The solemn manner in which these words were pronounced, "Beware of the Marchese de Montferrat!" struck her with dismay. To beware of him whom she had been taught to revere as a parent, and to look forwards to as the patron of her future days, was not more astonishing than afflictive. The admonition seemed to presage some impending evil from which it was impossible to fly; and the dread of what she might have to encounter, alone and unfriended, now entirely occupied her thoughts, tending to make her fear more than ever the approach of that hour which was to separate her from the much-loved scenes of her earliest youth.
As she examined the features of the portrait, rendered infinitely more touching by the sweet pensive cast of the countenance, she thought she had somewhat seen a painting that strongly characterized it; and as the castle contained all that had ever fallen under her observation, she was resolved to regard them more attentively, and, if possible, to trace the resemblance.
The chain, by which the miniature was suspended, did not fail to attract her admiration; she had never seen any thing of the sort, and the jewels, though small, being of the most valuable kind, possessed unusual brilliancy and lustre.
As Laurette wished to ruminate in secret upon this singular adventure, she retired to her room earlier than was her custom, at once to abridge the moments of suspense, and to lose the society of Paoli. But though weary and indisposed, she was unable to sleep, and arose in the morning but little refreshed.
Her first resolve was to examine the portraits, which were very numerous, and much defaced by time and neglect. She had wandered over the greatest part of the castle, except the northern side of the building which remained always unopened, before she recollected the paintings in the oriel, which were more modern, and consequently less injured than the rest.
Here she examined the picture which had attracted the attention of Madame Chamont soon after her arrival at the mansion. It represented the figure of a female leaning upon a tomb, the countenance of which bore some resemblance to the miniature; the latter, indeed, appeared somewhat younger, and, if possible, still more beautiful. It possessed the same softness of expression, but there was less of melancholy; a smile beamed from the eyes, which were dark, and full of the most animated sweetness, while the light brown tresses that shaded the forehead, and waved carelessly upon the neck, completed the character of beauty.
But for whom the portrait was designed, which she imagined was so lively a representation of that presented by the Monk, she had never been informed; though she remembered having once questioned Margaritte concerning it. But as her only hope of gaining intelligence upon the subject depended upon the expected interview in the evening, she awaited the hour with increasing solicitude.
CHAPTER XI
With what a leaden and retarding weight
Does expectation load the wing of Time!
-MASON
Willing to divert her thoughts from a subject in which she was too nearly interested, Laurette attempted, though without success, to find amusement in employment: She took up her lute, but her fingers were unable to perform their office; the notes she awakened were low, spiritless, and inharmonious, and it was replaced with languor and dissatisfaction. Her embroidery and books were equally ineffectual to bestow the charm of content, and the more frequently this strange incident recurred to her mind, the more insupportable were the moments of suspense. That attractive composure of demeanour, which formerly added the most winning softness to her motions, had in some degree forsaken her; she reflected, with concern, upon her promise to the Father, and seemed equally to dread and to desire the expected interview.
As soon as dinner was removed, she arose and quitted the room, meaning to ramble though the shrubberies; but as the afternoon was a remarkably fine one, she determined to endeavour, at least, to calm the more painful emotions by visiting the cottages that bordered the river, whose simple and industrious inhabitants had been always the objects of her bounty.
Having relieved the necessities of those who apparently suffered the most from the hardships of poverty, and listened with peculiar kindness to the infantile prattle of the children, who were each anxious to gain a smile or a kiss from their lovely benefactress, she continued her walk.
The loneliness of the road she had chosen was ill adapted to her present frame of mind, as it failed, for want of variety in its scenery, to fix her attention, and to recall her from that harassing anxiety which enervates, and unfits for action.
The singular aspect of the Monk, his abrupt stile of addressing her, the secret he had to disclose so dreadfully important as his manner had indicated, were circumstances ever present to her thoughts. Sometimes it occurred to her that the expected discovery related to Madame Chamont, and that the person who had so strangely introduced himself, having by some means become acquainted with the violent measures that had been adopted in forcing her from her abode, and of the primary cause of them, intended, by making it known to those who were the most nearly concerned in her welfare, to prevent the unhappy consequences that might otherwise ensue. But this, on a second review, appeared unlikely; if the Monk had obtained any knowledge upon this subject, he would doubtless have embraced some other means of conveying this necessary intelligence at an earlier period, and of rendering her such advice and assistance, as to the manner of proceeding, as would have been consistent with his holy character and office.
What he had to unfold must then relate merely to herself, something probably concerning her birth. This opinion the delivery of the picture seemed to corroborate; but who it could be that had acquired information upon a subject which had hitherto been so mysteriously concealed, and by what means he had gained possession of the picture, which he declared to be the portrait of her mother, were points equally surprising and unaccountable.
The shades of night that fell fast upon the surrounding objects, now warning her of the approaching hour, quickened her steps towards the castle.
The soft stillness of the evening that seemed to breathe peace and tranquillity, tended to revive her depressed spirits, enabling her to reflect upon the appointment she had made with more composure and serenity.
As soon as she entered the hall, the shrill tone of the vesper-bell reminded her of her mysterious visitor, and summoned her to nocturnal prayer.
When the service was concluded, and the family were retired from the chapel, with trembling steps and a palpitating heart she prepared to meet the Monk, according to her engagement.
Having waited for a few minutes in the outward court, in hopes of seeing Paoli enter the castle, she observed, with some emotion, that he turned into the wood that secreted the eastern side of the edifice. But as he sometimes rambled alone in the evening for a considerable time, she began to flatter herself into the opinion that he would not return from his excursion during her conference with the Father.
She had no sooner entered the smaller court, and placed herself by the column, than she perceived the mysterious Monk, with a thoughtful and dejected air, moving slowly through the avenue.
When he had arrived at the vista he stopped, crossed himself, and then numbering his Paternosters and Ave Marias on his rosary, a ceremony which Laurette's impatience would at that moment gladly have spared, he hastened to the appointed place.
A hood was added to his dress, which he threw back the instant he recognized Laurette, and a small crucifix of silver was suspended on his breast.
Having advanced within a few paces of the column—"I am come," said he, fixing his eyes upon her with a mild and steadfast gaze, "to warn you of the dangers that threaten you—to save you from misery, and perchance from death. I am come also," added he, sighing deeply, and clasping his hands together, with a look directed meekly towards heaven, "to acquaint you with the wrongs you have endured, and to unveil the hidden mysteries of your birth. Listen to me, my child; on this moment, this important moment, depends your future destiny."
Laurette trembled, and looking fearfully around, whilst the Father was repeating his
injunctions of secrecy in the same manner as on the preceding day, she beheld Paoli embowered in some trees that projected from the side of the wood, apparently listening to their discourse. Fear almost deprived her of utterance: "We are observed," cried she, in tremulous and broken accents, "leave me, holy Father, I beseech you—to-morrow at this hour."
She could proceed no farther; the Monk glided amongst the trees, to elude the observation of Paoli, who finding himself discovered, rushed instantly from the wood.
Having demanded, in an imperious tone, with whom she was conversing, and what was the subject of their conference, and Laurette, amazed at his presumption and arrogance, resolutely refusing to answer, he seized her rudely by the arm, and led her into the saloon.
Here he again repeated his command, but finding that neither this nor menaces were likely to prove effectual, as she replied to his interrogatories with a degree of firmness which he termed the most daring obstinacy, he desired her to prepare for her departure from the castle on the following morning.
This was a blow the gentle spirits of Laurette could with difficulty support; yet no alternative remained. She was too well acquainted with the disposition of the steward to believe he would yield to intreaty, and she was also convinced, from the judgment she had formed of his character, that if she ventured to expostulate with him, or to enquire by what authority he was capacitated to remove her from her present residence, without the knowledge and acquiescence of the Marchese, before the expiration of the time proposed, that by thus appearing to doubt his consequence in the eye of his Lord, he would only, by more arbitrary proceedings, endeavour to convince her of the unlimited extent of his power.
Being assured that all hopes of receiving the information she so ardently desired, respecting her birth and connexion, were now entirely frustrated, she felt all the bitterness of disappointment and perplexity; as she was perfectly convinced that was she even permitted to remain a few weeks longer at the castle, she would doubtless be so strictly watched by the suspicious eye of Paoli during the interval, as to render a second interview with the Monk impracticable.
The night was passed by Laurette in a state of restless anxiety; what she had heard from the Father increased her uneasiness, and nothing but the rectitude of her intentions, and the conscious innocence of her conduct, could have sustained her under this new cause of distress.
CHAPTER XII
At night returning, every labour sped.
He sits him down the monarch of a shed.
Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys
His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze;
While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard.
Displays her cleanly platter on the board;
And haply too, some pilgrim thither led.
With many a tale repays the nightly bed.
-GOLDSMITH
The sun had scarce risen upon the mountains before Laurette, by the desire of the steward, was awakened from a soft slumber into which she had recently fallen, with orders for her to prepare for an immediate departure.
Dorothée, who was the unwilling messenger of these unpleasant tidings, unable to bear the idea of this temporary separation, as it was determined on the preceding night that she and Lisette were not to accompany them, but to remain at the castle till the return of Ambrose; Laurette, feeling more collected than she had been since her interview with the Monk, assumed an appearance of serenity, and having conversed with her faithful servant for some time, as she sat by the side of the bed, with the most affecting tenderness, she gave some necessary orders concerning her wardrobe, her books, and what other things she wished to have conveyed to her future residence, and then ordering breakfast to be served in her apartment, prepared to obey the summons.
She had scarcely partaken of the morning's repast before she was informed that the mules were in readiness, and that Paoli and Ambrose were already impatiently awaiting her arrival.
Having taken a tender adieu of the kind Margaritte, who was too old to be a follower of her fortunes, and had therefore determined to return to the cottage she formerly possessed in an adjacent village; she presented her with her five last remaining six-dollars, as the reward of her services; and waving her hand to her poor pensioners, who crowded about her to give and to receive a last farewell, she held her handkerchief to her eyes, as if afraid to trust herself with a last look at the only home she had ever known, and advanced towards the gate.
Being placed upon the mule that was guided by the steward, Ambrose mounted the lesser one, and after some resistance on the part of the latter, who had been for some time unaccustomed to discipline, they pursued their journey.
It was a fine autumnal morning, and as the travellers advanced, the face of Nature, which at the early hour they had chosen, wore a lowering and unpromising aspect, now gradually brightened. The mists, which had veiled the tops of the eminences, were suddenly dispersed, and the sun, no longer watery and dim, spread over the landscape a soft and silvery light.
The birds, whose responses were at first low, now swelled into choral harmony; every object seemed to partake of the general joy; all was melody, delight, and ecstasy.
Laurette meditated on them in silence, lamenting at the same time that she could not join in these universal expressions of rapture, which would have afforded her inconceivable pleasure, had melancholy anticipation been banished from her heart.
The same gloomy reserve marked the behaviour of Paoli that was peculiar to his character; sometimes he turned to Laurette, and asked her some questions concerning the road, and whether the motion was too slow or too rapid, and then, without attending to the answer, relapsed into his former state of silence and thoughtfulness.
There were several small inns on the road that afforded them rest and provisions, whose inhabitants frequently extended their civility beyond the common bounds of hospitality, seeming anxious to accommodate them with every necessary which their situation as travellers required.
It was not till the evening of the third day that they arrived near the boundaries of Salzburg, when Laurette was informed by the steward, who appeared somewhat to relax from his reserve, that they were within two days" journey of the castle of Lunenburg, which was the name of her future abode.
The beauty of the landscape now visibly improved; the boundless and variegated plains, innumerable lakes, rivers, brooks, and valleys of tremendous depth, encompassed with huge rocks of granite, which, being contrasted with the dark woods that waved from the cultivated mountains, had an unspeakable fine effect, and could not be gazed upon without the most sublime and exquisite sensations.
Every thing was presented to the eye in these beautiful regions which the most fertile and picturesque imagination could conceive; and Laurette, recalled from the contemplation of her own peculiar distresses, beheld some of the finest scenery in nature with indescribable astonishment.
Every beauty was augmented by contrast; sometimes the hut of a shepherd, or the cottage of a goatherd, situated upon the hanging brow of a precipice, caught her eye, shaded only by the foliated branches of the oak from the inclemency of the weather. The roads in this mountainous country being in general good, they proceeded on their journey with less fatigue than would otherwise have been the case. The most dreadful abysses were rendered passable by the assistance of wooden bridges, which were hung in chains, some apparently so loosely as to impress on the mind an alarming idea of danger. But of their safety our travellers were assured by the peasantry, who asserted that an accident very rarely happened from this mode of conveyance, as the heaviest carriages had been known to pass over without receiving any injury but what might be occasioned by a violent gust of wind, or a sudden fall of snow in the spring.
Having left the town of Salzburg on the right, they proceeded on their way with redoubled speed, in hopes of being able to reach the next tolerable inn, which Paoli recollected was at some distance from the place.
But as the evening was approaching, and
Laurette was somewhat fatigued and indisposed, it was mutually agreed that the party should endeavour to get accommodations at one of the cottages that lay scattered upon the road.
One peculiar for its neatness riveted their attention, and Ambrose being dispatched with a message, Laurette and Paoli stopped at the bottom of the hill on which it was situated, to await the success of his embassy.
In a short time the owner of this little retreat, attended by his daughter, with all that diffusive hospitality which is characteristic of the peasantry of Salzburg, mingled with a certain degree of courtesy that seemed not to be wholly the gift of nature, appeared to conduct them to the cottage.
All that Laurette had ever read of rural simplicity, content, and innocence, and all that her imagination, though somewhat warm and romantic, had formed, fell short of that which was presented to her in the family of the cottager.
Zierman, which was the name of her host, having led them into a small neat room, whose casement was embowered with the honeysuckle and the eglantine, and which commanded a prospect of pastoral beauty almost unequalled, left our heroine and the steward alone, whilst he went to assist Ambrose in finding a place of security for his mules, and to order refreshment for his guests.
The Complete Northanger Horrid Novel Collection (9 Books of Gothic Romance and Horror) Page 349