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

The woman being withdrawn, the lady of the house said, ‘However, madam, I may rejoice in seeing a female of your appearance, I cannot help lamenting that one so young should know sorrow, or be driven to seek an asylum in such a melancholy place as this castle.’ ‘I am indeed, madam, an object of pity,’ replied the other, ‘without friends, a home, or one acquaintance to sooth my sorrows. I have fled from oppression and infamy, unknowing where to direct my steps, or what will become of me.’ ‘Surely,’ said the former lady, ‘heaven directed your steps here, that we might communicate comfort to each other: griefs, when divided become less poignant; I have known years of sorrow, yet I still support life in a feeble hope of one day being restored to happiness.’ ‘Alas!’ replied the other, ‘not one shadow of hope can I derive from either past or future prospects; and as I have intruded thus upon you, madam, it is but fit you should know who and what I am. I was born, as I have been told, at Fribourg, and lost both my parents in my infancy. My birth was noble, but my fortune very trifling. The first thing I can remember was a gentleman who I was taught to call uncle, an elderly woman his housekeeper, and a young girl attendant on me; we lived in the country, about three miles from any town or village. As I grew up masters were hired to attend me, and by their skill and my own attention, having nothing to divert my mind from my studies, I became tolerably accomplished at twelve years of age, when my masters were discharged. We received no company; a few gentlemen called now and then, but those I never saw. My uncle was exceedingly fond of me; his name was Mr Weimar, mine Matilda Weimar. Our ancestors, he said, had been Counts, and persons of high rank and fortunes, but by war and prodigality, they had been reduced to comparative poverty; therefore it was fortunate for me he had never been married. I think I am naturally affectionate and grateful, yet I never felt any degree of either for my uncle; and, young as I was, have frequently taken myself to task when I found a repugnance to return his caresses. I devoted my whole time to my studies; my uncle, when I was about fifteen having some property in France, was compelled, by the failure of a house, to go there in person; at first he talked of taking me with him, but changed his mind, and gave me in charge to his housekeeper and an old servant called Albert, with strict orders I should never go beyond the walks belonging to his castle. Nothing could exceed the tenderness of his behaviour at parting, and for the first me in my life I was affected I returned his embraces and shed me tears. “Ah ! Matilda,” said he, “are you indeed sorry I should leave you?” “I am, indeed,” I replied. “Then you shall go with me,” cried he, eagerly; but striking his forehead, he exclaimed, “No! that will not do; dear Matilda, my sweet niece, keep yourself retired, apply to your studies, I shall soon return, and, I hope, make you the happiest of women.” I felt at that moment real gratitude and affection; I promised strictly to obey his commands, and by my endeavours to improve my mind, deserve his love and esteem. He quitted me with extreme reluctance, and for several days I found the want of his company and conversation, but by degrees I grew reconciled, and as Agatha and Albert were respectable and intelligent persons, for their stations in life; I made them both my friends and companions. This was really the happiest period of my life I was capable of amusing myself with music and drawing, in the evenings I walked in the garden and adjoining wood with Agatha, returned with a good appetite, and slept quietly. My uncle remained in France near nine months, he constantly wrote to me, and I was punctual in my answers; at the end of that period he returned; I was overjoyed to see him, but the pleasure I felt and expressed fell very short of the rapture and transport with which he embraced and praised me; he dwelt on the improvement in my person with such delight, that I felt confused and uneasy; the attention which used to give me pleasure now was painful, and I repulsed his caresses involuntarily. He told me he had brought me a present of some books and drawings, both of which he knew would be acceptable to me; I acknowledged his kindness with an apparent gratitude, yet I was in reality but little thankful, though I could not account for the increasing coldness of my behaviour. After a hasty supper I retired to bed, notwithstanding his wishes to detain me, and after I was alone I began to reflect on my conduct so cold and thankless, towards so kind an uncle, whose affection for me seemed greatly increased. I was displeased with my own reflections, and resolved to behave better to him the following day.

‘The next morning I rose early; my uncle was not up, Agatha met me going into the garden. “My dear Miss,” said she, “you were very shy and unkind to your uncle last night; the good man loves you dearly, and ‘tis not your business to be shewing him such slights, I can tell you.” Though conscious I was wrong I was amazed at the freedom of her observations, as she was not much the room with us; I therefore made some trifling answer and pursued my walk.

‘It was plain my uncle had taken notice of my coldness, and complained to her: I was mortified and vexed; after taking two or three turns I went into the house, and met my uncle in the breakfast room; I assumed the kindest manner possible in my salutations to him and I saw he was highly gratified by it. He produced his books and drawings, the latter were very beautiful, but the attitudes and want of decent drapery confused and hurt me, for although I had never received any particular lessons on delicacy or modesty, yet there is that innate virtuous principle within us, that shrinks involuntarily from any thing tending to violate that sense of decency we are all, I believe, born with; I therefore could not examine them with the accuracy I wished, much less praise them, as I saw he expected. “Are they not exquisite pieces?” demanded he. “They are very fine drawings, I believe, Sir, but I think the subjects of them are exceptionable.” “My dear girl,” he replied, laughing, “you know nothing of the world; whoever excepts against the subjects of drawings, or the attitudes of statues? ‘tis the execution and proportions that attract our notice, and I assure you, my little prude, there is nothing objectionable in any point of view, in those drawings before you, nor in the books, which are now most in repute among the fashionable circles in France.”

‘Though my reason was not convinced I made no further scruples, but thanked him for his attention to my amusement, and, breakfast over, retired to my own apartment, having my presents carried there, that I might examine them at my leisure.

‘From this time my uncle’s behaviour was to me unaccountable he was for ever seeking opportunities to caress me, his language was expressive of the utmost fondness, he praised my person in such glowing colours as sometimes filled me with confusion. In short, madam, not to tire you, within three months after his return I began to be extremely uneasy at freedoms I scarce knew how to repulse. One morning after dressing I went into the garden, a thing unusual with me at that hour, and going round a serpentine walk, which led to a summer house, I thought I heard voices there; I stopt at the back of it, which, as well as the front, had a door that opened into the garden, and plainly heard Agatha’s voice, saying, “I tell you, Sir, there is no other way, send Albert off for a few days, or turn him off at once, for he loves Miss Matilda as if she were his own child, and therefore we must get rid of him; but you are so long settling your mind - get into her room at night when she’s asleep, I’ll take care nobody comes there, or tell her roundly at once you are not an uncle to her - I would not longer stand upon ceremony.” “Well, Agatha, I’ll take your advice, and dispatch Albert tomorrow, and the next night I will be happy.” You may suppose, madam, I was scarcely able to support myself. Having heard thus far I tottered from the summer-house, and got into the shrubbery, where I threw myself on the ground, and preserved myself from fainting by a copious flood of tears.

‘Overwhelmed by my own reflections, without a friend or habitation to fly to for protection, uncertain whether this man was really my uncle or not, yet convinced he had the most diabolical designs against me, and that in his house I could not be safe: it is impossible to describe my feelings and distress; at length I arose and recollected what the horrid woman had said of Albert, it was my only resource. I walked from the garden towards the stables; most fortunately I met him coming from them. “Albert,” said I, hastily, “I wish to speak with you, follow me into the park.” The man looked surprised - “Me, Miss - I follow you?” “Yes, immediately,” I replied. I walked quickly to the park, he came after me; when out of sight of the house I turned to him - “Albert, do you love me? are you willing to serve me?” “Aye, that I will, dear Miss, to the last drop of my blood.” I then, without losing time, told him the plot designed against me, and what was determined with respect to himself. The good creature was struck dumb with surprise, but recovering himself, “By my soul,” cried he, “I will save and serve you whilst I have breath, from such devils. My dear young lady be easy, I have a sister who lives at Lucerne, she will be proud to serve you; ‘tis a long journey, but never fear, you can ride behind me, as you have often done in sport: I’ll manage the business to-night, never fear - get up a little early in the morning and meet me here.” We then concerted our whole plan, and I returned to the house with a lighter heart, and got to my apartment unobserved. I was soon after summoned to dinner; when I saw my uncle I turned faint, he flew to me with tenderness - “My dear Matilda, are you ill?” “Only a sick head-ache,” I replied, disengaging myself from him, and sitting down. “I fear you have been reading too much.” “Very likely, Sir; I shall be better by and bye,” was my answer. I could eat but little, yet I tried to do it, and also to rally my spirits to avoid suspicion. When Albert was removing the cloth, “I have a great favour to ask your Honour.” “What is it Albert?” said my uncle. “Why, Sir, I have got a sister married at a village near Lausanne, and the poor soul does so long to see me, that if you could spare me for a week, I should be mightily obliged to you?” “For a week!” replied his master, pleasure dancing in his eyes, “you may set off to morrow and stay a fortnight, it cannot be less time, to give you any comfort with your friends.” The