It was the beginning of September, and the weather super till they
neared the Apennines, where they felt the approach of winter. A soft
air is seldom united with the pleasure of looking on picturesque
mountains. One evening, a terrible hurricane arose: the thickest
darkness closed around them; and the horses, so wild there that they
are even harnessed by stratagem, set off with inconceivable rapidity.
Our lovers felt much excited by being thus hurried on together. "Ah!"
cried Oswald, "if they could bear us from all I know on earth--if they
could climb these hills, and dash into another life, where we should
regain my father, who would receive and bless us, would you not go with
me, beloved?" He pressed her vehemently to his bosom. Corinne, enamored
as himself, replied: "Dispose of me as you will; chain me like a slave
to your fate: had not the slaves of other days talents that soothed
their masters? Such would I be to thee. But, Oswald, yet respect her
who thus trusts thee: condemned by all the world, she must not blush
to meet thine eye."--"No," he exclaimed, "I will lose all, or all
obtain. I ought, I must either live thy husband, or die in stifling the
transports of my passion: but I will hope to be thine before the world,
and glory in thy tenderness. Yet tell me, I conjure thee, have I not
sunk in thine esteem by all these struggles? Canst thou believe thyself
less dear than ever?" His accents were so sincere, that, for awhile,
they gave her back her confidence, and the purest, sweetest rapture
animated them both.
Meanwhile the horses stopped. Oswald alighted first. The cold sharp
wind almost made him fancy himself landing in England: this freezing
air was not like that of Italy, which bids young breasts forget all
things save love. Oswald sank back into his gloom. Corinne, who knew
the unsettled nature of his fancy, but too well guessed the cause. On
the morrow they arrived at our Lady of Loretto, which stands upon an
eminence, from whence is seen the Adriatic. While Oswald gave some
orders for their journey, Corinne entered the church, where the image
of the Virgin is inclosed in the choir of a small chapel, adorned
with bas-reliefs. The marble pavement that surrounds the sanctuary is
worn by pilgrim knees. Corinne, moved by these marks of prayer, knelt
on the stones so often pressed by the unfortunate, and addressed the
type of heavenly truth and sensibility. Oswald here found her bathed
in tears. He did not understand how a woman of her mind could bow to
the practices of the ignorant. She guessed this by his looks, and
said: "Dear Oswald, are there not many moments when we dare not raise
our hopes to the Supreme Being, or breathe to him the sorrows of our
hearts? Is it not pleasing, then, to behold a woman as intercessor for
our human weakness? She suffered on this earth, for she lived on it; to
her I blush not to pray for you, when a petition to God himself would
overawe me."--"I cannot always directly supplicate my Maker," replied
Oswald. "I, too, have my intercessor: the guardian angel of children is
their father: and since mine has been in heaven, I have oft received
an unexpected solace, aid, and composure, which I can but attribute
to the miraculous protection whence I still hope to escape from my
perplexities."--"I comprehend you," said Corinne, "and believe there
is no one who has not some mysterious idea of his own destiny--one
event which he has always dreaded, and which, though improbable, is
sure to happen. The punishment of some fault, though it be impossible
to trace the connection our misfortunes have with it, often strikes
the imagination. From my childhood I trembled at the idea of living in
England. Well; my inability to do so may be my worst regret; and on
that point I feel there is something unconquerable in my fate, against
which I struggle in vain. Every one conceives his life interiorly a
contrast to what it seems we have a confused sense of some supernatural
power, disguised in the form of external circumstance, while itself
alone is the source of all our actions. Dear friend, minds capable
of reasoning forever plunge into their own abyss, but always fail to
fathom it."
Oswald, as he heard her speak thus, wondered to find that, while
she was capable of such glowing sentiments, her judgment still could
hover over them, like their presiding genius. "No," he frequently said
to himself, "no other society on earth can satisfy the man who has
possessed such a companion as this."
They entered Ancona at night, as he wished not to be recognized: in
spite of his precautions, however, he was so; and the next morning
all the inhabitants crowded about the house in which he stayed,
awaking Corinne by shouts of "Long live Lord Nevil, our benefactor!"
She started, rose hastily, and mingled with the crowd, to hear their
praises of the man she loved. Oswald, informed that the people were
impatiently calling for him, was at last obliged to appear. He believed
Corinne still slept: what was his astonishment at finding her already
known and cherished by the grateful multitude, who entreated her to
be their interpretress! Corinne's imagination--by turns her charm
and her defect--delighted in extraordinary adventures. She thanked
Lord Nevil, in the name of the people, with a grace so noble that the
natives were in ectasies. Speaking for them, she said: "You preserved
us--we owe you our lives!" But when she offered him the oak and
laurel crown they had entwined, an indefinite timidity beset her: the
enthusiastic populace prostrated themselves before him, and Corinne
involuntarily bent her knee in tendering him the garland. Oswald was so
overwhelmed at the sight, that he could no longer support this scene,
nor the public homage of his beloved; but drew her away with him. She
wept, and thanked the good inhabitants of Ancona, who followed them
with blessings, as Oswald, hiding himself in his carriage, murmured:
"Corinne at my feet! Corinne, in whose path I ought to kneel! Have I
deserved this? Do you suspect me of such unworthy pride?"--"No, no,"
she said; "but I was suddenly seized with the respect a woman always
feels for him she loves. To us, indeed, is external deference most
directed; but in truth, in nature, it is the woman who reveres the
being capable of defending her."
"Yes, I will be thy defender, to the last hour of my life!" he
answered. "Heaven be my witness, such a genius shall not in vain seek
a refuge in the harbor of my love!"--"Alas!" she sighed, "that love is
all I need; and what promise can secure it to me? No matter. I feel
that you love me now better than ever: let us not trouble this return
of affection."--"Return!" interrupted Oswald.--"I cannot retract the
expression; but let us not seek to explain it;" and she made a gentle
sign for Nevil to be silent.