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

by Eliza Parsons

  Having, with much difficulty, applied the key to the door, she withdrew the bolts, which the wretched inhabitant of this dark abyss supposing to be a prelude to death, or some new calamity, answered with a scream. "Whoever you are," cried Madame Chamont, in a low disordered voice, "whom guilt or misfortune have brought to this miserable abode, I beseech you to be comforted." Having uttered these words, she listened for a moment, but all was again silent; no sound was returned, which made it probable that her words were unheard, or disregarded. Much strength was requisite in the accomplishment of her purpose, for the lock was so rusted by time and neglect, that it was impossible for so feeble and delicate a hand to make it (without painful exertion) perform its long-forgotten office. By repeated efforts she was, however, enabled to put her designs in execution, and opening the door, which turned sullenly on its grating hinges, she beheld, in one corner of the dungeon, a pale, emaciated figure seated upon straw. An emotion of terror seemed to have deprived him of reason, which prevented him from attending to the compassionate exclamation of his deliverer; and having covered his face with his hands, he did not perceive her approach till she was within a few steps of the place where he was sitting. A second address, however, uttered in the plaintive accents of pity, roused him from his stupor, and discovered to Madame Chamont the features of La Roque, who, instead of the messenger of death which his affrighted imagination had portrayed, beheld the still beautiful form of his former benefactress.

  After quieting his apprehensions, by convincing him of the possibility of effecting an escape, she raised the lamp from the ground and having used many ineffectual efforts to release him from his fetters, finally succeeded in her design.

  The effusions of his gratitude for some time deprived the astonished La Roque of utterance; but his feelings being now too violent to be restrained, he burst into a flood of tears. Joy and compassion operated as powerfully in the mind of Madame Chamont, who having, after many arduous endeavours, entirely accomplished his deliverance, assisted in raising him from the ground, and led him from the dungeon.

  Those who have been long secluded from the beauties of Nature in a miserable subterranean abode, can only form an adequate conception of the raptures experienced by La Roque on his sudden emancipation from captivity. A few minutes before, he was in continual expectation of a miserable death, hopeless, and, as he believed, beyond the reach of compassion; now he was restored to a world from which he imagined himself separated for ever, was permitted to behold the beautiful face of Nature, to hear again the melody of the birds, and to feel the enlivening breath of the zephyr; yet so much was he enervated by confinement, and his ancles were so weakened by manacles, that he was unable to walk without support.

  Madame Chamont, who at first thought only of the means of deliverance, now foresaw difficulties which her mind had not been collected enough to have contemplated before. She had now conducted La Roque from his dreadful abode, but in what manner he was to be disposed of was an idea that never occurred to her before. After having suffered much from the dark vapours of a dungeon, from the miserable confinement of chains and fetters, with the addition of spare and meagre diet, he wanted assistance and support. This rendered it impossible for him to prosecute his journey without needful rest and refreshment; yet how was this to be procured, since it could not be accomplished without assistance, and this would be attended not only with difficulty, but with danger? She was resolved, however, to procure him some food without further delay, and having seated him upon a projection of stone in the turret, gave him a promise that she would speedily return, and hurried towards the castle.

  As she went, she began to reflect upon the necessity of coming to a speedy resolution in this important affair, as to the manner of proceeding in it; for should the loss of the key be discovered, it might occasion the return of Paoli, which would render abortive every scheme she had devised for the preservation of the prisoner.

  After much consideration, she found it would be impossible to convey La Roque to his place of destination without some one to assist her in the enterprise; and knowing the prudence and secrecy of the faithful Dorothée, resolved to make her a confidante in the undertaking. This matter being settled, she proceeded towards the mansion with redoubled alacrity; and having acquainted her servant with the adventure, desired that she would take some food and wine to La Roque in the turret of the forest. The good woman, whose tenderness and compassion were equally awakened, cheerfully obeyed the summons, whilst Madame Chamont retired to her apartment to consider the most effectual way of rendering herself serviceable to the much-injured La Roque, that he might be immediately placed in security, and herself avoid detection. She saw the policy of a hasty removal, yet was anxious that he should first recover from that state of weakness and indisposition, to which grief and imprisonment had reduced him.

  Whilst she still continued to muse upon this affecting incident, without being able to adopt any plan for her future conduct, the arrival of Father Benedicta, her confessor, broke in upon her reflections.

  As she surveyed the placid countenance of this holy Father, lighted up by the smile of benevolence, and glowing with universal philanthropy, the idea of soliciting his protection instantly occurred to her. With his assistance La Roque might take refuge in the monastery till he was in a condition to travel, and in the habit of a Friar, which could easily be procured, might be secure from the possibility of discovery.

  This plan appeared so much more eligible than any she had before conceived, that she was resolved to put it into execution. As soon as the Monk was seated, having first expatiated upon the duties of charity, she informed him that an unfortunate stranger, whom she had lately met with under peculiar circumstances, which were at present somewhat veiled in mystery, had much interested her compassion. That there were reasons, with which she was herself partly unacquainted, why he must be secluded from observation till he could prosecute the remaining part of his journey without farther injury to his health; and from the exemplary piety and general benevolence of her revered Father, she had flattered herself that he would, if possible, offer him an asylum till that period arrived. She forbore mentioning any thing of the Marchese, and even of Paoli, and entirely avoided the subject of his imprisonment.

  Father Benedicta, who regarded her, during this discourse, with a look of tenderness and admiration that encouraged her to proceed, easily discovered, from the timid hesitation of her manner, that she was not only much concerned in the fate of the stranger, but that there was something connected with the affair which prudence forbade her to reveal.

  Having desisted from any inquiry that might tend to heighten her anxiety, he readily assented to her desire of affording him a place of security, appointing an hour in which he would meet them at the end of the eastern rampart, for the purpose of conducting him to the cloister.

  As soon as the Friar was departed, Madame Chamont formed an excuse to Laurette for her absence, and then returned towards the tower, where she found La Roque considerably revived by the salutary relief which the castle had afforded, and anxious to assure her of the extent of his gratitude.

  Having seated herself by his side, she informed him of her newly concerted scheme of placing him in the monastery under the patronage and protection of Father Benedicta, whose benevolent acquiescence had delivered her, she added, from much apprehension and perplexity on his account, from which place he might escape in the dress of the order; and should his flight be discovered by the return of the steward, he might be easily defended from the vigilance of his pursuers in so holy a disguise.

  This proposal, that promised at once secrecy and security, was accepted with transport; and La Roque being evidently much recovered by the attentions bestowed upon him since his confinement, Madame Chamont made some inquiries concerning his daughter, who she learned was consigned to the care of a generous protector; and then reminded him of the promise made to her at the post-house of relating his story, at the same time desiring him to desist if he fou
nd himself unequal to the task.

  Having acknowledged the justice of the claim, and given his assent to the proposition, he hesitated for a few moments, as if to acquire additional fortitude; and then checking a tear, the obtrusion of which seemed to have been occasioned by the recollection of some recent calamity, he thus began his narration.

  END OF VOLUME ONE

  VOLUME TWO

  CHAPTER I

  THE STORY OF LA ROQUE

  List a brief tale.

  And when 'tis told, Oh! that my heart would break.

  The bloody proclamation to escape.

  -SHAKESPEARE

  "My real name, which from unavoidable circumstances I have for some time disguised under that of La Roque, is Conte della Croisse." Madame Chamont started, and with much difficulty concealing her emotions, La Roque proceeded:

  "Being early in life deprived of my parents, I was consigned by my father to the guardianship of the late Marchese de Montferrat; and, immediately on his decease, quitted Naples, the ancient seat of my ancestors, and repaired to the environs of Turin.

  "Being too young to know the extent of my loss, the affectionate behaviour of the Marchese, and still gentler attentions of the Marchesa, soon relieved me from unpleasant recollections, and restored me to my former felicity. Masters were procured to instruct me in the classics and different sciences; as it was the particular request of my dying father, who had an unconquerable aversion to public seminaries, that my education should be a private one.

  "My time, now chiefly devoted to literary pursuits, fled rapidly away; and my guardian beheld the progress I made with satisfaction and complacency.

  "The family at the Castello St Aubin, consisted of the Marchese, the Marchesa, one daughter (who was somewhat younger than myself), and a large number of domestics.

  "The hospitality and generosity inseparable from the inhabitants of this princely abode, was become proverbial. Every countenance expressed disinterested affection, content, and innocence; and every breast was animated with truth, sincerity, and virtue.

  p>"The first serious uneasiness I experienced, after the loss of my parents, was occasioned by the death of the Marchesa, who died, much regretted, in consequence of a fever that proved fatal after a few days" illness. The Marchese was for some time inconsolable for her loss, and instead of mixing as usual with the world, abandoned himself to solitude; till an habitual melancholy was stealing gradually upon his mind, which threatened the most unhappy consequences.

  "Whilst he was yet yielding to the influence of unavailing regret, he received a visit from a relation who had been some years abroad, and for whom he had conceived a peculiar regard. This unexpected event had so happy an effect upon him, that with much persuasion, he consented to accompany his friend on an expedition to Verona, for the recovery of his health and spirits.

  "He had not been there long before he was struck with the singular beauty of a young Signora, much his inferior in point of rank and fortune, but whose person, he imagined, resembled that of the once lovely Marchesa. Opportunity threw her frequently in his way, and, finding her affections were disengaged, he offered her his hand, which she readily accepted; and the marriage being solemnized during the Marchese's continuance at Verona, they returned to the Castello.

  "It was easy to discover, even on a transient acquaintance, that the mind of the young Marchesa was much inferior to that of her predecessor; with whose manners, the haughtiness of disposition she early displayed, formed a striking contrast. She did not long, however, enjoy newly acquired dignities; but having given birth to a son about a year after her marriage, soon afterwards expired.

  "About this period, Helena, the daughter of my guardian, having completed her education at Naples, returned to the Castello. Her vivacity and sweetness of demeanour soon dissipated the clouds that shaded the brow of the Marchese, and diffused universal tranquillity around. During the infancy of the young Signor, her brother, she attended to him with the undeviating affection of a parent; and the family, under her gentle authority, were re-instated in their original felicity.

  "To have been continually in the presence of the beautiful Helena without feeling the power of her attractions, would justly have exposed me to the imputation of stoicism; a short time convinced me that I had too little of that cold philosophy in my heart to be insensible to the most modest graces of her person, or the angelic sweetness of her disposition. I had soon the consolation of discovering that our feelings were mutual, and had the satisfaction of perceiving that the Marchese beheld this growing attachment with approbation.

  "The period was now arrived in which some knowledge of the world was supposed to be requisite; and, accompanied by another young nobleman, whose name was Berlotto, I made the tour of Europe.

  "Having visited several of the principal Courts, and seen the most valuable vestiges of antiquity, my companion became weary of the expedition, and expressed his impatience to return; but as much remained to be seen, which was sufficiently interesting to merit observation, and as yet my thirst for information was ungratified, I was deaf to the intreaties he employed for the accomplishment of his desire, till an alarming account of the declining health of the Marchese altered my resolution.

  "On my arrival at the Castello St Aubin I found him much worse than I had reason to apprehend; and soon afterwards the progress of his disorder was so rapid as to preclude the probability of a recovery. Perfectly sensible of his danger, he summoned me to the side of his bed; and, warmly commending the young Signor to my friendship and protection, soon afterwards expired.

  "It was now necessary to exert all the fortitude that Nature had bestowed upon me, as well to rouse myself from the state of despondency that succeeded the death of so valuable a friend, as to mitigate the sorrows of the affectionate Helena. During the illness of the Marchese, a female relation of his was sent for to the Castello, who was now resident in the family. She was past the bloom of youth; but possessed some accomplishments and much good-humour, and seemed anxious to afford consolation.

  "When the time of mourning was expired, and grief had in some measure yielded to the certain effects of time, finding that Helena still continued to receive my attentions with courtesy, I ventured to declare my love. She was too frank, too innocent for disguise; and, confessing a mutual attachment, gave me her hand at once, to reward and to confirm my virtues.

  "After this event, as the time of my minority was expired, we repaired to Naples; and, in that city, enjoyed more pure and uninterrupted felicity than usually falls to the lot of mortality.

  "The young Signor, now Marchese de Montferrat, soon after the celebration of our nuptials, was removed to a public school in the vicinity; and from the proficiency he made in all the branches of literature, and the early genius he displayed, attained every mark of distinction to which he had ambitiously aspired. But, as he arrived towards manhood, it was easy to discover that his mind possessed more brilliancy than energy; and through the exterior accomplishments of the gentleman, an accurate observer might distinguish some qualities, which, though early veiled in dissimulation, were unpromising as well to the man as to the scholar.—He wished to appear virtuous, without doing violence to his inclinations by becoming so; refusing to deny himself the smallest gratification to obtain, what is much more estimable than popular applause, the approbation of his own heart. Wearing publicly the semblance of goodness, he so far succeeded in his desires as to impose himself upon the greater part of the world, who are only superficial observers, as a miracle of worth and honour.

  "About a year after our marriage, the happiness we had hitherto enjoyed was augmented by the birth of a son; which event was celebrated by a fete, given at a beautiful villa in the environs of Naples, to which, as a summer residence, we frequently resorted.

  "On this occasion, several of the Neapolitan Nobles were present, and, amongst others, the Conte de Pietro, who was introduced to me by an acquaintance with whom I had been lately in habits of intimacy, having newly arrived in
the province.

  "This much-esteemed courtier was just returned from his travels; and, compared with many that were present, who had seen life with equal advantages, displayed many shining perfections—in conversation he was polite, easy, and communicative; and there was an air of unreserve, and at the same time, of dignity in his manners, which could not fail to attract the admiration of congenial minds. The deference he paid to my opinion in every subject of discourse, and the warmth with which he applauded every sentiment I expressed, could not fail of exciting somewhat of vanity in my breast, when I perceived the countenances of others soliciting his regard without equal success.—From this aera I date most of my succeeding misfortunes. We had early conceived a partiality for each other; and I naturally considered a man of his easy address, fashionable accomplishments, and literary attainments, as a most valuable acquisition to my domestic happiness.

  "The affluence of his circumstances enabled him to indulge himself unrestrainedly in those pleasures to which he was the most addicted, and allowed him the gratification of performing many acts of benevolence, which considerably exalted him in my estimation.

  "The dissipation of the metropolis was every way suited to the gaiety of his mind, where his rank, his person, and his lively parts quickly introduced him into the first assemblies; gaining him universal applause in all places of public resort which he honoured with his attention.

  "With the other sex he was a general favourite; for he was by no means insensible to the attractions of beauty, though he might be said to be incapable of a sincere and honourable attachment. No dissimulation, however, veiled for a moment his natural character: he was ostentatious in his gallantries, and open in his amours. He smiled when I expatiated on the happiness arising from the endearments of a beloved wife and a beautiful offspring; for his attentions having been confined to the gay, the light, and the dissipated, he knew not the value of an inviolable attachment. Anxious to lead me from those home-bred pleasures that my Helena had endeared to me, he used many arguments for the accomplishment of his purpose; and though at first they were firmly opposed, yet, becoming by degrees too powerful for resistance, they at length finally succeeded.