from himself, and his own conscience will prove his bitterest punishment.'
The Countess extremely rejoiced to find him so sensible of his guilt, said every thing in her power to ease and calm his mind.
After he had a little recovered, he turned to the Marquis. 'I sent for you, my Lord, not only to hear my confession, but to direct me in what manner I must do my wife justice; if it be your pleasure, I will repeat my story, or at least assent to a drawn up confession before witnesses.' 'By no means,' answered the Marquis; 'it will be perfectly sufficient if one part of the story, nearly what relates to her confinement, so as to authenticate her person, is related.' After some consultation the Marquis attended the German Minister. A paper was drawn up, signifying the jealousy of the Count, without naming any particular object, in consequence of which he shut up his lady in the castle, after her delivery, and gave out a report of her death; that he had brought up her son, now an officer, who was lately acquainted with his real birth, and to whom his estates were secured: that the lady, after many years confinement, had found means to escape to her brother and sister, with whom she resided. The Count having accidentally heard of her residence, was come to England, with a view to obtain her pardon and do her justice; that he acknowledged her innocence in the strongest terms, and desired, in case of his death, she might enjoy every advantage settled on her, when married to him, in the fullest extent.
This paper was signed in presence of the Ambassador, his Chaplain, and all the friends of the Countess, -Lord Delby among the rest.
Not a word was said relative to the Chevalier, Margarite, or Peter: the former had been so many years given up, as dead by his relations, though they never guessed in what manner he died, that it would have been the height of cruelty to have awakened sorrow so long dormant, had it ever been necessary, but as no such occasion appeared to demand an investigation, every thing relative to him and the other victims was buried in oblivion.
The Count survived nearly a week after their arrival in town, and then expired with more resignation and composure than could have been hoped for. Two days previous to his death he wrote to his son a few lines, referring him to the testimony he had given the Countess, and requesting he would, by his duty and tenderness, atone for the cruelties of his father; bid him remember the awful lesson placed before him, and restrain those passions, the indulgence of which had brought sorrow and shame on his guilty parent, whom, nevertheless, he had the comfort to tell him was a truly penitent one. The Marquis, taking upon him to direct every thing for preserving the body, and having it carried into Germany within a fortnight, a few days after the necessary orders were completed, told the Countess he thought it highly proper she should go in person to make her claim. She, who was impatient to see and embrace her son, received the proposition with joy. The Marchioness, Lord Delby, and Mrs Courtney accepted an invitation to accompany her with pleasure. The former had written to Matilda the late unexpected and agreeable turn in the affairs of the Countess, and again pressed her return to them. The latter, Mrs Courtney, still persevered in her soft melancholy, her tender looks, and attentions to the Count, who, when he found the party fixed for Vienna, excused himself from attending them, but promised, if the Marquis and his family did not return to France before Christmas, he would join them early in the spring.
This declaration was a thunderbolt to Mrs Courtney. She seized an opportunity of speaking to him alone. 'How, my Lord,' cried she, 'is it possible you can think of separating yourself from your friends, -will you not go to Germany?' 'It is not in my power, madam,' answered he. 'Say rather not your inclination,' said she, warmly: 'you pique yourself on speaking truth, you know.' 'I wish to do so always,' replied he, 'but the ladies will not always permit me.' 'I beg your pardon, Sir, for contradicting you; I, at least, gave you credit for truth and sincerity, when you unpardonably fought to gain those affections you have since cruelly trifled with.' 'Such a charge from Mrs Courtney,' said he, 'has too much severity in it, not to call for a serious answer; I therefore protest, madam, I never sought -I never wished to gain the affections of any woman but Matilda: my love for her is no secret to my friends, -I glory in it. For you, madam. I entertained the highest respect; I thought it my duty to shew you every possible attention, a man of politeness was bound to offer to an amiable woman; more I never intended -I never could be thought to intend, with a heart avowedly devoted to another.' 'And do you call this politeness?' cried she, highly enraged. 'I must tell you, Sir, you have (if you please to call it so) trifled too much with my peace, by your gallantry; and was I not completely revenged by the entire indifference of your idol, I should resent it in a very different manner. There, Sir,' tossing Matilda's letter to him, 'there see how much you are beloved or regretted by an insensible paltry girl.' The Count had caught up the letter, and in his eagerness to read, scarcely heard her last words. He devoured every line with his eager eyes; and when he came to the conclusion, 'happier with another woman'. 'O, Matilda! never, never ! You may indeed forget me; mine is a common character, but there are few like yours in the world.' Then looking at it again, and turning to Mrs Courtney who looked full of fury and malice, 'May I be permitted to ask, madam, on what occasion you wrote this young lady, and of what nature those offers of service were, made in my name by you.' Mrs Courtney blushed, and was in the highest confusion. 'Shall I interpret your looks, madam?' asked he again. No, Sir, I can speak their language myself. I wrote to know her sentiments, at the time you were amusing yourself at the expence of my folly, as I had too much honor to give you encouragement, if she had any hopes of you.' 'So then,' said he, in a rage, 'she believes I was paying my addresses to you, madam.' She smiled contemptuously. 'No wonder she renounces me; if such ideas took possession of her mind, she must think me the most contemptible of men.' 'And of what signification are her thoughts to you? are there not insuperable difficulties to a connexion with her?' asked she. 'Not on my side, madam; this hour, this instant, I would receive her hand with gratitude and transport; her dignity of sentiment, her true greatness of mind are the bars to my happiness.' 'Well, but if there are bars -' 'I beg pardon for interrupting you, madam; I know what you would say; and it is far from my design to be rude to any lady, but you must permit me to declare, I am resolved to wait weeks, months, or years, to have a chance for the removal of those impediments; and if I do not succeed at last, in all probability I shall never marry at all.' As he ended this speech he withdrew, with a respectful, but reserved air. 'Heavens ! said she, peevishly, 'is this the gallant, polite Frenchman! I see 'tis all over; I can make nothing of him, and I will gratify his vanity no longer; on the contrary, treat him with levity and contempt.' Pride stepped in to her aid, and produced that change of sentiment which reason, honor, and good sense had failed to do: so true is the poet's observation,
Pride saves men oft, and women too, from falling. She determined, however, not to accompany her friends; being so lately returned from the Continent, she had no inclination to revisit it, without a powerful inducement, such as she had no chance of.
The Count's motives for refusing were of a similar nature.
The Marchioness had heard from Matilda. She declined being of their party, and entreated to remain in the Convent 'till that lady returned to France. She wrote a letter of congratulation to her dear Countess, on the great change in her situation, but gave, what she thought, very satisfactory reasons for not going into Germany. Lord Delby, however, could not resist his desire of attending the Countess, though so recently returned from thence. He entreated the Count to accept his house, but he had previously accepted a similar offer from the Marquis.
In a few days the party separated: the Marquis, his Lady, the Countess, and Lord Delby for Germany: the Count, to avoid attendance on Mrs Courtney, went to Bath, and that lady soon after accompanied a party of friends to Tunbridge.
From the time that Mr Weimar had agreed, before the Ambassador, to permit Matilda's residence twelve months with the Marquis, her friends had sent advertisements to all the different courts in Europe, describing the particular circumstances attending her birth, without mentioning names. No intelligence arrived, nor enquiries had yet been made on the subject, though they still entertained hopes of one day meeting with success. As to the young lady herself, she had none; resigned to her misfortunes, her only wish was to remain in the convent, free from the persecutions, and exempt from the temptations, of the world. She heard of her friend's unexpected restoration to her family and fortune, with real delight; and no mention being made of the Count or Mrs Courtney, in the letter she received from the Marchioness, she concluded they were either married,