I will not repeat to you, my dear Louisa, continued Dorilaus, the
strange perplexity of ideas that run thro' my mind after having read
this letter:--I was very far from guessing at the real motive of this
invitation; which, however, as I once had a regard for that lady, I soon
determined to obey; and having left the care of my house to a relation
of mine by the mother's side, I went directly for Ireland; but when I
came there, was a little embarrassed in my mind what excuse I should
make to her husband for my visit.--Before I ventured to the castle, I
made a thorough enquiry after the character of this young lady, and in
what manner she lived with her lord. Never did I hear a person more
universally spoke well of:--the poor adored her charity, affability, and
condescending sweetness of disposition:--the rich admired her wit, her
virtue, and good breeding:--her beauty, tho' allowed inferior to few of
her sex, was the least qualification that seemed deserving praise:--to
add to all this, they told me she was a pattern of conjugal affection,
and the best of mothers to a numerous race of Children;--that her lord
had all the value he ought to have for so amiable a wife, and that no
wedded pair ever lived together in greater harmony; and it was with the
utmost concern, whoever I spoke to on this affair concluded what they
related of her with saying, that so excellent an example of all that was
valuable in womankind would shortly be taken from them;--that she had
long, with an unexampled patience, lingered under a severe illness which
every day threatened dissolution.
These accounts made me hesitate no farther:--I went boldly to the
castle, asked to speak with the lord M----e, who received me with a
politeness befitting his quality: I told him that my curiosity of seeing
foreign countries had brought me to Ireland, and being in my tour thro'
those parts, I took the liberty of calling at his seat, having formerly
had the honour of being known to his lady when at her father's house,
and whom I now heard, to my great concern, was indisposed, otherwise
have been glad to pay my respects to her. The nobleman answered, with
tears in his eyes, that she was indeed in a condition such as give no
hope of her recovery, but that she sometimes saw company, tho' obliged
to receive them in bed, having lost the use of her limbs, and would
perhaps be glad of the visit of a person she had known so long.
On this I told him my name, which he immediately sent in; and her woman
not long after came from her to let me know she would admit me. My lord
went in with me; and to countenance what I said, I accosted her with the
freedom of a person who had been acquainted when children, spoke of her
father as of a gentleman who had favoured me with his good-will, tho',
in reality, I had never seen him in my life, but remembered well enough
what she had mentioned to me concerning him, and some others of her
family, to talk as if I had been intimate among them. I could perceive
she was very well pleased with the method I had taken of introducing
myself; and, to prevent any suspicion that I had any other business with
her than to pay my compliments, made my visit very short that day, not
doubting but she would of herself contrive some means of entertaining me
without witnesses, as she easily found her lord had desired I would make
the castle my home while I stayed in that part of the country.
I was not deceived; the next morning having been told her lord was
engaged with his steward, she sent for me, and making some pretence for
getting rid of her woman, she plucked a paper from under her pillow, and
putting it into my hand,--in that, said, you will find the secret I
mentioned in my letter;--suspect not the veracity of it, I conjure you,
nor love the unfortunate Horatio and Louisa less for their being mine.
I cannot express the confusion I was in, continued Dorilaus, at her
mentioning you and your brother, but I had no opportunity of asking any
questions:--her woman that instant returned, after which I stayed but a
short time, being impatient to examine the contents, which, as near as I
can remember, were to this purpose:
"You were scarce out of France before I
discovered our amour had produced such
consequences as, had my too fond passion given
me leave to think of, I never should have hazarded:--I
will not repeat the distraction I
was in;--you may easily judge of it:--I
communicated the misfortune to my nurse,
who you know I told you went from England
with me, and has often brought you messages
from the convent:--the faithful creature did
her utmost to console me for an evil which was
without a remedy:--to complete my confusion,
my father commanded me home; my lord
M----e was returned from his travels:--we
were both of an age to marry; and it
was resolved, by our parents, no longer to
defer the completion of an affair long before
agreed upon.--I was ready to lay violent hands
on myself, since there seemed no way to conceal
my shame; but my good nurse having set
all her wits to work for me, found out an expedient
which served me, when I could think
of nothing for myself.--She bid me be of
comfort; that she thought being sent for home
was the luckiest thing that could have happened,
since nothing could be so bad as to have my
pregnancy discovered in the convent, as it
infallibly must have been had I stayed a very little
time longer: she also assured me she would
contrive it so, as to keep the thing a secret
from all the world.--I found afterwards she
did not deceive me by vain promises.--We
left Paris, according to my father's order, and
came by easy journeys, befitting my condition,
to Calais, and embarked on board the packet for
Dover; but then, instead of taking coach for London,
hired a chariot, and went cross the country
to a little village, where a kinswoman of my
nurse's lived.--With these people I remained
till Horatio and Louisa came into the world:--I
could have had them nursed at that place, but
I feared some discovery thro' the miscarriage of
letters, which often happens, and which could
not have been avoided being sent on such occasions;--so
we contrived together that my
good confident and adviser should carry them
to your house, and commit the care of them
to you, who, equal with myself, had a right to
it:--she found means, by bribing a man that
worked under your gardener, to convey them
where I afterwards heard you found and received
them as I could wish, and becoming the
generosity of your nature.--I then took coach
for London, pretending, at my arrival, that I
had been delayed by sickness, and to excuse my
nurse's absence, said she had caught the fever
of me;--so no farther enquiry was made, and
I soon after was married to a man whose worth
is well deserving of a better wife, tho' I have
endeavoured to attone for my unknown transgression
by every act of duty in my power:--nurse
stayed long enough in your part of the
world to be able to bring me an account how
the children were disposed of.--That I never
gave you an account they were your own, was
occasioned by two reasons, first, the danger of
entrusting such a thing by the post, my nurse
soon after dying; and secondly, because, as I
was a wife, I thought it unbecoming of me to
remind you of a passage I was willing to forget
myself.--A long sickness has put other thoughts
into my head, and inspired me with a tenderness
for those unhappy babes, which the shame
of being their mother hitherto deprived them
of.--I hear, with pleasure, that you are not
married, and are therefore at full liberty to
make some provision for them, if they are yet
living, that may alleviate the misfortune of
their birth. Farewell; if I obtain this first and
last request, I shall dye well satisfied."
"_P.S._ Burn this paper, I conjure you, the moment
you have read it; but lay the contents
of it up in your heart never to be forgotten."
I now no longer wondered, pursued Dorilaus, at that impulse I had to
love you;--I found it the simpathy of nature, and adored the divine
power.--After having well fixed in my mind all the particulars of this
amazing secret, I performed her injunction, and committed it to the
flames: I had opportunity enough to inform her in what manner Horatio
had disposed of himself, and let her know you were gone with a lady on
her travels: I concealed indeed the motive, fearing to give her any
occasion of reproaching herself for having so long concealed what my
ignorance of might have involved us all in guilt and ruin.
I stayed some few days at the castle, and then took my leave: she said
many tender things at parting concerning you, and seemed well satisfied
with the assurances I gave her of making the same provision for you, as
I must have done had the ceremony of the church obliged me to it. This
seemed indeed the only thing for which she lived, and, I was informed,
died in a few days after.
At my return to England I renewed my endeavours to discover where you
were, but could hear nothing since you wrote from Aix-la-Chappelle, and
was equally troubled that I had received no letters from your
brother.--I doubted not but he had fallen in the battle, and mourned him
as lost;--till an old servant perceiving the melancholy I was in,
acquainted me that several letters had been left at my house by the post
during my absence, but that the kinsman I had left to take care of my
affairs had secreted them, jealous, no doubt, of the fondness I have
expressed for him.--This so enraged me, when on examination I had too
much reason to be assured of this treachery, that I turned my whole
estate into ready money, and resolved to quit England for ever, and pass
my life here, this being a country I always loved, and had many reasons
to dislike my own.
Here I soon heard news of my Horatio, and such as filled me with a
pleasure, which wanted nothing of being complete but the presence of my
dear Louisa to partake of it.
Dorilaus then went on, and acquainted her with the particulars of
Horatio's story, as he had learned it from the baron de Palfoy, with
whom he now was very intimate; but as the reader is sufficiently
informed of those transactions, it would be needless to repeat them; so
I shall only say that Dorilaus arrived in France in a short time after
Horatio had left it to enter into the service of the king of Sweden, and
had wrote that letter, inserted in the eighteenth chapter, in order to
engage that young warrior to return, some little time before his meeting
with Louisa.
Nothing now was wanting to the contentment of this tender father but the
presence of Horatio, which he was every day expecting, when, instead of
himself, those letters from him arrived which contained his resolution
of remaining with Charles XII. till the conquests he was in pursuit of
should be accomplished.
This was some matter of affliction to Dorilaus, tho' in his heart he
could not but approve those principles of honour which detained
him.--Neither the baron de Palfoy, nor Charlotta herself, could say he
could well have acted otherwise, and used their utmost endeavours to
comfort a father in his anxieties for the safety of so valuable a son.
Louisa was also very much troubled at being disappointed in her hope of
embracing a brother, whom she had ever dearly loved, and was now more
precious to her than ever, by the proofs she had heard he had given of
his courage and his virtue; but she had another secret and more poignant
grief that preyed upon her soul, and could scarce receive any addition
from ought beside:--she had been now near two months in Paris, yet could
hear nothing of monsieur du Plessis, but that, by the death of his
father, a large estate had devolved upon him, which he had never come to
claim, or had been at Paris for about eighteen months, so that she had
all the reason in the world to believe he was no more. This threw her
into a melancholy, which was so much the more severe as she endeavoured
to conceal it:--she made use of all her efforts to support the loss of a
person she so much loved, and who proved himself so deserving of that
love:--she represented to herself that being relieved from all the
snares and miseries of an indigent life, raised from an obscurity which
had given her many bitter pangs, to a station equal to her wishes, and
under the care of the most indulgent and best of fathers, she ought not
to repine, but bless the bounty of heaven, who had bestowed on her so
many blessings, and with-held only one she could have asked.--These, I
say, were the dictates of reason and religion; but the tender passion
was not always to be silenced by them, and whenever she was alone, the
tears, in spight of herself, would flow, and she, without even knowing
she did so, cry out, Oh du Plessis, wherefore do I live since thou
art dead!
Among the many acquaintance she soon contracted at Paris, there was none
she so much esteemed, both on the account of her own merit, and the
regard she had for Horatio, as mademoiselle de Palfoy. In this young
lady's society did she find more charms for her grief than in that of
any other; and the other truly loving her, not only because she found
nothing more worthy of being loved, but because she was the sister of
Horatio, they were very seldom asunder.
Louisa was one day at the baron's, enjoying that satisfaction which the
conversation of his beautiful daughter never failed to afford, when word
was brought that madam, the countess d'Espargnes, was come to visit
her.--Mademoiselle Charlotta ran to receive her with a great deal of
joy, she being a lady she very much regarded, and who she had not seen
of a long time.
She immediately returned, leading a lady in deep mourning, who seemed
not to be above five-and-twenty, was extremely handsome, and had beside
something in her air that attached Louisa at first sight. Mademoiselle
Charlotta presented her to the countess, saying at the same time, see,
madam, the only rival you have in my esteem.
You do well to give me one, replied the countess, who looks as if she
would make me love her as well as you, and so I should be even with you.
With these words she opened her arms to embrace Louisa, who returned the
compliment with equal politeness.
When they were seated, mademoiselle Charlotta began to express the
pleasure she had in seeing her in Paris; on which the countess told her,
that the affair she came upon was so disagreeable, that nothing but the
happiness of enjoying her company, while she stayed, could attone for
it. You know, my dear, continued madam d'Espargnes, I was always an
enemy to any thing that had the face of business, yet am I now, against
my will, involved in it by as odd an adventure as perhaps you
ever heard.
Charlotta testifying some desire to be informed of what nature, the
other immediately satisfied her curiosity in this manner:
You know, said she, that on the late death of my father, his estate
devolved on my brother, an officer in those troops in Italy commanded by
the prince of Conti:--some wounds, which were looked upon as extremely
dangerous, obliged him, when the campaign was over, to continue in his
winter quarters;--on which he sent to monsieur the count to take
possession in his name; this was done; but an intricate affair relating
to certain sums lodged in a person's hand, and to be brought before the
parliament of Paris, could not be decided without the presence either of
him or myself who had been witness of the transaction.--I was extremely
loth to take so long a journey, being then in very ill health; and
hearing he was recovered, delayed it, as we then expected him in
person:--I sent a special messenger, however, in order to hasten his
return;--but instead of complying with my desires, I received a letter
from him, acquainting me that a business of more moment to him than any
thing in my power to guess at, required his presence in another place,
and insisted, by all the tenderness which had ever been between us, that
I would take on myself the management of this affair:--to enable me the
better to do it, he sent me a deed of trust to act as I should find it
most expedient.
As he did not let me into the secret of what motives detained him at so
critical a juncture, I was at first very much surprized; but on asking
some questions of the messenger I had sent to him, I soon discovered
what it was. He told me that on his arrival, he found my brother had
left his quarters and was gone to Bolognia, on which he followed and
overtook him there;--that he appeared in the utmost discontent, and was
just preparing to proceed to Leghorn, but did not mention to him any
more than he did in his letter to me, what inducement he had to this
journey:--his servant, however, told him privately, that the mystery was
this:--That being passionately in love with a young English lady, whom
he had placed in a monastery at Bolognia, and expected to find there at
his return, she had in his absence departed, without having acquainted
him with her design; and that supposing she was gone for England, and
unable to live without her, his intention was to take shipping for that
country, and make use of his utmost efforts to find her out.
I must confess, pursued the beautiful countess, this piece of quixotism
very much veved me:--I thought his friends in France deserved more from
him than to be neglected for one who fled from him, and who, as the man
said, he knew not whether he should be able ever to see again. I
resolved, however, to comply with his desires, and came immediately to
Paris; but heaven has shewed him how little it approves his giving me
this unnecessary trouble, for this morning I received a letter from him,
that meeting with robbers in his way, they had taken from him all his
money and bills of exchange, besides wounding him in several places, so
that he cannot proceed on his journey till his hurts, which it seems are
not dangerous, are cured, and he has fresh remittances from hence.
With what emotions the heart of Louisa was agitated during the latter
part of this little narrative, a sensible reader may easily conceive:
from the first mention of Bolognia, where there was no other English
pensioner than herself, she knew it must be no other than her dear du
Plessis who was in search for her abroad, while she was vainly hoping to
find him at home:--every circumstance rendered this belief more certain;
and surprize and joy worked so strongly in her, that fearing the effects
would be visible, she rose up and withdrew to a window. Mademoiselle
Charlotta, who knew she could not be capable of such an act of
unpoliteness, without being compelled to it, asked if she were not
well:--on which Louisa entreated pardon, but owned a sudden faintness
had come over her spirits, so that she was obliged to be rude in order
to prevent being troublesome.
As mademoiselle Charlotta knew nothing of her story, she had no farther
thought about it than of some little qualm, which frequently happens
when young ladies are too closely laced, and she seeming perfectly
recovered from, the conversation was renewed on the same subject it had
turned upon before this interruption; and the name of monsieur du
Plessis being often mentioned, confirmed Louisa, if before she could
have had the least remains of doubt, that it was her lover who,
neglectful of his own affairs, and the remonstrances of his expecting
friends, was about to range in search of one who, he imagined, was
ungrateful both to his love and friendship.
After having listened, with the utmost attention, to all the countess
said of him, and other matters becoming the topic of discourse, she took
her leave, in order to reflect alone what she ought to do in
this affair.
She debated not long within herself before she resolved to write to him,
and prevent the unprofitable journey he was about to take; and having
heard, by madam d' Espargnes, the name of the village where he was
obliged to wait, both for the recovery of his wounds and for remittances
for his expences, she wrote to him in the following terms:
_To monsieur_ DU PLESSIS.
"I should ill return the proofs I have received
of your generous disinterested friendship,
to delay one moment that I had it in my power,
in endeavouring to convince you that it was a
quite contrary motive than ingratitude to you,
that carried me from Bolognia:--but the story
is too long for the compass of a letter; when
you know it, you will, perhaps, own this action,
whatever you may now think of it, merits
more, than any thing I could have done, your
approbation:--this seeming riddle will be easily
expounded, if, on the recovery of your
wounds, you repair immediately to Paris, where
you will find
_Your much obliged_,