I promise you, these apartments shall never be looked into." "On that depends her existence and yours." They now quitted my room, and left me scarcely able to breathe. The following day the Count and Peter left the castle. Every other day Joseph came with necessaries, and Margarite was permitted to go down, accompanied by Joseph, to carry up and down water and other conveniences. In this state I lived two years, if living it could be called, having no other consolation than now and then hearing from my sister; for I had so far gained upon Joseph to permit Margarite's letters, after shewing them to him, to pass under cover to him, and as he found I carefully preserved my secret from others, the poor fellow granted me that indulgence. At the expiration of two years, the Count unexpectedly made his appearance. I shrunk from his sight; he viewed me some time with great emotion; "I am satisfied with your conduct," said he, "and am come to extend my indulgence to you." "O, my child!" I cried out. "No," answered he, "that cannot be granted; but you shall have permission to live in the rooms below, and if you swear to enter the garden only at night, the door into it shall be opened." I joyfully agreed to this, and was once more led to the rooms below. Peter was still with him; a bed was brought from another room, and placed in a small parlour, also one for Margarite. The apartments above were again locked up. I tried to soften the Count; he sometimes appeared moved and affected, then again stern and cruel; he staid near a week - the day he left the castle he came to visit me. "Once more I leave you, but as there is some danger that strangers may come here, I charge you, by every thing that is sacred, by your child's life and your own, should any person sleep in this castle, that you go to the gallery or next apartments, rattle a chain I shall leave for that purpose, groan, and make such kind of noises as may appal those who come here, and drive them hence, under an idea of the castle's being haunted: I have already sworn Joseph, do you promise the same" "Ah! Sir," cried I, "why all these oaths. why all these persecutions, which must give you a world of pains, to punish an innocent woman?" "Because," said he, furiously, "because I prefer revenge to my own quiet; because I will be feared, and make your destiny hang on my pleasure." I could say no more, I wept bitterly, but nothing could soften his heart; he made me renew my vows, still threatening the life of my child, if I failed - he told me it was well, and carefully attended. I was compelled to acquiesce with his request, or rather command, and he once more left me. He regularly came once in two years, for some time, but latterly it was above four years since I had seen him, till the fatal night he carried me off. 'Tis plain he was well informed of every thing, and knew of Matilda's being at the castle.
'I dragged on a wretched existence, in a daily hope, that from his own words, "There might be a possibility I should see my child again"; and that time might soften his heart, or death deprive him of all power over me. Margarite, who at first hardly brooked her confinement, grew more reconciled, and awed by the dreadful oaths we had taken, we submitted to what we could not prevent, being always in terror of being watched, and that nothing in the castle passed unnoticed. This was our situation when Matilda came. Joseph came to me late in the evening, the day she arrived at the castle, acquainting me with the circumstance, and in consequence of our vows we were obliged to conform to our orders, - he to give hints of what might happen, and myself and Margarite try to frighten her from thence - you know the consequence. Had Joseph been at home, probably she would hardly have obtained permission to sleep in the castle, but Bertha knew nothing of me, and was prevented by her fears from ever venturing through the apartments. The rest you know. I intended to have placed a confidence in Matilda, as far as being brought to the castle, but beyond that I dared not violate my oath. At your request, my dear brother, I consulted our good Dr Demoureiz, and he absolved me from my vows, which were compulsatory, and made under such horrid circumstances; I have therefore complied with your wishes, and now pray tell me what I can do, or what I ought to do? I cannot disclose to the world what I have related, without bringing the Count to condign punishment, for the death of the unfortunate and ever-lamented Chevalier, and perhaps may irritate him never to inform me whether my child exists or not - Alas! every way I turn is replete with difficulties and horror.'
Here the Countess stopt, leaving her auditors overcome with astonishment and terror.
'Good heavens!' said the Marquis. 'I never could have supposed it possible a man should carry jealousy and revenge to such frightful guilty lengths, and the whole story appears incredible and almost impossible, that he should proceed so far, trust so many with his secret, and that you should remain such a number of years a victim to his diabolical passions, when there was always, open to you the means for escaping and appealing to your friends.'
'Consider, my good brother,' said she, 'the difficulties, the oaths I had taken never to leave the castle without his permission, the fate of my child, the certainty that every step I took was known, otherwise I could have offered Matilda an asylum with me, but he assured me I was constantly watched, and therefore any attempts I might make to free myself, would, too probably, accelerate the events I dreaded, and my life (as I doubt not was intended, when he carried me to the wood) would have been the sacrifice. If you look back, you will observe his cunning: when he afterwards came to the castle and saw Joseph, he did not mention my name, and to be sure expected that he would have told him of my being carried away by some banditti, as he doubtless intended Joseph should believe, but the old man being silent, he supposed he was suspected as the author of the outrage, and therefore determined to put that witness out of the way - '
'What a villain!' cried Mrs Courtney, 'and what a wretched life that man must have endured, with such fears of detection, and conscious of such complicated wickedness.'
'It is ever the fate of villainy,' said the Marchioness, 'to plunge deeper into vice, and suffer tenfold the miseries they inflict, from the apprehensions of a discovery, which they know seldom fails at some time or other to overtake them, and Providence has so ordered it, that we generally see the very means they take to hide their crimes from a knowledge of the world, are productive of such events as lead to their detection. I sincerely lament the fate of the poor Chevalier -'
'Ah! sister,' cried the Countess, 'never shall I cease reproaching myself on that account; had I with firmness refused to receive his second letter, and avoided going to that room alone, perhaps his life, and all my subsequent miseries would have been spared: I failed in the duty I owed my husband and myself, in permitting a clandestine correspondence, although I did not intend to continue it; and one false step, you see, brought on irreparable evils and eternal remorse!'
'I will not pretend, my dear Victoria,' answered the Marchioness, 'to exculpate you, as entirely free from blame, but if we consider the ill-treatment you received from the Count, previous to the Chevalier's attempts to see you, and the sudden surprise of the moment, when the first letter was conveyed to you, doubtless some allowance ought to be made in your favor; and had you positively refused to receive a second, you would, 'tis possible, have escaped much bitter reflection; but the worst that can be said of you, in my opinion, is, that, in your difficult and unpleasant situation, it was an error in judgment, for I am well assured in you there was no depravity of heart.'
The poor Countess was drowned in tears. 'Be comforted, my dearest sister,' said the Marquis, kissing her hand, whilst the ladies tenderly embraced her, 'you are, thank heaven, and that good lady, restored to your friends; I will consult Dr Demouriez, as to our future proceedings, for I will do nothing rashly, and for your sake, would avoid dragging your husband's crimes into public view.'
END OF VOLUME I
Volume Two
The ladies proposed an airing to divert the Countess from dwelling on past events, and Matilda from apprehensions of future ones. The carriage was ordered, and they drove as far as Hampstead. The evening was uncommonly beautiful, and when they returned, the moon, which was in its meridian, shone with all its splendour. Just as the carriage stopped in Harley-street, Matilda, who sat next the door, saw two gentlemen pass slowly and look into the coach; she plainly perceived one of them was Mr Weimar: she met his eyes, and he turned his hastily from her; she gave a faint shriek, and hid her head behind Mrs Courtney. Her friends were alarmed, but hastened her into the house; she ran into the dining-parlour, and, in inconceivable terror, cried out, 'He is come - he is come !' 'Who, who?'