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

said, ‘The Count Berniti was your father,’ the Countess started from her chair, ‘Gracious God! what do I hear; but no, -I can have no interest in it.’ She was silent. He proceeded, whilst she hung her head, drowned in tears at the mention of her husband whose death he slightly passed over, ‘till he came to the circumstance of the children. She gave a shriek, and throwing her arms around her friend, ‘If this is true, great God! if this is true, I may yet have a child. O! say,’ cried she looking wildly at him, ‘tell me at once, have I child?’ ‘You have,’ said the Count, approaching her, ‘you have a daughter, my dear Countess, whom heaven has preserved to bless the remainder of your days.’ ‘ ‘Tis too much, too much, said she, putting her hand to her bosom and instantly fainted in the arms of her friend. Having drops and water at hand, she was soon recovered; and after a few sighs, that removed the oppression from her heart, she said, ‘Tell me, if it is the illusion of my senses only, or if indeed I have a child?’ ‘No, my dear lady, you are not deceived -we have told you truth.’ ‘Then, where is she?’ cried the Countess, eagerly, ‘let me see her -I die with impatience!’ ‘Recover your spirits,’ answered the Count; ‘collect your fortitude, and I will immediately fetch her to your arms. O, hasten! hasten!’ cried she, dissolving in tears, which they were glad to see. And the Count, with joy, flew to the hotel, where poor Matilda waited in all the agonies of suspense. ‘The discovery is made, my dear young lady; your mother is impatient to receive and bless you.’

This intelligence, though so anxiously wished for, gave her inexpressible agitations; she got up and sat down, two or three times, without speaking, or being able to move; and at length, with trembling knees, was conveyed to the carriage, the Captain, at the request of the Count, accompanying them. When arrived at the house, and conducted to a room, she had a glass of wine to raise her spirits, whilst the Count announced her arrival. In a few minutes he returned, and took her hand. The Captain wished not to be present at the first interview. With a tremor through her whole frame she gave her hand; the door opened; she saw a lady, at the top of the room, who appeared to be in tears. Matilda saw no more, she sprung from the Count, threw herself on her knees before her, and without uttering one word, sunk into insensibility. The friends hastened to her relief. The Countess sat stupid, gazing wildly on her, without moving. When Matilda’s senses were a little restored she looked up, she exclaimed, ‘My mother! O, have I a mother’ That word recalled the Countess to sense and feeling; she clasped her in her arms, ‘Blessed! blessed sound!’ she cried, ‘my child, my dearest daughter ! heaven be thanked.’ She dropped on her knees and lifted her hands and eyes to heaven, then again embraced her child, whose soft and tender emotions were too powerful to admit of speech, nor is it possible to describe the tumultuous joy of both for many minutes. The unhappy widow, the childless parent, dead to every hope of comfort, to embrace a child, adorned with every grace, to feel those delightful sensations to which her breast had been a stranger, and which mothers only can conceive, -a blessing so great, so unexpected, no language can describe. What then must be the feelings of Matilda, after suffering such a variety of sorrows, to find herself in the arms of a parent? O, sweet and undefinable emotions! when reciprocal between a mother and a child! who can speak the rapture of each tender bosom, when parental and filial love unites!

After the first transports were a little abated, the Captain was introduced. The Countess welcomed him as the preserver of her child. He was struck with the perfect resemblance between the mother and daughter, and extremely gratified by the affectionate attention of every one present.

In the evening Matilda promised to relate the particulars of her whole story, and the following day to write to her friends.

The Count now pursued his voyage to Nice, still doubtful of Matilda’s safety, and the sincerity of Mr Weimar’s repentance.

The wind was not favourable to his impatience, and the passage was a tedious one; at last, however, he was landed at Nice, and, after many enquiries, learnt there was a Turkish vessel on the point of sailing. He flew to the ship; the Captain was on board; without reserve the Count acquainted him with his errand, and search after Matilda. ‘Indeed, Sir,’ said the Captain, ‘I pity you; tis peculiarly unfortunate, that they have quitted Nice three days, on their way to Vienna.’

The poor Count was struck dumb with vexation and disappointment; the Captain, however, related to him the whole story, as he recollected, in Matilda’s narrative, he was mentioned as a particular friend. ‘When,’ added he, ‘the Countess was acquainted with the extent of her daughters obligations to the ladies in Germany, she instantly proposed going to Vienna, which being correspondent to Matilda’s wishes, their friends consented to accompany them, and the happy party set off three days ago. Me,’ said the Captain, ‘they have rewarded with unbounded generosity much beyond my wishes or deserts; I shall now return, to live in the bosom of my family, and give up the sea for ever.’

The Count applauded his resolution; and taking a ring from his finger, of value, ‘Wear this, my dear Sir, as a testimony of my esteem for the friend of Matilda, and remember, that in the Count de Bouville you will ever find one, upon any future occasion.’

The Captain could not refuse so polite a compliment, though he was already amply gratified for the services he had done.

Thus we see a just and generous action scarcely ever fails of being properly recompensed.

The Count had now nothing to do but follow his mistress. He remembered Mrs Courtney telling him he was going on a Quixote expedition. What would she say now, thought he, how exult at my disappointed knight errantry? Then, when he thought of the discovery of Matilda’s birth, ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘should I no longer be dear to her, of what use is my pursuit? she will now be introduced to the great world, and my pretensions may be distanced by a thousand pretenders of more merit and superior fortune! Nevertheless, I will not give her up until from herself I receive my doom.’ Accordingly the following morning, a little recovered from his fatigue, he set of for Vienna.

Meantime the Countess, her daughter, the Count and Countess Marcellini, with their attendants, were safely arrived at Vienna, from whence Matilda wrote to her beloved friends, and earnestly requested the favor of seeing them.

‘Tis impossible to describe the transports which her letter occasioned. They lost no time in setting off, and that very same evening their names were announced, Lord Delby and the young Count restraining their impatience ‘till the following day.

The mutual joy, congratulations, and expressions of obligation which took place on their meeting may be easier conceived than described. The Countess Berniti was never weary of pouring forth her acknowledgements to the friends and preservers of her child, whilst they, on the other hand, could not help admiring the wonderful chain of events which had gradually led the way to such a happy discovery both for her and the Countess of Wolfenbach.

‘Tomorrow said the Marquis, ‘we shall beg leave to introduce our friend Lord Delby, and the young Count, my sister’s son. I assure you,’ said he, addressing Matilda, ‘when we first heard of your being forced from the convent, our young Frederic, though only sixteen years old, had the gallantry to offer himself as your champion to pursue and deliver you.’ ‘Can I wonder at his generosity and heroism, my dear Sir,’ answered she, ‘born of such a mother, and possessing doubtless the virtues of his family? No; I am already prepossessed in his favor; I know he must resemble my charming Countess.’

She forebore speaking of Lord Delby, that she might not be obliged to ask for the Countess, his sister, as she concluded the marriage must have taken place long ago.

They spent a most delightful evening together, and engaged to accompany the Countess of Wolfenbach to her seat, in three days from the present; that lady next day sending orders to prepare for the reception of her noble guests.

Matilda longed to see young Frederic, and her ideas of him were all confirmed when she beheld him: his elegant form and polished manners, in some measure, reconciled her to his late father, for having done his son so much justice in his education. Every one was charmed with him; and Lord Delby was received with all the respect due to his rank and merit.

As both the Countess Berniti and her daughter were silent respecting the Count, the others were equally cautious not to name him, lest they might say more than Matilda chose to have known; and there being no opportunities for private conversation, the Marchioness earnestly wished to be in the country, that they might enJoy a few uninterrupted t��t��-�� t��tes.

At the appointed time they all quitted Vienna, and arrived at the Countess’s villa.

They were just seated at the dinner-table when the Count De Bouville’s name was announced. The Marchioness gave a cry of joy; the knife and fork dropped from Matilda’s hand, and it was with difficulty she kept her seat when he entered the room. The Marquis introduced him to the strangers as his particular friend: as they had never heard his name mentioned, they received him with the politeness due to that recommendation only: but when he advanced to Matilda she changed colour, and trembled so violently as to attract her mother’s observation, although she was too attentive just then to speak, for the Count’s agitations were visibly greater than hers; he bowed upon her hand and said a few words, but they were not intelligible. The Marquis hurried him through the rest of the company, and then placed him between Lord Delby and himself, saying, ‘Now, if you please, let us have our dinner; I put a negative to all compliments and question for this hour to come -‘tis plain we are all very glad to see each other.’

In consequence of this seasonable order the conversation became general, and the Count and Matilda had time to recover themselves. She wondered indeed no one asked for his lady, nor that she appeared to be of the party. He cannot help being a little confused, thought she, and did not expect to find me here, I suppose: well, I must try to exert my fortitude, and, amidst so many blessings, I ought not to repine that one is withheld from my possession. Occupied by these reflections, she ate very little, nor attended to the conversation.

The Countess, her mother, who had been an attentive observer both of the Count and her daughter, said, ‘My love, Matilda, you eat nothing.’ She almost started, but replied, ‘I beg your pardon madam, I am doing extremely well.’

Bouville, who had been at no loss to discover Matilda’s mother, as well from the likeness as the tender looks of the latter, now paid that lady particular attention.

When the dinner and servants were removed, the Marchioness complained of a trifling head-ache, and said she would go for a few minutes into the air. ‘Will you step out with me, Matilda?’ ‘With pleasure, my dear madam,’ answered she, rising quickly from her chair, and glad to escape.

The two friends walked to the garden. ‘My dear Matilda,’ cried the Marchioness, ‘I could rein