and now by my Parents being likely to be forced to Marry him, is in
short, the great occasion of my grief. I fansy’d (continued she)
something so Generous in your Countenance, and uncommon in your
Behaviour, while you were diverting your self, and rallying me with
Expressions of Gallantry, at the Ball, as induced me to hold Conference
with you. I now freely confess to you, out of design, That if things
should happen as I then feared, and as now they are come to pass, I
might rely upon your assistance in a matter of Concern; and in which I
would sooner chuse to depend upon a generous Stranger, than any
Acquaintance I have. What Mirth and Freedom I then put on, were, I can
assure you, far distant from my Heart; but I did violence to my self
out of Complaisance to your Temper.—I knew you at the Tilting, and
wished you might come off as you did; though I do not doubt, but you
would have had as good Success had it been opposite to my
Inclinations.—Not to detain you by too tedious a Relation, every day my
Friends urged me to the Match they had agreed upon for me, before I was
capable of Consenting; at last their importunities grew to that degree,
that I found I must either consent, which would make me miserable, or
be miserable by perpetually enduring to be baited by my Father, Brother
and other Relations. I resolved yesterday, on a suddain to give firm
Faith to the Opinion I had conceived of you; and accordingly came in
the Evening to request your assistance, in delivering me from my
Tormentors, by a safe and private conveyance of me to a Monastery about
four Leagues hence, where I have an Aunt who would receive me, and is
the only Relation I have averse to the Match. I was surprized at the
appearance of some Company I did not expect at your Lodgings; which
made me in haste tear a Paper which I had written to you with
Directions where to find me, and get speedily away in my Coach to an
old Servant’s House, whom I acquainted with my purpose: By my Order she
provided me of this Habit which I now wear; I ventured to trust my self
with her Brother, and resolved to go under his Conduct to the
Monastery; he proved to be a Villain, and Pretending to take me a short
and private way to the place where he was to take up a Hackney Coach
(for that which I came in was broke some where or other with the haste
it made to carry me from your Lodging) led me into an old ruined
Monastery, where it pleased Heaven, by what Accident I know not, to
direct you. I need not tell you how you saved my Life and my Honour, by
revenging me with the Death of my Perfidious Guide. This is the summ of
my present Condition, bating the apprehensions I am in of being taken
by some of my Relations, and forced to a thing so quite contrary to my
Inclinations.
Aurelian was confounded at the Relation she had made, and began to fear
his own Estate to be more desperate than ever he had imagined. He made
her a very Passionate and Eloquent Speech in behalf of himself (much
better than I intend to insert here) and expressed a mighty concern
that she should look upon his ardent Affection to be only Rallery or
Gallantry. He was very free of his Oaths to confirm the Truth of what
he pretended, nor I believe did she doubt it, or at least was unwilling
so to do: For I would Caution the Reader by the bye, not to believe
every word which she told him, nor that admirable sorrow which she
counterfeited to be accurately true. It was indeed truth so cunningly
intermingled with Fiction, that it required no less Wit and Presence of
Mind than she was endowed with so to acquit her self on the suddain.
She had entrusted her self indeed with a Fellow who proved a Villain,
to conduct her to a Monastery; but one which was in the Town, and where
she intended only to lie concealed for his sake; as the Reader shall
understand ere long: For we have another Discovery to make to him, if
he have not found it out of himself already.
After Aurelian had said what he was able upon the Subject in hand, with
a mournful tone and dejected look, he demanded his Doom. She asked him
if he would endeavour to convey her to the Monastery she had told him
of? ‘Your commands, Madam, (replied he) ‘are Sacred to me; and were
they to lay down my Life I would obey them. With that he would have
gone out of the Room, to have given order for his Horses to be got
ready immediately; but with a Countenance so full of sorrow as moved
Compassion in the tender hearted Incognita. ‘Stay a little Don
Hippolito (said she) I fear I shall not be able to undergo the Fatigue
of a Journey this Night.—Stay and give me your Advice how I shall
conceal my self if I continue to morrow in this Town. Aurelian could
have satisfied her she was not then in a place to avoid discovery: But
he must also have told her then the reason of it, viz. whom he was, and
who were in quest of him, which he did not think convenient to declare
till necessity should urge him; for he feared least her knowledge of
those designs which were in agitation between him and Juliana, might
deter her more from giving her consent. At last he resolved to try his
utmost perswasions to gain her, and told her accordingly, he was afraid
she would be disturbed there in the Morning, and he knew no other way
(if she had not as great an aversion for him as the Man whom she now
endeavour’d to avoid) than by making him happy to make her self secure.
He demonstrated to her,—that the disobligation to her Parents would be
greater by going to a Monastery, since it was only to avoid a choice
which they had made for her, and which she could not have so just a
pretence to do till she had made one for her self.
A World of other Arguments he used, which she contradicted as long as
she was able, or at least willing. At last she told him, she would
consult her Pillow, and in the Morning conclude what was fit to be
done. He thought it convenient to leave her to her rest, and having
lock’d her up in his Room, went himself to repose upon a Pallat by
Signior Claudio.
In the mean time, it may be convenient to enquire what became of
Hippolito. He had wandered much in pursuit of Aurelian, though Leonora
equally took up his Thoughts; He was reflecting upon the oddness and
extravagance of his Circumstances, the Continuation of which had
doubtless created in him a great uneasiness, when it was interrupted
with the noise of opening the Gates of the Convent of St. Lawrence,
whither he was arrived sooner than he thought for, being the place
Aurelian had appointed by the Lacquey to meet him in. He wondered to
see the Gates opened at so unseasonable an hour, and went to enquire
the reason of it from them who were employ’d; but they proved to be
Novices, and made him signs to go in, where he might meet with some
body allow’d to answer him. He found the Religious Men all up, and
Tapers lighting every where: at last he follow’d a Friar who was going
into the Garden, and asking him the cause of these Preparations, he was
answered, That they were entreated to pray for the Soul of a Cavalier,
who was just departing or departed this Life, and whom upon farther
talk with him, he found to be the same Lorenzo so often mentioned. Don
Mario, it seems Uncle to Lorenzo and Father to Leonora, had a private
Door out of the Garden belonging to his House into that of the Convent,
which Door this Father was now a going to open, that he and his Family
might come and offer up their Oraisons for the Soul of their Kinsman.
Hippolito having informed himself of as much as he could ask without
suspicion, took his leave of the Friar, not a little joyful at the
Hopes he had by such unexpected Means, of seeing his Beautiful Leonora:
As soon as he was got at convenient Distance from the Friar, (who ’tis
like thought he had return’d into the Convent to his Devotion) he
turned back through a close Walk which led him with a little Compass,
to the same private Door, where just before he had left the Friar, who
now he saw was gone, and the Door open.
He went into Don Mario’s Garden, and walk’d round with much Caution and
Circumspection; for the Moon was then about to rise, and had already
diffused a glimmering Light, sufficient to distinguish a Man from a
Tree. By Computation now (which is a very remarkable Circumstance)
Hippolito entred this Garden near upon the same Instant, when Aurelian
wandred into the Old Monastery and found his Incognita in Distress. He
was pretty well acquainted with the Platform, and Sight of the Garden;
for he had formerly surveyed the Outside, and knew what part to make to
if he should be surpriz’d and driven to a precipitate Escape. He took
his Stand behind a well grown Bush of Myrtle, which, should the Moon
shine brighter than was required, had the Advantage to be shaded by the
Indulgent Boughs of an ancient Bay-Tree. He was delighted with the
Choice he had made, for he found a Hollow in the Myrtle, as if
purposely contriv’d for the Reception of one Person, who might
undiscovered perceive all about him. He looked upon it as a good Omen,
that the Tree Consecrated to Venus was so propitious to him in his
Amorous Distress. The Consideration of that, together with the
Obligation he lay under to the Muses, for sheltering him also with so
large a Crown of Bays, had like to have set him a Rhyming.
He was, to tell the Truth, naturally addicted to Madrigal, and we
should undoubtedly have had a small desert of Numbers to have pick’d
and Criticiz’d upon, had he not been interrupted just upon his
Delivery; nay, after the Preliminary Sigh had made Way for his
Utterance. But so was his Fortune, Don Mario was coming towards the
Door at that very nick of Time, where he met with a Priest just out of
Breath, who told him that Lorenzo was just breathing his last, and
desired to know if he would come and take his final Leave before they
were to administer the Extream Unction. Don Mario, who had been at some
Difference with his Nephew, now thought it his Duty to be reconciled to
him; so calling to Leonora, who was coming after him, he bid her go to
her Devotions in the Chappel, and told her where he was going.
He went on with the Priest, while Hippolito saw Leonora come forward,
only accompanied by her Woman. She was in an undress, and by reason of
a Melancholy visible in her Face, more Careless than usual in her
Attire, which he thought added as much as was possible to the abundance
of her Charms. He had not much Time to Contemplate this Beauteous
Vision, for she soon passed into the Garden of the Convent, leaving him
Confounded with Love, Admiration, Joy, Hope, Fear, and all the Train of
Passions, which seize upon Men in his Condition, all at once. He was so
teazed with this Variety of Torment, that he never missed the Two Hours
that had slipped away during his Automachy and Intestine Conflict.
Leonora’s Return settled his Spirits, at least united them, and he had
now no other Thought but how he should present himself before her. When
she calling her Woman, bid her bolt the Garden Door on the Inside, that
she might not be Surpriz’d by her Father, if he returned through the
Convent, which done, she ordered her to bring down her Lute, and leave
her to her self in the Garden.
All this Hippolito saw and heard to his inexpressible Content, yet had
he much to do to smother his Joy, and hinder it from taking a Vent,
which would have ruined the only Opportunity of his Life. Leonora
withdrew into an Arbour so near him, that he could distinctly hear her
if she Played or Sung: Having tuned her Lute, with a Voice soft as the
Breath of Angels, she flung to it this following Air:
I.
Ah! Whither, whither shall I fly,
A poor unhappy Maid;
To hopeless Love and Misery
By my own Heart betray’d?
Not by Alexis Eyes undone,
Nor by his Charming Faithless Tongue,
Or any Practis’d Art;
Such real Ills may hope a Cure,
But the sad Pains which I endure
Proceed from fansied Smart.
II.
’Twas Fancy gave Alexis Charms,
Ere I beheld his Face:
Kind Fancy (then) could fold our Arms,
And form a soft Embrace.
But since I’ve seen the real Swain,
And try’d to fancy him again,
I’m by my Fancy taught,
Though ’tis a Bliss no Tongue can tell,
To have Alexis, yet ’tis Hell
To have him but in Thought.
The Song ended grieved Hippolito that it was so soon ended; and in the
Ecstacy he was then rapt, I believe he would have been satisfied to
have expired with it. He could not help Flattering himself, (though at
the same Time he checked his own Vanity) that he was the Person meant
in the Song. While he was indulging which thought, to his happy
Astonishment, he heard it encouraged by these Words:
‘Unhappy Leonora (said she) how is thy poor unwary Heart misled?
Whither am I come? The false deluding Lights of an imaginary Flame,
have led me, a poor benighted Victim, to a real Fire. I burn and am
consumed with hopeless Love; those Beams in whose soft temperate warmth
I wanton’d heretofore, now flash destruction to my Soul, my Treacherous
greedy Eyes have suck’d the glaring Light, they have united all its
Rays, and, like a burning-Glass, convey’d the pointed Meteor to my
Heart—Ah! Aurelian, how quickly hast thou Conquer’d, and how quickly
must thou Forsake. Oh Happy (to me unfortunately Happy) Juliana! I am
to be the subject of thy Triumph—To thee Aurelian comes laden with the
Tribute of my Heart and Glories in the Oblation of his broken
Vows.—What then, is Aurelian False! False! alass, I know not what I
say; How can he be False, or True, or any Thing to me? What Promises
did he ere make or I receive? Sure I dream, or I am mad, and fansie it
to be Love; Foolish Girl, recal thy banish’d Reason.—Ah! would it were
no more, would I could rave, sure that would give me Ease, and rob me
of the Sense of Pain; at least, among my wandring Thoughts, I should at
sometime light upon Aurelian, and fansie him to be mine; kind Madness
would flatter my poor feeble Wishes, and sometimes tell me Aurelian is
not lost—not irrecoverably—not for ever lost.
Hippolito could hear no more, he had not Room for half his Transport.
When Leonora perceived a Man coming toward her, she fell a trembling,
and could not speak. Hippolito approached with Reverence, as to a
Sacred Shrine; when coming near enough to see her Consternation, he
fell upon his Knees.
‘Behold, O Adored Leonora (said he) ‘your ravished Aurelian, behold at
your Feet the Happiest of Men, be not disturb’d at my Appearance, but
think that Heaven conducted me to hear my Bliss pronounced by that dear
Mouth alone, whose breath could fill me with new Life.
Here he would have come nearer, but Leonora (scarce come to her self)
was getting up in haste to have gone away: he catch’d her Hand, and
with all the Endearments of Love and Transport pressed her stay; she
was a long time in great Confusion, at last, with many Blushes, she
entreated him to let her go where she might hide her Guilty Head, and
not expose her shame before his Eyes, since his Ears had been
sufficient Witnesses of her Crime. He begg’d pardon for his Treachery
in over-hearing, and confessed it to be a Crime he had now repeated.
With a Thousand Submissions, Entreaties, Prayers, Praises, Blessings,
and passionate Expressions he wrought upon her to stay and hear him.
Here Hippolito made use of his Rhetorick, and it proved prevailing:
’Twere tedious to tell the many ingenious Arguments he used, with all
her Nice Distinctions and Objections. In short, he convinced her of his
Passion, represented to her the necessity they were under, of being
speedy in their Resolves: That his Father (for still he was Aurelian)
would undoubtedly find him in the Morning, and then it would be too
late to Repent. She on the other Hand, knew it was in vain to deny a
Passion, which he had heard her so frankly own; (and no doubt was very
glad it was past and done;) besides apprehending the danger of delay,
and having some little Jealousies and Fears of what Effect might be
produced between the Commands of his Father and the Beauties of
Juliana; after some decent Denials, she consented to be Conducted by
him through the Garden into the Convent, where she would prevail with
her Confessor to Marry them. He was a scrupulous Old Father whom they
had to deal withal, insomuch that ere they had perswaded him, Don Mario
was returned by the Way of his own House, where missing his Daughter,
and her Woman not being able to give any farther Account of her, than
that she left her in the Garden; he concluded she was gone again to her
Devotions, and indeed he found her in the Chappel upon her Knees with
Hippolito in her hand, receiving the Father’s Benediction upon
Conclusion of the Ceremony.
It would have asked a very skilful Hand, to have depicted to the Life
the Faces of those Three Persons, at Don Mario’s Appearance. He that
has seen some admirable Piece of Transmutation by a Gorgon’s Head, may
form to himself the most probable Idea of the Prototype. The Old
Gentleman was himself in a sort of a Wood, to find his Daughter with a
Young Fellow and a Priest, but as yet he did not know the Worst, till
Hippolito and Leonora came, and kneeling at his Feet, begg’d his
Forgiveness and Blessing as his Son and Daughter. Don Mario, instead of
that, fell into a most violent Passion, and would undoubtedly have
committed some extravagant Action, had he not been restrained, more by
the Sanctity of the Place, than the Perswasions of all the Religious,
who were now come about him. Leonora stirr’d not off her Knees all this
time, but continued begging of him that he would hear her.
‘Ah! Ungrateful and Undutiful Wretch (cry’d he) ‘how hast thou requited
all my Care and Tenderness of thee? Now when I might have expected some
return of Comfort, to throw thy self away upon an unknown Person, and,
for ought I know, a Villain; to me I’m sure he is a Villain, who has
robb’d me of my Treasure, my Darling Joy, and all the future Happiness
of my Life prevented. Go—go, thou now-to-be-forgotten Leonora, go and
enjoy thy unprosperous Choice; you who wanted not a Father’s Counsel,
cannot need, or else will slight his Blessing.
These last Words were spoken with so much Passion and feeling Concern,
that Leonora, moved with Excess of Grief, fainted at his Feet, just as
she had caught hold to Embrace his Knees. The Old Man would have shook
her off, but Compassion and Fatherly Affection came upon him in the
midst of his Resolve, and melted him into Tears, he Embraced his
Daughter in his Arms, and wept over her, while they endeavoured to
restore her Senses.
Hippolito was in such Concern he could not speak, but was busily
employed in rubbing and chafing her Temples; when she opening her Eyes
laid hold of his Arm, and cry’d out—Oh my Aurelian—how unhappy have you
made me! With that she had again like to have fainted away, but he took
her in his Arms, and begg’d Don Mario to have some pity on his
Daughter, since by his Severity she was reduced to that Condition. The
Old Man hearing his Daughter name Aurelian, was a little revived, and
began to hope Things were in a pretty good Condition; he was perswaded
to comfort her, and having brought her wholly to her self, was content
to hear her Excuse, and in a little time was so far wrought upon as to
beg Hippolito’s Pardon for the Ill Opinion he had conceived of him, and
not long after gave his Consent.
The Night was spent in this Conflict, and it was now clear Day, when
Don Mario Conducting his new Son and Daughter through the Garden, was
met by some Servants of the Marquess of Viterbo, who had been enquiring
for Donna Leonora, to know if Juliana had lately been with her; for
that she was missing from her Father’s House, and no conjectures could
be made of what might become of her. Don Mario and Leonora were
surprized at the News, for he knew well enough of the Match that was
design’d for Juliana; and having enquired where the Marquess was, it
was told him, That he was gone with Don Fabio and Fabritio toward
Aurelian’s Lodgings. Don Mario having assured the Servants that Juliana
had not been there, dismissed them, and advised with his Son and
Daughter how they should undeceive the Marquess and Don Fabio in their
Expectations of Aurelian. Hippolito could oftentimes scarce forbear
smiling at the old Man’s Contrivances who was most deceived himself; he
at length advised them to go all down together to his Lodging, where he
would present himself before his Father, and ingenuously confess to him
the truth, and he did not question his approving of his Choice.
This was agreed to, and the Coach made ready. While they were upon
their way, Hippolito pray’d heartily that his Friend Aurelian might be
at the Lodging, to satisfie Don Mario and Leonora of his Circumstances
and Quality, when he should be obliged to discover himself. His
Petitions were granted; for Don Fabio had beset the House long before
his Son was up or Incognita awake.
Upon the arrival of Don Mario and Hippolito, they heard a great Noise
and Hubbub above Stairs, which Don Mario concluded was occasioned by
their not finding Aurelian, whom he thought he could give the best
account of: So that it was not in Hippolito’s power to disswade him
from going up before to prepare his Father to receive and forgive him.
While Hippolito and Leonora were left in the Coach at the Door, he made
himself known to her, and begg’d her pardon a thousand times for
continuing the deceit. She was under some concern at first to find she
was still mistaken; but his Behaviour, and the Reasons he gave, soon
reconciled him to her; his Person was altogether as agreeable, his
Estate and Quality not at all inferiour to Aurelian’s; in the mean
time, the true Aurelian who had seen his Father, begg’d leave of him to
withdraw for a moment; in which time he went into the Chamber where his
Incognita was dressing her self, by his design, in Woman’s Apparel,
while he was consulting with her how they should break the matter to
his Father; it happened that Don Mario came up Stairs where the
Marquess and Don Fabio were; they undoubtedly concluded him Mad, to
hear him making Apologies and Excuses for Aurelian, whom he told them
if they would promise to forgive he would present before them
immediately. The Marquess asked him if his Daughter had lain with
Leonora that Night; he answered him with another question in behalf of
Aurelian. In short, they could not understand one another, but each
thought ’tother beside himself. Don Mario was so concern’d that they
would not believe him, that he ran down Stairs and came to the Door out
of Breath, desiring Hippolito that he would come into the House
quickly, for that he could not perswade his Father but that he had
already seen and spoke to him. Hippolito by that understood that
Aurelian was in the House; so taking Leonora by the Hand, he followed
Don Mario, who led him up into the Dining-Room, where they found
Aurelian upon his Knees, begging his Father to forgive him, that he
could not agree to the Choice he had made for him, since he had already
disposed of himself, and that before he understood the designs he had
for him, which was the reason that he had hitherto concealed himself.
Don Fabio knew not how to answer him, but look’d upon the Marquess, and
the Marquess upon him, as if the Cement had been cool’d which was to
have united their Families.