Kitabı oku: «Secresy; or, Ruin on the Rock», sayfa 9

To my great surprise, and some little satisfaction, no sooner was the Nabob's ball in preparation than Mr. Murden requested to be my partner. He had never danced here, though he had been frequently at the rooms; and I did expect to be honoured on this occasion by my fair friends with some very scornful looks and important whispers. – Hear the result.

The company assembled, a numerous and brilliant party. I had caught a previous glimpse of Mr. Murden elegantly dressed, and I expected every moment his appearance in the ball-room. That I was engaged I answered to several invitations; but to whom was yet in embryo, for the first, second, third and fourth minuet had been danced, and yet no partner for me appeared.

At length he came, but not with the smile of pleasure, not with the soft tread of politeness, the complacent mien of attention. No: he actually rushed upon us, his features almost distorted with some species of passion, his hair deranged, and the powder showered on his dress as if he had been dashing his head against some hard substance in a paroxysm of rage. And in this strange manner did he, with eager long strides, cross the saloon, and throw himself into the vacant seat beside me, uttering a deep groan.

The eyes of every one were upon him; and astonishment imposed silence on every tongue. 'Miss Ashburn! Miss Ashburn!' repeated he twice very loud; then closed his teeth and murmured through them some words I could not understand, and several horrid imprecations. He sat thus a few minutes, his countenance varying from the deepest red to a most livid paleness, when Sir Thomas approached. 'Why, nephew! why Arthur! what, what, are you ill? – are you – ?' and, without finishing his speech, the baronet retired abruptly; for Murden gnashing his teeth at that instant his uncle conceived he was mad; and I believe the baronet was scarce assured he had escaped the infection.

A bolder man now walked up. No less than the Earl of Ulson, of whom you have heard me speak. ''Pon my soul, Murden, this is superlatively unusual! The ladies are actually terrified. Zounds! Murden, you must – '

We had not the good fortune to hear his lordship's advice to the end: for Mr. Murden, utterly inattentive to any thing but his own agitations, now snatched a crumpled letter from his pocket; and, tearing it into a thousand pieces, dashed the fragments on the floor. He there contemplated them a moment with a malignant smile; then carefully gathered up every fragment, and darted out of the room.

The band continued playing quite composedly; but the company assembled in separate groups, to communicate their various conjectures on the very extraordinary gambol this extraordinary young man had been playing. Sir Thomas's gentleman and a valet were sent in search of him and ordered to enquire into his malady; but we were presently informed that he was writing in his own chamber, and had bitterly sworn to blow out the brains of whatever person should dare to interrupt him. Brains not being a superfluity here, we e'en resolved to resume our dancing, and leave him alone to be as mad as he thought proper.

On the succeeding morning, I met him early and alone in the breakfast room. I was agitated with the expectation of hearing something painful and astonishing. I even intreated to be admitted to his confidence. He referred me to some future period. He spoke with calmness and resolution, but he seldom looked up. When the rest of the family joined us, my mother amused herself with affecting a ridiculous pity for him, Lady Barlowe painted her astonishment, while his uncle with much more sincerity laboured to impress us with an adequate idea of the terror he had suffered the preceding evening. Every syllable sunk into the soul of Murden. He preserved an inflexible and haughty silence: but I saw, in his agitated countenance, that he was frequently on the point of bursting into rage and madness. Sir Thomas Barlowe will on many occasions wind a shapeless circumstance round and round, till he has persuaded himself he has discovered something in it really insulting and injurious to him. He now conjectured, surmised, and talked of Murden's behaviour, till he had assured himself it could have no other design than to afflict him, the most affectionate of uncles; and, having for a short time indulged in the pathos of lamentation, he began to weep. Although I could scarcely forbear smiling at Sir Thomas Barlowe's folly, yet I was considerably affected by the sudden transition the baronet's tears produced in Murden. He forgot his anger and his dejection; he pressed his uncle's hand; soothed him with kind expressions: and, suddenly assuming an air of cheerfulness, began to hand the cups and arrange the tea-table.

'You are in love with some creature you are ashamed of, Murden,' said my mother; 'I will swear it.'

'Do, madam,' replied he.

'Now do tell, me nephew Arthur,' said the baronet, 'why you tore it to pieces so unmercifully – tell me, dear Arthur, all about that letter.'

Why should he, Sibella, have fixed his eyes on me, while the colour rushed from his cheek, at the mention of that letter? Why did he groan? Why did he appear no more during the whole of that day? Why has he since been so uniformly pensive? Why seek me as a companion, yet reject me as a friend? Such are the enquiries constantly obtruding themselves upon me.

Adieu, dear Sibella. The remainder of Davenport's story must again be deferred till another opportunity.

CAROLINE ASHBURN

LETTER III
FROM CLEMENT MONTGOMERY TO ARTHUR MURDEN

Sweet enthusiast! I loveliest romancer! sustained by thee, I could boldly defy the maxims of the world, could bear unmoved its taunting scorns, its loudest reproaches. Stimulated by thy visionary precepts, I could rush alone on its host of temptations, and attempt with the giant step of fortitude to tread their legions into nothingness!

Methinks, Arthur, I see her now: and an increase of warmth glides through every vein till it reaches my heart, which glows and throbs more proudly and more proudly, that the arbitress of its every motion is Sibella Valmont. Let imagination dress up her most airy forms, let fancy exhaust the riches of her invention, the vision thus created may dazzle, may delude in the absence of perfection; but bring the all-radiant charms of Sibella in contrast, and it sinks into vapour. Painting and language are alike incompetent to represent her. – Ha! that thought again shoots across my brain – I – I was inconstant! – Oh, I would give an eye, an ear, nay a limb, that I had never known other embraces! – Then I might have been all soul too: – what she now is, what I can imagine but never shall experience. – Yes, you gave the advice, Murden; and I, deserving almost damnation for the deed, stooped to gross allurements, and obeyed the calls of appetite, and I ought to have braved death in support of my constancy. Thank God! she cannot know it! And oh, may annihilation, or the worst of curses, fall on this head, rather than I again pollute myself, or entertain one thought within my breast that may not rank with her angelic purity!

Yes, Murden, I say purity. Ay, and she is as pure as angels, notwithstanding Clement has been admitted to her embraces. For I am her husband. She never heard of ties more holy, more binding, than those of the heart. Custom has not placed its sordid restraint on her feelings. Nature forms her impulses. Oh, she is Nature's genuine child! more lovely than painting can trace: yet robust as the peasant who climbs yon hill to toil for his hourly subsistence – soft as her lover's bounding wishes can desire: yet stedfast, aspiring, brave enough to lead an army in the field. No cowardly apprehensions enter her mind. She shrinks not from the wintry blast. Let the torrent descend, the wind howl, the lowering thunder roar: it affects not her peace. No trembling nerves has she!

Methinks I see her now: I hear again the harmony of that voice; now softening into the scarcely audible adieu; now rising into firmness, to instruct her Clement how to bear his destiny.

I had just quitted Mr. Valmont's study, where I underwent another torturing repetition of all the inconsistency of his designs for us. So freezing was his language, that it appeared to chill sensation; and when he presented me the 500l, which is to open my prospects in life, I was scarcely sensible either of its value or design. – I believe I never thanked him; and though I did not take his offered hand, its touch I dreaded more than the torpedo.

Languid, sunk, and overwhelmed, I crawled with feeble steps to my Sibella. – What a change! her vigour awakened mine; and as though hope, perseverance and courage had resigned themselves to her guidance, she commanded them to possess me wholly – commanded me to receive the noble inmates, and to vow I would be bravely independent, though a bed of straw were my portion and crumbs my fare.

I write this letter at my first resting place since I quitted Valmont castle; and the benignancy of my lovely Sibella has even chased my resentment towards you, but should an hour of lassitude perchance creep on me in my banishment, I may be tempted to enquire narrowly into the nature of your very mysterious epistles.

CLEMENT MONTGOMERY

LETTER IV
FROM SIBELLA VALMONT TO CAROLINE ASHBURN

Clement – my Clement is gone! All is silence around me. The trees have dropped their leafy ornaments; the wind sweeps through them in mournful cadence. Their foliage no longer intercepts my eye when it would extend itself around the vast horizon. I, now seated on the ivy-covered ruins of the hermitage, view this space; and tell myself it contains not one being to whom Sibella is the object of esteem, tenderness, or concern. Oh Caroline, Caroline! I am weary of this solitude. My mind bursts the bounds prescribed to my person, and impels itself forward to share the advantages of society. Compelled to return to its prison, it is disgusted with its own conceptions, and sinks into languor and dissatisfaction. Could it be my parents who doomed me to this slavery? Did they deem the benefits of intercourse a blessing too great for their innocent offspring? No: it must be Mr. Valmont's own plan; 'tis he alone who could wish to rob me of the faculties of my soul; and, finding I dare think, dare aim to extend them, dare seek to be happy, he shuns me with aversion or loads me with reproach.

Why, if he meant me to degenerate into the mere brute, did he not chain me in a cave, shut out the light of the glorious sun, forbid me to converse with intelligent nature? Then I might have expressed my wants in a savage way; have ravenously satisfied the calls of hunger or thirst; and, lying down to enjoy the sleep of apathy, have thought, if I could have thought at all, that this was to be happy. A being superior to this only in a little craft, did Mr. Valmont design to make me: a timid, docile slave, whose thoughts, will, passions, wishes, should have no standard of their own, but rise, change or die as the will of a master should require! Such is the height of virtues I have heard Mr. Valmont describe as my zenith of perfection.

He laments that he suffered me to share in Clement's education. Happy mistake! Then I found I was to be the friend and companion of man – Man the image of Divinity! – Where, then, are the boundaries placed that are to restrain my thought? – To be the companion, I must be equal – To be the friend, I must have comprehension and judgment: must be able to assist, or willing to be taught.

In the little intercourse I have had with Mrs. Valmont, she also has placed before me her picture of females: a picture as absurd and much more unintelligible to me than the other. She represents beauty as the supreme good; ascribes to it the most fabulous effects of power, conquest, and dominion. She represented me to myself as entering your world; and transformed me into a being so totally without description, that I ran from her to seek again my own nature: to find the friend and companion of man.

You, Caroline, are not such as either of these people describe. No: nor am I. Then shall I – but let me be content – a very short time and I shall join my Clement: shall aid his labour with my exertions. Oh, my Clement, my love, my lover, speed forward to the accomplishment of thy talk! Oh, be thy desires as bounded as my wishes! Thy Sibella covets no castles, no palaces. Seek for her but a shelter from inclemency, and take her therein to liberty, to thee!

Often, Caroline, have I imagined the useless parts of that vast building converted into little cottages such as I have seen from the top of its turrets. Fancy has instantly peopled the desert. I have believed myself surrounded by an active hardy race. I have arisen to enjoy the delights of communication: when, perchance, the rushing of a silent fawn through the thicket has awakened me from my trance; has reminded me that I too was one of the solitary herd; that the castle with its moats, walls, and battlements yet stood where gloom and silence hold their court, where Mr. Valmont presides and denies Sibella his presence, and where the inexorable key is turned on that library lest she should think too often or too well.

Andrew comes through the wood – he beckons – holds up a letter. – 'Tis your's, Caroline.

I have pondered on the contents of your letter three days. What shall I say for myself more than you have already said for me? I feel, I confess, that in being secret I have deceived Mr. Valmont, have been guilty of vice. But how could I, tell me, Caroline; for my future benefit tell if you can, how could I devise a means by which I might have preserved my sincerity and saved my lover? – I can not. Remember it was my Clement's peace, happiness, and welfare, for which I made the sacrifice.

Yet now I feel it forcibly; for I hesitate to declare the rest; I, who knew no concealment, have by one deviation from my sincerity even become cowardly and irresolute in friendship. I fear your censures, Caroline; and dare think of eluding them, because too conscious that I cannot refute them. – I persevere in secresy, in deception! Mr. Valmont is still unacquainted with our marriage. For myself, I had not done this – for myself, I could not perceive its value or necessity. I yielded to the ardent remonstrances of Clement; and promised to conceal our union, till his independence should have placed him beyond the mischief of my uncle's resentment. Ah! let me turn, to seek solace, in the end, for the means!

Be the means what they may, the end is effected. My Clement is restored. The energies of his mind are renovated. You will see him, Caroline: but you will see no feebleness in his character. You will find his love could never be a trifling effervescence; you will discover that we mutually love, from the intimate knowledge of increasing virtues; and no fabled or real oblivion can shed its influence on a love so elevated, so entire, so utterly beyond the reach of annihilation.

I conjure you, my friend, by your own words, to watch over my Clement – to preserve him free from taint; and to restore him, just such as he so lately quitted the arms of his, and your.

LETTER V
FROM ARTHUR MURDEN TO CAROLINE ASHBURN

MADAM

That I most ardently desire to possess your esteem is, whether you believe it or not, a fact I avow with all possible sincerity. Nor is it less a fact, that I quitted Bath so abruptly to avoid giving you my confidence: the only thing in the world by which I could be entitled to ask your esteem.

'Why do I then write to you?' – you are about to demand – Ah! madam: I have by me a long catalogue of such unanswered questions – Why do I do this? – and why do I do that? insolently treads on the heel of my almost every action.

Can you find a name more despicable than folly for the will that acts in opposition to acknowledged reason? If you can – apply that worst of names to me – to my incomprehensible conduct.

Oh, Miss Ashburn, almost without a motive have I pursued a dream, a phantasy! The offspring of my heated imagination. – Fancy lent her utmost delusions, and dressed the vision in such glowing charms that neither prudence, honour, friendship, nor aught else could stay me in my course – not even the heavenly —

Whither am I running! – I would give a world that I could tell you – When! where! why! I dreamt and was awakened – not for a world's wealth though would I tell you.

'Tis past! 'tis done! the mischief is irretrievable. – The phantom remains; but the gilded hope that illumined her path is gone – despair casts its length of shade around me; and sunshine is no more.

Let me recollect myself. – When I began to write, I meant to request you would say something conciliating for me to Sir Thomas. The letter I left for him was written in haste and from a sudden impulse, and probably expressed nothing I either meant or ought to have said – I beseech you, madam, do this for me. I know my uncle looks on me with affection; and I do not consider myself entitled to make so free with the happiness of others as I have done with my own.

If he has any expostulations to offer, any reproaches to make me, let him send them to Barlowe Hall. There I shall be some time. But let him not ask me to come to London. – No: Miss Ashburn, the ignis fatuus is still in view; and, though I perfectly understand its nature and have no hope nor scarce a wish to overtake it, yet am I, lunatic-like, galloping after it over hedge, bog, and briar.

From this assurance, and from the many other things you know of me, you will believe I am in the right to subscribe myself the infatuated, miserable,

A. MURDEN

LETTER VI
FROM CAROLINE ASHBURN TO SIBELLA VALMONT

For the first time of my life, have I become the assiduous watcher of windows, the listener after footsteps; and have lived eternally in the drawing room. Yet has no Clement Montgomery appeared; and I have just now recollected that my desire of knowing him will not accelerate his approach, that so much time given to expectation is so much thrown away, and that to employ the same quantity of time in endeavouring to amuse you would be more friendly and of course more laudable.

Once more then, Sibella, we are in London, this great metropolis, alike the resort of him who possesses wealth and him who seeks to attain it. Here merit comes, hoping in the vast concourse to find the protector of talent; and hither the deliberating villain hastens, expecting the crowd will be at once favourable to the practice of his crimes, and the means of escaping their punishment. What a field here is opened for the speculator, and the moralist! And often, Sibella, do I anticipate the time when we shall look on the chequered scenes of life together. When – but let me give you the remainder of Davenport's history while is is yet fresh in my memory.

Punctual to the minute I had named, Davenport entered my apartment. The same species of settled gloom I observed the preceding day in Arabella, marked his voice and gesture. He looked so familiarized, so wedded to sadness and misfortune that, desirous of expressing in my demeanour the kindness my heart felt for him, I approached and held out my hand to receive his. He lightly pressed it; and coldly bowing, retreated to a seat on the other side of the room. From that motion, I perceived he now viewed me as one who had saved him from the commission of an action which, although of evil and dangerous tendency, would have produced to him a benefit he knew not how, in any other way to procure; and that after rendering it impossible for him to marry, I was about to leave him with some general advice to the horrors of his situation. This he imagined was the utmost of my ability; he had convinced himself of the goodness of my intentions, and could not altogether call me his enemy; but he was now looking round, hopeless and despairing, for the almost supernatural means which could extricate him from his poverty and distress.

The power was mine; and I hastened to relieve him from the anguish he endured. I told him, he should render himself independent and happy; that my pecuniary assistance should go hand and hand with his endeavours; and enquired if he had any friends who could advise him in the choice of a profession.

'Not a creature in the world who would not rather advise him to end his miseries and disgrace with a pistol.' This was Davenport's answer.

I recollected that I had noticed some little intimacy between him and Mr. Murden; and, supposing the precariousness of dependence must have occasionally led Murden's thoughts to the same views, I concluded his judgment would be useful. 'Let us consult Mr. Murden,' said I.

'No: Miss Ashburn!' cried Davenport, reddening violently. 'Contrive it all yourself; I will obey you wherever I can; but do not command me to the revolting task of declaring to all the world that I am – a beggar. When Murden and I first knew each other, I was the expected heir to a good fortune; and, as I was descended from some of the first families in the kingdom, Murden moved in a sphere below me. He stands where he did; but I alas am fallen. – Yet I won't hear him exult and triumph in affected pity. – No: no! I could tell him that even a nabob's wealth cannot blazen him with the honours that cling to the name of Davenport.'

He spoke this with surprising bitterness.

'For pity's sake, Mr. Davenport,' said I, 'do not lay on high birth more infirmities than, from its nature, it unavoidably possesses. Were you ten times more honourably descended it could not alter Murden's ability to advise you, it could not degrade him or exalt you. I have seen you court his conversation: and did you imagine your poverty was then a secret? Oh, no! who could mistake the cause of your seeking to become Mrs. Ashburn's husband? In defiance of his uncle's displeasure, Murden refused this very marriage. At the same time, I must acknowledge, his firmness has not undergone the trial you have suffered; for he had no Arabella, I believe.'

Davenport threw his arms across upon the table by which he sat, laying his head upon them. The attitude prevented my seeing his face; but I thought he wept. A half supressed sob rose at intervals.

Thus he remained; for unwilling to press too hard on his prejudices, I relinquished the idea of consulting any other person, and sat silently examining plans for his future service. His age, his quickness of apprehension, and his manners which are pleasing to persons of every station, inclined me to think the study of physic would be well adapted to his capacity and talents. I made the proposal; named the sum I would give him yearly till he should be qualified to provide for himself; and his gratitude was expressed with the same vehemence which alike attends him on trivial or important occasions.

You will perhaps wonder, Sibella, that is, if the value of money is at all known to you, and if its importance ever occupies your thoughts, how am I enabled to make so lavish a use of it.

On our first arrival in England, my mother assigned me an annual income proportioned to the splendour of her appearance, and the immense fortune that I am destined to possess when her advantages in it shall be eternally proscribed.

That I do not employ this allowance in keeping pace with her elegance, that I do not blaze in jewels, and riot in the luxury of dress, displeases my mother; yet she continues me the stated income, flattering herself daily though daily disappointed that I will secure my own indulgencies by overlooking the errors reason tells me I am to condemn in her.

But to return to Davenport: on the subsequent morning, I ordered my horse very early intending to pass an hour with Arabella, when a servant informed me Mr. Davenport and a lady requested to see me. I hurried down stairs, to chide Mr. Davenport for suffering Arabella (supposing it must be her) to hazard an increase of her disorder, by coming out while the air was raw and cold, and the morning fog not yet dispelled. I opened the parlour door with the reproof almost ready on my lips, when Davenport, with his eyes glistening, his cheeks glowing, seized my hand and placed it within that of a young lady, who kissed it, and with mingled ardour and pleasure pressed it to her bosom. Surprised, I stepped back; and, looking alternately at her and at Davenport, a strong resemblance anticipated his introduction of a sister.

This sister, whom Davenport had forgotten in his misfortunes, was newly married; and had arrived at Bath the preceding evening, with her husband, a merchant of the name of Beville. Davenport had related the scenes he had passed through in those glowing colours whose use is so familiar to him; and the whole family were disposed to think I had rendered them an important service. Accepting Mrs. Beville's invitation to dinner, I was that day introduced also to Mr. Beville and Miss Harriot Davenport.

Davenport's feelings are ever alive to extremes. He was now in the bosom of his family. He saw his sister no longer the humble dependent of a proud relation, but the wife of an affectionate opulent husband, sharing her advantages too with his other sister. Then, how could Davenport look at them and remember either what he had been or might yet be. He was extravagant; sometimes brilliant, but always fanciful; and the incoherencies of his conversation formed an amusing contrast with the steady uniform bluntness of Mr. Beville. He was even too gay to be grateful; for, instead of thanking his brother-in-law for an offer of taking him into immediate partnership, in preference to the plan I had proposed, on terms so liberal as brought tears from his sister's eyes, Davenport began to ridicule and burlesque trade. He was determined for this afternoon at least to enjoy his mirth in defiance of the checks, instigations, or reproaches of the better inmates sincerity and common sense.

Poor fellow! The grimace, the laugh, the jest reign no longer; for Arabella cannot live! Perfectly satisfied with the prospects of her Henry, with his affection for her child, and the present attentions of his family to her, she calmly looks forward to that abode where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest; while he suffers ten thousand agonies in anticipating their eternal separation.

With Mrs. Beville and Harriot Davenport the remembrance of Arabella's former transgression now lies dormant, their former affection revives, gains new strength from the aid of pity, and instigates them to attend the dying Arabella as a sister. But I suspect from accidental hints they are yet infected with the worldly maxim that the guilt of such a sailing remains wholly with the female, from whom in every other instance of life we look for nothing but weakness and defect. Love more perhaps than reason has taught Davenport a better lesson; he would certainly have married Arabella, and Mr. Beville would have supported him in the resolution, knowing it to be now as much his duty as it was before their mutual duty to abstain from the transgression.

Thus have I saved Davenport. But not my mother. No – she will assuredly marry to prove to me her power and pre-eminence. She will pique herself also on choosing a husband, as handsome as engaging as the fugitive Davenport.

In the mean time flattery is flattery; and the dose being doubled from a female tongue approaches so near to an equivalent that the immediate necessity of a lover becomes less urgent. The happy Mrs. Ashburn – happy in her acquisitions – has lately gained a companion who can treble the quantity on occasion. In good English language, with the animation of French vivacity and French action, Mademoiselle Laundy deals out her bursts of admiration and exstacies of rapture from one of the prettiest mouths in the world. Shaping herself, most Proteus-like, to the whim of the moment, my mother sees not that she is young and handsome; and, could a painting be shown to Mrs. Ashburn the exact but silent representation of Mademoiselle Laundy, unless previously instructed to look for the likeness, I am positive she would not recognize one feature of her companion.

This young person was born of English parents who were settled in France. Her father, being deprived of an enormous pension, by the change of government, chose rather to break his heart than live upon a contracted income, which could only furnish him with the necessaries of life; and such worthless accommodations as are beneath the enjoyment of a courtier.

After his decease, a ci-devant Dutchess brought Mademoiselle Laundy to England, to try her fortune; and, most opportunely, chance threw her in our way at the very same time when my mother was seized with the rage of entertaining a companion. Money was an object with Mademoiselle Laundy, but none to Mrs. Ashburn; and the former knew how to hold off from the bargain till the latter's wishes and expectations were wound up to the highest. The pride also of enabling her companion to outdress half the fashionable young women about town was doubtless an additional motive with Mrs. Ashburn; and the enormous salary demanded was to me the first unfavourable specimen of Mademoiselle Laundy's principles.

Nor has the young lady improved on farther acquaintance. Supple as she is, she cannot accommodate the feigned artlessness of her countenance to the examination of my eye. Native simplicity would neither court nor retire; but Mademoiselle Laundy invites my favour, while she evades my scrutiny.

Resigning her personal pretensions to charm, and labouring incessantly to acknowledge the already inflated superiority of the people around her, she becomes the universal favourite; and 'tis hard to say whether the dear, unfortunate, amiable, Mademoiselle Laundy is more necessary to Mrs. Ashburn or to Mrs. Ashburn's acquaintance.

To her establishment here, however, I cannot object, because I should not be understood. Picking and stealing to be sure are very atrocious things; but who ever thought of calling selfishness, art, and insincerity by the name of vice? – Oh no! garret-lodgings philosophers may speculate, and dream over their airy systems; but we people of fashion know better things. We know self-love and insincerity to be useful and important qualities, the grand cement which binds our intercourse with each other. Born a superior race, we can bid truth and plain honesty depart; and, having dressed falsehood and guile in all the fascination of the senses, can bow down before the idol of our own creation.