'I could not suppose I should displease you by associating with men of
rank.'
'Oh certainly, not! By no means! Only I would insinuate that play is
dangerous, and your income small.'
Small indeed, thought I. A considerable pause succeeded; and then my
father's countenance brightened. 'I purpose going down this day to Sir
Gilbert Monkton's,' said he. I wished him an agreeable journey. 'You
must go with me, Lord Filmar.'
'Nay, pray excuse me, Sir. Consider the season, the place, and the
society. How can your lordship plan such an expedition at this part of
the year? You will inevitably bring on an ague, or a nervous fever.
Dear, my Lord, don't think of it!'
'Indeed,' replied the Earl, 'nothing but a view to your interest could
have determined me to make Sir Gilbert a visit now. Your interest, Lord
Filmar, has strong claims upon me. Your present income scarcely exceeds
1000l. a-year; and you well know that, with all my care and prudence, I
have not so far recovered former encumbrances as to be able to leave
with the title of Elsings more than a clear 5,000l. per annum.'--The
Earl paused, hemmed, picked up a scrap of paper, then hemmed again, and
proceeded.
'You know, I think you know, Mr. Valmont.' I bowed assent; and the Earl
looked as if he wished I had spoken; but I was resolved to hear him to
the end.
'Yes, you do know, Mr. Valmont: a very singular man. He has strange
ideas of education. In all our conversations on the topic, I never could
be brought to coincide with him. Yet he is a worthy man too. He has a
prodigious fine estate at Moor Down; and that estate round the castle is
in excellent order. A strange Gothic dismal place that castle of his to
be sure. I cannot remember how long it is since it was built; but it was
a Valmont built it I know. It has never been out of the family. Yet I
wonder he should choose always to reside in it; and to keep his niece in
it also. His niece--Hem!--You know, Lord Filmar, I am one of Miss
Valmont's guardians.' I bowed again. 'I am told she is very handsome.
She was a beautiful child. I have not seen her these ten years. It was
very singular, indeed, I think to guard her so closely from every one's
observation. Yes, Lord Filmar, Mr. Valmont's mode of thinking is
certainly very singular. Miss Valmont's father was a most accomplished
man; and one of my most intimate friends. He built a seat after the
Italian manner, tasty and elegant as you can possibly suppose. He was
very fond of Italy. Poor man, he died there. I wish I could have
prevailed on Mr. Valmont to allow his niece a more enlarged education;
her manners, I think, must be constrained and ungraceful: but
certainly, as her father's brother, Mr. Valmont had a right to claim the
sole protection of her person, and to bring her up as he thought
proper.'
My father paused; and, though I could not immediately perceive the
tendency of this ratiocination, I was resolved not to assist him, and
remained silent.
'I was telling you, Lord Filmar, how much care and pains I have taken to
redeem the Elsing estate. Let me advise you to leave off play, and to
think of settling yourself advantageously. Would not a beautiful bride
adorn the title of Lady Filmar?'
'I do not perceive,' answered I, 'that the title of Filmar wants any
other ornament than it already possesses. Remember, dear Sir, I am
scarcely two and twenty.'
Now, Walter, the Earl was not content with the simple recollections I
had urged to him, but he began also to remember my profusion, my--my
follies, (if you please) and my inadequate provision for them.
'Stop, my Lord,' cried I; 'and pray inform me what fortune my poor
lordship has a right to expect as an antidote for matrimonial poison?'
'I think,' replied my father, 'that a lady of honourable descent, of
good expectations, and possessing an unentailed six or seven thousand a
year would be a very proper match for you.'
'And that lady is Miss Valmont.'
'No such thing! no such thing!' cried the Earl almost starting from his
seat.--'Will you dare, Lord Filmar, to assert that I said so?'
'Indeed will I not, my Lord. So far from it, I have heard you repeatedly
declare she was left wholly dependent on her uncle. But why you should
then be involved in the cares of guardianship, or why you should be
inclined to saddle my encumbered estate with a wife without a fortune, I
own appears a little mysterious.'
Be the true state of the case what it may (and we will talk of that
hereafter) 'tis certain that every working muscle of the Earl's
countenance betrayed the insincerity of his assertions, while he point
blank denied that he had any reference to Valmont's niece when he
proposed giving me a bride. I affected to be convinced; and, with a kind
of lazy curiosity, played with my dog and asked questions about Miss
Valmont, and wound my father round and round this dependent orphan, till
I was nearly as assured as though it were on lawyer's deeds before me
that six or seven thousand pounds a year is the lady's marriage
portion.
A saucy triumphant smile at length betrayed me. The Earl reddened
violently; and degenerated into such hints about certain affairs of mine
that I suddenly jumped up, said I would attend him wherever he pleased,
wished his lordship a hasty good morning, and drove away to deposit my
burthen of confidence with you.
Well then, Walter; here we are at Monkton Hall, and Valmont's frowning
fortress stands only at three miles distance; but still I am not one
foot forwarder in the direct road of knowing why we came hither. In the
bye-paths of windings and inuendo, indeed, I have made a little
progress. I have discovered, Walter, that the Earl has a secret; but
have not discovered the actual secret: only I can surmise a great deal.
I surmise that the Earl and Mr. Valmont have laid a trap for me: and I
surmise that I shall tumble into the trap, and be almost smothered with
gold: and I further surmise that the gold will infallibly find its way
out of the trap, and leave poor me behind it.
I am resolved to be perfectly obedient and resigned to my fate, and you
may, if you please, wish me joy: for if the dear creature is but any
thing like what her uncle intended to make her, with his wire-drawn
principles about female weakness and female obedience, I shall be the
least noosed of any married man in England. She will want no more than a
cage, and a closet, and one smile a month from her sovereign Lord and
master. Gloomy Hall, or gloomy Castle--some such name, I formerly gave
that turret-crowned building.--Oh, the profaner! Why it is paradise! the
court of Cytherea! where loves and graces sport on sideboards of massive
plate, and intrigue with wanton zephyrs upon every acre of Valmont's
rich domain!
We are invited to dinner, Walter. This is Saturday. On Tuesday down go
the draw bridges to admit me: me, me. The 'Squire and Earl settle
preliminaries. The wood-nymph is introduced. She gazes with awe and
astonishment, on her polished lover: while I forget her, to remember her
fortune. At some future period, I shall subscribe myself your very rich
and happy humble servant,
FILMAR
LETTER VIII
FROM SIBELLA VALMONT
TO
CAROLINE ASHBURN
Imagine me, Dear Caroline, sitting down to write to you in the dead of
night, by an almost extinguished taper: Somewhat chilled with cold; yet
that sensation overpowered by the tremor of surprise, of curiosity, of
emotions, in fine, which I cannot describe or explain.
And shall I boast of my strength, yet suffer my heart to palpitate,
the colour to vary on my cheek, because an incident appears
extraordinary?--Why did I not go back? Perhaps imagination was on the
stretch, and I am self-deceived. Yet this writing! There must--but who
would or could sigh with or for me, save one?--Foolish, weak Sibella!
Art thou turned coward then? How can'st thou brave dangers, who hast
fled from a sound? Perchance a fancied sound too!--Yes, I will return. I
will not wait till day-light renews my courage; but go now to the wood,
and examine this--Hark!--I hear a noise!--Good God!--Is it?--If it
should be my Clem----
* * * * *
Oh no! that is impossible!--It was only the sweeping of the wind through
that long gallery. But I won't go to the wood to-night, Caroline. I
tremble more, and the cold increases. My taper too diminishes fast; but,
while its light allows me, I will go over the events of the day and
night, to discover if distinct recollection gives them a different
appearance from what they now wear in the confusion of my ideas.
To begin, then, with the morning. While yet at breakfast, Andrew entered
my room and intimated it was my uncle's orders that I should remain in
my own appartments all day.--Strange as appeared the command, I sought
no explanation from Andrew; but chose rather to submit to it in its
present form, than encounter the teazing unintelligible signs of this
silent old man. An hour had hardly passed, when I heard Mr. Valmont's
footstep in the gallery; and as he approached nearer my door, I called
up a firmness in my mien: for methought his visit to my chamber (a
circumstance I never remembered to have taken place) foreboded something
uncouth and unpleasant.
'So, Sibella,' said he, entering in a cheerful manner, 'you look quite
well. You will oblige me particularly by not going into the park to-day.
There's the armoury if you want exercise only be sure you go and return
by the narrow stair-case. I would not have you seen for a moment in any
other part of the castle. Perhaps I may bring a friend to visit you. A
friend of your father's, child. You'll obey me, Sibella. And Andrew can
inform you when you are at liberty to pursue your rambles.'
He withdrew. An address so familiar, with a voice and countenance so
complacent, from Mr. Valmont to me, was food for reflection. The friend
too! The friend of my father!--I felt not the necessity of exercise. I
approached not the narrow stair-case. I thought not of the armoury. I
remained in one posture; and Andrew's entrance, with my dinner, first
broke in upon my reverie.
The meal ended and Andrew gone, it was resumed; and as long thinking
will ever bring something home to the affections, I had left Mr.
Valmont, his smiles, and his friend, to dwell on the image of my
Clement--when my uncle led into the room a man somewhat older in
appearance than himself, of an unmeaning countenance, whose profusion of
dress sat heavy on an insignificant form. I turned away scornfully; for
I thought it a profanation of the term to call this being _the friend of
my father_.
How long he staid I cannot exactly tell--too long I thought then. He
seemed to talk of me to Mr. Valmont; but to me he said little; and,
owing perhaps to my dislike of the man, that little I did not rightly
understand, and never attempted to answer.
When I saw Andrew in the evening, I ventured a few questions; and, with
difficulty, learned there was company in the castle who were not
expected to go away till late. I desired him to inform me as soon as
they had departed; and, accordingly, a little, before twelve, Andrew
opened my door, gave three distinct nods, shut it after him, and
departed.
I understood his signal. Never had I passed a day in the house before;
and I almost panted for the enjoyment of fresh air. The night was calm
and serene; and the moon shone with a frosty brightness in a clear
unclouded sky.
Wrapping myself in a cloak, I descended with a quick and joyful step.
Neither light nor sound existed in the castle; and, unbarring the heavy
doors, I sallied out in defiance of cold, to enjoy the lightness I then
felt at my heart. The moonbeam directed my course; and I turned up the
hill at the back part of the castle where no trees intercepted the
partial light.
Standing on the summit, I looked around and my eye caught the glittering
surface (made resplendent by the moon's reflection) of that small and
beautiful lake which you may remember rises on the skirts of my wood.
Thither I hastened; and, seated on the bank, I became enraptured with
the scene. All seemed in union with my mind; only, that an undisturbed
serenity reigned through nature; and, with the peace in my breast, a
tumult of delight claimed its share.
I sang. I gave vent to my pleasure in words; in exclamations!--till at
length the sound of two, from some very distant bell, floated through
the air, and I rose to regain the castle.
Never in day time did I quit the park without visiting our oak; and now,
when my heart bounded high with hope and pleasure, it would have been
impious thus to have departed.
As I passed the rock, its dark shade, with the gloom in which the tall
trees inclosed me, gave a new colour to my emotions. A pensive, but not
a painful, tenderness stole on me. My breast began to heave, my lip to
tremble: and, having reached the oak, I threw myself on the ground and
sobbed. Still I felt no unhappiness. An impressive kind of awe took
place of my former rapture, and dictated that I should dry my tears, and
offer up a prayer for Clement.
At the foot of our oak, I knelt and audibly prayed. Still was I
kneeling: still were my clasped hands raised: I uttered a deep sigh:
and, close behind me, reverberated a prolonged sigh, if possible more
deep, more forcible.
My taper emits its last rays. The moon is withdrawn; and total darkness
compels me to seek rest--Adieu!
* * * * *
The sigh was distinct. It struck upon my ear. It almost reached my
heart, Caroline. Dizzy, benumbed, I could scarcely rise; and, as I
walked slowly along the open path from the monument, I really tottered.
I believe I had proceeded fifty yards, and I began to tread with
firmness and to consider if the sound could be real, when something
whizzed past me and I perceived a little white ball fall to the ground
and roll back as it was on the descent till it stopped at my feet.
Equally surprised, but less affected, I turned quickly round. I looked
every way: but the rock, the trees, the monument, and their respective
yet mingling shadows, were the only objects I could discern.
I do not remember stooping for the ball; yet I felt it in my hand as I
returned to the castle. I had left my light burning in the hall; but did
not attempt to examine my possession, till I had shut myself in my own
chamber.
The ball consisted of several folds of paper, with a small pebble in the
middle, to give it weight I suppose. The inner fold contained lines,
written with a pencil: the character neat, but uneven; and, in places,
scarcely legible. These were the contents.
'Art thou instructed, beauteous nymph, that those planets to which thou
now liftest thine eyes contain worlds whose myriads of inhabitants
differ in their degrees of perfection according to the orb to which they
belong? Some approach to immortality. Others are, as yet, farther
removed: but all are in a progressive state toward the angelic nature.
Even the lowest orb ranks above thy world.'
'From one of these latter planets, I descend--part mortal and part
etherial. The former subjects me to pain and grief; but the latter can
exalt me to bliss too ecstatic for the confined sense of mere
mortality.--My spiritual nature places few bounds to my wishes, gives me
invisibility, and brings the world before me at a view. I can see into
the human bosom; and art cannot baffle me. In this world, I am permitted
to seek a friend: and thee, hallowed inhabitant of this lower orb, I
claim.'
'Set thy desires before thee. If they be many, chose the essential: if
they be few, name all. To-morrow, after sunset, place the paper wherein
thou hast written thy wishes on the tomb, and retire. If another mortal
claim a share of those wishes, my power ceases; but if they relate only
to thyself, fair creature, some one I may gratify. Thus may we
communicate. To approach is forbidden. To be visible to thy eyes is
denied me. Fly not then from the spirit, which _will_ protect, but
cannot harm, thee.'
Whither does recollection bear you, Caroline?--To the hermit of the wood
and armoury, doubtless. The mysterious and whimsical stile of this
written paper corresponds with the first address of that hermit. I
wonder I did not remember it last night: but Clement's fears, and the
mode to overcome them, have been objects of such magnitude in the heart
of Sibella that curiosity has ceased to intrude its train of
remembrances and suppositions.
Clement was right. Who, but through my uncle's means, could find
entrance into this region of caution and confinement? Yes; Clement
judged rightly! It is the man to whom Mr. Valmont says I must be united.
Will you, Caroline, give the inclosed to my Clement? Read it also; and
judge with him for me. I wait your decision--but I wait unwillingly.
SIBELLA
LETTER IX
TO
CLEMENT MONTGOMERY
(Inclosed in the preceding.)
Do we not create our own misery, my Clement, by this submission?--Mr.
Valmont separates our persons, because he cannot separate our hearts.
Oh! your reasonings were false, my love; and I was only misled when I
thought I was convinced!--'But a short time,' you said, 'and Mr. Valmont
shall know it all, and we will be again united.'--Why not now? I cannot
feel, I cannot understand these effects of his displeasure on which you
dwell. Why do you dream of future benefits, when he tells you, that you
are to have none of them? when he declares to you his wealth shall not
be your's? And what of that! Will joy and felicity be less ours, because
we are not rich?--We know it cannot. Did you possess wealth beyond what
I can name, I should share its advantages; then if poverty or disgrace
be your's, I demand to participate therein. It is my right; and twenty
Mr. Valmonts shall not deprive of the inestimable privilege. Let me
prove by actions the boundless love I bear you. Words are feeble. Where
is the language that has energy enough to describe the crowd of
pleasures which rush upon my mind, while I am retracing our past scenes
of happiness; or that can give its true colouring to my regret, when I
call up the present separation, which bids them depart for a season?
Clement, you are dismissed that another may be introduced. The man of
mystery, he whom my uncle has chosen, appears again. Say, my love! shall
I tell them how useless are all their preparations?--that you and I have
formed the indissoluble band? I am ready to do this. I wait but your
consent. And then, if Mr. Valmont resents our conduct and will not
yield me to you and your freedom, I must and shall find means to show
him he has no more power over my person than my mind. I will escape him,
and fly to thee.
Ever, ever, thy
SIBELLA
LETTER X
FROM LORD FILMAR
TO
SIR WALTER BOYER
Peaceful slumbers attend thee, Wat! The richer promising waking visions
of expectation be mine!--A very pretty apostrophe that for a young
viscount! I wonder if my father ever forgot to go to sleep when in bed,
and sprang up again to write to some contemporary in same of his
stratagems, intrigues, and toils?--Dear honest soul, no:--his sonorous
breathings from the next chamber salute my ears in answer.--I certainly
never was intended for the elder son of an Earl. Oh, I cry you mercy,
Dame Nature! I read, I bow my head in obedience. A little twinkling
star, Boyer, darting his ray throw the window, traces my destiny on this
paper. _'When the heyday of the blood is past_,' says the oracle, '_thou
art to be a statesman._' So I will. Yes, a prime minister of Great
Britain: and the more mischief I do before-hand, the better shall I be
qualified for the duties of that high and important station.
The project I talked of in my last, have you not admired its tendency?
Have you not rejoiced that the honours of the Elsing title is to have a
fresh gilding from the Valmont coffers. If you have not already done
this, I charge you neglect not a moment the duties of congratulation;
for your friend, your happy friend Filmar, is assuredly, mind me
_assuredly_, to be the husband of Miss Valmont. Therefore I will read
you a letter, or at least a part of a letter, which came from her uncle
to my father.
'Indeed, my Lord, to pursue this subject a little farther, it is
only with a man who is prepared by such opinions as I have laid
down to keep his wife in seclusion, that Sibella Valmont can be
happy. I have purposely educated her to be the tractable and
obedient companion of a husband, who from early disappointment and
a just detestation of the miserable state of society is willing to
abandon the world entirely. And, not to mislead you in any way,
such a one I hold in view.'
'You, my Lord, have acted with consistent delicacy throughout our
guardianship. You readily yielded to my plans, when our trust
commenced; and you have never attempted to counteract them by any
ill-judged interference; and I am therefore beholden to your
prudence and politeness. Of your Lordship's understanding I have so
good an opinion, that I cannot apprehend any offence will be taken
on your part for my declining the proposed alliance of Lord Filmar
for my niece. You must be aware, my Lord, how very unfit her
education has rendered her to be the wife of any person who does not
in all respects think as I do.
You must also suffer me to decline, for very good reasons, your
request that Lord Filmar may see her. The child has beauty; and the
interview for his sake is much better avoided. You, my Lord, have a
title to see her whenever you are so disposed; and I hope as a proof
that we understand each other, that Lord Filmar will accompany you
when you honour Valmont castle with your visits. From
Your friend and servant,
'G. VALMONT'
This letter, Walter, the Earl called me back to give me at his own
chamber door, after I had bade him good night. Do you not observe how
artfully Valmont had arranged the manner of his refusal; or are you, as
I was on its first perusal, a little chilled by the contents? I
perceive, by the Earl's delivering the letter to me at a time which
precluded all conversation on the subject, that he feels Valmont's
refusal to be unchangeable; now I dare not tell him that I have boldly
resolved to take the niece of Valmont whether her uncle pleases or not,
because what he calls his honour would stand between me and my project.
Honour will not pay my debts, Walter. So, _honour_, here you and I part.
Good by to you!--There: we have shaken hands: and the musty fellow has
marched off on yon straight road, while I turn aside into this.
Invention aid me! Stratagem be my guide! And do thou, Walter, plot,
contrive, and assist to make me matter of this prize.
Assuredly I will be the husband of Miss Valmont. This have I sworn to
myself: and this have I repeated to you. I read Valmont's freezing
epistle and I went to bed. Darkness and silence are admirable
auxiliaries to reflection. First, past in array before me my mortgages,
my debts, and the diabolical stake I lost to Spellman for which I have
given notes that extend to the uttermost penny I can raise. Then, how
gaily danced before me the visions I had indulged while I sounded my
father about this hidden fortune of Miss Valmont, and while I reflected
on the well-known wealth of her uncle. 'Ah but,' said I, 'her uncle has
refused me, has already selected a husband for her!' And I shut my eyes;
and sighed, Walter. That sigh proved my salvation: for it exhaled the
dim vapour that had obstructed the operations of my confidence, my
invention!
Then, how rapidly did my fancy teem with plan and project! How did I
reject one, choose another! Till, at length, I called for light and
paper, that I might cool the fever of my hopes, by laying them bare to
your inspection.