The first months after the departure of Gabriella, were passed, Juliet
narrated, quietly, though far from gaily, in complete retirement. To
lighten, through her cares and services, the terrible change of
condition experienced by her benefactress, the Marchioness, and by her
guardian, the Bishop, was her unremitting, and not successless
endeavour: but even this sad tranquillity was soon broken in upon, by an
accidental interview with a returned emigrant, who brought news of the
dangerous state of health into which the young son of Gabriella had
fallen. Too well knowing that this cherished little creature was the
sole consolation and support of its exiled mother, the Marchioness
earnestly desired that her daughter should possess again her early
companion; who best could aid to nurse the child; or, should its illness
prove fatal, to render its loss supportable. It was, therefore, settled,
that, guarded and accompanied by a faithful ancient servant, upon whose
prudence and attachment the Marchioness had the firmest reliance, Juliet
should follow her friend: and the benevolent Bishop promised to join
them both, as soon as his affairs would permit him to make the voyage.
To obtain a passport being then impossible, Ambroise, this worthy
domestic, was employed to discover means for secretly crossing the
channel: and, as adroit as he was trusty, he found out a pilot, who,
though ostensibly but a fisherman, was a noted smuggler; and who passed
frequently to the opposite shore; now with goods, now with letters, now
with passengers. By this man the Marchioness wrote to prepare Gabriella
for the reception of her friend, who was to join her at Brighthelmstone;
whither, in her last letter, written, as Juliet now knew, in the anguish
of discovering symptoms of danger in the illness of her darling boy,
Gabriella had mentioned her intended excursion for sea-bathing. The
diligent Ambroise soon obtained information that the pilot was preparing
to sail with a select party. The Marchioness would rather have postponed
the voyage, till an answer could have been received from her daughter;
yet this was not an opportunity to be neglected.
The light baggage, therefore, was packed, and they were waiting the word
of command from the pilot, when a commissary, from the Convention,
arrived, to purify, he said, and new-organize the town, near which, in a
villa that had been a part of her marriage-portion, the Marchioness and
her brother then resided. To this villa the commissary made his first
visit. The Bishop, by this agent of the inhuman Robespierre, was
immediately seized; and, while his unhappy sister, and nearly adoring
ward, were vainly kneeling at the feet of his condemner,--not accuser!
to supplicate mercy for innocence,--not for guilt! the persons who were
rifling the Bishop, shouted out, with savage joy, that they had found a
proof of his being a traitor, in a note in his pocket-book, which was
clearly a bribe from the enemy to betray the country. The commissary,
who, having often been employed as a spy, had a competent knowledge of
modern languages, which he spoke intelligibly, though with vulgar
phraseology and accent; took the paper, and read it without difficulty.
It was the promissory note of the old Earl Melbury.
He eagerly demanded the Citoyenne Julie; swearing that, if six thousand
pounds were to be got by marrying, he would marry without delay. He
ordered her, therefore, to accompany him forthwith to the mayoralty. At
her indignant refusal, he scoffingly laughed; but, upon her positive
resistance, ordered her into custody. This, also, moved her not; she
only begged to be confined in the same prison with the Bishop. Coarsely
mocking her attachment for the priest, and holding her by the chin, he
swore that he would marry her, and her six thousand pounds.
A million of deaths, could she die them, she resolutely replied, she
would suffer in preference.
Her priest, then, he said, should away to the guillotine; though she had
only to marry, and sign the promissory-note for the dower, to set the
parson at liberty. Filled with horrour, she wrung her hands, and stood
suspended; while the Marchioness, with anguish indescribable, and a look
that made a supplication that no voice could pronounce, fell upon her
neck, gasping for breath, and almost fainting.
'Ah, Madam!' Juliet cried, 'what is your will? I am yours,--entirely
yours! command me!'--
The Marchioness could not speak; but her sighs, her groans, rather, were
more eloquent than any words.
'Bind the priest!' the commissary cried. 'His trial is over; bind the
traitor, and take him to the cell for execution.'
The Marchioness sunk to the floor.
'No!' cried Juliet, 'bind him not! Touch not his reverend and revered
person!--Give me the paper! I will sign what you please! I will go
whither you will!'
'Come, then,' cried the commissary, 'to the mayoralty.'
Juliet covered her face, but moved towards the door.
The Bishop, hitherto passive and meekly resigned, now, with a sudden
effort of strength, repulsing his gaolers, while fire darted from his
eyes, and a spirit of command animated all his features, exclaimed, 'No,
generous Juliet! my own excellent child, no! Are a few years more or
less,--perhaps but a few minutes,--worth purchasing by the sacrifice of
truth, and the violation of every feeling? I will not be saved upon such
terms!'
'No preaching,' cried the commissary; 'off with him at once.'
The men now bound his hands and arms; while, returning to his natural
state of calmness, he lifted up his eyes towards heaven, and, in a loud
and sonorous voice, ejaculated, in Latin, a fervent prayer; with an air
so absorbed in mental and pious abstraction, that he seemed unconscious
what became of his person.
Juliet, who had shrunk back at his speech, again advanced, and, with
agony unspeakable, held out her hand, in token of consent. The
commissary received it triumphantly, at the moment that the Bishop, upon
reaching the door, turned round to take a last view of his unhappy
sister; who, torn with conflicting emotions, seemed a statue of horrour.
But no sooner did he perceive the hand of his ward unresistingly grasped
by the commissary, than again the expression of his face shewed his soul
brought back from its heavenly absorption; and, stopping short, with an
air which, helpless and shackled as he was, overawed his fierce
conductors, 'Hold yet a moment,' he cried. 'Oh Juliet! Think,--know what
you are about! 'Tis not to this world alone you are responsible for vows
offered up at the altar of God! My child! my more than daughter!
sacrifice not your purity to your affections! Drag me not back from a
virtuous death to a miserable existence, by the foul crime of wilful
perjury!'
Juliet affrighted, again snatched away her hand, with a look at the
commissary which pronounced an abhorrent refusal.
The commissary, stamping with fury, ordered the Bishop instantly to the
cell of death. Where guilt, he said, had been proved, there was no need
of any tribunal; and the execution should take place with the speed
called for by his dangerous crimes.
Juliet, cold, trembling, and again irresolute, was involuntarily turning
to the commissary; but the Bishop, charging her to be firm, pronounced a
pious blessing upon her head; faintly spoke a last adieu to his
miserable sister, and, with commanding solemnity, accompanied his
gaolers away.
The horrour of that moment Juliet attempted not to describe; nor could
she recur to it, without sighs and emotions that, for a while, stopt her
narration.
Sir Jaspar would have spared her the resumption of the history; but she
would not, having thus raised, trifle with his curiosity.
The commissary, she continued, then took possession of all the money,
plate, and jewels he could find, and pursued what he called his rounds
of purification.
How the Marchioness or herself out-lived that torturing day, Juliet
declared she could with difficulty, now, conceive. She was again willing
to become a victim to the safety of her guardian; but even the
Marchioness ceased to desire his preservation upon terms from which he
himself recoiled as culpable. Early the next morning they were both
conducted to a large house upon the market-place, where, in the most
direful suspense, they were kept waiting for more than two hours; in
which interval, such was the oppression of terrour, neither of them
opened their lips.
The commissary, at length, broke into the room, and, seating himself in
an arm-chair, while, humbly and tremblingly, they stood at the door,
demanded of Juliet whether she were become more reasonable. Her head
drooped, but she would not answer. 'Follow me,' he cried, 'to this
balcony.' He opened a door leading to a large apartment that looked upon
the market-place. She suspected some sinister design, and would not
obey. 'Come you, then!' he cried, to the Marchioness; and, taking her by
the shoulder, rudely and grossly, he pushed her before him, till she
entered upon the balcony. A dreadful scream, which then broke from her,
brought Juliet to her side.
Here, again, overpowered by the violence of bitter recollections, which
operated, for the moment, with nearly the force of immediate suffering,
Juliet was obliged to take breath before she could proceed.
'Oh Sir Jaspar!' she then cried, 'upon approaching the wretched
Marchioness, what a distracting scene met my eyes! A scaffolding,--a
guillotine,--an executioner,--were immediately opposite me! and in the
hand of that hardened executioner, was held up to the view of the
senseless multitude, the ghastly, bleeding head of a victim that moment
offered up at the shrine of unmeaning though ferocious cruelty! Four
other destined victims, kneeling and devoutly at prayers, their hands
tied behind them, and their heads bald, were prepared for sacrifice; and
amidst them, eminently conspicuous, from his dignified mien, and pious
calmness, I distinguished my revered guardian! the Marchioness had
distinguished her beloved brother!--Oh moment of horrour exceeding all
description! I cast myself, nearly frantic, at the feet of the
commissary; I embraced his knees, as if with the fervour of affection;
wildly and passionately I conjured him to accept my hand and fortune,
and save the Bishop!--He laughed aloud with triumphant derision; but
gave an immediate order to postpone the execution of the priest. I blest
him,--yes, with all his crimes upon his head!--and even again I should
bless him, to save a life so precious!
'The Marchioness, recovering her strength with her hopes, seized the arm
of the messenger of this heavenly news, hurrying him along with a force
nearly supernatural, and calling out aloud herself, from the instant
that she entered the market place, "_Un sursit! Un sursit!_"[11]
[Footnote 11: 'A Reprieve! a reprieve!']
'"Now, then," cried the commissary, "come with me to the mayoralty;" and
was taking my no longer withheld, but shaking hand, when some soldiers
abruptly informed him than an insurrection had broken out at ----, which
demanded his immediate presence.
'I caught this moment of his engaged attention to find my way down
stairs, and into the market-place: but not with a view to escape; every
feeling of my soul was concentrated in the safety of the Bishop. I
rushed forward, I forced my way through the throng, which, though at
first it opposed my steps, no sooner looked at me than, intimidated by
my desperation, or affected by my agony, it facilitated my passage.
Rapidly I overtook the Marchioness, whose age, whose dignified energy,
and loud cries of Reprieve! made way for her through every impediment,
whether of crowd or of guards, to the scaffolding. How we accomplished
it, nevertheless, I now wonder! But a sense of right, when asserted with
courage, is lodged in the lowest, the vilest of mankind;--a sense of
right, an awe of justice, and a propensity to sympathize with acute
distress! The reprieve which our cries had anticipated, and which the
man whom we accompanied confirmed, was received by the multitude, from
an ardent and universal respect to the well known excellencies of the
Bishop, with shouts of applause that exalted our joy at his deliverance
into a felicity which we thought celestial! At his venerable feet we
prostrated ourselves, as if he had been a martyr to religion, and
already was sainted. He was greatly affected; though perhaps only by our
emotion; for he looked too uncertain how this event had been brought to
bear, to partake of our happiness; and at me he cast an eye so full of
compassion, yet so interrogative, that mine sunk under it; and, far from
exulting that I had thus devoted myself to his preservation, I was
already trembling at the acknowledgement I had to make, when I was
suddenly seized by a soldier, who forced me, from all the tenderest
interests of my heart, back to the stormy commissary. Oh! what a change
of scene! He roughly took me by the arm, which felt as if it were
withered, and no longer a part of my frame at his touch; and, with
accusations of the grossest nature, and vows the most tremendous of
vengeance, compelled me to attend him to the mayoralty; deaf to my
prayers, my entreaties, my kneeling supplications that he would first
suffer me to see the Bishop at liberty.
'At the mayoralty he was accosted by a messenger sent from the
Convention. Ah! it seemed to me, at that moment, that a whole age of
suffering could not counterbalance the delight I experienced, when, to
read an order thus presented to him, he was constrained to relinquish
his hard grasp! Still greater was my relief, when I learnt, by what
passed, that he had received commands to proceed directly to ----, where
the insurrection was become dangerous.
'Such a multiplicity of business now crowded upon him, that I conceived
a hope I might be forgotten; or, at least, set apart as a future prey:
but alas! the promissory-note was still in his hand, and,--if heart he
has any,--if heart be not left out in his composition, there, past all
doubt, the six thousand pounds were already lodged. All my hopes,
therefore, faded away, when he had given some new directions; for,
seizing me again, by the wrist, he dragged me to the place,--I had
nearly said of execution!--There, by his previous orders, all were in
waiting,--all was ready!--Oh, Sir Jaspar! how is it that life still
holds, in those periods when all our earthly hopes, and even our
faculties of happiness, seem for ever entombed.'
The bitterest sighs again interrupted her narration; but neither the
humanity nor the politeness of Sir Jaspar could combat any longer his
curiosity, and he conjured her to proceed.
'The civil ceremony, dreadful, dreadful! however little awful compared
with that of the church, was instantly begun; in the midst of the buz of
business, the clamour of many tongues, the sneers of contempt, and the
laughter of derision; with an irreverence that might have suited a
theatre, and with a mockery of which the grossest buffoons would have
been ashamed. Scared and disordered, I understood not,--I heard not a
word; and my parched lips, and burning mouth, could not attempt any
articulation.
'In a minute or two, this pretended formality was interrupted, by
information that a new messenger from the Convention demanded immediate
admittance. The commissary swore furiously that he should wait till the
six thousand pounds were secured; and vociferously ordered that the
ceremony should be hurried on. He was obeyed! and though my quivering
lips were never opened to pronounce an assenting syllable, the ceremony,
the direful ceremony, was finished, and I was called,--Oh heaven and
earth!--his wife! his married wife!--The Marchioness, at the same
terrible moment, broke into the apartment. The conflict between horrour
and tenderness was too violent, and, as she encircled me, with tortured
pity, in her arms, I sunk senseless at her feet.
'Upon recovering, the first words that I heard were, "Look up, my child,
look up! we are alone!" and I beheld the unhappy Marchioness, whose face
seemed a living picture of commiserating woe. The commissary had been
forced away by a new express; but he had left a charge that I should be
ready to give my signature upon his return. The Marchioness then, with
expressions melting, at once, and exalting, condescended to pour forth
the most soothing acknowledgments; yet conjured me not to leave my own
purpose unanswered, by signing the promissory-note, till the Bishop
should be restored to liberty, with a passport, by which he might
instantly quit this spot of persecution. To find something was yet to be
done, and to be done for the Bishop, once more revived me; and when the
commissary re-entered the apartment, neither order nor menace could
intimidate me to take the pen, till my conditions were fulfilled. My
life, indeed, at that horrible period, had lost all value but what was
attached to the Bishop, the Marchioness, and my beloved Gabriella; for
myself, it seemed, thenceforth, reserved not for wretchedness, but
despair!
'The passport was soon prepared; but when the Bishop was brought in to
receive it in my presence, he rejected it, even with severity, till he
heard,--from myself heard!--that the marriage-ceremony, as it was
called! was already over. Into what a consternation was he then flung!
Pale grew his reverend visage, and his eyes glistened with tears. He
would not, however, render abortive the sacrifice which he could no
longer impede, and I signed the promissory-note; while the Marchioness
wept floods of tears upon my neck; and the Bishop, with a look of
anguish that rent my heart, waved, with speechless sorrow, his venerable
hand, in token of a blessing, over my head; and, deeply sighing,
silently departed.
'The commissary, forced immediately away, to transact some business with
his successor at this place, committed me to the charge of the mayor. I
was shewn to a sumptuous apartment; which I entered with a shuddering
dread that the gloomiest prison could scarcely have excited. The
Marchioness followed her brother; and I remained alone, trembling,
shaking, almost fainting at every sound, in a state of terrour and
misery indescribable. The commissary, however, returned not; and the
mayor, to whom my title of horrour was a title of respect, paid me
attentions of every sort.
'In the afternoon, the Marchioness brought me the reviving tidings that
the Bishop was departed. He had promised to endeavour to join Gabriella.
The rest of this direful day passed, and no commissary appeared: but the
anguish of unremitting expectation kept aloof all joy at his absence,
for, in idea, he appeared every moment! Nevertheless, after sitting up
together the whole fearful night, we saw the sun rise the next morning
without any new horrour. I then received a visit from the mayor, with
information that the insurrection at ---- had obliged the commissary to
repair thither, and that he had just sent orders that I should join him
in the evening. Resistance was out of the question. The tender
Marchioness demanded leave to accompany me; but the mayor interposed,
and forced her home, to prepare and deliver my wardrobe for the journey.
It was so long ere she returned, that the patience of the mayor was
almost exhausted; but when, at last, she arrived, what a change was
there in her air! Her noble aspect had recovered more than its usual
serenity; it was radiant with benevolence and pleasure; and, when we
were left an instant together, "My Juliet!" she cried, while beaming
smiles illumined her fine face, "my Juliet! my other child! blessed be
Heaven, I can now rescue our rescuer! I have found means to snatch her
from this horrific thraldom, in the very journey destined for its
accomplishment!"
'She then briefly prepared me for meeting and seconding the scheme of
deliverance that she had devised with the excellent Ambroise; and we
separated,--with what tears, what regret,--yet what perturbation of
rising hope!
'All that the Marchioness had arranged was executed. Ambroise, disguised
as an old waggoner, preceded me to the small town of ----, where the
postilion, he knew, must stop to water the horses. Here I obtained leave
to alight for some refreshment, of which an old municipal officer, who
had me in charge, was not sorry, in idea, to partake; as he could not
entertain the most distant notion that I had formed any plan of escape.
As soon, however, as I was able to disengage myself from his sight, a
chambermaid, who had previously been gained by Ambroise, wrapt me in a
man's great coat, put on me a black wig, and a round hat, and, pointing
to a back door, went out another way; speaking aloud, as if called; to
give herself the power of asserting, afterwards, that the evasion had
been effected in her absence. The pretended waggoner then took me under
his arm, and flew with me across a narrow passage, where we met, by
appointment, an ancient domestic of the Bishop's; who conveyed me to a
small house, and secreted me in a dark closet, of which the entrance was
not discernible. He then went forth upon his own affairs, into such
streets and places as were most public; and my good waggoner found means
to abscond.
'Here, while rigidly retaining the same posture, and scarcely daring to
breathe any more than to move, I heard the house entered by sundry
police-officers, who were pursuing me with execrations. They came into
the very room in which I was concealed; and beat round the wainscot in
their search; touching even the board which covered the small aperture,
not door, by which I was hidden from their view! I was not, however,
discovered; nor was the search, there, renewed; from the adroitness of
the domestic by whom I had been saved, in having shewn himself in the
public streets before I had yet been missed.
'In this close recess, nearly without air, wholly without motion, and
incapable of taking any rest; but most kindly treated by the wife of the
good domestic, I passed a week. All search in that neighbourhood being
then over, I changed my clothing for some tattered old garments; stained
my face, throat, and arms; and, in the dead of the night, quitted my
place of confinement, and was conducted by my protector to a spot about
half a mile from the town. There I found Ambroise awaiting me, with a
little cart; in which he drove me to a small mean house, in the vicinity
of the sea-coast. He introduced me to the landlord and landlady as his
relation, and then left me to take some repose; while he went forth to
discover whether the pilot were yet sailed.
'He had delivered to me my work-bag, in which was my purse, generously
stored by the Marchioness, with all the ready money that she could
spare, for my journey. For herself, she held it essential to remain
stationary, lest a general emigration should alienate the family-fortune
from every branch of her house. Excellent lady! At the moment she thus
studied the prosperity of her descendants, she lived upon roots, while
deprived of all she most valued in life, the society of her only child!
'To repose the good Ambroise left me; but far from my pillow was repose!
the dreadful idea of flying one who might lay claim to the honoured
title of husband for pursuing me; the consciousness of being held by an
engagement which I would not fulfil, yet could not deny; the uncertainty
whether my revered Bishop had effected his escape; and the necessity of
abandoning my generous benefactress when surrounded by danger; joined to
the affliction of returning to my native country,--the country of my
birth, my heart, and my pride!--without name, without fortune, without
friends! no parents to receive me, no protector to counsel me;
unacknowledged by my family,--unknown even to the children of my
father!--Oh! bitter, bitter were my feelings!--Yet when I considered
that no action of my life had offended society, or forfeited my rights
to benevolence, I felt my courage revive, for I trusted in Providence.
Sleep then visited my eye-lids, though hard was the bed upon which I
sought it; hard and cold! the month was December. Happy but short
respite of forgetfulness! Four days and nights followed, of the most
terrible anxiety, ere Ambroise returned. He then brought me the
dismaying intelligence, that circumstances had intervened, in his own
affairs, that made it impossible for him, at that moment, to quit his
country. Yet less than ever could my voyage be delayed, the commissary
having, in his fury, advertised a description of my person, and set a
price upon my head; publicly vowing that I should be made over to the
guillotine, when found, for an example. Oh reign so justly called of
terrour! How lawless is its cruelty! How blest by all mankind will be
its termination.
'It now became necessary to my safety, that Ambroise, who was known to
be a domestic of the Marchioness, should not appear to belong to me;
and that, to avoid any suspicion that I was the person advertised by the
commissary, I should present myself to the pilot as an accidental
passenger.
'Ambroise had found means, during his absence, to communicate with the
Marchioness; from whom he brought me a letter of the sweetest kindness;
and intelligence and injunctions of the utmost importance.
'The commissary, she informed me, immediately upon my disappearance, had
presented the promissory-note to the bankers; but they had declared it
not to be valid, till it were either signed by the heir of the late Earl
Melbury, or re-signed, with a fresh date, by Lord Denmeath. The
commissary, therefore, had sent over an agent to Lord Denmeath, to
claim, as my husband, the six thousand pounds, before my evasion should
be known. The Marchioness conjured me, nevertheless, to forbear applying
to my family; or avowing my name, or my return to my native land, till I
should be assured of the safety of the Bishop; whom the commissary had
now ordered to be pursued, and upon whom the most horrible vengeance
might be wreaked, should my escape to this happy land transpire, before
his own should be effected: though, while I was still supposed to be
within reach of our cruel persecutor, the Bishop, even if he were
seized, might merely be detained as an hostage for my future concession;
till happier days, or partial accident, might work his deliverance.
'Inviolably I have adhered to these injunctions. In a note which I left
for the Marchioness, with Ambroise, I solemnly assured her, that no
hardships of adversity, nor even any temptation to happiness, should
make me waver in my given faith; or tear from me the secret of my name
and story, till I again saw, or received tidings of the Bishop. And Oh
how light, how even blissful,--in remembrance, at least,--will prove
every sacrifice, should the result be the preservation of the most pious
and exemplary of men! But, alas! I have been discovered, while still in
the dark as to his destiny, by means which no self-denial could
preclude, no fortitude avert!
'The indefatigable Ambroise had learned that the pilot was to sail the
next evening for Dover. I now added patches and bandages to my stained
skin, and garb of poverty; and stole, with Ambroise, to the sea-side;
where we wandered till past midnight; when Ambroise descried a little
vessel, and the pilot; and, soon afterwards, sundry passengers, who, in
dead silence, followed each other into the boat. I then approached, and
called out to beg admission. I desired Ambroise to be gone; but he was
too anxious to leave me. Faithful, excellent creature! how he suffered
while I pleaded in vain! how he rejoiced when one of the passengers,
open to heavenly pity, humanely returned to the shore to assist me into
the boat! Ambroise took my last adieu to the Marchioness; and I set sail
for my loved, long lost, and fearfully recovered native land.
'The effect upon my spirits of this rescue from an existence of
unmingled horrour, was so exhilarating, so exquisite, that no sooner was
my escape assured, than, from an impulse irresistible, I cast my ring,
which I had not yet dared throw away, into the sea; and felt as if my
freedom were from that moment restored! And, though innumerable
circumstances were unpleasant in the way, I was insensible to all but my
release; and believed that only to touch the British shore would be
liberty and felicity!
'Little did I then conceive, impossible was it I should foresee, the
difficulties, dangers, disgraces, and distresses towards which I was
plunging! Too, too soon was I drawn from my illusion of perfect
happiness! and my first misfortune was the precursor of every evil by
which I have since been pursued;--I lost my purse; and, with it, away
flew my fancied independence, my ability to live as I pleased, and to
devote all my thoughts and my cares to consoling my beloved friend!
'Vainly in London, and vainly at Brighthelmstone I sought that friend. I
would have returned to the capital, to attempt tracing her by minuter
enquiry; but I was deterred by poverty, and the fear of personal
discovery. I could only, therefore, continue on the spot named by the
Marchioness for our general rendezvous, where the opening of every day
gave me the chance of some direction how to proceed. But alas! from that
respected Marchioness two letters only have ever reached me! The first
assured me that she was safe and well, and that the Bishop, though
forced to take a distant route, had escaped his pursuers: but that the
commissary was in hourly augmenting rage, from Lord Denmeath's refusing
to honour the promissory-note, till the marriage should be authenticated
by the bride, with the signature and acquittal of the Bishop. The second
letter,--second and last from this honoured lady!--said that all was
well; but bid me wait with patience, perhaps to a long period, for
further intelligence, and console and seek to dwell with her Gabriella:
or, should any unforeseen circumstances inevitably separate us,
endeavour to fix myself in some respectable and happy family, whose
social felicity might bring, during this dread interval of suspense,
reflected happiness to my own heart: but still to remain wholly
unknown, till I should be joined by the Bishop.
'Cast thus upon myself, and for a time indefinite, how hardly, and how
variously have I existed! But for the dreadful fear of worse, darkly and
continually hovering over my head, I could scarcely have summoned
courage for my unremitting trials. But whatever I endured was constantly
light in comparison with what I had escaped! Yet how was I tried,--Oh
Sir Jaspar! how cruelly! in resisting to present myself to my family! in
forbearing to pronounce the kind appellation of brother! the soft,
tender title of sister! Oh! in their sight, when witnessing their
goodness, when blest by their kindness, and urged by the most generous
sweetness to confidence, how violent, how indescribable have been my
struggles, to withhold from throwing myself into their arms, with the
fair, natural openness of sisterly affection! But Lord Denmeath, who
disputed, or denied, my relation to their family, was their uncle and
guardian. To him to make myself known, would have been to blight every
hope of concealment from the commissary, whose claims were precisely in
unison with the plan of his lordship, for making me an alien to my
country. What, against their joint interests and authority, would be the
power of a sister or a brother under age? Often, indeed, I was tempted
to trust them in secret; and oh how consolatory to my afflicted heart
would have been such a trust! but they had yet no establishment, and
they were wards of my declared enemy. How unavailing, therefore, to
excite their generous zeal, while necessarily forced to exact that our
ties of kindred should remain unacknowledged? Upon their honour I could
rely; but by their feelings, their kind, genuine, ardent feelings, I
must almost unavoidably have been betrayed.
'To my Gabriella, also, I have forborne to unbosom my sorrows, and
reveal my alarms, that I might spare her already so deeply wounded soul,
the restless solicitude of fresh and cruel uncertainties. She concludes,
that though her letters have miscarried, or been lost, her honoured
mother and uncle still reside safely together, in the villa of the
Marchioness, in which she had bidden them adieu. And that noble mother
charged me to hide, if it should be possible, from her unhappy child,
the terrible history in which I had borne so considerable a part, till
she could give assurances to us both of her own and the Bishop's safety.
Alas! nine months have now worn away since our separation, yet no news
arrives!--no Bishop appears!
'And now, Sir Jaspar, you have fully before you the cause and history
of my long concealment, my strange wanderings, and the apparently
impenetrable mystery in which I have been involved: why I could not
claim my family; why I could not avow my situation; why I dared not even
bear my name; all, all is before you! Oh! could I equally display to you
the events in store! tell you whether my revered Bishop is safe!--or
whether his safety, his precious life, can only be secured by my
perpetual captivity! One thing alone, in the midst of my complicate
suspenses, one thing alone is certain; no consideration that this world
can offer, will deter me from going back, voluntarily, to every evil
from which I have hitherto been flying, should the Bishop again be
seized, and should his release hang upon my final self-devotion!'