Kitabı oku: «Secresy; or, Ruin on the Rock», sayfa 6

LETTER X
FROM CAROLINE ASHBURN TO SIBELLA VALMONT

Certainly, a picture is at all times a very pretty toy; and I can readily imagine, that the picture of an absent lover must be indeed a precious blessing; but you will forgive me, Sibella, if I honestly confess that I have a hundred times, since the receipt of your letter, wished Clement had not been so willing, or his artist not so ready.

Oh, that Mr. Valmont had withheld the picture but one hour longer! Then would the womanish curiosity of Caroline Ashburn have been gratified. For, trust me, Sibella, your surprise at finding your enigmatical hermit in the Armoury could not exceed my disappointment at leaving him and you there without further explanation.

I have imagined and imagined; returned to the subject; and quitted it again, more wearied than before; and, though I did, after a time, discover that I never should, by the mere aid of suppositions, find of what materials your hermit is composed, yet I have persisted in comparing accidents, and combining circumstances perhaps totally remote from each other, with the vain hope of tracing him. Knowing how much your uncle worships mystery, I sometimes think it may be one of his stratagems; – sometimes that – Psha! The folly of conjecture grows with me.

Pardon me, Sibella, you are above these things. Uniform in rectitude, you steadily pursue the path before you; nor mislead yourself to follow the swervings of others. In compassion, however, to the longings of your friend, hasten to communicate the remainder of this your adventure.

Our poor Indian is dead. She survived her reception at Barlowe Hall only about ten days; and, during the visits I made her, I never found her capable of sustaining any conversation with me. From her, as she was long a resident in the family, I hoped and expected to have been informed by what means my father amassed his fortune: for, the suspicions which I find generally attached to East Indian riches sit heavy on my mind. I do not love to encourage suspicion, for it is cowardly; nor can I indeed fairly give my opinions the name of suspicions, for I am persuaded, that in whatever clime or country it be found, the mind that grasps at such inordinate wealth must be vicious, and that there can be but little to choose among the degrees of vice wherewith it is obtained. Yet, being convinced as to that point, I still wish to know the employments of my father's life: for it is possible there may be some retribution to make to individuals. A voyage to India for such a purpose, Sibella, would be but as a pleasant summer day's excursion.

Your letter has been sent after me to Bath, for Barlowe Hall no longer retains her circle of gay visitors. The Ulson family have gone I forget where, and taken the Winderhams with them, while we, together with Sir Thomas, Lady Barlowe, and Colonel Ridson, arrived at Bath last week. The season is crowded, and my mother and the nabob think themselves fortunate in having been able to secure one large and commodious house for the reception of both families.

This arrangement Lady Barlowe and Mrs. Ashburn profess to find very pleasing. They declare a violent friendship for each other; and use it as a cloak for the workings of their secret malignities. My mother is the object of Lady Barlowe's envy: for the nabob's fears have made him covetous; he hoards his diamonds in their cases; and Lady Barlowe's glitter is out-glared by the happier uncontrouled Mrs. Ashburn.

On the other hand, Lady Barlowe has youth, and has beauty; and these attractions Mrs. Ashburn finds the lustre of the diamond will not altogether outshine, though there are many among the venal crowd, who daily offer up at the shrine of wealth the incense due to merit, wit, and beauty.

Sir Thomas, I believe, considers himself as bound to play both his own part and his nephew's; and to overwhelm us with the attentions and kindnesses, his ungracious Arthur withheld.

Did I not tell you, or rather did I not intimate, that before Mr. Murden made his appearance amongst us, the Baronet evidently bestowed him upon me? but, alas, scarcely had he arrived, when his uncle, remembering the value of a certain old proverb, left me to seek another lover; and gave or would have given his all-prized nephew to my mother.

It was highly whimsical to see the Baronet's labours to promote this end. He dared not be quite certain, that Murden, although dependent on him, would yield him an implicit obedience; and yet, according to his understanding, the scheme had so many and such important recommendations, that they were not to be hastily rejected. Fearing to be out-talked, if not convinced, should he at once resort to his nephew's opinion, the Baronet would not venture to do so; but, secure in the presence of numbers, he grew bold at hint, and soon made his plan fully comprehended by every person present; and put his nephew's ingenuity to the trial to find methods how to express his disapprobation, without being rude and offensive to the feelings of any one. I cannot say that Mrs. Ashburn appeared to think Sir Thomas very absurd in his designs.

After playing this game of hint, till the party talked of separating, the Baronet then acquired courage enough to make a direct attack on his nephew; the latter gave an explicit refusal to the proposal; and the former for some days lost his good humour and his patience.

It was, I suppose, in consequence of this marked displeasure from his uncle, that Murden thought of paying a visit to a friend at some distance from Barlowe Hall. At first, Sir Thomas opposed it not; but when Murden was actually on the point of going, the nabob relaxed his solemn displeasure, and earnestly requested Arthur not to leave him. Arthur, in his turn, became inflexible, and would not be intreated. He had written, he said to his friend, and go he must. At length, however, he condescendingly offered to hasten to join us at Bath; and, having thus accommodated their difference, the nabob and his nephew parted very good friends.

This serious altercation on the subject of Mr. Murden's quitting our party, took place in the breakfast parlour. Lady Mary Bowden invited me soon after to walk with her.

'Don't you think,' said she, putting her arm through mine, as soon as we had crossed the threshold of the Hall door, 'that Murden is very obstinately bent on making this excursion?'

'I think him determined,' answered I; 'and perhaps very properly so.'

'Thereby hangs a tale,' said Lady Mary.

'I don't love tales, Lady Mary.'

She looked at me, and smiled. 'Yet, I believe you are willing to hear this,' she said, 'and I am resolved to tell it you.'

Lady Mary certainly did not lay that to my charge, of which I was undeserving; for I quietly suffered her to proceed in her story. It was an accusation against Murden, that his pretended visit of friendship to Mr. Villier was in fact a visit of a different kind, to a female in Mr. Villier's neighbourhood, of whom Lady Mary said Murden had not been the original seducer; that she had been lured from her friends by another person, and that having preferred the attractions of Murden, she made a pretence of returning to her friends, in order to be the more conveniently under his protection.

Lady Mary added a number of little corroborating anecdotes, which gave the affair a striking appearance of matter of fact; and I was inclined to believe it, till I recollected how much my opinion had been misled by appearances in the affair of Peggy, of which I spoke to you in my last letter. Warned by that example, I began to doubt the representations of her ladyship; and begged she would join with me in having better hopes of Murden, and endeavouring to discountenance the unsupported assertions that were spread abroad concerning him. Lady Mary willingly promised, and I dare say as readily forgot it the very next instant.

As I told you, Sibella, my suspicions of Peggy, I will now tell you her history at once, without going through the round of circumstances that brought me acquainted with it.

In Murden's own words, you have learned, that the pleasant farm was his house of call in the shooting season. The farmer is an industrious and worthy man; and his daughter Peggy is, or rather was, ere disappointment fed upon her bloom, a very pretty girl. Joseph, Murden's servant, fell in love with Peggy, and Peggy with Joseph. He was sober; he had some expectations from friends; and his master thought very well of him; and all this together induced the father of Peggy to consent. The marriage was settled as a certain thing; but a delay of time was agreed on among all parties; and Joseph went to London with his master. It so happened, that at Christmas Joseph's father died; and, as he was a shopkeeper in a country town, Joseph might, if he chose, succeed him, and marry Peggy directly. He consulted Murden, who approved much of his designs, and likewise gave him thirty pound to assist in forwarding them.

Thus, rich in pocket and in expectation, ere he commenced shopkeeper, Joseph went first to stay a week at Peggy's farm, to settle the time of marriage, &c. &c. Alas, the week began with much happiness, and laid the foundation for much sorrow. Peggy became too indulgent to her lover; and, in consequence, her lover cruelly forgot to come back, as he had promised, at six weeks end and marry her.

Peggy's father had a strong sense of honest pride; he disdained to solicit an ungenerous man. On the contrary, he exhorted Peggy to forget him, be industrious, and hereafter irreproachable. But while he was thus daily kind to Peggy, the poor old man, as he told Murden underneath my window, wept through sleepless nights for Peggy's naughtiness.

Murden knew nothing of these transactions. He had not called at the farm-house since he arrived at Barlowe Hall, when we met Peggy in the narrow lane. I can now well account for her blushes, and his surprise. He, struck with her appearance and her manner, left us to fish, and went to inform himself at the farm why Peggy was still in that part of the world. The father was absent; but the mother told him the whole story, and he promised to do all that lay within his power to restore the peace of the family.

It was Peggy's earnest longing to save herself from present pain at any future risk; and Murden thought it right to forward her wishes. He sent for Joseph, who was growing rich at five and twenty miles distance, but who not having more vices than his neighbours was willing enough to be ruled by a greater man than himself, and accordingly became either really or seemingly very penitent. The end of the whole is, that Peggy's present disgrace is salved by marriage. A foolish and impotent remedy, in my opinion; removing a partial evil, most probably to begin a lasting one.

How I misjudged Murden in this affair! – Others too may have misjudged him. I persuade myself they have.

Men, my dear Sibella, have not that enthusiasm and vigour in their friendships that we possess. I never could get Murden to talk much of Clement Montgomery, though I urged him to it repeatedly. As an incentive thereto, as well as to gratify my own feelings, I made you and your manners a perpetual theme of conversation when I held conversations with Murden. Perhaps my descriptions interested him, for he was never unwilling to listen to me, though he uniformly persisted in repressing my enquiries, if they led to the subject of his friendship for Clement, with an insuperable coldness. – Too vain, possibly, to praise the perfections of another; yet too honest, to deny their existence. Inconsistent being!

Inconsistent in all things that I know of him, except in his conduct to his uncle. There he is firm, settled and manly, respectful, but never fawning; he opposes Sir Thomas without petulance, and obeys him without humiliation. Such conduct will ever secure its proper reward. The Nabob feels his superiority, and still loves him.

Sir Thomas Barlowe rejoices, I am glad, while Mrs. Ashburn and Lady Barlowe are neither pleased nor displeased, that to-morrow is the day of Murden's arrival. The other ladies of his acquaintance here, to whom I have been introduced, are not so indifferent as the two last mentioned to Murden's appearance; for, I have already heard some praise him indiscriminately as Lady Laura Bowden would, and others comment upon his attractions and his vices with as little true feeling of either as Lady Mary did. I am glad he comes to Bath, for I shall now see him amidst a multitude, where new faces, new forms will continually present themselves; where temptations will rush in crowds, and where the sober pace of reflection is outstripped by the flying speed of pleasure. If I do not now learn to appreciate his character, it will be owing rather to the idleness of my discernment than its want of space enough to practice in.

Do not imagine, dear Sibella, that because I have run through so many lines without a word of congratulation I am insensible to the joy which swells in your bosom on the expected return of your lover. I do indeed congratulate you. Your uncle becomes reasonable. His mysteries and his contradictions vanish. Sibella expects her Clement; and the heavy gates of Valmont Castle will fly back, that peace and liberty may enter.

Nevertheless, in the prosperity of your expectations, forget not the Hermit in the armoury, and the longings of your

CAROLINE ASHBURN

LETTER XI
FROM CLEMENT MONTGOMERY TO ARTHUR MURDEN

Dear Arthur,

Precisely such a command to return home, so sudden, and so unexpected as you received five months past from Sir Thomas Barlowe, have I received from Mr. Valmont; but the speed of your obedience bore no proportion to mine, for hither have I come with a rapidity which scarcely yielded to rest and refreshment.

Here I am already arrived almost within sight of the castle's prison like towers, and here have I been traversing the paltry room of an inn for one hour and three quarters. How much longer I shall stay here I know not, but by heaven were I to depart with a thorough good will, it would be to take the road back to the continent.

Arthur, Arthur, what a lesson it is that I have to get by rote! 'Fully assured, Clement,' says Mr. Valmont in his letter, 'that you cannot have departed from the rule of conduct I desired you to pursue, I do not doubt but that you will joyfully quit the haunts of treacherous sordid men, to enjoy with me the pleasant solitude of Valmont castle, &c. &c.'

No one knows better than yourself, dear Murden, how closely I have pursued Mr. Valmont's rule of conduct, and I think you can guess also how greatly I shall now enjoy the pleasant solitude of Valmont castle.

For a week, a month, perchance, the blooming Sibella will render the wilderness a world. Could I flatter myself, that Mr. Valmont recals me to give her to my arms, how I should bound over the distance which now separates us? No, Arthur, no such blessing awaits your luckless friend; I am to look on her as a sister, says Mr. Valmont. Good heaven! and he recals me to stand perpetually on the brink of a precipice! For how can I hear her, look on her, touch her, and be a brother? Nay, the very first moment of my entrance into that castle may undo me, for she will rush to my embrace, she will cover me with kisses, and his chilling eye will be on me.

Had Mr. Valmont left me with the cottagers my parents, I had never seen Sibella; then I had dreamed through a stupid existence, without knowing life and love. Had he kept me the recluse of his woods, she had by this time infused her wild untamed spirit unto me, and I should have torn her from him, imagining we could live on berries, and drink water.

No more of that, Arthur. No! no! I now see the full value of my obedience to Mr. Valmont's commands; for I would, by heaven, rather this moment endure the rack, than be blasted to a life of hateful indigence, abhorred poverty!

Ay, ay, I must obey, must obey, Murden. Must, while my heart, my desires, my wishes, are still the same, must cloak them to please Mr. Valmont's eye; to fit his fashion I must be a brother to my charming Sibella; must abjure a world I adore, rail at men, curse women. – I invite you to the castle, Arthur, come and visit me in my disguise; come and by reminding me of times past, keep alive my hopes and expectations of times that may come.

Here, while I stay in this inn, I prepare for the first essay of my practice in the cynical science. I have been recollecting, as well as I could, the scraps and remnants of Mr. Valmont's harangue of man and womankind; and I think I have made of my memory a sort of common place book of this delectable jargon, from which I can pick and cull for all Mr. Valmont's occasions.

Half an hour or so, I stood before the looking-glass, to find what face was fittest to carry to the castle. The glances I have of late been used to, may do for the wood when Mr. Valmont is out of sight, but they will not suit the library. They speak a promptitude for pleasure. I must hide them under my cloak, and borrow something, if I can, of Mr. Valmont's sallow hues.

Yet these prudent necessary considerations found not an entrance into my mind till I came within six miles of Valmont castle. I was engrossed by a circumstance that hastened me to fly from the scene where I had known so much of joy and pleasure.

Abandoned, artful, cursed deceiver! I speak, Arthur, of Janetta, who has plundered, duped, and jilted me. How well she feigned her passion! How artfully she drew me on continually to sacrifice to her avarice and vanity, till I was almost beggared; and with what management did she evade my first suspicions, and elude my enquiries, till at length an accident gave me proof too strong to be doubted or evaded, that she was falser than falsehood; that she was at once mine, and the mistress of her friend's husband! I would not trust myself to hear her plead in her defence; I would not stand the fascinations of her divine face; but having received Mr. Valmont's letter an hour before, I ordered my clothes to be packed up, and without taking leave of one single acquaintance, I set off post for England – Ha!

Was ever any thing more unfortunate than this. Ross, Mr. Valmont's steward, and one of the grooms from the castle have come into this inn, and know I am here. The groom I could manage, but Ross is not to be tampered with; and as sure as I live, he will inform Mr. Valmont of my passing half a day so near the castle. Had I possessed an atom of common understanding, I might have foreseen such an accident; and now, for want of this small share of foresight, I am panic struck. Ross was going from, not to the castle, therefore I will take one quarter of an hour to chill my looks into brotherhood, and then brave the worst.

CLEMENT MONTGOMERY

LETTER XII
FROM SIBELLA VALMONT TO CAROLINE ASHBURN

Hail, dearest Caroline! – Yes, peace and liberty, with every blessing for which Sibella pants, will enter when the 'heavy gates of Valmont castle fly back' to receive her Clement.

I do not count the minutes, for that would be to make time more tedious, but I walk with a quicker step, with a firmer mien. I am ever seeking change of place, and sleep and I are almost unacquainted.

Yet other countenances wear the uniformity they did before. No matter! – but a short time; and, when I went to compare my own transports, I can look on the eye, or read the heart of Clement, and find them more than equalled.

My thoughts haste so pressingly to the future, that it requires an effort stronger than you can conceive, (you who expect no Clement) to turn them back to the detail you require.

I cannot be minute as to a conversation in which the hermit (as you call him) was chief speaker; for some parts of it I have forgotten, and others I did not understand.

He spoke with a rapidity which made him almost unintelligible; and his pauses seemed rather the effect of sudden anxiety, than of attention to my answers; he talked of escapes and accidents in a disjointed manner; so that, from his broken sentences, one might have supposed he meant I had placed him in hazard, and that I had conducted him to the Armoury. That which I remember most clearly was, the earnestness with which he urged me to lay no future restraint on myself. He said his interruptions were now ended – but, he added, and several times repeated, we should one day or other meet again; he then spoke something of dangers, but I know not whether they related to himself or me.

He was very pale, wildness and apprehension were marked on his features. He wore his hermit's hat and cloak, but the former was quite mis-shapen, and both disfigured by dust and cobwebs. Once, in the vehemence of his speech, he raised his arm, the folds of his cloak became loosened, and I saw a sword glitter beneath it.

I left him in the Armoury, nor have I entered it since. The wood is all my own again. No figure glides upon me but that my imagination loves to form.

On the day succeeding that in which I found the hermit in the Armoury, I saw Mrs. Valmont walking on the terrace. I went to her, and spoke of the circumstance. She appeared agitated by my words; she grasped my hand, and said the finger of heaven was in it; and she talked further in a strange way, of something that she called it, and it. She would not be me, she said, for worlds. I do fear the disorder has affected her intellects.

But a little interval between me and perfect happiness! I cannot write. You know, Caroline, I love you, but now, indeed, I cannot write.

Dearest Caroline, adieu.

SIBELLA VALMONT