the circumstance to which I allude in a part of this letter betrays its
own authenticity to you, I know your heart will be rent with agony. Yet,
persevere!--Ah! I need not say that! in itself, it includes every
incitement to her relief.
Use no speed on my account, for I shall be unknown in that obscure
village seven miles the other side of B----, where you must stop for me.
Let me know when I may be there; and, in waiting for you, I can have no
other impatience than of being assured you are in safety.
CAROLINE ASHBURN
LETTER XXI
FROM CAROLINE ASHBURN
TO
SIBELLA VALMONT
(_Inclosed in the preceding._)
Your Caroline Ashburn, My Sibella, your own Caroline, who loves you with
her whole heart, sends Murden to your relief. Need I add a stronger
recommendation? Ah, no! Thus commissioned, you will instantly assure
yourself he is benevolent, noble, just, and has not one fault in his
nature, that counteracts the propriety of choosing him for your
protector.
I have lately been in the castle, Sibella. I have seen your cruel uncle,
your insensible aunt: but she for whose sake I encountered them was
secluded from my view. I know every particular of your situation. Yes,
my love, _every particular_.--There, you have endured enough. Come away!
Follow the footsteps of your guide! They will conduct you to liberty.
Happiness may overtake us by and by.
My own hand should lead you to the dreary hermit's cell--My smiles
should cheer you--for Murden is not apt now to smile, yet, believe me,
his heart will rejoice in your deliverance, though his eye may talk of
nothing but woe--But I dare not come. Your uncle has spied. Were he to
find me in the neighbourhood, he would suspect a plan to relieve you;
and by some new manoeuvre counteract it. We have but this one means in
our power, for your uncle is irreconcileable.
When Murden gives you this letter, commit yourself wholly to his
direction. He will bring you, my Sibella, with all convenient dispatch
to a little village called Croom, fifteen miles from your uncle's
castle. There your Caroline's arms will receive you; and my affection
tells me we shall never again be separated. A short farewel, Sibella.
CAROLINE ASHBURN
LETTER XXII
FROM GEORGE VALMONT
TO
CLEMENT MONTGOMERY
Sir,
On the very day I received your answer to my last letter, I discovered a
circumstance which rendered that answer quite unnecessary, except to
prove that you are not only a villain but a cowardly villain.
I should have given to myself the satisfaction of telling you thus much
before, but I delayed for two reasons; the first, till I had completely
banished every struggling effort of the affection I once had for you,
almost the only affection I ever had in my life; and the second, perhaps
a very consoling one to you, until I had executed the deed which comes
herewith, by which under certain annexed conditions you are entitled to
the possession of 200l. for life. However you may be obliged by the
action, you have but little obligation to the motive.--I hate and detest
you cordially; but I would not, for my honour's sake, give up to
absolute beggary, _my own--my only son_.
Yes, sir, _my son_. Not legitimate, I confess, but _natural_ in the
strongest acceptance of the term. I cared not ten straws for your
mother; yet, from your birth, I felt a strange propensity to love you. I
schemed and planned for your advantage. For your sake alone, I contrived
a project by which all the united wealth of the Valmont house would have
been showered on your head. I intended, mark me, sir, _I determined_ you
should marry my niece, and take my name, burying the disgrace of your
birth in the nobleness of my possessions. And, as I abhorred that a man
who bore my name should abandon himself to the love of society, I sent
you into the world as poor and adopted, that you might experience its
disappointments and know how to value your proper happiness.--Amply have
you rewarded my extreme love and constant labour!
I patiently undergo this statement, because I would have you see exactly
where you might have stood, and where you stand now.--The conditions of
your present independence are, that you never come into my presence: If
you once intrude by letter or otherwise I wipe away the allowance and
every trace of consideration for you: Also, the instant you form any
species of intercourse with Miss Valmont, the deed is cancelled. Even
this paltry sum, as it is mine shall not help to support infamy,
ingratitude, and treachery.--Make the comparison, Sir, between 200l. and
18,000l. per annum!--Ha! does it gall you?--So may it ever! May rest fly
from your pillow and contentment from your heart; and men you will know
what I have experienced, since I discovered the indelible stain you have
fixed on my family.
My equally worthless niece, perhaps, may, when she is her own mistress,
be inclined to reward your conduct with her hand; for, if I may judge by
her reception of your letter when I gave it her, she is not more the
fool of inclination than of credulity.--Remember, she never possesses
one penny of mine.
If you really have any friend of the name of Murden, pray offer him my
very sincere thanks. But for his timely interference, I might have given
you a part of your intended inheritance before I discovered your
scoundrel-like conduct.
In the moment of acknowledging you my son, I renounce you for ever. I
cast you from my affection and memory. And, should you henceforth think
of me, know that you have an inveterate implacable enemy, in your
father,
G. VALMONT
LETTER XXIII
FROM ARTHUR MURDEN
TO
CAROLINE ASHBURN
Madam,
I date my letter from the farm. Richardson is my confidant. He has a
sincere generous mind. I stood before him confessed in all my folly. He
will give me his utmost aid.
Do not again call me inexorable, dear Miss Ashburn. I have yielded
greatly indeed to you. I consulted a physician at Barlowe-Hall. As we
are so speedily to meet, it would be useless to conceal from you that,
wherever it had its beginning, the disorder is not now confined to my
mind. Youth, the physician said, was in my favour. The continent might
do me service. He ordered some medicine; regulated my diet; and, when I
told him of my leaving the Hall immediately, he shook my
hand:--Conviction speaking from his countenance, that it was his last
salute to me.
A few restorative medicines furnished me with strength to reach the
farm.--Here my purpose nerves me.--But why do you bid me fortify my
heart? Oh, my dear madam, it has been long since fortified! From the
fatal night when she gave herself to the arms of Clement, my heart
became callous, impenetrable to the dart of any new calamity.
And sometimes too I smile, Miss Ashburn. It is amazing into what
familiar habits of intimacy I and the misery that abides with me have
fallen.
Fear me not, madam.--In this enterprise, I have all the determination of
will--all the vigour of health.--Everything is prepared--last night,
accompanied by Richardson, who from his zealous apprehensions for my
safety, would not suffer me to go alone, I visited the rock.--No
interrupters have been there. The cell, the stone, and the passage are
still at our devotion.--Richardson is too honest to make an improper use
of the secret of this Ruin; nay, he was the first to remind me, it would
be just when our purpose was effected to give Mr. Valmont its
description.
Again I repeat, every thing is prepared--I only wait for you to inform
me of the nearest connection between her apartments and the armoury. A
blunder might be fatal. When you have given me this necessary
information, quit London to meet us instantly; for the night succeeding
the receipt of your letter Sibella shall bid adieu to her oppressor's
dungeon. Direct to Richardson--Stantorfarm, W----.
A. MURDEN
_N.B._ You blame, with great justice, the little power I possess of
detaching myself from the affairs of my heart.--Last time I wrote, it
escaped me till my letter was gone, and now I have torn open the seal to
tell you that Mademoiselle Laundy is an abandoned woman, Montgomery's
mistress in Paris; and, though I have no positive proof, I venture to
assert she holds the same station in London. If it suits you to inform
Mrs. Ashburn of her companion's principles, on the authority of my name,
it is wholly at your service.
LETTER XXIV
FROM JANETTA LAUNDY
TO
CLEMENT MONTGOMERY
I ought to reproach you; but, dear and irresistible as you are, your
image, Montgomery, banishes every thing but sensations of pleasure. What
can be the reason of your sudden gloom and distraction? I am sure the
loss of your money cannot be all, because you know how easily you may be
supplied by Mrs. Ashburn till you have further remittances. Why should
you hesitate, when I assure you she would be obliged by your making the
demand? Recollect her own words the evening she compelled you to use her
pocket-book at the faro table; and, if you will not allow me to urge you
on another point, at least be persuaded to spare yourself fruitless
anxiety about your losses at play.
Still I fear there is something else; and will you not tell it to
Janetta, to your own Janetta, who has sacrificed her peace to you, what
it is that thus distresses you? Do you remember how you behaved last
night? I was terrified to death at your appearance. I asked if you were
ill. You struck your hand on your forehead, and said you were undone.
'Is the beauteous Sibella inconstant?' asked Mrs. Ashburn.--I shall
never forget the manner of your answer. You spoke through your shut
teeth. 'Damnation, madam! she has ruined me!' Then, whirling round, you
caught my hand, and exclaimed, 'Oh Laundy! I am indeed undone!'
How I trembled!--I tremble now to think of it. For God's sake, my dear
beloved Montgomery, be careful! The hated, the prying Miss Ashburn was
by; and if she never suspected us before, I am sure she does now. You
went up to Lady Barlowe and asked her fiercely for her nephew.
'Mr. Murden, Sir,' said Miss Ashburn looking at you with such scorn I
could have killed her, 'Mr. Murden, Sir, is at present a sort of
wandering knight errant. Sometime within a fortnight you will hear
certain tidings of him. He may be in London.'
It seemed as if you came only to ask this question; for you went away
soon after; and, though you strove to be gayer, you sighed so deeply I
could scarcely contain myself. I wept all night; and now I am writing
instead of dressing. How dear to me every employment that has a concern
with my charming Montgomery!--I know not what excuse I shall make at
dinner for my melancholy appearance; but fears for my own safety are
swallowed up in my apprehensions for you.
Luckily, the Dutchess is confined with a cold.--I will visit her
to-night; and, on my way, call on you. So prepare to confide all your
griefs to the sympathizing bosom of your Janetta.
Miss Ashburn, two hours ago, received a letter which seemed to give her
great pleasure; and, while she was reading it, Lord Filmar came in. When
she had finished the letter, she turned to him. 'Didn't I hear you speak
of some one being ill, my Lord?'
'Oh, yes, madam, I was enquiring whether Montgomery came here last night
to seek physicians or a nurse. I called on him yesterday morning and the
servant said, his master was very bad, dreadfully bad, too bad to be
seen. I sent after dinner, and he was worse. I drove to his lodgings,
just now, to make my adieus, before I leave town, and still he was so
bad I could not be let in. Yet I met Miss Trevors, who tells me he was
of the party here last evening; a little out of spirits, indeed, but
quite as handsome as ever.'
'That he is bad, my Lord,' replied Miss Ashburn fixing her eyes on me, I
can very well credit. And, ere long, I shall endeavour to point out some
persons who have the same infectious disorders.'
Unless you had seen her look, you can't tell half the meaning this
conveyed.--After reading her letter again, she told Mrs. Ashburn she was
going out of town immediately; and being asked where, she said, that
could not be explained till her return. Her chaise is ordered; and I am
delighted to think she can't interrupt us when she is away.
Dear, too dear Montgomery, expect at nine, thy ever faithful
JANETTA LAUNDY
LETTER XXV
FROM CAROLINE ASHBURN
TO
ARTHUR MURDEN
The long narrow passage where you met those three men you spoke of
connects the tower with the south wing. There you will find a flight of
stone stairs, by which she used to descend to the armoury. Those stairs
will conduct you into the gallery belonging to Sibella's apartments. Her
uncle, fond of magnificence, appropriated to her use solely all the
suite of rooms on that floor of the wing. She may be secured by lock and
key, but I do not suppose any one is permitted to sleep near her. Of
that you must run the hazard.
Do not wonder my lines are uneven, for I actually tremble while I follow
you in imagination to that gallery. Were I writing to any one but
yourself I should bid you blend boldness and caution. You have done it
already.
Ah, my sweet friend, my Sibella!--but I forgot that you are a stranger,
my Sibella, to nervous apprehension.--The first word of his errand will
bless you!
No, Murden, mere assertion though aided by the authority of your name,
will not convince Mrs. Ashburn of her companion's proflicacy. If I
cannot fairly and fully detect her practices, I can never remove her.
The affair must rest till my return; and then I will try my utmost. I
thank you for your information, and I have this morning given Miss
Laundy an information that I understand her. A surprising alteration is
displayed in Montgomery. Mr. Valmont, I conclude, has begun his
discipline.--Explanation is approaching; and do you, my friend, school
yourself, before you and he meet, and then you will not cease to
befriend him though he may cease to befriend himself.
Adieu! ere this arrives at the farm, I shall be at my station.
CAROLINE ASHBURN
LETTER XXVI
FROM CLEMENT MONTGOMERY
TO
JANETTA LAUNDY
And is it come to this? You urged the secret from me I would fain have
withheld; and now do you also give me up to despair? Oh Janetta!
Janetta! have I deserved it of you? What was there in that cruel letter
of Mr. Valmont's which should chill the ardour of love? His anger has
blasted all the fair promises of my life; but it could not transform me
into age or ugliness. Still am I, though wretched and desperate, thy
Montgomery; still adoring thy beauty, panting for thy charms.
Forgive me if these reproaches are injurious to your tenderness. If you
yet love me, forgive me. Alas! you love me not! You turn from me with an
averted eye. You repulse my caresses! You give me up to misery and
despair; and the wretched Montgomery dies under your neglect.
Farewel, my Janetta! Oh farewel, farewel, then, to all the blooming
pleasures which I gathered with an eager hand! My sentence is without
appeal. Mr. Valmont--that a father should be so cruel! dooms me to
poverty and disgrace. Can I exist in poverty? No, by heaven! Shall I
languish in a sordid dwelling, with there food and covering, and sicken
over the remembrance of past enjoyments? Shall I live to crawl along
with steps enfeebled by misfortune, and view the splendid equipages of
those who were once my associates pass me unheeded? No, I cannot endure
it. Some way or other I must end it. All the means of making life
desirable are denied me. I blush at my unmerited disgrace. I would hide
myself from every eye save your's, Janetta; and, when the fatal tidings
are divulged abroad, I shall surely expire with torture.
Yet, be once more kind, my charmer:--if thou hast no kindness for the
unfortunate Montgomery, this once, at least affect it. Thou hast known
misfortune. Have pity on me! Come and listen to my sighs: let me breathe
a sorrowful farewel on thy bosom. I shall not ask this indulgence a
second time. I will fly, to bury in solitude the short remnant of a
miserable existence.--Then come, and once more bid my heart throb with
rapturous sensations! Bid me for a moment forget my doom, remembering
only what I have been!--The blissful moment ended, farewel, Janetta!
farewel to all!
CLEMENT MONTGOMERY
LETTER XXVII
FROM JANETTA LAUNDY
TO
CLEMENT MONTGOMERY
It is very strange I should express myself so ill as to have my emotions
of sorrow and regret mistaken, by you, for coldness and aversion. It is
cruel, Montgomery, thus to accuse your Janetta. Could I but describe the
anguish I suffered both on your account and my own, you would pity me.
Yes, Montgomery; 'tis I should ask for pity. I, who never till now knew
how strong are the ties by which my rival held you. Barbarous as she is,
I fear you still love her. She thinks only how she can most effectually
work your ruin; while you charge with neglect and unkindness the
faithful Janetta, who is labouring to redress your misfortunes.
Montgomery, there is but one way. To talk of dying is absurd. You may
feel a temporary languor, the effect of vapour and indigestion; but the
bloom and vigour of a constitution like your's is not so easily
undermined. Trust me, you will live to a good old age, even with the
despicable 200l. per annum your hard hearted father bestows on you. But
it is in your power, Montgomery, to live surrounded by riches and
splendor, to command the perpetual succession of pleasures which riches
and splendor can procure.
Remember the proposal I made you one day, half in earnest half in jest.
Think of it. Embrace it. And send Mr. Valmont back his paltry annuity in
disdain. You cannot be so blind, so mad as to reject this only means of
your happiness. Renounce it, and I shall believe you reserve yourself
for my rival, the faithless and barbarous Sibella. Accept it, and all
the delights which Janetta's love can bestow are your's for ever.
Why should you hide yourself? That form and face were given for better
purposes. Bloom in success and victory! And leave to those who possess
not your advantages to mope in dull obscurity! You owe to yourself this
triumph over the malice of Mr. Valmont and the cruelty of her who has so
wantonly betrayed you to his wrath. Throw off your foibles and your
sorrow; and call up those alluring graces of your mien which are so
irresistible. Exchange your sighs for smiles; and, aided by the
advantages of dress you well know how to choose, come here to dinner. I
have contrived that we shall dine alone. Weigh well what I advise and
its motives; and then ask yourself, if I deserve to be accused of
unkindness--Ask yourself what that love must be which can content itself
with secret confessions, and can yield its open triumph to another in
order to secure your advantage. Consider these things with attention,
dearest Montgomery: and convince me that you deserve all I am willing to
do for you by your instant compliance. I cannot, do not, doubt you. Be
here by six.
Ever your's, _if you wish me to be so_,
JANETTA LAUNDY
LETTER XXVIII
FROM GEORGE VALMONT
TO
CLEMENT MONTGOMERY
Scoundrel,
By means I cannot divine, Sibella has escaped me. I have no doubt you or
some of your diabolical agents are concerned in the business.--The deed,
Sir, I have burned.--Your draught of it must help to amuse you.
It delights me to think she is not yet nineteen, and that you are
pennyless. Beg at my gates if you dare!--The worst of indignities are
better than your deservings.--You seal your union under happy
auspices.--I give you joy.--Would I could give you destruction!
GEORGE VALMONT
LETTER XXIX
FROM CLEMENT MONTGOMERY
TO
GEORGE VALMONT
Since, Sir, you have extended my punishment to the utmost, I can incur
no heavier penalty by thus intruding myself before you.
I could offer many excuses, Sir, for my first fault; but it is now too
late. Only, I must say your harshness and severity drove us to that
measure, which, in justice to myself, I must also inform you Miss
Valmont proposed, and with which I but reluctantly complied.
But, Sir, your further charge is without foundation. I have neither any
concern in, nor any knowledge of Miss Valmont's flight; and, further to
prove that I would have obeyed you if I could, I shall refuse to protect
her.--Indeed, Sir, your last letter has driven me immediately to ratify
an engagement that precludes the possibility of any further intercourse
with Miss Valmont.
I remain, Sir,
Your unhappy and repentant son,
CLEMENT MONTGOMERY
LETTER XXX
FROM ARTHUR MURDEN
TO
CAROLINE ASHBURN
There she is, Madam!--She walks and sighs:--and one little room, a small
circumference, contains _only_ Murden and Sibella. When the waiter shut
the door and withdrew, I would have given an eye to have detained
him.--She knows not I am writing to you; for she would have taken the
office on herself, and that would not satisfy me.--It is a relief,
madam, to write--tho' any thing upon earth would be preferable to
hearing--I mean, _seeing her_.
Miss Ashburn, till I saw her, I did not understand you.--Well might you
warn me!
It will be three hours before we reach you.--I send this letter by a man
and horse; because, in knowing that we are safe, you will have at least
half an hour of less anxiety.
The place where we are now is only a village, five miles out of the road
to Valmont.--Richardson advised me to make this sweep for fear of a
pursuit.--He brought us here through cross roads on his own horses. I
have sent him back; and the only chaise this little inn maintains is
engaged for a two hours airing for some invalid in the village.--Have
patience, madam.--Your friend is safe.
Richardson and myself possessed ourselves of the cell at half past nine
last night.--Then in our disguises we prowled around the castle till
about eleven, and heard the locking of doors, and saw in the upper
windows light after light die away as their possessors yielded
themselves to rest.
We would not venture too early. I believe it was past two before we left
the armoury.--All was hushed.--The stairs!--the gallery!--her
apartments!--I seized Richardson by the arm, as he attempted to turn
the lock.--It seemed profanation. I feared every thing!--I would have
gone back.--Richardson forbade me.
We entered the antichamber. We crossed two others. The door of a third
stood open.--In that there was a fire, a candle, and a bed.--The
curtains were undrawn; and I caught a glimpse of her face. Instantly, I
drew the door so close as only to admit my hand, holding out your
letter.--I gasped.--'Speak for me,' I said to Richardson; 'Say, Miss
Ashburn.'
'Rise, dear Miss Valmont,' said he, 'Miss Ashburn sends you this.'
I heard her start from the bed.--'Who?--What?'
'Miss Ashburn,' repeated Richardson, 'Miss Ashburn, it is a letter from
Miss Ashburn.'
She took or rather snatched the letter; and, as I withdrew my hand, she
shut the door hastily.
I heard her utter an exclamation--I could hear her too burst into sobs
and bless you.--I heard her also name another.
At length she asked, without opening the door, if I was indeed Mr.
Murden, and if I could take her from the castle.
'O yes, yes,' said I, 'Come away.'
'Stay,' she replied.
She was dressed in an instant. She opened the door. She came out to
us.--'Ah! what, what is the matter?' cried she, extending her arms as if
to save me from falling.--Why were you not more explicit in your letter,
Miss Ashburn?--I recoiled _from her_, from the remembrance of her
Clement--and, as I leaned on Richardson's shoulder, I closed my dim
eyes, and wished they might never more open upon recollection.
'Shame!' whispered Richardson, 'you are unmanned!'
And so I am, Miss Ashburn. I think too, I should love revenge. I feel a
rankling glow of satisfaction, as she walks past my chair, that I have
so placed it I cannot look up and behold her.
I recovered strength and courage while my horror remained unabated.--She
saw I could hear, and she began to pour forth the effusions of her
gratitude upon you and us.--She knew you had been in the castle. Her
cruel uncle had informed her of it.--'And then,' said she, 'I fancied I
must die without seeing any one that ever loved me.'--As she spoke, I
turned my eyes from her now haggard and jaundiced face to my own,
reflected in the mirror by which I was standing. 'Moving corpses!' said
I to myself--'Why encumber ye the fair earth?'
'He showed me a letter too,' added she. 'He said Clement had renounced
me.--Ah, Mr. Valmont! deceiving Mr. Valmont!'--and she waved her hand
gracefully--'had you known Sibella's heart as she knows Clement's,
you----.'
'Come away!' said I.