night is very cold.'
This reminded her of a cloak.--She enquired if she must swim across the
moat; and said she was sure she could swim;--for she knew why she had
failed before.--I bade Richardson lead her.
I expected to have seen her much more surprised at the strange path
through which she had to go.--From the armoury to the cell she never
spoke. Her mind was overcharged with swelling emotions.--At times we
were obliged to stand still. She even panted for freer respiration.
The----
* * * * *
I heard wheels.--I expected our chaise.--It is some travellers who have
stopped to bait.
After we had safely crossed the moat, she alternately grasped our hands
in a tumult of joy; named you, named me, but _talked_ on the
never-failing theme of _her_ Clement.
She rode behind Richardson.--I see she is much worse for the journey;
yet her burning eye and vehement spirits would persuade me otherwise.
She kindly ceased her torturing questions concerning Clement, imagining,
by my abrupt answers, I was too ill to talk.--She says you will heal
me--for you have healed her.--Miss Ashburn, how ardently she loves you!
I find you will receive this letter an hour before we come.--Won't you
thank, and praise me?--It is written with a shaking hand, and throbbing
temples. I know it would be difficult to keep Sibella from mounting the
same horse, if she were informed of the messenger. When we enter the
chaise, I will tell her what I have done.
A. MURDEN
LETTER XXXI
FROM THE SAME
TO
THE SAME
Why should I have the rage of distraction without the phrenzy? Dare they
tell me I am a lunatic?--She is gone, Miss Ashburn? I have lost your
treasure!--Some villain, lured by the vestiges of her transcendent
beauty, has taken her from me.--They have forced me into a bed!--The
barbarians confine me here.--Won't you order me to be released?--Oh
sweet Miss Ashburn, won't you tell them I must be released?
Now I recollect I wanted to tell you all the particulars.----Ha! they
fade from me, and I dream again!----
* * * * *
Madam,
I keep the Blue Boar at Hipsley; and the poor unhappy gentleman who
wrote the above came to my house with his lady yesterday morning. As
long as ever I live, I shan't forget the poor gentleman's ravings, when
he discovered that his lady had ran away from him, and he only came to
his senses about an hour ago, when he ordered us to send for you, and he
wrote till his raving fit returned; and it would melt your heart, madam,
to hear how he is bemoaning himself and calling by the kindest names the
ungrateful wicked lady who served him so badly.--I saw her jump into the
chaise myself; and she went willingly enough, though he won't believe
it. My son brings you this, madam; and I hope you will tell us what we
must do for the poor gentleman. From
Your ladyship's humble servant,
MARY HOLMES
LETTER XXXII
FROM CAROLINE ASHBURN
TO
ARTHUR MURDEN
Ah my friend, my beloved Murden, if an interval of memory, happily, now
is thine, read these lines which thy friend pens to thee in agony.--She
follows on the instant. You once demanded my consolations and
friendship, as a reparation for the mischievous error into which I had
led you.--Will you receive them now as such, against the manifold
mischiefs I have brought upon you?
Ah! what, what had I to do with secret escapes!--I, who exclaimed from
the beginning against Valmont's secresy, and prophesied its fatal
consequences!--Must I too conspire to make Sibella the victim of
secresy?--Unhappy sufferer! Yet more unhappy Caroline! She, debarred the
use of her judgment, erred only from mistake; I, alas! have sinned
against reason and conviction!
Clement, I suspect, has watched our footsteps. I fear he has secured
her.--Ah, miserable fate!
Console yourself, my dearest friend. It will please you to know that,
even before I come to you, I am going to B----, to send messengers in
search of Sibella. And if money and vigilance can bring us tidings of
our lost friend, I have the power of employing both.--Prepare to receive
me with calmness.--Already, I have the aggravated distress of your and
Sibella's feelings to endure.--I am pained beyond description.
CAROLINE ASHBURN
LETTER XXXIII
FROM LORD FILMAR
TO
SIR WALTER BOYER
I can truly say, I neither sit, stand, walk, nor lie:--that is, the
complete _I_, body and soul together; for, let the former attempt its
mechanical motions as it will, the other in a quite opposite direction
is striking, curvetting, capering, twisting, tumbling, and playing more
tricks than any fantastical ape in nature.
Therefore, dear Walter, you must send me instantly a hundred guineas.
Yes really, if you want to quiet my conscience, you must send me a
hundred guineas.
Nothing will quiet my conscience but matrimony.
I cannot marry without a hundred guineas.--Ergo, if you don't send me a
hundred guineas, and I should die, and be ----, the sin will lay at your
door, and you will die and be ---- likewise.
As I have much consideration for you, my dear Walter, and as I know that
people who have very weak heads, have sometimes also very weak nerves, I
would advise you to lay down my letter, unless you are seated in some
safe place, for, should your situation be dangerous, and should the
surprise I am preparing for you rob you of apprehension, down you drop
and leave me in utter despair--lest your executors should refuse me the
hundred guineas.
Well--are you settled to your satisfaction?--Here it comes like a
thunderbolt!
Miss Valmont is mine, and I am her's--your hundred guineas will buy a
parson and a prayer book; and then the _L.7000_ a year is mine also.
You know, dear Walter, that resolved to obtain the heiress of Valmont
castle, I left London to return to Monkton Hall, with a heart full of
promise, and a head full of stratagem. Fortune, that dear blind
inconstant goddess, who formerly was almost within my grasp, now dashes
the projects of others to the ground, to give my wishes their triumph.
Some Merlin, with more potent spells than mine, broke the enchanted
castle, bore off the damsel, and, directed by fate and fortune, brought
her on the road, to meet me, to the very spot where it was decreed his
success should end, that mine might begin. And begun it has.
Last night, I slept at B----; and intended breakfasting with Sir Gilbert
Monkton: this morning I ordered the driver to leave the high road, and
cross the country, by which means I should save six miles of the
journey. Griffiths had been unwell some days; and he now appeared so
cold, and so much indisposed, I thought it prudent to give him a
breakfast on the road. The postilion, by the luckiest of all chances,
drove up to a pretty little white-washed inn, that I shall love dearly
for six months to come.
The landlady, a curtsying civil woman, was mighty sorry she had not a
better room to receive my honour in; but her best parlour, she said, was
already taken up with a lady and gentleman, who had arrived at seven
o'clock in the morning. And she showed me into a little place, which had
two excellent properties, namely, perfect cleanliness, and a good fire.
By this good fire I had sat five or perhaps ten minutes, when Griffiths
entered. 'My Lord! my Lord!' said he, and turned back to shut the door;
'I have seen the strangest sight, my Lord! I have seen a gentleman----'
At that moment a tea-kettle was brought into the room; and Griffiths
grew downright pettish with the damsel who bore the kettle, because she
did not quit the room with sufficient speed.
His information, Walter, amounted to thus much--that in the passage he
had seen the gentleman who occupied the land-lady's best parlour; and
that this gentleman, of whom Griffiths had had a very distinct view,
certainly was, or Griffiths was much deceived, the very identical
spright who reminded some of us of our devotions in the narrow passage
of the west tower at Valmont castle. ''Tis impossible!' said I.
'My Lord, 'tis true,' said Griffiths. I should know him among a
thousand. I know his eyes and nose as well as I know your's, my Lord.'
This you will allow, Walter, was but a very vague sort of a supposition
to ground any belief upon; for, as eyes and noses are the common lot of
all mankind, it may happen now and then that two or more may be greatly
alike. Yet, so diligent is hope and imagination, I could not persuade
myself these eyes and this nose had any owner but the spright of the
castle.--It was Miss Valmont and her hermit, my fancy said. I blessed my
stars. I cursed my stars. I wondered how and why they should come
hither. Then, I remembered, that fancy, though sometimes a prophetess,
is rarely an oracle, and I thought it might not be Miss Valmont and her
hermit.--I consulted much with Griffiths; and, at length, had recourse
to the waiter, a dapper shabby-coated fellow with a wooden leg.
They came, he said, on horseback before seven o'clock. A man, who
conducted them, did not alight. They were impatient to be gone. They
waited for a chaise. They had ordered a breakfast which neither of them
had tasted. The lady did not appear, he thought, equipped for
travelling. The gentleman was melancholy, and the lady restless and
agitated.
Miss Valmont: whispered I to myself.
'They are a fine couple,' said the waiter.
I asked if he thought they were a married pair. He answered, he was sure
she must be a married lady. I enquired if the gentleman seemed to be
very fond of her.
'Not at all,' replied the waiter. 'The gentleman sits writing, Sir, with
his back to her. She walks about the room, muttering to herself. When I
carried in the breakfast, he leaned his head against the wall, and
groaned with his eyes shut.'
It cannot be Miss Valmont and her hermit, thought I.
'Is the lady handsome?' I asked.
The waiter thought she was too pale to be very handsome; but he added
that in all his born days he never beheld such a head of hair.
'Of what colour is it?' I asked.
It was neither black, nor brown, nor as red as Jenny's;--he thought it
was not any colour, but it shone as if gold threads were among it.
Miss Valmont: whispered my forward heart. I rose and walked hastily
across the room.
'What did they talk about?' said I.
'They don't talk at all, Sir. The poor gentleman seems very bad; and as
I told your honor before, she walks about muttering. When they first
came, as I was lighting a fire for them, the lady pulled off her hat
just as if she was in a passion, and then she shook her fine waving
locks, as though she was wond'rous proud of them. And she said her head
ached with that--cumbrance; and she said something more about customs
and cumbrances, but I forget what, your honor. While she talked, the
gentleman looked so kind and pretty at her it did my heart good to see
him; but he is either very ill or very whimmy, for, immediately, while
she took off her cloak, he laid his head on the table with his face
downward and sighed as if his heart was breaking.'
I asked if he had heard her call him by any name, and the waiter replied
he had heard her twice name somebody as she walked about the room; but
to my great disappointment at that moment, his memory had not retained
the name.
At this part of our conference, the parlour bell rang, and the waiter
disappeared; not, though, till I had sealed him mine by a bribe, and
given him orders to return instantly. However, Griffiths, who was most
zealous on this occasion, thought proper to follow him. Fortunate was it
that he did; for, my waiter, dull at a hint, had received a letter from
the guest in the parlour, which, without consulting my will and
pleasure, he was quietly bearing to a courier ready mounted and waiting
for it at the inn door. Griffiths with a careless air took the letter
from his hand. It was addressed, Walter, to--_Miss Ashburn_.
I began to stalk, to exclaim, to ejaculate. Go on, Filmar, cried I, and
prosper! Henceforward be plot and stratagem sanctified! for Miss Ashburn
deigns to plot.
Griffiths prudently reminded me that it would be quite as well at
present to think of Miss Valmont, and leave Miss Ashburn alone till
another opportunity.
'Right,' said I.
''Tis folly! 'Tis madness, but to think for a moment of such a
project!', said I, ten minutes after, and turning myself half round in
my chair, throwing one arm across its back and one leg over the other.
No! no! I'll have nothing to do with it!' and I fell to shaking the
uppermost leg furiously. 'It might be very easily managed though,' said
Griffiths; 'and then your Lordship----'
'Would have nothing to do but to digest Montgomery's bullets and Miss
Ashburn's harder words.--Oh that Miss Ashburn can find words to lash
like scorpion's stings! Say no more of it, Griffiths, I have given her
up.'
'As you please, my Lord.'
'Ay! ay!' muttered I to myself. 'Let her go to her Montgomery! There are
men who perhaps are worthy of being loved as himself, and might perhaps
be more capable of constancy. There are other women too in the world,
thank heaven!--Strange,' continued I, 'that Miss Ashburn with her
understanding, and who must know the imbecility of Montgomery's love,
could dream of joining in any plot whose object was to bear Miss Valmont
to Montgomery!' For, Walter, I had by this time concluded that the
quondam hermit was some righteous go-between of Miss Valmont and her
lover; and I felt inclined to be mortally offended with her, because
Montgomery had so well concealed from my penetration their mutual
intelligence. I shifted to the other side of my seat; and I did not
sigh; but I blew my breath from me with much more force than usual.
I mused during the greater part of an hour. 'Your chaise is waiting, my
Lord,' said Griffiths; 'and, as you have quite done with this affair, if
your Lordship thinks proper it is as well not to keep the horses in the
cold.--Well, I must say 'twas a fine opportunity!'
'Do you think so, Griffiths?' said I mildly.
The rogue exultingly smiled; and, to change my wavering into downright
resolution, he recapitulated all the probabilities that awaited my
attempt, and noticed the trifling hazard that would accrue (provided I
adopted his plan for the purpose), should the attempt fail: nor did he
forget an oblique glance or two at certain prospects which he knew put
no inconsiderable weight into the balance.
'Away! away!' I cried, 'give the driver his directions; let him draw up
close to the door, before the other chaise; and let him be sure to keep
his chaise door open, but not the step down.'
Signifies it to thee, Walter, of what Griffiths' plan consisted? Surely
not. Nothing could be more easy than, at the instant of their departure,
to request a moment's conversation with the gentleman; nothing more
simple than to invent a tale of a pursuit, to be delivered into the
attentive ear of Miss Valmont's guide: nothing could promise fairer, and
surely never did fulment better follow promise.
Our casement looked upon a garden, and there the melancholy conductor of
Miss Valmont came to walk for a few minutes. There needed no screen to
hide us from his glance. His arms were folded, and his eyes intensely
fixed on the earth. His hat shaded the upper part of his face, so that I
could see no part of his said resemblance to the bearded youth of the
armoury; but I observed with pleasure and thrilling expectation that he
and I were nearly of one stature, both booted, and both wearing dark
blue great coats. This only difference existed, one of his capes he had
drawn round his chin, all mine lay on my shoulders.--Walter, I could
button mine up on occasion.
George had ridden my grey mare from town. I felt no way inclined to make
him a party in the transaction; and I also wanted the mare for
Griffiths. I therefore ordered him to return to B----, and take a stage
for London, waiting there my further orders. Griffiths saw him mount a
post horse, and led the grey mare round the house, and fastened her to
some rails in readiness.
It was exactly two hours and one quarter from the time of our arrival,
before their chaise came to the door. The horses were to have a feed in
their harness; the guests were impatient to be gone. I shuddered: and,
as I traversed our little room, the echo of my footsteps seemed to be
blabbing tell tales. I shall never, Walter, know such another minute as
that. All in future will be the dull uniformity of peace and plenty.
It was done. The waiter delivered Griffiths' message in the best
parlour. I, from a distant peeping station, saw the gentleman walk to
our room. I heard the door shut--the waiter stump away. Thrilling,
throbbing with hope and fear, I walked up the passage to their parlour.
Wrapped in her cloak, the hood drawn over her head, her hat in her hand,
stood the fair expectant. 'O come,' said she, 'do let us hasten!' The
day was gloomy, the passage was dark, I had drawn up my cape and drawn
down my hat. My hand took her's. She tripped along. No creature was in
sight. I caught her up in my arms, lifted her into the chaise, and we
whirled off, just as the landlady came bustling up to the door.
I had my cue of silence and reserve in the intelligence I had received
from the waiter. During the first three miles, I neither spoke nor
looked up. She, the while, clasping her hands and _muttering_, as the
waiter called it. I heard her pronounce the names of Miss Ashburn, of
Montgomery, and of some one else. For three miles, I say, we
interchanged not one word: then, Walter, the first word betrayed me.
And now what a list of sobs, tears, screams, prayers, and lamentations
you expect! I have not one for you. She sighed, indeed, and a few drops
forced a reluctant way; but she neither prayed, threatened, nor
lamented. She demanded her liberty. She reasoned for her liberty;
reasoned with a firmness collected, vigilant, manly, let me say. She
remembers seeing me in the castle, and takes me for her uncle's agent.
In truth, Walter, I suffer her to think it still; for I do not find,
when carefully examined, that my own character and motives in this
business possess much to recommend them.
In a little glen, between two hills of which the barrenness of one
frowns on the cultivation of the other, stands a farm, embosomed hid in
secresy and solitude. No traveller eyes it from the distant heath. No
horses, save its own, leave the print of their hoofs at its entrance.
But even more than usual gloom and dulness now reigns around it. The
lively whistle of the ploughman and hind no longer chear the echoes of
the hill. The farm yard is emptied of its gabbling tenants. The master
is dead, the stock sold, the tenants discharged, and one solitary
daughter, with one solitary female domestic alone, remains to guard the
house till quarter day shall yield it to a new tenant.
'Tis neither fit employment for my time to relate, nor for your's to
read, the trifling adventures by which Griffiths became acquainted with
this fair daughter, her circumstances and abode; nor how he wooed and
won her love during our residence at Monkton Hall. At Griffiths'
instigation, hither I brought Miss Valmont; and here, till your cash
arrives, as in a place of trust and safety, do I mean to keep my
treasure, although I am little more than three leagues distant from
Monkton Hall, and scarcely four from Valmont castle.
A less ready imagination than even thine, Walter, might picture to
itself the manner in which Griffiths deluded Miss Valmont's
knight-errant with a tale of pursuit and discovery. The youth checked
his surprise, and renewed his vigour. He hastened to secure his lovely
ward; and Griffiths, mean while, stole round the inn, mounted the grey
mare, and was out of sight and sound of the consequences.
I hear her walking. A slight partition divides her chamber from mine. No
more of those deep-drawn sighs, my fair one! I thank heaven I am not an
agent of Valmont's neither. He must have used her cruelly. She is
excessively pale; and strangely altered.
I stand, Walter, the watchful sentinel of her chamber door, which I
presume not to enter. Till I had her in my possession, my thoughts, in
gadding after the enterprise, possessed all the saucy gaiety which youth
and untamed spirits could impart. Nay, when I began to write this
letter, they wore their natural character. I must shift my station from
this room. Those deep deep sighs will undo me! Hasten, dear Walter, make
the wings of speed thy messengers to bear to me a hundred guineas, that
we may fly to the land of blessings ere I forgot that her cupids have
golden headed arrows.--Hem!--_Seven thousand per annum_--O 'tis an
elixir to chear the fainting spirits!
And now, as sure as I have possession of the rich and beauteous prize
after which I have so long yearned, so sure will I recompense her
present uneasiness by a life of tenderness, attention, and, to the best
of my present belief, of unabated constancy.
But marry me she must and shall, by G--d!
FILMAR
LETTER XXXIV
FROM CAROLINE ASHBURN
TO
LADY BARLOWE
Dear Madam,
By a strange concurrence of accidents I am at present attending Mr.
Murden, who during many days has lain dangerously ill in a small country
inn nine miles from Valmont castle. I must leave it to your prudence to
acquaint Sir Thomas Barlowe (to whom I know it will be most distressing
tidings) that his nephew is in danger, but it is necessary that Sir
Thomas should know it immediately, for I have made preparations for
bringing Mr. Murden to London, that he may have better accommodation and
better advice. Though I speak of advice, I dare not encourage any hope
in Sir Thomas, for I have watched the progress of his nephew's disorder,
and I believe he is only lingering--abide he cannot.
Sir Thomas Barlowe loved this young man as a son; and, to receive him
scarcely a shadow of his former self, will create distressing emotions.
Yet, I beseech you to urge Sir Thomas carefully to avoid any strong
expressions of sorrow when his nephew arrives, for I have the grief to
tell you that Mr. Murden's reason is shaken: and dreadful paroxysms may
follow the slightest agitation.
Nought but the power I have long laboured to obtain and have in part
obtained over my sensations could have preserved any degree of fortitude
in me under the most trying events of my life, events which have lately
befallen Miss Valmont and Mr. Murden. On them I had bestowed the warmest
tribute of my affections. In the enjoyment of their virtues and
happiness, I expected daily to augment my own. But, alas! it is gone;
and my wretched hopes still wear their beautiful and alluring form while
sinking in disappointment.
I am aware, Madam, that Mr. Murden's misfortune cannot create more
concern in your breast than the circumstance of my being with him will
raise wonder and curiosity; nor have I any other than a full intention
of making you acquainted with the circumstances that drew us both
hither, whose sad termination has operated so fatally on Mr. Murden. But
I am obliged to defer the relation till our arrival in town, both on
account of its length, of the preparations I am making for Mr. Murden's
ease and safety on the journey, and the continual anxiety of
watchfulness which possesses me for the sake of Miss Valmont, to whom I
have been unhappily the cause of evils possibly worse than that which
has befallen Mr. Murden.
I cannot name the day when you and Sir Thomas may expect us, for the
time consumed in the journey must be regulated by the abatement or
increase of Mr. Murden's disorder. He shall travel in a litter; and I
hope it is unnecessary for me to assure Sir Thomas nothing shall be
wanting to his accommodation that I have means to procure.
I remain your Ladyship's well wisher and servant,
CAROLINE ASHBURN
LETTER XXXV
FROM CAROLINE ASHBURN
TO
GEORGE VALMONT
Sir,
By the messenger of mine, who, on his search for my lost friend, came to
your gates a few days since, you were informed that it was through my
means Sibella escaped from your castle; and, however stern may be the
anger you entertain against me, be assured, Sir, it cannot exceed the
vehemence of that self-reproach and sorrow which now assail me, for
having been the contriver of so unjustifiable an undertaking.