be free--what a pleasure! Should the stranger be there--I had only to
repeat, in a fuller manner, the sense of my last night's words and quit
him.
Oh, Caroline, had you ever loved!--but love itself without separation
could not have taught you the omnipotent value a lover's heart affixes
to time, place, and memory! Who, in revisiting the hallowed ground of
affection, can describe that slow eagerness of step, that still tumult
of delight, which restrains while it impels, purchasing delay?--If these
are not the happiest moments of life, at least, they are most worthy
living for. The soul expands into a new existence. The body's
encumbering mass seems no longer her organ.
Even now, Caroline, the charm returns, infusing itself through every
vein, sending life's best blood in thrills to the heart, enkindling
pleasure into agony!
I cannot proceed.--Will not Clement write me one line?--Another letter
shall inform you, in what manner I discovered him; for the personated
hermit is your Mr. Murden.
SIBELLA
LETTER IV
FROM THE SAME
TO
THE SAME
I know not precisely where to begin, nor how much of the adventure I
told you in my last. Did I not say, that, while yet at my oak, Nina
entered the wood a little below the tomb and without observing me began
to climb the rock? But I think I broke off before I had mentioned her
swift return at my call, and the irresolution she betrayed by running
backward and forward from me to the rock, and from the rock back again
to me. Desirous to know what her manner portended, I arose as if to
follow, and away she bounded, taking the path up to the hermitage. As
she ascended much swifter than I could, she waited on the outer side of
the ruin till I also arrived; and then bent her course round to the
farther part, which being the most perfect of the building I imagined
she had chosen for the purpose of sheltering her young ones. It is
called the chapel. Standing on a projecting point of the rock, it is
difficult of access, for the path is cumbered with loose stones, from
one to the other of which runs in perplexing branches the twining ivy.
High grass and clusters of bramble choak the wild flowers that shed
their inviting fragrance on part of the lower side of the rock, nor do I
remember ever but twice before to have gone beyond the unroofed cell,
where Clement and I, one happy spring morning, raised a seat of stone,
and plucked away the weeds that new springing grass might mingle with
our mossy foot-stool. There too we planted a woodbine, rose, and
jassamine, but the cell refused nourishment to our favorites. Foiled in
our attempt to make the ruin bloom a garden, it had no longer for us any
attractions.
Nina's wistful look as she again stopped at the chapel's entrance now
tempted me on, but it could tempt me no farther. At the stairs my
curiosity or at least all inclination to gratify it terminated. In one
corner of this small chapel where the wall is yet undecayed, remains a
kind of altar. Some stones in front have falled away and discover a
flight of dark narrow steps, I concluded Nina had concealed her young in
the vault below, for she would not return when I called: but I could not
think of encountering I knew not what damp and darkness in the hope of
finding them. Both suppositions were erroneous. The cell is superior in
dimensions and dryness to those above ground, nor had my fawn any
offspring there. This place, Caroline, was Mr. Murden's abode. Thence he
ascended followed by Nina, and stood before me the original of your
painting, and the same who once in the wood started from every
appearance of feeble age into youth and vigour.
He named himself. 'Miss Valmont,' said he, 'I no longer bear a borrowed
character. Henceforward, should you ever think of me, know I am Murden,
the friend of Clement Montgomery, and the acquaintance (I dare not say
more) of your Miss Ashburn. Already the victim of unsuccessful love, by
all my hopes of heaven, I came hither only to seek your consolations.
The world cannot find time to sooth a breaking heart. You in solitude
might. But you have no pity, no friendship. An accident keeps me here
this day, or I had now been gone for ever. Do not Miss Valmont, do not
set your people of the castle to hunt me; for I am desperate.'
'Whose victim are you?' said I.
'Whose?' repeated he loudly and wildly. 'Did you say whose, Miss
Valmont?' Then turning away and sinking his voice, he said, 'Ay whose,
indeed! Do you know,' added he, approaching nearer to me, 'that death is
of icy coldness! The eye beams no tidings, for the heart feels no
warmth! Such is my love to me!--Tell me, Miss Valmont, what would you do
were Clement thus?'
'Alas! Die also!'
'Oh brave!' said Murden with a strange kind of smile:--'bear witness,
thou unhallowed gloomy mansion, for one, one moment of our lives are we
agreed!--Miss Valmont, I shall never see you more. If I have created
uneasiness in your breast, by my strange visits to this spot, forgive
and forget it. Ask me no questions. In some hour of less anguish than
the present, I will tell Miss Ashburn how and why I came hither. Another
person there is also to whom I shall owe the detail.--Hold'--for I was
going to speak. 'Do not name him. Your last words were, _Die also!_ To
me your last, choicest blessing. No! No! I will not hear you speak
again. This is our final interview.--In peace and safety, Miss Valmont,
return to your wood; and when remembrances of love shall be no longer
remembrances of happiness, then--_Die also._
And who, Caroline, could outlive their remembrances of happiness? I have
placed myself one minute in the situation of this unfortunate young man:
I beheld the tomb close upon the lifeless form of Clement, and in the
wide world there was no longer room for me.
Murden descended to his cell; and I went home to weep for him. Will not
you weep for him, my friend? and Clement too? I feel you will. Clement
knows full well the value of requited affection; he will sooth his
friend, but he will not ask him to live. It would be cruelty.
Nina looked kindly at me, but she followed Murden; and, since he quitted
that ill-chosen abode, I often see her descending the rock. She even
appears to mourn his absence; and she looks around expectingly, and
starts at every gust of wind, as she used when Clement first bade us
adieu.
Either to you or Clement I appeal for the further history of your
drooping friend. Bid Clement write: be it only three words, '_Bless my
Sibella_;' and I will wear it next my heart--a charm to hold disease and
foreboding at defiance.
My dearest friend, farewel!
SIBELLA VALMONT
LETTER V
FROM ARTHUR MURDEN
TO
CAROLINE ASHBURN
When friendship and advice can no longer avail him, Murden intreats a
patient ear to the history of his misfortunes.
Intreat! Did he say?--No, Madam; he intreats nothing of you: he demands
your ear, demands your attention, your sighs, your sorrow: and little
indeed is that, though your all of reparation, for the mischievous
eloquence, which first instigated him to become the poor valueless
object of pity, sighs, and sorrow.
To tell you that I love Sibella Valmont, is no more than Montgomery
will tell you. But he loves her, in his way.--I, in mine. When
present, her supreme and every varying beauty, makes his rapture;
and, till he has been a day without her, he imagines absence would be
insupportable.--Absent or present, alike she fills my every vein. I love
her, Miss Ashburn, as--oh misery!--as she loves Clement!
Judge me not so absurd as to entertain hope, although I tell you I am
again returned to the hermit's cell. Offer hope in its most seducing
form; and still would I renounce it. Yes, Madam: possession of Sibella,
were I an atom less to her than she is to me, must inflict torture worse
than the present.
Nor deem, that I would dare assail her ears with my unauspicious love. I
have spoken in mystery; and she thinks I mourn a buried mistress.--Alas!
and so I do!
Montgomery, what dost thou owe me? Yet 'twas not thee I meant to serve;
therefore thou owest me nothing. Thou canst find happiness any where:
but, in the circle of thy arms and heart, centres the full measure of
Sibella's wishes.
I would almost, Miss Ashburn, as soon have rushed into the fire, as
again sustained the chilling beam of her eye. Yet I have come hither
again, have endured this and more, to check the carniverous meal of
anxiety already begun on her cheek's bloom.
I have been told, and have told Sibella, that instead of being a
dependent on her uncle, she is mistress of fifty thousand pounds: with
infinite astonishment she heard me, and is gone to demand an explanation
of Mrs. Valmont. I requested her to forbear naming me, till I had made a
safe retreat from the park; for Valmont is proud, insolent and cruel.
And she bade me wait her return here, that according to Mr. Valmont's
reception of the tidings, I, as Clement's friend, might yield her my
prompt advice.
Yes! as Clement's friend, she said. Ah well may I talk of endurance!
When I first knew you, Madam, at Barlowe Hall, you won my admiration and
esteem, by the uniform reserve, or I may say repugnance of your manners
toward me. I adored your disdain of a character I equally disdained,
while I contemptibly descended to wear it; and, though I could not
instantly resolve to cast aside the unmerited fame of my licentiousness,
yet you never moved or spoke, that I was not all eye and ear, however,
you might contemn the abettor of impertinence and folly in Lady Margaret
and Lady Laura Bowden.
One evening, you may remember, I abruptly shook off those interrupters,
who wore gorgon-heads in my view, while they delivered their invidious
suppositions concerning the lovely being, whose picture you had so
animatedly given.--When your eulogium on Sibella Valmont ceased, I
withdrew; flew to my chamber; and hastily locked the door, as if I had
newly found treasure to deposit there in secresy. I threw myself into a
chair. 'And is not all this familiar to thee, Murden?' said I, after a
pause. 'Hast thou not a thousand and a thousand times, in thy waking and
sleeping visions, described a being thus artless, thus feminine, yet
firm, such an all-attractive daughter of wisdom?--Ay: but I had never
personified her in Sibella Valmont, though Clement had sworn ten
thousand fathom deeper to her beauty.'
I could make no more nor less of it. My head ached; and my soul was
burthened. I went to bed, and dreamt of a wilderness, and an angel; and
the vision followed me through the engagements of the succeeding day.
Whether it was that I more industriously fought it than formerly, I know
not, but soon an opportunity arose of conversing with you alone. It was
easy to lead to a theme wherein your affections were as much engaged as
my curiosity; and I heard every interesting particular of her mind,
manners, and seclusion. Her love of Clement Montgomery, was also
remembered. To me, his love of her never bore any striking features;
and, somehow, her's to him seldom intruded amidst my chimeras. Strange
wishes arose--tremulous expectations. 'It is all curiosity,' said I;
'and to overcome the obstacles that forbid thy knowledge of this
Phoenix, is worthy the labour of ingenuity.'
When you, Madam, took the road to Bath, I unattended crossed the country
to Valmont castle. Three days I passed in reviving and rejecting the
scheme; and during that time, had stationed myself at a farm-house
within a mile of Valmont. In the farmer, I recognized an old
school-fellow of my day's of humility; and one whom I loved dearly too,
before my uncle was a nabob. We met each other with an appearance of
restraint and embarrassment. I, certainly conscious of an unjust neglect
of him: he, perhaps secretly despising the man who preferred wealth to
honesty. But reparation was then in my power; and the very critical
moment at hand.
Farmer Richardson is rather given to endure than to complain. His simple
statement of a few facts, which led to the service I rendered him,
contained no invective. 'He told me he was an unfortunate man, to be
sure; but Mr. Valmont was not obliged to know that.'--As to family
concerns at the castle, after which I enquired, he said, 'he had
occasionally heard more than he chose to relate. That the 'squire was
perhaps proud and capricious, but he might have reasons for his conduct.
Let every man act according to his own conscience, and the Lord have
mercy on the greatest sinner.' Such is honest Richardson's creed.
The farmer's taciturnity was amply contrasted by the loquacity of his
hind, formerly a domestic at the castle, and suddenly discharged with
that pride and petulance for which its owner is famed.--John Thomas
dwelt at Valmont-castle when Clement Montgomery was adopted; when Miss
Valmont was brought thither--and though I always made him begin there,
he constantly found means to shift his ground to the ancient mysteries
of the domain. 'A sinful lord, turned penitent, enjoined to find money
and materials for the structure, it pleased a neighbouring society of
devout fathers to erect on the rock within the park. It was further
necessary to his salvation, that this hermitage should be endowed on two
of the most holy monks of the brotherhood, who would undertake to live
longest by prayer and fasting. The event proved the choice admirably
founded. Without the adventitious aid of victuals and drink, they dwelt
I know not what number of years in this practice of piety, saw the
society from whence they came broken and dispersed, and peaceably ended
their days in the hermitage.'--Selfish fellows though these saints,
according to John Thomas; for, dead, they will not yield possession to
the living, but
Revisit still the glimpses of the moon
Making night horrible.
I essayed to gain information concerning Miss Valmont; and John Thomas's
deduction from the little he had seen and the more he had heard was,
that Miss had not a right understanding. He always thought Master
Montgomery better natured of the two, and he would be a fine fortune
when he came back from foreign countries.
Legends of the haunted ruin, on which John Thomas delighted to dwell,
first suggested to me a hermit's disguise. Already, Miss Ashburn, you
contemn the romance of my scheme; and its practicability seems
impossible in expectation. Experience taught me how much a little
ingenuity and great perseverance will effect. In all cases, whether of
right or wrong, jointly they can almost work miracles.
Early misfortunes, a life of hard labour and little profit, had blunted
that quickness of sensation in farmer Richardson, which might have led
him to conjecture something mysterious of me. If I was there to claim my
meals, it was well; if not, 'twas the same. I contrived to evade all
enquiries into my absence, whether it were of the night or day, by
fixing on myself the character of an eccentric whimsical solitary.
Ah, Miss Ashburn! I smile to observe the precaution, and industry,
wherewith I wrought my wretchedness! You allow me to be minute I know,
for I know your sympathy and sincerity.
* * * * *
How this recapitulation of events has beguiled from me the consciousness
of passing time! In this under-ground cell, where no ray of the sun's
light ever penetrated, have I by my solitary lamp counted the lagging
moments throughout a day. Yet now living over again in remembrance that
preparatory fortnight when I was at farmer Richardson's was only
restless, I have suffered hours to go by, without any additional torment
of suspended expectation. Sibella is not returned. I thought I heard the
sound of her feet in the chapel above; but, when I ascended, she was not
there. I went on to the other side, but darkness has enveloped the
castle, wood, and park. I shall not see her to-night then. Mr. Valmont
may be from home, occupied or engaged; and she cannot gain an hearing.
Nina too has quitted me; yet I am less alone than heretofore. The spirit
of your friendship hovers round me. Be my friend, Miss Ashburn, while
existence cleaves to me; and, when I am gone, double the portion of your
love to Sibella.--Ah me! my heart has strange forebodings that she will
greatly need it.
A continuation of my narrative shall amuse the sleepless night. Who will
dispute that my claim to saintship is not more incontestible than that
of the former fasting inhabitants of this mansion? The holy monks by
their mysterious passages into the castle, could and assuredly did
indemnify themselves at night for the forbearance of the day. But I, who
have learned in this cell and its invirons to banish sleep, one of
nature's greatest wants, where shall I seek the lulling medicine which
can steal me from self?--can anticipate the tomb?
During the fortnight previous to my first seeing Miss Valmont, I
reconnoitred day after day every inch of ground around the moat, and a
first circuit showed me that immediately beside the rock the moat,
forming an angle, is not above a third part as broad as in any other
place. This of course rendered it much easier to cross, but that
facility was more than counterbalanced by the abruptness of the bank on
the side next the lane, and the slippery steepness of the rock on the
park side. Still this seemed the place, from its great privacy and
difficulty of access, by which I must enter. Never but once did I see
any creature approach it; and then I saw a gentleman on the opposite
hill, who seemed to have lost his way. The exactness and solicitude of
my observations at length pointed out a tolerable and easy method of
descending the bank; for I perceived stumps of trees irregularly but
artfully disposed, which I dare believe had been either purposely placed
or purposely left there for the climber's assistance. At first, this
surprised me: however, the whole business was fully explained, when
measuring the depth of the moat in separate places, I discovered (and
blessed the saintly contrivance of the starving monks) a mound raised
across the moat, about two feet below its surface, on which large pieces
of the rock were thrown, their edges just covered with water, so that
with the assistance of my pole, I could pass from one to the other,
suffering little more inconvenience than a wet shoe.
'Forerunners of your worthy successor,' exclaimed I, 'thankfully I
receive the benefit of your labours! Your work, no doubt, is perfect in
ingenuity; I shall tread in your steps up the mountain's rugged side,
and nightly visit my shrine as you nightly deserted yours.'
Yes, Miss Ashburn, the ascent was attainable; and, though time has
destroyed some of the useful works of the holy fathers, yet here and
there, particularly in the more abrupt parts of the rock, I found steps
formed. By diligent heed of these, and other aids, I certainly gained
the only path by which I could have reached my destination. It brought
me on the back of the hermitage to the chapel's entrance, which if you
have at all noticed its situation, you will recollect to be so placed,
that any one may enter it without being discovered from the wood, or
even from the park side of the rock.
I will not tell--no, I cannot tell you the swelling joy with which I
hailed myself master of the ruin. It commands no prospect, save of the
wood-path where stands Valmont's monument, and, a dearer object,
Sibella's oak; yet, I bent my eager view through the chapel's cracked
wall, and bade the winds bear to the castle's owner my proud defiance.
This my first visit, performed at twilight, was only a visit of
inspection. I discovered the stairs under the altar; but deemed it, at
least improper, if not dangerous, to explore them without light.
All my apparatus were forthwith conveyed to the moat's-edge, where
rushes afforded them an hiding place, till I had carried them to my
station. A few biskets alone was my provender; but for the supply of my
dark lantern I was abundantly careful. No monarch ever ascended a throne
with more bounding exultation than that which filled my breast, when I
took possession of this lower cell.
The next day, I saw her.--Good God! and you have seen her too--at the
foot of her oak--her flowing hair--her modest drapery--a model for the
sculptor!--A vision for the poet!----I became neither!--
* * * * *
Were I to live ages, I could never describe her, for when her image is
most perfect with me I have neither powers of mind, nor the common
faculties of nature. The overwhelming sensation sinks me to the earth.
Montgomery!--She may live in thy imagination, but not in thy heart, as
in mine!
Surely I grow tedious in detail. These occurrences were few; yet they
swell in relation.
Three days elapsed ere she came again to her wood. Doubtless, Madam, you
have already heard of our conversation.--'She feared me not'--She left
me to inform Mr. Valmont.--In the first moment of our intercourse, I saw
the firmness of her character. I saw she knew not how to threaten; she
could only reason and resolve. I dared not quit the hermitage in day
light, but I could provide for my safety within it. Walking backward
and forward in my cell for exercise, one stone of the flooring had
constantly resounded under my footsteps, and as I trod harder it
appeared loosened from the rest. 'A grave or a treasure?' said I, and I
raised the stone. There was only a flight of steps, three times as wide
as those descending from the chapel. As I now trod the ground of
mystery, this discovery excited no surprise; and, imagining myself
securely and conveniently stationed in the cell, I had not the smallest
inclination to explore further, till hearing the voices of people on the
rock, who I doubted not were coming in search of me, I committed myself
with my lantern to the subterraneous passage. Finding it well arched,
dry, and wide, curiosity led me on; for I no sooner discovered it, than
I conjectured its secret communication with some apartment of the
castle.
It is unnecessary, Miss Ashburn, to dwell on the construction of this
passage, its ascents, and descents, windings, &c.--Suffice it to say,
that it seemed a journey of infinite length; that the crumbling
fragments of one broken arch had nigh forbidden my progress; and finally
that, this difficulty overcome, a sliding pannel of oak incomparably
fitted, gave me admission into the armoury. From amidst the surrounding
trophies of honour I snatched a sword, determined therewith to defend
myself against any direct attack.
In the armoury I remained all that night; for I thought it possible that
someone might be stationed to watch for me in the cell. Shall I not tell
you that a feeling which surmounted my apprehensions of discovery
chained me to the armoury?--I was under the same roof with Sibella!
The first dawnings of morn burst imperfectly through the high and grated
casements; and I heard the creaking door of the armoury begin to open; I
darted through my pannel, but the pannel shut heavily and with noise.
Some person had already entered the armoury ere the pannel was quite
closed. I shuddered for the consequences that might ensue; and I
retreated a few steps, and grasped my sword. I heard the person in the
armoury walk, and several times pass the pannel. The step was light and
gentle. I heard a sigh. My heart took the prompt alarm. I looked through
the crevice. It was--I had almost said--my Sibella--No: _Montgomery's_
Sibella! I forced back the panel--flew to her--trembled--spoke--was
wild, vehement, and perhaps utterly unintelligible.
And here let me pause, Miss Ashburn, to remark how strongly I discovered
in her mind I had pictured and panted to possess. When I first
approached her in the wood, tottering under a hermit's disguise, I could
perceive, as it were, her collecting spirits embody themselves to repel
my fraud. 'It matters little to me,' said she, 'who or what you are,
since I well know you cannot be what you would seem.' Conscious
rectitude forbade her to fear me,--it forbade her to mix me with her
ideas in one shape--all her all prevalent love forbade it in another.--I
saw her once--when the time, the place, the circumstance would have
appalled me into agony! When, unseen, I echoed her bursting sigh, from
behind the monument, I saw her a moment mute with surprise, then, call
into her mien a dignity so firm so undaunted, that it might have spoken
lessons to a hero.