and he was introduced to Matilda. He was extremely struck with her figure and appearance. She trembled, and for some moments was incapable of speaking; but endeavouring to collect fortitude from necessity she thus addressed him, 'The liberty I have taken in requesting the honour of seeing your Lordship here requires many apologies, but I am in a very singular and distressing situation. Will your Lordship permit me to ask you how long you have known the Countess Berniti' The Count started at the question. Almost from a child, madam; we were brought up in an intimacy from our youth.' 'You knew her unfortunate husband then, and his brother,' said she, and possibly may recollect it was supposed the infant daughter of the Countess died in convulsions?' 'Supposed ! ' repeated he, 'good God! What can you mean, madam?' 'To recall to your mind, Sir, those circumstances on the developing of which my future happiness depends. Save your surprise, my Lord, and to elucidate my meaning, I must entreat the favour of you to peruse these papers, the confession of a dying man once brother to the late Count Berniti.' The Count took the papers with the most eager curiosity.
Matilda, affected with hopes, doubts, and fears, could not suppress her tears: on this important moment her fate seemed suspended .
The Count made two or three exclamations, but when he came to the murder of his friend, he smote his breast, 'Unparalleled wickedness and ingratitude!' cried he. Hastily proceeding in the narrative, he no sooner came to the exchange of the children, than throwing his eyes on Matilda, 'My heart, and your striking resemblance to the charming Countess, tell me, you are her child.'
'I am ! I am !' replied Matilda, weeping, and strongly agitated, 'if she will vouchsafe to own me!' He folded her to his bosom, 'Own you! O, what transport to recover such a daughter! Compose yourself, my dear young lady; I am little less affected than you are, - but let me finish this interesting confession of a miserable wretch.' He went through the whole without any further interruption.
At the conclusion, the Captain related the events at Tunis, and the result of their enquiries at Naples, which had brought them to Nice.
'Doubt not, my dear lady, but all your troubles are over: behold the hand of Providence in every event; had not your wretched uncle taken you from France; had you not fallen into the power, perhaps of the only man who would have treated his captives with honor and compassion, unknown in general to people of his profession, -forgive me, Sir, the observation' -the Captain bowed - 'had not the dread of death and everlasting punishments terrified the guilty wretch; had not all these singular events happened, through Divine permission, you might, to this hour, have been ignorant of your birth, and my amiable friend deprived of the joy and transport that await her in your arms.'
The Count again warmly embraced her. He paid a thousand polite compliments to the Captain; and though he regretted leaving them, he was anxious to consult his lady in what manner to convey this delightful intelligence to the Countess.
When he returned to his lady she saw he was greatly agitated, and knowing the message he had received, was very curious to hear the result of his visit. She fortunately happened to be alone; he therefore related the whole story, read the papers, and spoke in raptures of Matilda's person, and engaging manners. Nothing could equal the astonishment of the Lady Marcellini. She anticipated the joy of her friends, yet was at a loss how to inform her of an event so entirely unexpected. They knew it must recall to her mind the horrid circumstances of her husband's murder, which neither time nor reason had ever reconciled her to support with any fortitude. 'Yet,' said the Count, 'to recover such a child; to have a hold, a connexion in life so desirable and so unlooked for, must surely greatly overbalance the affliction of a painful remembrance, at least weakened, though not subdued.'
They went to the apartment of the Countess. She was at her toilet. Her woman, being dismissed, 'Well Count,' asked she, 'have you seen the lady from Tunis, -is she a Turkish woman?' 'No, madam, she was brought up in Germany; she is a charming young creature, and you may be proud of the compliment,' added he, smiling, 'when I assure you she very strongly resembles your ladyship.' 'You are very polite, my good friend,' answered she, in the same tone, 'but I am neither young nor handsome, and you say this lady is both; but, pray, is she acquainted with any of our friends?' 'Yes, but by name only; she has no personal knowledge of any one in Naples; she was very particular in her enquiries after you.' 'Of me!' said the Countess, surprised; 'how could she know any thing of me?' You remember the Chevalier N -, who went abroad so many years since?' 'Ah!' said she, with a sigh, I do indeed remember him; is he alive, -does this lady belong to him?' 'He is not living,' answered the Count, for Matilda permitted him to suppose he was dead, without asserting it; 'this young lady was in some degree related to him, but I think more nearly so to your ladyship.' 'Heavens! my dear Count, you surprise me! I know not of any female relation I can possibly have.' 'She is certainly a near relation, however,' replied the Count, 'and you must prepare yourself for a most agreeable surprise, as I am convinced you will love her dearly.' 'Indeed, my good Count,' exclaimed the Countess, 'you have given me violent emotions; my heart palpitates, and my whole frame trembles; for God s sake, do not keep me in suspense -who can this lady be?' 'Before we answer you, my dear friend,' said the Count's Lady, 'let me persuade you to take a few drops, in water, the agreeable flutter of your spirits will require them.' 'All this preparation terrifies me; I will take any thing, but pray be explicit at once.' 'Then, my dear lady, bear the joyful recital, I am about to give you with resolution.'
He took up the story, at a French vessel, captured by the Corsair, and a gentleman on board, attempting to destroy himself and a lady, described the subsequent events, and then began the narrative. When in his address to Matilda, he said, 'The Count Berniti was your father,' the Countess started from her chair, 'Gracious God! what do I hear; but no, -I can have no interest in it.' She was silent. He proceeded, whilst she hung her head, drowned in tears at the mention of her husband whose death he slightly passed over, 'till he came to the circumstance of the children. She gave a shriek, and throwing her arms around her friend, 'If this is true, great God! if this is true, I may yet have a child. O! say,' cried she looking wildly at him, 'tell me at once, have I child?' 'You have,' said the Count, approaching her, 'you have a daughter, my dear Countess, whom heaven has preserved to bless the remainder of your days.' ' 'Tis too much, too much, said she, putting her hand to her bosom and instantly fainted in the arms of her friend. Having drops and water at hand, she was soon recovered; and after a few sighs, that removed the oppression from her heart, she said, 'Tell me, if it is the illusion of my senses only, or if indeed I have a child?' 'No, my dear lady, you are not deceived -we have told you truth.' 'Then, where is she?' cried the Countess, eagerly, 'let me see her -I die with impatience!' 'Recover your spirits,' answered the Count; 'collect your fortitude, and I will immediately fetch her to your arms. O, hasten! hasten!' cried she, dissolving in tears, which they were glad to see. And the Count, with joy, flew to the hotel, where poor Matilda waited in all the agonies of suspense. 'The discovery is made, my dear young lady; your mother is impatient to receive and bless you.'
This intelligence, though so anxiously wished for, gave her inexpressible agitations; she got up and sat down, two or three times, without speaking, or being able to move; and at length, with trembling knees, was conveyed to the carriage, the Captain, at the request of the Count, accompanying them. When arrived at the house, and conducted to a room, she had a glass of wine to raise her spirits, whilst the Count announced her arrival. In a few minutes he returned, and took her hand. The Captain wished not to be present at the first interview. With a tremor through her whole frame she gave her hand; the door opened; she saw a lady, at the top of the room, who appeared to be in tears. Matilda saw no more, she sprung from the Count, threw herself on her knees before her, and without uttering one word, sunk into insensibility. The friends hastened to her relief. The Countess sat stupid, gazing wildly on her, without moving. When Matilda's senses were a little restored she looked up, she exclaimed, 'My mother! O, have I a mother' That word recalled the Countess to sense and feeling; she clasped her in her arms, 'Blessed! blessed sound!' she cried, 'my child, my dearest daughter ! heaven be thanked.' She dropped on her knees and lifted her hands and eyes to heaven, then again embraced her child, whose soft and tender emotions were too powerful to admit of speech, nor is it possible to describe the tumultuous joy of both for many minutes. The unhappy widow, the childless parent, dead to every hope of comfort, to embrace a child, adorned with every grace, to feel those delightful sensations to which her breast had been a stranger, and which mothers only can conceive, -a blessing so great, so