The Castle of Wolfenbach - Eliza Parsons (little red riding hood ebook free .txt) 📗

unjust as I know those prejudices are, yet I confess it would have given me pain, had she acted otherwise. I applaud, I admire, I love her more than ever, but I do not wish to see her the Count’s wife, unless those bars could be removed, which now appear next to an impossibility.’ ‘No!’ cried the Marchioness, briskly, ‘no! I will not believe merit like Matilda’s is born to wither in the shade; I will hope to see her one day in a conspicuous point of view, that may reflect honor on all who are connected with her, either by blood or friendship.’

‘You are romantic, my dear madam,’ said Mrs Courtney, with a smile; ‘but suppose we go to your young favorite, and see how the poor thing does after her heroics.’

This was said with so little feeling, that the Marchioness was surprised; and a sudden idea darting into the mind of the Marquis, he could not suppress a smile, whilst Lord Delby looked offended with his sister’s light manner of speaking.

Under these different impressions they entered the dressing-room, and found poor Matilda reclining her head on the Countess, and both weeping. ‘Fie, fie, my good friend,’ said Mrs Courtney, ‘is this the way to comfort the young lady for the sacrifices she has made to honor and principle.’ ‘I adore your sensibility, madam,’ cried Lord Delby, hastily; ‘in my opinion, who ever loves Miss Matilda does honor to their own heart.’

Both ladies bowed to his lordship, though unable to speak; but endeavouring to recover themselves, the Countess said, ‘This dear obstinate girl proposes setting off the day after tomorrow. ‘Well, and if she is so determined, what hinders us from all taking a trip to Dover, previous to our Scarborough journey?’ said Lord Delby.

Every one agreed to the proposal, after which they sought to amuse their minds, by talking on different subjects.

The Countess and Mrs Courtney accompanied the Marchioness home to dinner, but Lord Delby excused himself, that he might attend to the Count. On his return to Cavendish-square he was informed his guest was in the library. He found him writing, and would have retired; the Count requested he would sit down: the conversation naturally turned on the recent occurrences in Harley street. ‘Don’t think meanly of me, my dear Lord,’ said the Count, if I cannot help gratifying a little malice and revenge; I have just finished a few lines to Mademoiselle De Fontelle; I will, at least, make her remember she is in my power, and tremble every moment, lest I should put my threats in execution; I will plant a thorn in her bosom, if she is capable of feeling, though, alas! I can never draw the one from my breast she has been the cause of transfixing there for life! I shall send to the Ambassadors, to procure her address, as doubtless from old acquaintance Madame Le Brune has been to pay her respects to his lady, and that is the only clue at present, I have to find her.’

When Lord Delby acquainted him the day was fixed for Matilda’s departure, and their intended jaunt with her, ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘how hard, that the person most interested in that event should be precluded from being a witness of it, though I know I could not stand the shock.’ ‘If my sister does not accompany us, which I rather doubt, as one coach cannot hold them, and I intend going on horseback, there being no necessity for great expedition I shall consign her to your care, my dear Count, in our absence.’ ‘If Mrs Courtney will accept the attendance of such a spiritless being as myself,’ answered he, ‘I shall be honoured by permission to wait upon her.’

Not to dwell on the melancholy circumstances of parting, when nothing new or particular occurred, ‘tis sufficient to say both parties were overwhelmed with grief, and Matilda submitted, with much reluctance, to Lord Delby’s going in the packet with her; but her friends all protesting, if she refused, every one would go, she was obliged to acquiesce; and embracing the two ladies a thousand times, with streaming eyes, she tore herself from them and embarked.

The wind was fair; they reached Boulogne in seven hours; and whilst they partook of some refreshment at the hotel, Louison and Antoine walked to the Ursuline Convent, in the high town, and having acquainted the porteress with their errand, found, to their great mortification, they took no ladies in chamber, or high pensioners. They were directed to the Annunciate Covent, and there soon procured admission, and accommodations for Matilda, and Louison, who gladly attended her, thinking it would be only for a short time, ‘till her lady came from England.

Within a few hours Matilda was received and settled. She took leave of Lord Delby, with tears of gratitude. ‘Ah!’ said he, much moved, ‘not one word of remembrance to my worthy guest?’ ‘Yes, Sir,’ said she, raising her voice, ‘tell him I admire, I esteem him - that his happiness is the first wish of my heart. Take care, my dear Lord, of the worthy Count; teach him to forget me, and if ever he should be united to an amiable woman, deserving and possessing his affection, I will then boldly claim his esteem -‘till then we must be for ever separated.’

She entered the gates, unable to say more, and when they were shut upon her, Lord Delby, overcome with pity and admiration, returned to the hotel; that same evening re-embarked for Dover, and joined his friends before nine the next morning.

Spiritless and unhappy, they arrived in Harley-street the following evening, and sending a messenger to Mrs Courtney, that lady shortly after entered the house, the Count with her; she cheerful and lively, he looking pale and dejected. She enquired, with an air of indifference, the particulars of their journey, but seemed little interested in it; not so the Count, he asked a thousand questions. ‘I have a message to you from the amiable Matilda,’ said Lord Delby. ‘For me,’ said the Count, eagerly; ‘O! why have you delayed it?’ His Lordship repeated her last words. ‘Sweet angelic girl!’ cried he, ‘is my happiness dear to her! but why should I doubt it? she is truth and goodness itself; my esteem, my love, must ever be hers, for no other woman shall ever possess that heart she condescended to prize, and never will I marry, if Matilda cannot be my wife.’ ‘Lord bless me!’ exclaimed Mrs Courtney, ‘let’s have no more dismals; I declare these last five days have vapoured me to death: I hope our journey to Scarborough will teem with more pleasant incidents than yours to Dover seems to have produced.’ ‘I am sure so,’ answered the Count; ‘the world does not abound with characters like Matilda’s to lament.’

No more was said; supper was announced, and more general conversation introduced during the remainder of the evening, though every one appeared absent and uneasy.

After the company had left them the Marchioness took notice of Mrs Courtney’s behaviour. Surely she has taken some pique against Matilda,’ said she. ‘Yes, replied the Marquis, ‘the pique natural to a Jealous woman.’ ‘Jealous ! repeated the Marchioness, ‘why, surely you do not think she is fond of the Count’ ‘Indeed, but I do,’ replied he; ‘nay, I am certain of it, from many observations I lately made on her conduct.’ ‘Bless me!’ returned she, ‘why Mrs Courtney is seven or eight and thirty, the Count only two and twenty.’ ‘That’s true,’ said he, smiling, but my love ladies have various ways of concealing their age, and the depredations of time; besides, vanity never forsakes them; and to do Mrs Courtney justice, she is an agreeable woman.’ ‘Yes, and a sensible woman,’ returned she; ‘I never can suppose her guilty of such a weakness; I rather think her prejudiced against Matilda, by some falsehoods or other.’ ‘Very well,’ replied the Marquis, ‘be it so: I am always more gratified by your favorable opinion of your own sex, than a readiness to condemn them; the one shews a generous mind, free from guile itself - the other, a malignant spirit, desirous of acquiring merit from the deficiencies of others.’ ‘But, pray,’ said the Marchioness, ‘how will you account to Mr Weimar for the retirement of Matilda, should he hear of it, and apply to you? By the simplest truth,’ replied he, ‘except what relates to Bouville. He must thank himself for all the stories Mademoiselle De Fontelle has repeated to her disadvantage, and from whence originated her sudden determination. She is now safe; the letter I procured from the Ambassador, addressed to any convent, at least, the superior of it, will always protect her, since mine is the only claim she is subject to.’

Tranquillised by this, the Marchioness recommended her young friend to the care of Providence, and retired to rest with a virtuous heart, and an easy mind, which could not fail of producing quiet and refreshing slumbers.

The Count, Lord Delby, and Mrs Courtney, were not equally happy. The former, more sensible every hour of Matilda’s worth, cursed the pride of birth, which stood between him and happiness, and determined to live only for her. Lord Delby had been many years a widower; he had only one son, whom he carried to Switzerland, at the time the Countess so fortunately obtained his protection: he was then extremely struck with her appearance; beauty in distress has a thousand claims upon a susceptible mind; but the Countess had good sense, sweetness of temper, and delicacy of manners to recommend her; and though the first bloom of beauty was worn off, she had sufficient charms both of mind and body to procure for her the admiration of any man. Lord Delby conceived a very warm affection for her, though he knew it was entirely hopeless, unless death should rid her of her persecutor; he was therefore condemned to silence on a subject nearest his heart, and felt the restraint very painfully. Mrs Courtney, from the first moment she beheld the Count, was charmed with his person and manners. She had been a widow four years: when about three and twenty, at the request of her father, Lord Delby, and the temptations of a very capital fortune, superb carriages, fine jewels, and those other avenues to the heart of a young and fashionable female, she gave her hand to Mr Courtney, who was struck with her person, and thinking it right to have an heir to his immense possessions, suspended for a time the delights of Newmarket, and his favorite sprightly, to attend the laws of Hymen; but in a very few weeks his former propensity returned; his young bride was forsaken for the pleasures of the turf, Newmarket, its jockies, its tumultuous pursuits, deep bets, and jovial companions, engrossed all his time and attention. His lady, happily for her, was not doatingly fond of her husband; she was possessed of every appendage proper for a female in fashionable life, and outshone two-thirds of her acquaintance in jewels, plate, carriages, and dress; she was therefore extremely easy about the absence of her husband, and whilst he neither contracted her expences, nor deprived her of the amusements she liked, she was perfectly disposed to shew him the same complaisance. This very modish pair lived some years together, without feeling either pleasure or pain, from their different engagements. Mr Courtney was at first much disappointed by not having an heir, but time reconciled him to an event he could not remove; and having determined to make a distant relation, who was to inherit his estate, take his name by Act of Parliament, he ceased giving himself any further concern about the matter. They had been married upwards of ten years, when unfortunately taking cold, after very hard riding, a violent fever terminated his life in six