Kitabı oku: «Secresy; or, Ruin on the Rock», sayfa 12

LETTER XII
FROM JANETTEA LAUNDY TO CLEMENT MONTGOMERY

Wounded pride bids me forget the cold, cruel Montgomery; but fatally for the peace of Janetta, her love, betrayed injured and neglected as it is, still is more powerful than her pride. I have seen my family stripped of their honours and possessions by a band of ruffians. I have been left a destitute orphan: and compelled to seek subsistence in a strange country: compelled to descend even to a species of servitude! Yet how trivial such misfortunes, compared with the loss of thee, Montgomery! How could you leave me unjustified and unheard? How could you meet me as you did this night? Do you never remember, Montgomery, the sacrifices made to you by the undone Janetta? Do you never remember the hours of your solicitations, vows, and promises? and if you do remember them, can you thus kill with scorn and aversion her who solicits your return to your vows with tears of passion, love, and anguish?

I did not feign when I pleaded indisposition to excuse my attendance on Mrs. Ashburn to Sir Thomas Barlowe's; for, which in your presence and restrained by the presence of others from giving freedom to my emotions, I suffered indescribable torture. What dangers do I not incur by setting the messenger who shall give you this to watch your quitting the party? But you will not, Montgomery, dear adored Montgomery, if you do hate and despise me, you will not give me up to the contempt of others! My reputation is still sacred: and, but for you, the peace within my bosom had now been inviolate.

I must see you, I will see you, Montgomery! Do not drive me to desperation! I have woes enough already. Let me but once have an interview to explain that cruel mistake of your's, concerning the Duke de N – ; and, when I have proved my innocence, if you still bid me languish under your hatred, I will then suffer in silence. No complaint shall ever reach you. Should you again smile on me – oh heavens! the rapture of that thought!

Be assured I can prove my innocence. Be assured you were utterly mistaken. It was a scheme, a stratagem for purposes I can easily explain if you will but give me an interview. The Dutchess de N – is to this hour my very best friend; it was she who brought me to England. Alas, what a sad reverse of situation is mine! thus to sue with tears and intreaty for one short hour's conversation to him who, but a few months past, languished for the slightest of my favours! Think what a preference I gave you over the many who followed me with their sighs; think what I was; what I have endured; and drive not to rage and despair her who is ever your's and your's alone:

JANETTA LAUNDY

LETTER XIII
FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME

Last night I obeyed the impulses of an unfortunate passion, renewed in its utmost violence and weakness by the unexpected sight of you. I now obey the dictates of prudence and reflection, and decline the interview I last night solicited.

Yes, Montgomery! I see evidently that I am sacrificed to some rival. Be it so. I am content to resign you. Content to endure this penance for my past mistakes. We will henceforward meet only as strangers. I am resolved. Never will I again trouble you in any way; nor ever again yield to that delusion which has brought upon me so much misfortune and misery.

I have but one request to make; and that, Sir, is a last request. Remember that I am friendless and dependent. Be generously silent. You are likely to be on terms of intimacy in this family, and Miss Ashburn is as severe as penetrating. Guard carefully a secret that would ruin me in my situation; and every service that gratitude can inspire shall by your's from

JANETTA LAUNDY

LETTER XIV
FROM CLEMENT MONTGOMERY TO ARTHUR MURDEN

Mr. Valmont, dear Arthur, has sent me to London with 500l. in my pocket to choose a profession. 'Be not rash nor hasty in your determination, Clement,' said he when we parted. 'Associate with such persons as have already made their choice; and have from practice, from success, or disappointment, learned the exact value of their several professions. But associate with them as an independent man, one who seeks a variety of knowledge rather from inclination than necessity; and under these appearances, Clement, they will court you to receive their confidence, even their envy of your independence will increase the freedom of their communications.'

And do you dream, Arthur, that I am practicing these grave maxims, and hearkening to the jargon of law, physic and divinity? No indeed, not I. The variety of knowledge I seek is variety in pleasures. My teachers are divinities whose oracles, more precious than wisdom, can lead the senses captive and enchain the will.

'Be secret,' said Mr. Valmont. Most readily can I be secret. I would have it remain a profound and everlasting secret, never to interrupt the delicious enjoyments which now again hover within my reach, which I must seize on. I have not the cold ability to chase from me the present smiling hour of offered delight, because a future hour may frown. Pleasure beckons, and I follow. I tread the mazy round of her varieties. Youth, vigour, and fancy conduct me to her shrine, the most indefatigable of her votaries. Alike, I abjure retrospect and foreboding. As long as I can find means, will I elude the horrible change; and, if the fatal hour of darkness must arrive, why, Arthur, it is but to exert a little manhood, it is but to remember that all the charms of life are passed by, and boldly to plunge into everlasting darkness.

Imagine not, dear Arthur, by that doleful conclusion that I at all dread the possibility of its arrival; for, on the contrary, I believe my dismission is a mere farce, a something with Mr. Valmont to vary project and prolong inconsistency. I have compared his letters and his speeches; combined circumstances; and find them, though so various and contradictory, yet full of hope and promise.

One cause of dread, indeed, will assail me. I dread the rashness of Sibella. Could you suppose, Murden, that she has even talked of explaining the nature of our intimacy to her uncle, and of quitting his castle? Was ever any thing so violent, so absurd, so pregnant with evil at this scheme? When I had read her letter, I thought every chair in my apartment was stuffed with thorns. Nay, I endured for a time the torments of the rack. Thank heaven! Miss Ashburn adopted my sense of the extravagant proposition, undertook to dissuade Sibella, and restored me once more to gaiety, courage, and happiness.

Yes, Arthur, established in my former lodgings, courted, surrounded, congratulated by my former friends, I want but your society and the embraces of my divine girl to be the happiest of the happy. Thanks, Murden, for your silence on the subject of Mr. Valmont's threatened disposal of me. I am every where received like my former self. Oh! had I met one repulsive look, or supercilious brow, with – your servant, Mr. Montgomery – I surely should have run mad!

Miss Ashburn knows it all, and I hate her most righteously. I allow that she is a fine woman, but her beauty is spoiled by her discernment. I wish Mr. Valmont would refuse Sibella Miss Ashburn's correspondence. The dear girl is already too eccentric. Yet could I now gaze on that lovely face, could I now clasp that enchanting unresisting form to my bosom! Had she ten thousand faults, I should swear they were all perfections. Murden! you never saw any one who can equal Sibella Valmont! Her charms cannot pall in possession. Ever a source of new desire, of fresh delight, adoration must ever be her lover's tribute! – Arthur, I will make her my wife.

Whom would you suppose I have, to my very great astonishment, found here, in Mrs. Ashburn's family? No other than Janetta Laundy! I first saw her at the opera, where I overlooked her with the most studied neglect. She quitted the party abruptly; and then the Dutchess de N – informed me of the cruel reverse of fortune in the Laundy family. Janetta, with so much beauty, she, who lately shone conspicuous in fashion, taste, and elegance, is now absolutely reduced to the mortifying state of a humble companion. Upon my soul I was shocked; and, notwithstanding certain recollections, I could not help feeling a strong degree of interest and pity for her. A brilliant party, whom we joined at the supper table of your uncle Sir Thomas Barlowe, banished Janetta and her misfortunes from my thoughts; but, as I was stepping into a chair to return home, after I had handed the Dutchess and Mrs. Ashburn to their carriages, a man put a letter into my hand. The letter was from Janetta, written in the true spirit of complaint and fondness. She implored that I would see her; asserted her innocence with respect to the Duke de N – ; and, recollecting the continued attachment of the Dutchess to her, I was inclined to doubt the evidence of my senses, and half resolved to give her an opportunity of justifying herself. Again the circumstances came rushing into my memory, and brought conviction with them. I determined to contemn and despise her; and steadily to refuse the interview. She spared me the trouble; for, on the next morning, while I was dressing to dine at Mrs. Ashburn's, a second letter was given me, in which Janetta, with mingled love and resentment, bids me a final adieu.

At Mrs. Ashburn's table Janetta Laundy had no rival in beauty. She enforced the homage of many eyes; but she received it with so graceful a reserve, that those who would otherwise have been jealous of her attractions were irresistibly impelled to own her worthy of admiration. Toward me, her countenance expressed nothing but a frigid restraint. Once I approached her seat, and she found an immediate pretence for withdrawing; and, shall I confess it to you, Arthur, I was in a small degree mortified.

It has not been merely one day, or two, or three, that Janetta has upheld her determination. I have been astonished at her inflexibility and perseverance. I have almost doubted that she could really love me and be so firm. Scarce a day passes in which we are not together, for Mr. Ashburn is extravagantly fond of Janetta, and never moves without her. Mrs. Ashburn selects her parties as I best approve, and consults me on all her engagements. I attend her every where, and thus Janetta and I are frequently in the same apartment, in the same carriage, side by side; and, considering former circumstances, you will not imagine these can be very desirable situations.

It occurred to me one morning that I ought in justice to make Janetta a present, notwithstanding her allowance from Mrs. Ashburn is really splendid. Accordingly, I sent her a 50l. note, inclosed in a letter, written as I think with delicacy and propriety. The note was accepted, but the letter remained unanswered.

Two evenings after this, we were at Ranelagh, where Mrs. Ashburn joining the Ulson family, Janetta and I walked a round or two alone. She then, with more coldness than I could have thought possible, thanked me for my present, and hoped my generosity would prove no inconvenience under the alteration of my affairs.

By heaven, Arthur, her speech was a thunderbolt! I was dumb for the space of many minutes; and then stammering, incoherent, blushing with shame, and anger, I protested her meaning was an enigma that I could not unravel. Hanway at that instant came up, and every opportunity of further conversation was at an end.

And how do you suppose I aimed to settle the business, to prevent the cruel supposition from being whispered from one to another around the circles of my friends? Thus I did it. I took another bank note of 50l. and wrote another card, in which I alledged that I could only understand Mademoiselle Laundy's hint as a reproof for the smallness of the sum I had before sent her, and intreated she would now receive this as an atonement. I acknowledged the whole was scarcely worthy her acceptance, but I hoped she would consider I had less at command than in expectation. I added my fervent wishes for her happiness, but said not one word of love.

Still I have no answer. How wantonly cruel it is of Miss Ashburn to throw me thus in the way of torment and contempt! No one but herself could have told Janetta of the alteration in my affairs. 'Tis false! there is no alteration: for have I not four hundred pounds in my possession?

Where are you, and what are you doing, Arthur? By heaven, I never think of you without astonishment! You whom fortune favours, you so highly gifted to charm, to be sacrificing the age of delights, in a barbarous solitude! What, upon earth, can be your inducement? Your uncle pines for you. Certainly you must be either immoderately sure of your power over him, or desperately careless of your interest. All who concern themselves in your fate, apply to me for the explanation of your mysterious conduct; and, finding I am no more informed than themselves, they teaze me with their conjectures. Come, Arthur! come! banish melancholy and misanthropy till age shall have cramped your vigour and palsied your faculties! Then cast your dim sight upon the flying pleasures which you are no longer able to pursue, and rail, and be welcome! But now, while the power is your's, hasten to partake, to enjoy! The wealth of a nabob gilds the path before you! Beauty spreads her allurements for you! Come, insensible marble-hearted as you are, to the inticements of beauty – at least come to interest, if you cannot be interested; excite the sigh, the languor which you will not return! Be again as formidable as you once were; and let the meaner candidates, who triumph in your absence, sink back to insignificance and neglect!

Does not the prospect fire you? I know it does – or, you are unfit to be the friend of

CLEMENT MONTGOMERY

LETTER XV
FROM LORD FILMAR TO SIR WALTER BOYER

One, two, three, or four pages, by Jupiter! cried I, as I opened your packet, Walter; and I ran over the first ten lines with a devouring greediness: for, would not any man have expected, as I expected when I had so lately written you two letters upon the projects and hopes that dance in gay attire before me, that your epistle must have contained comments innumerable, hints useful, and cautions sage. Neither comment, hint, nor caution, could I find. Nothing but four sides of paper covered with rhapsodies which have neither connection with nor likeness of any thing in heaven above, in the earth beneath, nor in the waters under the earth.

Yet, negligent as thou art, still must I write on. My fancy is overcharged with matter, for I have done wonders: wonders, Walter! Yesterday at ten o'clock I talked with Lady Monkton's housekeeper; who once was Mrs. Valmont's housekeeper; and yesterday at four o'clock I talked with Mr. Valmont himself. Turn back to yesterday; and observe me, in Sir Gilbert's post coach, arrived with due state and precision before the venerable doors of Valmont castle, accompanied only by my father, and attended by Griffiths armed as all outward points like a beau valet, and like a skilful engineer within laying wait to spring a mine for his commanding officer.

With measured steps, Mr. Valmont approached us three paces without the drawing room door. He conducted us to his lady; who, on a rich heavy and gilded sopha, sat in melancholy grandeur to receive us.

'But the niece,' I hear you cry, 'Not a single glimpse of her, I suppose?'

'Yes, Sir Walter Boyer, I have seen her.'

'Seen her! Why, I thought – .'

Psha! what can a Baronet have to do with thought?

 
Mark'd you her eye of heavenly blue!
Mark'd you her cheek of roseate hue!
 

Do you still doubt? Then shall I proceed, and fire your imagination with the graces of my goddess. All enchanting! nothing wanting! for I have gazed my fill – yes – on her picture. – Why look you so, Walter? – Am I not her predestined lover, and has she not 6000l. per annum?

'Pray, Madam, by what artist was this portrait done?' said I, to Mrs. Valmont, while the 'Squire and Earl were gone to visit the nymph of the south wing, with my imagination stealing after them on tiptoe.

'Not by any artist, Sir,' replied the lady. 'It was the performance of Clement Montgomery. It is drawn for my niece – .'

'Then she must have the honour greatly to resemble you, Madam. Upon my soul the likeness is astonishing.'

Up rose Mrs. Valmont. 'Why indeed, Lord Filmar, though I never observed it before, there is something of me in the turn of these features; but indisposition, Sir, the cruel hand of sickness, has made sad havock with my face.' – And she pushed a little backward the hood which had almost hid her remnant of beauty.

In short, dear Walter, I dined at the castle. My father saw the lady and I saw her picture. My father says, and so says the picture, that she is very handsome. By the answers to a few questions artfully arranged to Mrs. Valmont, but more certainly from the result of Griffiths' steady enquiries among the household, I learn that she is a mere savage, and loves her fellow savage Clement as she ought only to love me.

Loves her fellow savage Clement! you exclaim. Not less strange than true, Walter; and, if you would know more, listen as I did to the aforementioned housekeeper.

'Of all the youths my eyes ever beheld,' said Mrs. Luxmere, 'I think Master Clement Montgomery was the handsomest; and so affable, my Lord! – He used to steal into my room once or twice every day to eat sweetmeats, when Miss Valmont or his tutor did not watch him.'

'But who does this Master Clement Montgomery belong to?' said I.

'To Mr. Valmont, my Lord. I'll tell you exactly how it was. Nobody, as far as I know, had ever heard of this young gentleman till just after the 'Squire's niece came to the castle; and then the 'Squire took a journey, and brought home with him a fine handsome boy. And he gave a great entertainment; all the rooms were filled with company; and after dinner he led in Clement Montgomery, and bade every body look on him as his adopted son. Some people think, indeed, that he is the 'Squire's – .'

Mrs. Luxmere affected to titter. 'You are of that opinion?' said I. —

'Certainly,' replied Mrs. Luxmere. 'Nothing can be more certain. Old Andrew has lived five and twenty years with Mr. Valmont; and he can't deny it. Beside, if you were to see Master Clement, my Lord, you would swear it. He is so handsome and so genteel!'

'And is Miss Valmont handsome, and genteel, and affable, Mrs. Luxmere?'

'I know very little about her, my Lord, although I lived in the castle nine years,' said the housekeeper, with much abatement of her warmth. 'Mr. Valmont ordered both her and Master Clement not to speak to any one of the household, and she never came into my room in her life. Master Clement used to come so slily! – and many a nice bit has he been eating beside me, when Miss Valmont has been roaming the house and grounds in search of him! She has a suite of rooms entirely to herself in the south wing, and is waited on by silent Andrew and his deaf daughter – '

'Where is Montgomery now?' said I.

'Oh dear, my Lord, you can't think what strange things have happened to him! The 'Squire sent him abroad and he staid two years and he came home they say so grown and so improved, it was charming to think of it! Yet that tyger-hearted Mr. Valmont has disinherited him, and sent him to London to work for his bread! Poor dear youth! I know it's true, my Lord.'

Enough of Mrs. Luxmere. It is true, Walter, that this dear and handsome youth was brought up in the castle with Miss Valmont. Every creature in it bears testimony to his good nature, for he would not only eat sweetmeats slily with Mrs. Luxmere, but he would slily ride with the grooms, tell stories with the butler, and so completely elude the vigilance of the 'Squire and his tutor, that his contrivances are still a famous topic in the servants' hall. Not so Miss Valmont. She never tempted the domestics from their obedience, nor invited them to familiarity, by that sacrifice of her integrity. I like this part of her character, nor am I at all inclined to give credit to the supposition which prevails among the servants of her being deranged in intellect. A little too hardy of nerve for a Countess, I confess, she roams, they tell me, in defiance of storm or tempest, in the woods, nay even in the echoing galleries of the terrific castle, at and after midnight. Some say she has conversed with apparitions, others only fear that she will one day or other encounter them; but all agree that, while he was here, she adored Clement. And since he has been gone she, to an old oak, for his sake, pays her adorations.

We talked of this Montgomery yesterday, at dinner. His being disinherited is all stuff. He is Valmont's idol. Valmont praised him to the skies, not what he is, but what he is to be when all the 'Squire's plans respecting him shall be completed. Yet he has faults, it seems. Wonderful! And cast in Mr. Valmont's mould too! What are his faults, think you, Boyer? Why, he admires the world. Lack a day! – at one and twenty! But he is to be cured of this defect. Oh, yes; Mr. Valmont possesses the grand secret! He is quack-royal to the human race; and possesses the only specific in nature to make a perfect man. Were I in Montgomery's place, I would wind Valmont round and round my finger.

Care I for the nymph's loving her Clement, think you? ne'er a whit! Did he win her by caresses, I'll not be behind hand. Or were sighs and flattery his engine, I can sigh and flatter too. Aye, surely the practice-taught Filmar may stand a competitorship with Valmont's pupil. In two months or less, she shall herself decide upon our merits, and acknowledge me the victor. None of your croakings, Walter. When did I fail of success where I chose to attempt it, even among beauties armed with cunning and caution? How then shall I fail with this unadvised, this inexperienced damsel, whom doubtless a man of less might than I could draw round the world after him in a cobweb. Should Uncle Valmont rave when I have secured the prize, I'll send him among the tombs of my ancestors for consolation. He loves family; and there he may nose out a long list of worm-eaten rotten heroes, whose noble scent can inform him that even the blood of the Valmonts may be enriched by uniting with the offspring of the dust of the Filmars.

My necessities are urgent, Walter. The day of sealing my last mortgage draws near; and, if my invention is not more fertile on that account, at least my resolution is more undaunted. Were time less pressing, I might grow coy with expedient. As it is, I must snatch at bare probabilities; and, in faith, be it the wildness of the design, be it ambition, avarice, or be the motive what it may, I grow more and more enamoured of the heiress of Valmont castle, and more and more fearless of whatever risks I may encounter to obtain her.

Congratulate me, Walter, on my firmness; and believe me, in a very considerable degree, thine,

FILMAR