time we had been acquainted, and her knowing that I was an outcast from the house which should have sheltered me,—altogether proved that I was a dupe to the most perfidious art.

  "Yes (I exclaimed within myself), my credulous nature has been imposed upon; and those whom I most loved, most trusted, have undone me. In the language of a poet of a sister country I might have said—

  Two, two such,

  (Oh! there's no further name), two such to me,

  To me, who lock'd my soul within your breast,

  Had no desire, no joy, no life, but you.

  ————I had no use,

  No fruit of all, but you;—a friend and mistress