fr(^ .• '^^^^ f a I B RA RY OF THE U N IVLR5ITY or ILLI NOIS ^/)Mrr(''0-L The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN ij* «M H' ^ D£ G USE ONuf : 1 ^ 197o L161 — O-1096 St. MARGARET'S CAVE OR, THE NUN'S STORY, an Zmitm ^egeitti. IN FOUR VOLUMES* BY ELIZABETH HELME, AUTHOR OF ALBERT, FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST, LOUISA, &C. &C. VOL. I. Eontion t PRINTED FOR EARLE AND HEMET, ALBEMARLE STREET. 1801. Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2010 witin funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/stmargaretscaveo01helm INTRODUCTION. In" a delightful situation, at a % short distance from Bremen, in Lower ^ Saxony, at the commencement of m m the seventeenth century, stood an a ancient, but richly endowed con- ^ vent, dedicated to the Holy Virgin ; j'^nd at a further distance of a quar- t ter of a mile, a monastery, which ^^bore the name of St. Francis, en« ^^ dowed with equal munificence, ?' Though two centuries had elapsed ^ since the founders of these buildings S VOL. I. A had Vi INTRODUCTION. had been numbered with the dead, yet they were still spoken of within the walls with reverence, and a cer- tain number of masses celebrated monthly, for the repose of their souls. About the period first mentioned, the abbess of the sisterhood, who joined to a beneficent heart an ac- tive and enlightened mind, received into her house a middle-aged Ger- man lady, of high birth, who had lately become childless and a wi- dow, her husband and only son having unfortunately fallen, in a battle between France and the com- bined powers. The INTRODUCTION. Vll The baroness De Warminstroct, plunged in the deepest melancholy, and disgusted with the world, had resolved to devote the remainder of her days to religion, and for that purpose, entered the convent of St. Mary, where, after the usual probation, she intended to take the veil. Even the consolations of religion were long ineffectual to calm" her sorrow. In vahi did the pious sis- terhood endeavour, by their lenient words and example, to fix her thoughts on subjects more appli- cable to the holy vocation she was about to enter : a slaughtered hus- A 2 band Viii INTRODUCTION. band and son overpowered every other idea, and kneeling before the altar, while the pious sisters, wrapped in heavenly meditation, dropped the tear of contrition for real or fancied errors, hers flowed in torrents, for the loss of those beloved objects, on whom all her earthly happiness had depended. The abbess, who had judged that the excess of the baroness* grief must in time exhaust itself, long forbore to express those counsels, which, she feared, would be unavailing; but disappointed in her expectation, she one morning requested the baroness* company in her apartment, when, after INTRODUCTION. IX after some preliminary discourse, she addressed her as follows : ** My dear sister, I had lioped that, before this, your grief would have given way to that pious resig- nation, with which we are taught it is pur duty to receive all the trials of this life. — The baron and your son, I am well informed, were just and religious men : they lost their lives in no unworthy cause, but in the duties which their country and fellow citizens called upon them to fulfil ; have you, therefore, any doubt, that their souls are not now enjoying that repose designed for the virtuous ?'* A 3 "Assu" X INTRODUCTION. ^' Assuredly not/' answered the baroness. " My husband was among the best of men ; my son the most dutiful and affectionate that ever blessed the wishes of a fond mother. — '' Oh !" added slie, raising her eyes to heaven, and crossing her- seh', " may my soul, when called forth from its earthly mansion, be equally pure as theirs, then shall we meet again in never-ending fe- licity/' ** If such your belief,'* answered the abbess, " wherefore this selfish sorrow? It is unjust and sinful. — For a moment raise your thoughts to that bliss we trust they are enjoy- ing. . INTRODUCTION. XI ing, and let your tears give way to thankfulness, that they have so wor- thily fulfilled their earthly career. — To-morrow wfA we celebrate a mass for them, and daily will we remember them in our orisons, so may your spirit rest in equal peace as that we pray for them/' The en- suing day high mass was celebrated for the baron de Warminstroct and his son. Bending before the sacred altar, the prayers of the chaste sis- ters ascended to Heaven ; the spirit of the baroness appeared raised above itself, and resignation took place of despair in her bosom. As the baroness recovered from \ A 4 the XU INTRODUCTION. the Stupor into which her grief had at first plunged her, the abbess be- came warnily attached to her. Their understanding and pursuits were similar, and though the first had passed the years of her youth in the gaiety and splendour of the world, and the second ahiiost the whole of hers in the uniformity of a convent- life, yet congenial dispositions ren- dered them pleasing companions to each other. One evening, as they were seated in social converse, the baroness said, ** My dear sister Clare, I have frequently wondered how a woman, pos- INTRODUCTION. Xlil possessed of your understanding, ac- complishments, and, if I may judge from what time has spared, person, came to devote herself to a voluntary seclusion from all the gaieties of life : surely some youthful disap- pointment, or severe affliction, must have influenced you, to adopt a measure in general so contrary to the inclinations of a female, who must have been universally ad* mired." " You judge erroneously,'' re- plied the abbess, '* my seclusion was entirely from choice ; but you wdli cease to wonder, when I in- form you, that I have been accus- al 5 tomed XIV INTRODUCTION, tomed to a convent-life since my early years, having been entirely educated with an aunt, who -was also abbess of this institution. Our family, which is that of.De Hoff- man, was the first who . so richly endowed this convent; they rebuilt it from the foundation of one greatly fallen to decay, and also entirely founded that dedicated to St. Francis, reserving to themselves the power of nominati g the Superior of each, a distinction which, for more than two centuries, has been conferred on descendants of the family. My aunt was tenderly attached to me, and I can truly say, she possessed Biy warmest afiection ; for my mo- ther, INTRODUCTION. XV ther dying when I was but a few months old, my father's only sister, the abbess, took me under her care, the count De Hoffman having no other daughter ; but five sons, who .were afterwards disposed of suitably to their rank and fortune. '* My aunt, although I well knew she dreaded a separation from me, when I was eighteen refused to let me profess myself, until I had first passed some months in the Vv'orld, where, if I found myself more at ease than in the convent, she in- sisted I should remain. * Beware,* said that good and respectable wo- A 6 man. Xvi INTRODUCTION'. man, ' how you bring repugnance into the retreat designed only for those who willingly forsake the va- nities of life. Thirty years/ said she, * have I been Superior of this insti- tution, and never, during that pe- riod, have I suffered one person to take the vows, whom I did not con- ceive embraced retirement from choice and conviction. — Heaven forbid, therefore ! that I should be influenced by other motives in re- gard to you.— Go then, my beloved girl, pass one year in the more ac- tive employments of life ; that time •expired, return to me, and let me know your resolution : be it to re- ^ mmi. INTRODUCTION, XVll main in the world, or to continue here, my warmest affection shall equally attend you/ " Soon after this discourse, I was placed under the care of the ba- roness Vanhausen, whom I accom- panied to Vienna, and to other of the capital cities of Germany. The baroness was kind and attentive to me ; I was young, and the men paid me marked attention, and two offers of marriage, highly advan- tageous,, presented ; but my mind had taken the bent that was to de- termine my future life. The bustle ©f the world wearied me, and the idea Xvili INTRODUCTION. idea of marriage, as it must for ever cut me oft' from the asylum of my infancy, disgusted me, I therefore anticipated the happy time when 1 should return to my beloved St. Mary's. *' At length it arrived ; my aunt, asalso the sisters, received me with rapture ; but their pleasure, if I may judge by my own feelings, must be far inferior to mine. My heart ap- peared to have returned to its na- tural home, and I strictly resolved never more to quit it. ** My aunt did not, however, for some INTRODUCTION". XlX some years suffer me to take the vows> though she spared no pains to qualify me for her successor. *' To shorten an uninteresting de- tail, at twenty-two 1 was suffered to embrace the life I rhost preferred'; and, at the age of thirty-six, I suc- ceeded my venerable relation, who, much advanced in years, and high in the affection of all who knew her^ died, surrounded by the sisters of the house, who, while they sung a requiem to her departing spirit, bathed her revered body with their tears. '* Some short time after I was appointed XX INTRODUCTION. appointed abbess, not only by my family, but also by the unanimous voice of the whole sisterhood, the elders of whom regarded me as their child, the younger as their sister; an affection that, I thank Heaven, has remained unbroken, this only change taking place, that I now regard myself as sister to the elders, and a mother to the youthful." The baroness returned her thanks to the abbess for the communis cation she had favoured her with. — ^'^ Your little narrative,"- said she, *' has indeed no romantic event to arrest the attention, but it has what is far more praise-worthy — the good and INTRODUCTION. XXl and the evil lay before you, and you wisely chose the first. Ah !'* continued she, sighing deeply, ** had such been my choice, how much sorrow should 1 have escaped/* '' Perhaps not,'* replied the ab- bess, *' education, and affection for niy aunt, had given me that decided inclination for a convent, that no- thing could remove, and therefore it was proper to gratify it, as its eud was virtuous; but I am far from thinking, that those who devote themselves to a monastic life, are more acceptable to their Creator than those who encounter the tur- moils of the world. — On the con- trary. XXli INTRODUCTION. trary, the first appear prevented by their situation from commit- ting gross vices, while the latter, if they rise superior to the vanities and temptations of the world, seem as gold purified by fire, and conse- quently have a double claim to the approbation of therr great Judge/' — *^ I readily agree with you in that case," answered the baroness, '' but how few are there, who have strength of mind to withstand the fascinating glare that surrounds them ?" " Many, I should hope ; but in this mortal state all are prone to error, and true repentance with our merciful Creator obliterates our sins. The INTRODUCTION. XXlil The founder of this convent and the neighbouring monastery, though in the latter part of his Hfe he was regarded as ahiiost above mortahty, had erred grossly in his early years. The annals of the family at that period may, perhaps, beguile you of some uneasy hours, and if so, you are welcome to peruse them." The baroness expressed her ac- knowledgments, after which she added, *' It is now more than two centuries since this convent was founded, as expressed upon the marble in the choir.' " I am of the sixth generation since XXIV INTRODUCTION. since that period ; and as it may be interesting to you, 1 will inform you how I became possessed of the mi- nute parts of my ancestors' history. '* I was about nineteen, when a daughter of one of the younger branches of our family was admitted into our community, on which oc- casion all the jewels and gerrl'S of the convent were called forth to de- corate the altar. One large diamond cross was alone wanting, and for some time sought in vain, until my aunt, by chance, happened to re- collect, that she had deposited it in an iron chest in the conservatory, and giving me the keys, desired me ta INTRODUCTION. XXV to search there. On opening the chest I speedily found the cross; but my attention was far more at- tracted by several large rolls of parchment, which, by the super- scription, I found to b© annals of our family. I was no sooner alone with my aunt, than I expressed my curiosity to be informed of the con- tents, when she replied as follows : ' My dear girl, you have my intire permission to examine those writings, as much as you think proper; but I must inform you, beforehand, that I fear your labour wnll be unavaihng, for I have al- ready, some years ago, bewildered myself among them without ejEFect, though XXVI INTRODUCTION, though I must confess, that in many parts they greatly interested me ; but from the skins not being num- bered, the trouble would be infinite to procure a regular clue/ ** Satisfied with this permission, my curiosity smoothed all diffi- culties. I brought the parchments to my chamber, and had the per- severance to labour twelve whole months at the arrangement of them. " The language, as you may well suppose, was very abstruse, and time, in many places, had obli- terated the characters ; but having once succeeded in connecting and 7 perusing INTRODUCTION. XXVll perusing the manuscript, I resolved to render it as intelligible as pos- sible, and therefore ' transcribed it in the form it now bears. My aunt was delighted at my success, particularly as it threw a light on many events respecting our family, that time had sunk in oblivion. ** It may, however, be necessary to inform you, that it is not merely the annals of my ancestors, but also of an ancient and noble English family, called Fitzwalter ; and that great part of the events this manu- script contains happened in that country." With these words, the abbess unlocked a box, and pre- sented XXVlll INTRODUCTION, sented a large parcel of papers to the baroness, who no sooner found her- self alone, then removing the en- velope, she found the promised history* Written tipon the first Page of the Manuscript. £)fi pe tBat map fieteaftcr ^txmt t%tn pa8C0, j?iap for tge tejjo^i^ of tSore iim fmt> tfi^ma mattionei^ ! — ;3tioiU tBetr errors?, aiiD tafee ejtraiuplr fap tfirir 0uffrr= ing0 : j§o sifiall powr jjpiritjs rrs^t m jjeace. VOL. I. WriKeji on the second Page, Swnm of tfie f amtliejs trf SDe ^^ofT^ man and i^it3t»alter, tt)tttteti nt tfie ttquc?$t of tgat trulp ptoujs matron, jeft^tcr ;3tielaitir, iix^t ii\Mm of tBijJ rontient, on tge netd fonntiatton, Snno IDomini 1512, St. MARGARET'S CAVE OR, THE NUN's STORY. CHAP. I. Three miles from the sea-coast, in the county of Northumberland, on a bold eminence, and surrounded by a rich valley, stood the ancient castle of Fitzwalter. The western side of the ex- tensive domain was open to a view of the country, the north and south bounded by rising woods, and the east by the sea, which was prevented from overflowing the shore, by the lofty and tremendous rocks which formed an im- B 2 penetrable 4 ST. Margaret's cave : penetrable barrier to the coast. Tlie fertile parts of the valley were inter- spersed with cottages appertaining to the vassals of the baron Fitzwalter; but, on the side towards the' rnduntains, all was dreary, wild, and desolate, the only inhabitants being tbe birds of prey that had, undisturbed, built their nests, and fixed their kingdom there for ages immemoriaL On the land side of one of the hills was a deep and spacious cavern, liollowed by the hand of the great architect. Nature, closed at the opening by mountain and forest shrubs, and gloomily enlightened by an aper- ture in the rock, at least two hundred feet from the surface. This recess was called St, Margaret's Cave ; but from what cause had long since been for- gotten, but was conjectured to have taken OR, THE- nun's story. 5 taken rise from its being nearly adjoin- ing to the ruins of an ancient chapel, dedicated to that saint ; though the pea- santry of the surrounding country had a tradition among them, that the chapel had taken its name from the cave, a& a lady had there found the murdered body of her lover, and erected the chapel to celebrate constant masses for .the repose of his souL This building had probably suffered at the same time as the monastery at Landisfern, or Holy Island, by the sa- crilegious ravages of the Danes, and other barbarous nations, from which period it h"ad apparently been aban- doned. Such had been the solidity of its original structure, that, though so many centuries had passed since its first desolation, yet time had since done B 3 but 6 ST. Margaret's cave i but little toward its final destruction. The nave, the sacristy, the altar, seve- ral tombs, and the surrounding cloisters, were yet in a state of preservation, though the accumulated dust of ages, together with fragments of brok-en and mouldering stone, in a great measure de- faced them. Pious pilgrims and holy friars of different orders, who travelled through the country, seldom passed within a short distance, without turning aside, to offer up their prayers at the ancient chapel ; but as to the country people around, though they held the spot in the utmost veneration, yet their respect was mingled with a dread, which made them rather shun than seek it ; and, if any dire necessity, as stray cattle, or other cause, obliged them, on an evening, to pass by, the roaring OR, THE nun's story. 7 roaring and shrill winds that re-echoed from the hollows of the surrounding mountains, seemed to their scared fan- cies mingled with the shrieks of wan- g, he presented them his sword. No jewel decorated the weapon^ but the gift was precious, as it came from a king and a conqueror. With these words he left them, and the young friends, after taking an affection s!-e 16- ST. Margaret's cave: affectionate farewell of each other, se- parated ; De Hoffman for the nearest port to embark for Germany, and Fitzwalter for his father^s castle in Northumberland. CHAP. OR^ THE nun's story. 11 CHAP. II. During Fitzwalter's absence, many arrangements had taken place at the castje. The good old baron, whose generosity had greatly increased his difiiculties, had been necessitated to have recourse to a rich knight, named Mourttford, who, in consideration of receiving a mortgage on nearly half the baron's domain, had advanced a sum necessary to liquidate his debts. Alount- ford's whole life had been a continued scene of scraping together, and the produce was now designed at once to enrich and ennoble his daughter Edith, w^ho w^as his only child. With this view, he cultivated the baron's friend- sliip 18 ST. MARGARETS CAVE: ship with the utmost care. The fa- mily of Fitzwalter was as great as his utmost ambition could wish, and fame spoke highly of its future heir ; he therefore, conceiv^ed that, could he succeed in forming an union between the young people, all his views re- specting Edith would be gratified, and he should be also conferring a favour on Fitzwalter, by not only clearing his estate, but also rendering him one of the richest barons in the kingdom. As men plant trees which they never live to see flourish, and architects plan buildings which they never live to exe- cute, so did death snatch Mountford from seeing his favourite scheme com- pleted. Three months had scarcely elapsed, since he had taken the mort- gage, and, in exulting fancy,had consi- dered OR, THE nun's story. 19 deredhis daughter as the future baroness of Fitzwalter, when he was seized with a mortal sickness, which, in *a few days, terminated his existence. Firm to his purpose, he, in his will, re- quested the Baron Fitzwalter to be- come the guardian of his daughter, whom he constituted his joint heiress with Wilham Fitzwalter, on consider- ation that the youth should espouse her, before he attained the age of twenty-five years,, previous to which, if he married any other, or, at that period, declined her hand, he forfeited all right to the bequest, and the mortgage on the baron's estate re- mained in full force. As Mountford's family, though com- paratively obscure to that of the baron, brought no disgrace with it. Lord Fitz- walter QO s-T, Margaret's cave^ waiter was not displeased with the idea of being so easily quit of a debt that must- effectually have impoverished his successor. Edith was in consequence removed to the castle, and placed under the care of tlie baroness, till such time as Fitzwalter should come home, and learn the good fortune that awaited him. Fitzwalter, when he returned from the battle of Bosworth^iield, had just attained his twentieth year. In person and mind, he was all the fondest parents could desire, nor did the fame of his courage, which had already reached them, fail to enhance his father's plea- sure, as he embraced him. ^•^ After some few days given to re- joicing, the baron informed his son of the arrangement Mountford had made in OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 21 in his favour, concluding his discourse by adding, that he trusted no untow^d circumstance would frustrate the hopes he had conceived to see it completed. Fitzwalter listened to the baron with a respectful silence 5 then replied : ^' I must confess, my lord, that you have astonished ikic. To the fortune of Mountford I have no claim, nor do I wish to inherit it ; and, on my own account, should not hesitate a mo- ment to decline it But," continued he, smiling, " as he was kind enough to allow me a probation of five years, and you, my good father, so earnestly . appear to wish it, I will take time to- consider more fully on the subject.'* With this reply the baron was ob- liged to be satisfied ; and, as Edith was not yet seventeen, he agreed with the 22 ST. Margaret's cave: the baroness, that it would be most prudent to leave the event to time, hoping that the partiality which young people frequently contract by being constant companions, might take place between them. Whether the baron's hopes might have been realized is impossible to conjecture ; but an event happened at this period, which ren-s dered it very improbable, if not im- possible, that an union between Fitz- walter and Edith should ever take place. Sir John Stanley, a poor, but noble knight, and an old friend of the baron's, before his death wrote a pathetic letter to lord Fitzwalter, requesting him, for the sake of the Blessed Virgin, to take upon him the protection of his orphan daughter. This request, so solemnly OR, THE nun's story. 23 solemnly made, was not to be re- fused ; and, two months after Fitz- walter*s return, the sorrowing Blanch Stanley became afi inmate of the castle. This young woman, though poor in worldly estimation, was infinitely richer than the wealthy Edith, in all the es- timable qualities of the mind. Young Fitzwalter had felt no predilection for his intended wife; but the mild unassuming Blanch was no sooner seen than beloved ; and, as art formed no part of his character, this passion was speedily visible to the whole family. This event perplexed and distressed the baron beyond measure , and, after various resolves on the subject, he de- termined to throw himself on the duty and affection of his son. He represented 2# ST. MARGARET S CAVE ; represented to him, in the most lively terms, the min that must ensue, should he persist in his inclination for Blanch,, as Edith Mountford, once of age, woukl not fail to claim, in case of his non-performance of her father's will, the payment of the sums ad- vanced, in default of which, the half of his fortune would be inevitably lost. Fitzwalter listened with the utmost attention, and though, on his own ac- count, he would have disregarded a decrease of fortune, yet when he con- sidered the attachment his father bore to the ancient splendour of his house, he shuddered to take a step, which he fl^ared might have the most fatal con- seiquences. ** If J understood you arigh^, my lord,'* OR, THE nun's story. 25 lord/' said he, " when we before conversed on this subject, the time appointed was on my attaining my twenty-fifth year, at which period I will give my answer. Time may, fortunately, make Mountford's daughter not so passive in an event that so nearly concerns her happiness, and it may become our mutual interest to break those"^ bonds, which even paternal power had no right to forge." This reply the baron related to the lady Fitzwalter, requesting her to say to Edith, who had not failed to remark Fitzwalter's partiality to Blanch, that his son, by no means, declined the honour of her hand, but from unavoid- able causes, must delay to request it till the time appointed by her father. Edith was not of a disposition to c suffer. 26 ST. Margaret's cave: suffer, what she considered an insult, calmly ; but as, in this case, she had no appeal, she put on the outward semblance of satisfaction, though she, in truth, felt the highest indignation, at the disregard shewn at once to her person and fortune. By a thousand mortifications, she, however, contrived to revenge herself on Blanch, who had also much to endure from the baron and his lady, who regarded her as the only obstacle to their son's future fortune, and would not have failed to have discarded her, had they not feared that, by such a step, Fitz- walter would have thought himself bound in honour to take her into his own protection. Though this consi- deration was powerful enough to ob- lige them to retain Blanch at the castle. OR, THE NUN*S STORY* 27 castle, yet the humiliation she daily- underwent were not lost on Fitzw^alter, who, with all the eloquence of love, long pleaded in vain for her to leave a mansion, where she was so inhos- pitably treated. He at length suc- ceeded, and they eloped, their only companions being a respectable wo- man, named Alice, who had been nurse to Blanch, and a favourite do- mestic of Fitzwalter's, called David. These events had filled a space of two years since Fitzwalter's return home, and so powerful had been the attachment he felt for Blanch, even from her first arrival at the castle, that he had never, during that period, even availed himself of the request made him by the king ; nor yet had he visited his much esteemed friend, De Hoffman, c 2 though 28 ST. MARGARETS CAVE: though repeatedly pressed by that young nobleman, who, by his father's death, now inherited his estates, and had been married nearly two years, and a father one. CHAP. OR, THE nun's story. 29 CHAP. III. The baron's vexation at the elope- ment of his son, is better imagined than described. He had no doubt but he was married to Blanch, and caused the most exact inquiries to be made in all pos- sible quarters; but in vain, no news of the kind he so much dreaded transpired, and his fears somewhat subsided, as the ruin of his friend's daughter appeared to him, of the two, a less evil, than the destruction of the splendor of his an- cient house. At length he received a letter from Fitzwalter. It came from Germany, where he now learned, for the first c 3 time. so ST. Margaret's cave : time, the runaways had taken reflige. The letter was to this purport : " Health and peace attend the lord and lady Fitzwalter, if that wish may be received from a truant son, whose only excuse is, that fatal necessity urged him to take a step, against which his heart recoils 5 as it not only involves the beloved of his soul in disgrace, but has made a breach between him and his ever-honoured parents. " To the deceased Edward Mount- ford, as also to his daughter Edith, Fitzwalter confesses he owes much obligation ; but paternal authority was too far extended, when it imposed, as a duty on his daughter, a contract which ought to be free. If Edith, therefore, has any incentive that may lead OR, THE nun's story. 31 lead her to wish to break those bonds that bind her to Fitzwalter, she may rest assured, that, at the appointed time, Fitzwalter will fuifil every obUgation, that Edward Mountford has a right to demand of him. " William Fitzwalter.'* This letter afforded but Httle satis- faction to the baron, who, however, in- formed. Edith, that she must regard the conduct of Fitzwalter as merely a slip of youth, as in his letter he had tes- tified his intention of returning, at the end of the appointed three years, to fiilfil her father's will. Edith possessed too much art to dis- cover her displeasure openly. She had felt a strong partiality for Fitzwalter, and a no less powerful one for the rank c 4 and 32 ST. MARGARET*S CAVE T and title of baroness , and was firmly resolved, when opportunity offered, if not to gratify her love, at least to satiate her vengeance. The baron, who had still his fears that Fitz waiter had privately married Blanch, no sooner learned that they were in Germany, than he dispatched f» frir.r. to mr^ko. i^]] nossible inquiries:- but these were as fruitless as those be- fore made in England -, the only news he returned with being, that Fitzwalter,. and Blanch lived in a small house on De Hoffmar.'s estate, in a very retired ITianner. As no further information could be procured, the lord Fitz waiter was obliged to rest satisfied, though he did not fail to write to his son, whom he reproached, in the most bitter terms, for his disgraceful flight, and the shame he OR, THE nun's story. 33 he had btought, not only on the name of Stanley, but on that of Fitzwalter. Blanch, in the mean time, felt all the pangs that a susceptible mind en- dures, -under the imputation of guilt, and though she loved Fitzwalter with the sincerest aiFection, drooped with- grief, when she reflected on the op- probium that hung over her. An event which, in other circumstances, would have given her the highest satisfaction, also contributed to increase her unea« siness ; she found herself in a state to become a mother, and shuddered with horror, that imputed shame should fall upon her innocent offspring. Fitzwalter, who knew no happiness equal to her peace and satisfaction, would have braved every consequence on this occasion 3 but, with a firmness c 5 that 34 ST. Margaret's cave. that was not to be conquered by per- suasion, she refused to make any change in the arrangement they had first formed, saying, " It shall not be ; the time may yet arrive, when the world shall own that Blanch Stanley did not mistake, when she confided in William Fitz- walter's honour." As strong impressions, during our waking hours, never fail to influence our nightly dreams, Blanch's thoughts were still active, though her body slept. In one of these midnight vi- sions, she thought her fatlier, in the pale livery of the grave, stood before her, and looking upon her with a frowning aspect, said, " The name of Stanley should be without reproach; this stain must be done away." — *^ Ah father !" she thought she replied, " how OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 35 " ho>y can it be obliterated, without involving my beloved lord, and his noble father, in ruin ?'* " By death," answered he, and va- nished. The anguish caused by this dream awoke all the fears of Fitzwalter, and again he conjured her, in the most ten- der and solemn manner, to permit him to take the only step, necessary to re- store her to that estimation and re- spect she so well merited, and was en- titled to. This offer was again rejected with the greatest obstinacy. " No," said she, as she conversed on the subject with her favourite Alice, " never will I consent to be the ruin of the man I Jove : — never shall the baron curse the don. OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 41 don, but you speak irreligiously; the great, as well as the poor, are subject to the vicissitudes of this life — not that I think belief is always to be placed upon dreams, and St. Mary forefend that this should come true ; but stabs are sometimes given without daggers, and infants pursued by enemies, who, though they dare not strike at life, may ^^ ^., -^ ^^.igerous. — What 1 would advise is, to be upon your guard ; it is always good to be wary. Who knows, but the sainted spirit of the old chapel, for wise purposes, might give this warning.'* . h]i« meicy Kyi X ^oti, V *^i.i, i.knxj AAv^ .j^ ^^ - — terate the sins of my mortal life/* — • " Oh Blanch 1" interrupted Fitzwalter, his voice choaked with anguish, " thou hast no sins, thou spotless innocence. — • The cursed affection of the wretched Fitzwalter, plunges thee into an un- timely grave.'* '' Call not thy affection cursed, Fitz- walter," answ^ered she, her eyes turn- ing quick from him to the infant which lay OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 45 lay by her side, " I trust it will be blessed. — ^Thy love was my pride, my glory — and if in heaven spirits think, I will remember thy truth and honour. Thou" continued she, 5' will remember me, when thou cherishest thy babe." Fitzwalter groaned, but could not speak. — Blanch, through weakness, made a long pause, until at length re- covering herself, she continued — " Call me, I pray you, a priest : good father John will willingly attend me. Let him take my confession, and baptize my child ; that sight will give me plea- sure. Let her be called Mar- garet." A servant was dispatched to, the abbey of St. Francis, to summon the father, while another hastened to the count De Hoffman's castle, to inform him 3 46 ST. MARGARETS CAVE: him of the danger of BJancli. The count and his lady immediately fol- lowed the messenger to Fitzwalter's dwelling. On their arrival the priest was with his penitent, who having made her confession, desired that De Hoffman and the countess might enter. It was no time for congratulations ; the lady, with a look that expressed far more than words, took her place by the side of the dying Blanch, and press- ing her hand between both hers, at length said : '' You wish your infant to receive the sacrament of baptism ; the count and myself are come to en- treat to be sponsors, if you will ac- cept us." Blanch looked fixedly at the countess, raised her hand to her lips, and bec- koning the priest forward, in an almost I exhausted OR, THE nun's story. 47, exhausted voice requested him to name her child. The priest opened his book. The water, the salt, the oil, and tapers, were prepared, when the father asked, as it was a daughter, who was the second sponsor; for in the confusion of the moment it had been forgotten, that two females were necessary. " There is a respectable woman who, by her tears on this occasion, will, I . should judge, worthily fulfil that trust," said the countess, pointing to Alice, who stood weeping at a respectful dis- tance. " My good, my second mo- ther," said Blanch, addressing Alice, " you hear the countess, will you not, at this solemn moment, answer for my child?"' — " Alas!" answered Alice, powerless as I am, I will answer for her .4^ ST^ .jmargaret's cave: her .TOth my life, and die to protect her; but I am not worthy to be spon- sor, to my lord's child, nor yet to stand by the -side of the count and countess De Hoffman." The counters stepped forward, took Alice by the hand, and said, '' If, my good friend, it is true what we are taught, and of the truth of which I have no doubt, that there are no dis- tinctions in heaven, how pitiful must that mind be, who can make any on this occasion." This point arranged, the priest per- formed the ceremony, and named the infant Margaret. Blanch's spirits ap- peared recruited by the sight; she thanked the count and his lady, and entreated them to comfort Fitz waiter ; then turning to the priest she said, " My v)K, THE nun's story. ^^ >"^ My good father, as you have written down my confession, I ptay yoti take a copy : the of iginal keep in youf own hands, and give the other to Fitz- waiter" Blanch appeared exhausted. The good father withdrew to obey her commands, and in less than an hour had transcribed it. Blanch signed first, and the count, his lady, Alice, and the priesf, wit'* nessed the signature, after which they took their leave. Blanch, for s®me hours, was so pla- cid, that Fitz waiter gave way to the r^- turous idea that she would yet recover 3 but this hope only served to incxease the weight of sorrow that was to fol- low, for on a,)vaking from what both himself and Alic^ thought a refreshing VOL. I. D sleep. ^0 sTv. Margaret's cave: sleep, tlipy s^w with anguish, that, the pangs, of deiath were, upon her. . " Yet a little while/' said. ^be,,". and this fragile , body shall return to its na- tive clay, and this warm heart forget its earthly attachments. — I^isten then, Fitzwalter, to my voice— Paternal dis- obedience is a grievous sin y who knows but it has drawn down this heavy pu- nishment upon us. — With my dying breath let me request you to be iiecon- ciled to your father.*' Fitzwalter attempted to speak, hut waving her hand, she continued ~ " Interrupt me not, I conjure you, my time is nearly expired, iriy last thoughts and prayers are for your happmess. — Oh Alice ! be a mother to my child. — Fitzwalter, to you I need not recom- mend OR, THS NUN*S STORY. 51 mend her. — Secrecy and mystery may be the best safeguards of her infancy. — I pray you request the sisters of the convent of St. Mary to admit my body into their holy ground. -^I entreat you pray for me ' — " A convulsive spasm for a few minute's stopped her utterance ; Alice dropped on her knees, whilst Fitzv/alter, with almost frantic energy, threw himself by her side, and supported her in his arnls. " Oh Fitzwalter r* said the explriilg Blanch, collecting her small remains of strength to articulate, " Conquer 'this unavailing grief — w^e shall, thou knowest, meet again. — -The pangs of death are not so hard to bear as parting with thee.'' As she spoke, she rested her cold cheek on his, and paused a moment for breath ; then continued — • D 2 " In .-:IT OF IlLII^QJS '52 ST. Margaret's cave : ** In thy arms, where I could have lived most happy, let me die, my friend — my love — my lord — my *' As she spoke, she drev^^ her breath hard be- tween each word, and bowing her head, expired on the bosom of Fitz- walter. Fitzwalter*s grief for this loss, found vent in neither words nor tears ; it was that silent sorrow that preys upon the heart, and, like a secret and unsuspected enemy, undermines the foundation of life, before it is conjectured to have, in- jured it. The friendship of the family of De Hoffman, In this distress, was of the utmost service. The count, to a strong understanding, joined an active and generous mind ; and whatever faults mfght fall to his share, at least a manly and disinterested frifefidship, with a warm OR, THE nun's story. 53 warm and benevolent heart, was not among the number. The character of the countess was less lively than that of her husband. To the most exquisite feminine beauty, she added a mind so noble, reflective, pious, and chaste, that could every thought of her bosom have been visible, not one would have raised any emotion hut respect, love, and admiration. De Hoffman endeavoured to divert his friend's melancholy, by alternately exerting his understanding and his liveliness. The countess's consolations flowed all from piety, and those deli- vered in a voice so soft and persuasive, tiiat Fitzwalter's grief was frequently dianned to peace, and his mind raised from earthly to heavenly objects. A year had passed sinc^ the death of D a Blanch, 54 ST. Margaret's cave: Blanch, when an express from England arrived at De Hoffman's castle 3 it was" from the baron Fitzwalter, requesting his son's attendance, as his health v^^as • in the most imminent danger. Fitz- ■waiter immediately " procured a small vessel, and, accompanied by Alice and. his child, left Germany. The o^untess would fain have persuaded him to leave them ill her care, but the young Mar- \. ^arst had already made herself sb vvarm ah interest in her father's hearty that he*" could not, without pain, resolve ta' rfuit her. * ^ On reaching England, he placed Alice and her yourig charge in the cottage of David's wife, as he could rely on her fidelity, and proceeded ta the dwelling of the baron. He found his father's health greatly impaired. OR, THE nun's story. 55 impaired. Added to the infinTiities of age, he had, in his mind also, suifered severely, from being reduced to make retrenchments in his usual hospitable mode of living ; for even his former difficulties had not yet taught him pru* dence. The baron, his lady, and Edith Mountford, received Fitzwalter with distinguished kindness, as in all proba- bility they had concerted before his arrival ; for, strange and repugnant as such^^a istep must appear to a feeling or -delicate mind, Edith's first wish was, even yet, to ' becAne the .-wife of Fitz- wilter. ■•' 'Th^^ baron's health still continued ui ah imc^rtain and declining state, and Fit2;walter had not been at home more than three month*, when he lost his mother. Before her death, with art D 4? the -5i> 33. MARGAF.iil'S CASE the energy of- a dying parenl, she can- jured him to take the only step that could save himself and his father from ruin, arid by a marriage with Edith v preserve to his noble house its ancient j>ossessions. Fitzwalter replied with duty and filial tenderness ; his affections, he said, were buried in the grave of Blanch, and though he would sacrifice his life to extricate his father from pecuniary difficulties, yet he could not resolve to pass his life with a woman totally in* different to him, nor^et to deceive her with promises of affection, which he never more could feel. Firm in this resolution, the baroness died without the satisfaction she required. Fitzwalter's utmost wish was to keep^ his father from e'xperiencing a materiaJ changc^ OR, THE NUN S STORY. 57 J change of fortune during his life ; and if he survived him, he resolved to yield to the creditoi*s the full amount of their demands, bestow on his Margaret the remainder, and for himself, in the ser- vice of his country to seek a new for- tune, or to find a glorious death. ■ '{H^oi t> 5 CHAP. 5? ST. Margaret's cave: CHAP. V. In spite of Fitzwalter's resolution, Eisplan proved abortive. In less than three months after his mother's death, he saw "his' father surf ounded with diffi- culties, that nothing but wealth could remove. Long did he struggle with his repugnance, which at length gave way to his father's tears, and with a beating heart and faultering voice, he consented, that the baron should pro-- pose him as a husband to Edith, at the end of the ensuing six months. Little flattering as was this proposal, Edith accepted It. Fitzwalter, as m^y be readily surmised, was no warm wooer ;: he, however, treated her with respectful attention, and having passed two of the OR, THE NUN S STORY. 59 the six requested months at the castle^ declared that he had a strong inclina- tron to visit the ^eapital for the remain- ing period, before the close of which he would return and fulfil his engage- ment. This plan was, by no means, agree- able to either the baron or Edith, yet neither doubted his honour, and there- fore, with the better grace, yielded to his inclination. SE* •£• »■*» »t^ «^ •¥»•?* i.> •1^ n' Fitzwalter was not expected to re- turn, till near the time appointed for the marriage ; but, to the surprise of not only the baron, but Edith, he reached Northumberland a full month before the period agreed upon. What yet more astonished them, than even his appearance, was, the strange maa- D 6 ner €0 ST. MARGTARET^S GAVS r ner in which he was accompaniedi. At his departure he was attended by only his servant David, who now, oa bis return, rode in the same line as his master, and assisted i» securing a third person, who, tied upon a horse, rode between them. The prisoner was a young man of a handsome and com- manding appearance, but the wildness. of his eyes, and the distraction of his features,, plainly shewed his mind was; al variance with itself, and that he la- boured under that most dreadful of all human maladies, madness. On reaching the castle of the baron, Fitzwalter intreated his father's per* mission to confine the stranger in one of the remote apartments, saying he was his dear friend, and constant com-* panion, some years before, when he studied OR, THE nun's STQRY; St Studied the languages under a bene* dictine at York ; that he was a valiant and noble gentleman, but unfortunately had no relative living, who would, in this distressful state, take the charge upon them. It has been before obr served, that the baron wanted neither hospitality nor generosity, he therefore immediately acquiesced, qalling some of his dependents to take upon them the charge of the stranger. This kind- ness Fitz waiter declined, saying, his own ^servant, David, was accustomed to his friend Austin, and he alone was most proper to attend him, as questions or company increased his distraction. Fitzwalter then taking the stranger by the arm, led him to the apartment al- lotted ; nor did he leave him, till he saw a blazing fire kindled, and proper food 7 62 ST. Margaret's cave : food set before him : when, giving him to the care of David, he rejoined his father and Edith. To the questions of the baron to FitzWalter, respecting his journey, he replied, that long as his absence had been, he' had passed no time in London ; for having,' by chance, heard of his friend's distressful state, he had devoted :^il his cares to his recovery, aird for the 'wht)le of the last month had beencoii- iined in Norfolk, where the paroxysms of insanity had been far more violent than at the present time. As the period appointed for the nuptials approached, the bafon was at the height of his wishes v Edith also exulted in her own heart. Fitzwalter,. ^lone, wa's still sorrowfitl'; and hi^ -cares, far from being devoted to his biide, were OR, THE NtJN*S STORY. 63 wer^ -bestowed ori the crazy stranger, xvho, after a month's constant attention, became more manageable, though he held converse with no one but Fitz- waiter and David. The contract of marriage was then drawn, Fitzwalter declining all power on Mountford's- fortune, as left in case of his maiTiage with Edith, settling it wholly on herself and her heirs, claim- ing only the release of his father's lands. In requital for this resignation, he required the privilege of educating in his own house, and under his imme- diate inspection, his daughter Mar- garet, and that no one should, either at the present, or at any future period, have a right to discharge from her ser- vice ^ the faithful AMte, either during his life, or in case of his death. These 64 ST. Margaret's cave: lliese arrangements being agreed upon and ratified, the marriage took place. Margaret, at this period, v/as two years old, and if ever Fitzwalter knew a mitigation to the deep and gloomy melancholy that preyed upon him, it was when caressing his infant daugh- ter. According to agreement, she was brought to the castle, an apartment assigned to her and Alice ; and though Fitzwalter's bride did not take upon her those maternal cares which could not have failed to render her estimable in the eyes of her husband, yet, at casual meetings, she behaved in a man- ner that could not give occasion of complaint. In the mean time Fitz- walter did not neglect the disordered stranger j many hours did he daily pass in i^R, THE nun's story. 65 ill his apartment, and spared no pains, tenderness, nor expense, to restore him to sanity. His cares were at length crowned with success. Austin grew more cahn, and his fits of frenzy gave way to a settled melancholy, strongly tinctured with that religious zeal, which the mind is prone to give into, when it has been suddenly torn from all earthly objects, and thinks only of a future state. The cares of Fitwalter did not, however, relax : he gave him more liberty, and frequently walked or rod^ with him ; but all his attempts were vain to persuade hJm to mix or hold converse with the family, little Mar- garet alone excepted, whom Alice, by order of FitzwaTter> would frequently bring into the apartment, as he ob* served 66 ST. -AIargaret's cave : served the caresses of the innocent babe visually forced Austin to shed tears, and by that means eased his overcharged "heart. David, -who constantly slept in the room with Austin, one morning, to his great and dreadful alarm, found he had risen in the night, and escaped by the window. He instantly hastened to Fitzwalter's apartment, and awaken* ing him, he arose, and sending his domestics different ways, joined also himself in the pursuit of the runaway. The- search was, however, fruitless ; all retuAied, "without the smallest' tfa'te that could direct them which way to seek him. In this dilemma,' David re- collected that he had seen his charge ftusily writing the day before, and searchmg*his desk, soon found a letter ** ' ' directed OR, THE nun's story. 67 directed to Fitzwalter. He immedi- ately hastened with it to his master, who impatiently tearing it open, found as follows: " The wretched lost maniac, Austin, hath not forgotten the promise that the friendship of Fitzwalter extorted from him • he will neither leave the king- dom, nor attempt ought against his own worthless life ; and therefore prays, t!Tkt titzWalter will make no search a?fer tiim, but leave him in peace to tkeiife he has resolved lipon. So may' Efeaven preserve his' most generous, but cruel friend, and pardon the most • h'eiilOii^ df all sinners, '" ' '' Prays the contrite "Austin." This letter bestowed a gleam of - \ "' comfort 6H ST-» Margaret's cave : comfort on Fitzwaltcr ; but he was soon destined to suffer in another point. The baron, who liad long been de- clining, died, when his death could not relieve his son from a vow which appeared rather to have increased than lessened his melancholy, and which he l]ad taken with no other viev^r, than to secure his aged parent from sorrow. Rank was what Edith particularly aspired to, she was therefore now at the height of her wishes ; and as she expected that, in the person of the lady Fitz waiter, every one would for- get the daughter of the usurious Mount- ford, so did she apparently forget it herself. cirAi-. OR, THK NUN*S STORY. 69 CHAP. VI. Ten months after the baron Fitz^ waiter's marriage, his lady was deli- vered of a daughter ; but the child was 6o sickly> that small hopes wer* enter- tained of its life, until the baron, who had a high opinion of Alice's skill, desired she might be consulted in its management. Nothing, but the dan- ger of the inf^mt could have obliged the baroness to consent to this request j but her fears for its life made her pre- judices -give way, and Alice, w^ho pos- sessed too good a disposition, and too much rectitude to be displeased w^ith the babe for the contemptuous conduct of its mother, immediately undertook 70 ST. Margaret's cave.: the task, requiring only that the child and its nurse might, have an apartment adjoining that of Margaret, as in that case she should be always at hand, to 'pay- it the attention necessary for its well doing. Margaret, now three years old, was the ddight of her father ; she played by his side, and in many of his walk:S w^ashis constant companion. In these, young as she was, he would talk tp her of her mother,' teach her to repeat her name, and in his gayer moments, (if. any could be called such) he : would ling to her, little, madrigals that- her' -mfther w^as accustomed to sing, and ■whose, voice used to add melody to the- simplicity of the words. The affection of Alice for the little Margaret was, to express ^it as it truly deserved, OR, THE lN;tJN's. STORY. 71, deserved, nqt. inferior to that of the lord Fitzwalter. She had, in her youth, been left a childless widov^, and by necessity forced to seek a maintenance, had been appointed to the care of Blanch, whose youth and innocence, by degrees, weaning her from her sor- Tows^ had imperceptibly supplied the vacuum left in her heart. That affec- tion was now transferred to Margaret^ who she not only regarded as a sacred .trust left her by her beloved Blanch, but also as an infant, at whose baptism she had . taken a sacrament, to sustaiu and instruct, in the best manner she was able. Alice was naturally so mild, un- assuming, and pious, that all good peo- ple approved her,, and even evil one^ could not find room to accuse her. She had received what, at that period, was '72 St. maRgaret*s cave: was accounted a good education, and as soon as Margaret could speak, began teaching her to read and to pray, tak- ing her daily to the chapel of the castle, where, at the foot of the altar, she taught her an ave Maria for the repose of her mother's soul. Sometimes she would stray as far as the mountains that dickered the coast, and peeping into the dreary cave of St. Margaret, for she ^id not dare explore it, they would pro- ceed tp the old chapel, A\here Alice would enter boldly 5 for in so sacred a dwelling, she had no idea that evil could reach her. Here would she again teach the young iMargaret to kneel be- fore the broken altar, and lift her to see the ancient monuments, that the ravages of time and sacrilege had spared. Two,^artlcu.krIy, in the middle of .the choir. OR, THE InUN*3 STORY. 73 choir, were most perfect ; the one of a warrior, by the surrounding ornaments, the sqcond of a lady placed close by his side, and at her ieet a dog, holding in his mouth a human hand. One evening that Alice, with her young charge, extended her walk to the chapel, on passing through the .gloomy cloisters that surrounded the building, the quick eyes of Margaret suddenly discovered some object among the pillars, that caused her to exclaim in her infantile accent, " Look, dame, who is there?" As. she spoke, she pointed her finger, and instantly direct- ed the sight of Alice to a corner, where she could plainly discover a human figure behind the columns that sup- ported the roof. A sentiment of fear, for the first time, in so holy a place, VOL. I, E seized 74 ST. Margaret's cave: seized on the mind of Alice, and snatching up the child, she with trem- bling steps hastened forward, with evi- dent marks of perturbation. This alarm was so apparent, that it did not escape the person who caused it ; for a voice, in gentle accents, immediately hailed them, saying, " Fear nothing, sister, those who trust in God have no cause for fear : the blessed Virgin protect and guide you — depart in peace.'* " The blessing return upon you, whosoever you be," answered Alice, emboldened by this gentle salutation. " If you come into this sacred place to pray, as I deem you do. Heaven grant your request. — Good even " The concealed person only replied by a hea^'y sigh, and Alice proceeded on her way. 6 When OR, THE NUN.'S S.TORY. 75 When the baron called in Margaret's apartment, as was his usual custom be- fore he went to supper, Alice in- formed him of the surprise they had met with. He listened with attention. " My good dame," said he, when she concluded, " your adventure has given rise to a supposition, that I shall not be at ease till I can satisfy, though to- night it is impossible." AVithout entering into further expla- nation, he kissed the sleeping Marga- ret, and also the young Isabel; for though Fitzwalter was, undoubtedly, not attached to the baroness, as he had formerly been to Blanch, yet he was too good a man, not to be a tender "and affectionate father to all his offspring. CHAP. 76 ST. Margaret's cave: CHAP. VII. FiTZWALTER rosc at the break of day, and hastened to the cliapel. He was wrapped in his long cloak, and under his arm he used the pre- caution to carry his broad-sword, not that he apprehended danger^ but that he wished to be provided against it. Thus accoutered, and unattended, he entered and explored it in every part ; but all was silent and deserted, as the inhabitants of the graves around him. Wearied with a fruitless search, he left the chapel, and pursued his way to St. Margaret's Cave, which he examin- ed as accurately as he had before done the chapel, and not entirely with as little OR, THE nun's story, 77 little success ; for in one corner of the cave he found some shell fish, which had been freshly taken from the shore ; in another, a bed constructed of rushes, the head of which was only raised from the rest by a stone ; in a third apper- ture were some wood embers, yet warm 5 and in a fourth, a wooden cru- cifix, rudely carved, a skull, an hour- glass, and two devotional books. These difFerent objects strengthened the suspicion lord Fitzwalter had form- ed, and resolved to be satisfied, he seat- ed himself upon a projection of the rock, where he remained in painful ex- pectation, wearied with watching, yet fully resolved to persevere. A rustling among the bushes at length gave him hopes, that the object he expected ap- proached. He was not deceived ; the E 3 resident 78 ST. Margaret's cave: resident of the cave entered, and some- what disappointed Fitzwalter, by pre- senting to his sight a Franciscan friar, cloathed in all the severity of his order. The figure of Fitzw^alter, who sat more advanced in the cave, was not so dis- cernable to the friar, though he could clearly discover an intruder. '' Who- soever ye be/' said he, still advancing, " that thus unexpectedly I meet in this dwelling, ye come not, I truly deem, for riches^ if to seek an asylum for poverty, ye are welcome to such food as this cave affords, and when refresh- ed, depart in peace ; — or if ye seek a recess w^here the repentant soul may weep and pray for the foul crimes of youth, haste to take upon ye the habit I have chosen, then will I give ye tear for tear, sigh for sigh, and prayer for prayer." O-R, THE nun's story. 79 prayer." — " None of these causes brought me hither," exclaimed Fitz- walter, throwing himself forward, and snatching hold of the friar's garment, " I came to meet a dear and beloved friend, and praise be to heaven I have found him — " " Fitz waiter," said the friar, " dear- est, best of men, why wall your un- w^earied khidness seek a monster, whose life, but for you, had been justly for- feited to the violated laws of God, na- ture, and his country. — Leave me, — leave me I conjure you ; it befits not the habit I have chosen, nor the life of mortification I have adopted, to hold converse with one who, in spite of all my crimes, I still see with pleasure.'* *' Austin," answered Fitzw^alter, hold- ing his garment, " accompany me, I E 4 conjure 80 ST. MARGAREr*S CAVE: conjure you, to the castle; I grieve to use violence, but I will not leave you. 'Fime, I trust, will heal those paroxysms of anguish, that at intervals disturb your reason.— Need 1 say my house, — my fortune,-— my life, are at your com- mand r" The friar fell en Fitzwalter's neck, and wept aloud. — '^ Oh, my friend, at length," said he, " madness no longer bewilders my bursting brain, but an- guish, remorse, and repentance, swell my heart even to agony. No, I will convince you my reason is perfect, and then you will not prevent my adopting . the only life that can, in any manner, make expiation for my crimes. The solemn oath you required of me, before you gave me any liberty, I remember, and am resolved to keep. — My soul is already OH, THE nun's story. ' 81 already too much charged with guilt, to add suicide to the number of my crimes. — No, this pampered lascivious body shall suffer, and if it be possible, even in this world expiate some of its numberless transgressions. — Walk- ing with you I first saw this cave, and the adjoining chapel, and my resolution Avas immediately fixed. — Methought an internal monitor whispered to my lacerated conscience, here, Austin, is a dwelling befitting deeds like thine ! Here the sinful soul may cleanse itself, by fasting, suffering, penitence, and^ prayer, from the foul crimes that must^ otherwise plunge it in everlasting per«^ dition/' '' I perfectly recollect,'* answered Fitzwalter, '' that we held some con- versation on religious retirement, as we E 5 sat 82 • ST. Margaret's cave: sat one afternoorij during the heat, in the cave ; ^ ut I was far from suspect- ing you could conceive such a plan, and never thought more of it, until Alice informing me she met with some person in the cloisters, which by the country people are, I know, shunned. The supposition at once struck me, and I resolved to be satisfied." " The inspiration, Fitzwalter, was not to ' e resisted," said he, " nor did I attempt it ; I resolved to escape from your kind care, and having effected my purpose, hastened to the monastery of Franciscans at Berwick. To the good fathers I related all my sins, and all my suiTering-, finally informing them of the resolution I had form ;d, and re- questing to be admitted into their or- der. The friars listened to me with pity OR, THE nun's story. 83 pity and kindness, and urged me to persevere in my intention ; but before they would admit me into my novici- ate, requested me to consult a learned and holy man, called Stephen Baron *, provincial of his order in England, and at that time passing some short space with the grey friars at Scarborough. To this holy father I then hastened, who, after having consulted with his brethren, and questioned me on various religious subjects, which, shame to say, I was ignorant of, allowed me to enter on my noviciate, with this especial li- cence, that as the inspiration first took * Stephen Baron was appointed confessor to Henry the Eighth. He was the author of seve- ral Sermons, and likewise a Treatise on the Go- vernment ot Princes. He died, much in years, in 1 5 20. E 6 place 84 ST. Margaret's cave: place in St. Margaret's Cave, I should be permitted to make it my dwelling, contrary to the custom of Franciscans, who, I need not tell you, usually lead a more wandering life, spreading the light of truth in divers places. These points arranged, they gave me the habiliments I wear, permitting me,- if I found occasion, to use sandals of my own making. They then urged me to persevere, blessed, and dismissed me. Notvi^ithstanding Austin's manner was collected, and his memory retain- ed, even to a minute degree, what had passed, yet Fitzwalter could plainly perceive, that his mind had not yet gained its customary strength. His eyes still sparkled with more than even their usual vivacity, and though his vi- sage OR, THE NUN^S STORY. 85 sage was palid, and his form wasted, yet no weakness appeared to attend the change, but rather that force and animation, that frequently accompanies insanity. Fitzwalter, in vain, had re- course to intreaties and remonstrance 5 both were unavailing : Austin was not to be moved from his purpose, and to force a man, admitted as a novice by the brotherhood of Franciscans, was an exertion of power, that even the rank of the baron Fitzwalter could not answer. The fathers, he readily conjectured, would not easily allow themselves so grossly mistaken, as to have admitted a man disordered in his mind into their order, and should he force him to the castle, he should draw upon himself the vengeance of the whole body: relinguisliing, therefore, his 86 ST. Margaret's cave: his first resolve, he conjured Austin not to give into all the severities of the or- der he had chosen, requested a promise from him, that he would see him daily, and take no step for a removal, without giving him previous information. Aus- tin refused to agree with the first re- quest, but readily promised the two latter; and the day being advanced, they soon after separated.. CHAP, OR, THE nun's story. 87 CHAP. VIII. Though Fitzwalter had the utmost reverence for religion and its ministers^ yet he could not forbear^ as he return- ed homC;, forming some severe reflec- tions on the friars, whose zeal for pro- selytes had carried them so far, as to make them overlook the disordered mind of x\ustin. In these reflections he, however, judged erroneously ; for though the malady under which Austin laboured was evident to the scrutinizing eye of friendship, yet there was nothing in his conduct that could be particularly no- ticed by any person less interested, ex- cept that it might have caused wonder, to 88 ST. Margaret's cave: to see a man in the prime of life, gift- ed with all the graces of person, and dignified by a strong and enlightened mind, thus willingly embrace the most severe and mortifying of all the holy orders. On Fitzwalter^s reaching the castle, he had a long conversation with Alice, "who, though she held the baron's opi- nion in the utmost reverence, was not afraid, in this case, to dissent from him.. She highly applauded Austin's resolu- tion, and concluded by saying, " that when the mind was so deeply wound- ed as his must necessarily be, she could see no source of consolation so likely to be efficacious, as religion and retire- ment." ** True, Alice," answered Fitzw^al- terj "and equally so without hair- cloth OR, THE nun's story. SO- cloth or a cowl. — Heaven knows/' continued he, walking hastily up and down the apartment, *' my bosom, though covered with sumptuous appa- rel, suffers frequently, even to agony; and my face, though at the festive board it wears the semblance of plea- sure, yet it often conceals an aching heart.'^ '^ True, my gracious lord," answered Alice, " but sins and sorrows require different expiations, and must be judg- ed, according to the sources from whence they arise. Early in life, you, my noble master, lost the beloved of your heart, the fairest and best of wo- men." As Alice spoke, the ready tears flowed from her eyes, and drop- ped upon Margaret's hand. " But YOU lost her by no unworthy means, but 90 6T. Margaret's cave: but by the will of tliat Power^ wh(5 gave, and had a right, at his own plea- sure, to call her back to himself. After her death, though sinking under the weight of your affiiccions, you forgot neither the duty of a son, nor the affec- tion of a parent. Such sorrows as yours, my lord, therefore, can need no expiation; but for the errors of your noble friend, you m^ust pardon me, if I think the severest penance necessary to expiate them/' " In the situation he has chosen, there is no way to aiTord him even common comfort," said Fitz waiter. *' I do not mean luxuries, Alice; but for a man, habituated to the softest in- dulgence, to stretch his limbs on the damp earth, or, at best, on sorry rushes, is a sad exchange; and from being ac- customed OR, THE KUk's story-. 91 customed to the dainties of a well-co- vered table, to feed on the mountain- berries, a few shell-fish, or what the casual bounty of strangers may bestow, is a life, which I am convinced Austin can never lon.a^ sustain." " My lord," said Alice, " the saints that inspired the thought can enable him fo support it. Conscious of mak- ing, even in this world, every expiation in his pov/er, peace and rectitude vvill act as powerful opiates, even on a bed of rushes; and for a table, why should we pamper our bodies for the w^orms that will devour us ? So nature is satis- fied, what have we more to crave ? — No, my good master, the noble Austin has chosen a better part, and means to enrich that which never perishes; so that when the Great giver of all good shall 92 ST. Margaret's cave: shall call him to his dread account, he may render his soul, purified, even in this mortal lire, by penitence, fasting, and prayer." " Alice/' replied Fitzwalter, "Thou reasonest like a christian ; I speak as a friend. Thy pious councils taught my sainted Blanch that patience, fortitude, and sweetness, that raised her, even on earth, above mortality ; teach my darling Margaret, my good dame, the same lesson, and thou wilt bestow on her a better portion, than any Fitzwal- ter has in his power to give." ^^ The qualities you speak of," an- swered Alice, " are the immediate gift of Providence, and the utmost my weak efforts can effect is, to cherish, and en- deavour to bring to perfection, those inestimable blessings." Tlie OR, THE nun's story. 93 The nurse of the young Isabel at that moment entering with her charge, the conversation ceased, and Fitzwalter left the apartment. CHAP. 94 ST. Margaret's cave: CHAP. IX. From the time of Fitzwalter's dis- covering Austin in St. Margaret's Cave, he never failed to visit it daily, and in spite of remonstrance, to pass some hours there ; an exertion of friendship that the novice sincerely felt, though he constantly refused all indulgence of what kind soever. In a sheltered spot between the mountains, he had planted some vegetables and roots, which, with the shell-fish he picked up on the shore, constituted his whole food. His drink was procured from a spring that issued trom the side of the hills, and which served not only to querch OR, THE nun's story. 95 quench his thirst, but to fertilize his little plantation. His dress was that usually worn by the Franciscans *, with sandals of his own making on his feet, and his head uncovered, and exposed to all the inclemencies of the weather. Accustomed, from his infancy, to an active life, idleness, by no means, suited the temper of Austin ; and as devotion now mingled in all his pursuits, he formed the project of cleaning, and as far as in his power lay, repairing, the part of the old chapel nearest the altar. For this purpose, v/ith indefatigable perseverance, he fetched shells from the sea-shore, which, burning, he formed into lime, and by that means, and with iniinite * A tunic, breeches, cloak, and girdle, com- posed of hair-cloth ; after they are ] rofcssed, a hood or cowl is added. "96 ST. Margaret's cave: infinite labour, replaced many of th than to the good father. ^ :^ t}: :^i ^ The infant Isabel, by the care and skill of Alice, had now entirely over- Come the weakness of her first months. She walked, chatted, and in the youth- ful graces of her person, was scarcely excelled by Margaret. It ^yas Alice's first wish to unite the sisters by the bands of affection, and that wish, as far as can be judged from their early pro- ©R, THfi nun's story. lOS propensities, was gratified, much to the satisfaction of the baron, though by no means to that of the baroness, who fre- quently declared to her favourite de- pendents that the baron's conduct was -shameful, in placing his legitimate child as companion to his base-born daugh- ter. She had, likewise, more than once, attempted to remove Isabel from the care of Alice ; but this Fitz waiter con- stantly objected to, with unshaken firm- ness, saying, that unless the baroness could allege some just cause of com- plaint, he could never countenance such gross injustice, or give his child a lesson of such early ingratitude, as to take her from the person to whose care she, in all probability, owed her life. The fondness of the children for each ©ther, was also a cause of discontent to F 4 the 104 ST. Margaret's cave: the lady Fiiigwalter, and while their little arms clasped each other's neck, and their lips met in affectionate kisses, her heart would overflow with bitter- ness, and she would turn aside to avoid the sight ; while, on the contrary, Fitz- waiter encircling both in his arms would bless them, and with raised eyes pray that Heaven might cement their affection with their years ; a supplica- tion to which the pious Alice never failed to say amen. • CHAP. OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 105 CHAP. X. Margaret had nearly attained her ninth year, and Isabel completed her sixth, when the baron's health, which had long been declining, became appa- rently worse, though not sufficiently so to alarm his family. He had, at this period, long and. frequent conferences with the friar, who even sometimes left his cell, and was shut up with him for hours alone in. his apartment. One evening Fitzwaiter, pleading business, excused himself from supping In the hall with some guests the baroness had invited, .and retired to his closet, where he passed the hours, till near ten, m^ writing, when summoning David, he F 5 said^ 106 ST. Margaret's cave: said, as he lighted him to his chamber, " Fail not, at early dawn, to hasten to friar Austin, and entreat him to come to me as speedily as convenient. I am sick at heart, David, and a secret mo- nitor seems to whisper, that ere long, my wearied spirit shall rest in peace." . *' My dear master," answered. David, ** Heaven, of its mercy, grant, that even in this life, you may regain that peace you stand so much in need of, and so well deserve. — Thirty-one years, my lord, have only passed over your head, and more than sixty over that of your poor servant ; and much do I pray, that you may survive me as many years, as I passed before you came into the world." " The will of God be done," an- swered Fitzwalter : — " My Blanch, David, OR, THE nun's story. 107 David, was scarcely nineteen ! Sweet flower," added he after a pause, " I have mourned thee for nine long years, but the time will come, as thou truly said*st, when we shall meet again." As Fitzwalter spoke, he raised his eyes> and saw the old man's cheeks were bathed in tears. " My faithful servant,** said Fitzwalter, shaking him by the hand, '^ or rather my long tried friend, to-morrow I must again call thee back to scenes long past ; my mind will then be more at ease, and my health, per- haps, benefit by the change.'* " The tloly Virgin grant it !'* an- swered David. — " Before the lark has left her nest, my lord, will I hasten to your noble friend, or if yo^i have the most distant wish to see him this night, I will away to ^t. Margaret's 5 the moon E 6 shines 108 ST. Margaret's cave: shines bright, I shall be back speedriy.*' ' — " No, my good David, the business,^ though I earnestly v^ish it concluded, is not, I trust, so immediately pressing. Sleep has lately been almost a stranger to me : to-night I feel uncommonly heavy, and will retire to rest. — The ba- roness, I judge, is in the hall w^ith the guests : disturb her not, I entreat yoa; but when the company retire, tell her I felt too much disordered to join them.'' As Fitzwalter spoke, David assisted him to undress, and scarcely was his head placed upon the pillow, before the heaviness he complained of over- powered him. David, from the words of his lord, his declining health, and uncommon sleepiness, felt alarmed, and though he did not dare disobey him, by disturbing. OR, THE nun's story* 109 disturbing the baroness, resolved to watch in his apartment. Fitzwaiter's sleep, though heavy, v^^as restless. He breathed at times hard, and at inter- vals distinctly articulated the names of Blanch, De Hoffman, Margaret, and Austin. David drew near the bed,, and caur tiously advanced the lamp; but his lord's features being composed, he be^ came more satisfied, and gently re* placing the light, resumed his seat.. The castle bell, at that moment, aflr nounced the hour of midnight, and the distant noise of the company sepa- rating, appeared to disturb the sleep of Fitzwalter, who started and groaned aloud. David again hastened, to his side; but far from the ease he before experienced, he was struck with horror and 110 ST. MARGARET^S CAVE : and dismay, to find his noble master struggling in a paroxysm of one of those dreadful fits, in which life and death are so equally poised, that the weight of a hair would turn the balance. At this sight, not only the chamber, but the surrounding apartments, resounded with his cries, which soon reached the domestics, who hastened, in a body, to learn the cause., General alarm for the event took place, but certainty too soon succeeded ; for after a few struggles, the whole of which did ftot last half an hour, Fitzwalter yielded up his soul to its great Creator. The baroness, who had been apprised of the danger, and who was present at feis death, gave way to the most violent soiTow, and at length, supported by her women, was conducted to her chamber. OR, THE nun's story. Ill chamber. Alice, though she slept in a distant apartment, was alarmed by the general confusion, and hastened to be informed of the cause, which she heard with the most piercing grief , and find- ing all human cares unavailing, for the baron had little remains of life when she entered, she with unaffected piety knelt by his side, and bathing his hand^ which she held in hers, with the tears of pure and disinterested affection, of- fered up her prayers for his eternal* repose. The aweful struggle ended, and the baroness withdrawn, Alice still re-- mained kneeling, as by her example did also the servants, till the break of day, when she said, " David, I pray you lose no time, but send to father Austin, I dread the effect this me- lancholy 112 ST. Margaret's cave: lancholy event v\^ill have upon him, but it is necessary he be informed of it without delay/' David, thus recalled to recollection, in a voice often interrupted by his emotion, related the orders of his mas- ter the foregoing night, and then, by the advice of Alice, departed upon the melancholy errand, hoping, to be able tO' divulge the tidings, more gently than those who felt them less severely. On David's reaching the cave, he found the friar already risen, and judging he should find him at prayers in the cha- pel, he repaired thither. Austin w^as kneeling before the altar ; but the un- expected appearance of David, and the sorrow depicted on his features, made him arise hastily, and advancing to- wards the old man, he said in a voice of OR, THE nun's story. 1 IS ©f alarm, *' My honest friend, what brings you at this early hour ?" — How doth Fitzwalter ? — Your looks alarm me.'^ David's only reply was tears. " Merciful Heaven ! Speak — let me know the worst. I deserve punishment, and pray constantly for fortitude to sup- port it ; say, then, what sorrow shakes thus your aged frame, and in which I already feel I am to participate ?" — - David struggled to speak, but his voice was stifled by the violence of his emo- tion, and he could only, in broken ac- cents, give the friar to understand the extent of his loss. Austin, for a mo- ment, appeared thunderstmck ; then throv^^ing himself on the flinty pave- ment, he exclaimed, " Wretched sin- ner that I am, I have now lost the only friend 114 ST. Margaret's cave: friend my crimes had left me.— Oh my generous, my noble Fitzwalte'r ! would J had died for thee, my more than brother 1*' " ^[y good master,'* answered Da- vid, endeavouring to restrain bis own ,g.riefi fearful of increasing that of the friar, *' If I mistake not, there are duties relative to my lord, that you alone can fulfil ; nearly his last com- mands were, for me to seek you at early day, and crave your presence.'* David's words appeared to arrest the friar's attention, and after a long pause he answered, " True, my good old man, thou and I have both claims upon us, that should overcome our selfish -feelings for this severe loss :" — " But," added he, with a degree of wildness David had not remarked in him since his OR, THE nun's story. 115 his residence in the cave, " when did the murderous tyger protect the lamb ? or when did the fell kite preserve the dove ? — No, no, thou knowest I am proof against the smiles of innocence, and that my dagger is ever ready to destroy it." " My gracious master/' answeretj, David, " moderate, I conjure you, this emotion, and endeavour to resume your accustomed calmness. . Heaven sooth your sorrow ! I am convinced that you would not wilfully crush even the worm that crosses your path ^ and for daggers, you have none : the only wea- pon you use, are prayers and gentle persuasion.*' Austin pressed his hand to his fore- head, and remained silent for several minutes^ then turning, with more calmness. 116 ST. MARGARETS CAVE: calmness, he said, " I thank you, my kind friend, I will endeavour to over- come a distraction that disgraces the holy habit I have chosen. Hasten back to the castle ; in a short time 1 will follow." *' From my lord*s earnestness last night," returned David, " I am assured much depends on you. The Holy Virgin forgive me, but I like not the baroness ; for often have I remarked her malignant looks when my lord caressed his little Margaret." *^ Your conjectures are, I fear, not ill founded," replied Austin, after a pause. ^' Fitzwalter*s will, I doubt, is not finished, though I know it is nearly so -, I will therefore banish this unavailing grief, and without delay, take what steps are in my power for the OR, THE nun's story. 117 the interest of the orphan." So say- ing, the friar, accompanied by David, took the road to the castle. Plunged in the deepest melancholy, neither spoke by the way, David relieving the fullness of his heart by tears, and the father breathing forth sighs, that ap- parently shook his frame even to agony. CHAP. 1 18 ST. MARGARET S CAVE : CHAP. XI. On reaching the castle, Austin and David vv^ent immediately to the cham- ber of Fitz waiter, where they found only Alice, and two female servants, sitting mournfully by the body. On the friar's entrance, the attendants withdrew, judging the father came to offer up those prayers, which religion demands in cases of sudden and unex- pected death. No salutation passed between the friar and Alice ^ for the former, with anguish, falling on the body of his friend, clasped him in his arms, exclaiming, ** Oh, Fitzwalter ! I trust I commit no sin, in thus bathing thy virtuous clay with the tears of one S(i CR, THE nun's story. 119 SO polluted with crimes as myself. Oh, thou, who perforce obliged me to suffer life, would to heaven I could impart to thee the like gift ! Thou, so beloved and estimable, and whose life is S0 npLuch more requisite than that of the wretched Austin." " The noble Fitzwalter," said Alice firmly, " favoured by God, has soon hastened to reap the reward of his vir- tues; pardon me, therefore, good fa- ther, but surely we should not mourn him as one w^ithout hope.- — In this dis- tress, from you we look for advice, consolation, and future guidance — ^Dis- appoint ns not ; by your example teach us that resignation, that true devotion can alone inspire, and over the inno- cent and defenceless Margaret stretch 120 ST. MARGARETS CAVE! your protecting arm, and supply the place of her parent.*' ^^ Virtuous Alice," answered Austin, " I stand reproved. Here, before you and the worthy David, I swear by all my hopes of pardon, that every duty in the power of man, and consistent with the life I have adopted, I will exert for our beloved orphan. May the spirit of my Fitzwalter be per- mitted to witness this oath, and may Heaven ratify it !'* " And I," said David, kneeling, *^ with equal solemnity, swear, by all my hopes of happiness, to be equally faithful to her interest, as I have here- tofore been to that of my honoured master^ and call Heaven equally to witness this oath." " The like vow rest upon me," said Alice. OR, THE nun's story, 121 Alice. ** With the tenderness of a mother, and the solicitude of a friend, will I watch over her youth; but, alas ! what should occasion call, can my weakness effect agaiost the strong hand of power, which, like a torrent, sweeps away all before it?" ** Dame Alice," answered the father, ** the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong. Power belongs to God alone, and as he wills so all shall be: his rain watereth the young plants, and his sun bringeth them to perfection; so also shall his might bring to maturity our unshelter- ed flower. The storms of adverse for- tune, that beat over the head of youth, destroys not tlie buds of virtue, but rather strengthens, and accustoms them to bear with fortitude, the turmoils VOL, I. G they 122 ST. Margaret's cave: they meet as they advance in Hfe. The pampered lord, v^ho never heard the voice of reproof, or felt the keen blast of the w^intry vs^ind, is usually a slave to himself, and a tyrant to his vassals ; v^hile, on the contrary, he that, by adversity, has been taught that he is no more than his fellows, treats his dependents with gentleness, and be- comes a blessing to all. — So may it be with our Margaret, good Alice 3 and Heaven make us the humble guides, to lead her in the path her noble fa- ther would have approved, and what the Father of us all will sanction." ** Amen," answered Alices '^ me- thinks my heart beats lighter. — I will away to my dear child, whom I left in my first alarm sleeping with the young Isabel, and in the care of her nurse. — Fare- OR, THE- nun's story. 123 Farewell, good father, I conjure you sustain your spirits ; remember, to you we look, as to our friend, our teacher, and protector," With these words, Alice left the apartment,, and a short silence ensued, when David^s eyes filling anew with tears, he said — '' Alas ! I must needs hasten to perform the last duties re- quired of me to this honoured body."— • " My gracious master," continued he, affectionately kissing the baron's lifeless hand, '' thy noble heart, I well know, would have heaved a sigh for thy faithful David, Ah ! much I wish that thou had'st sighed for me, rather than I have wept for thee; for it is unbeseemly for youth to press thus be- fore age to the grave." Austin turned away his head, and G 2 ven- 124 ST. MARGARETS CAVE: ventured no further speech than a ge- neral benediction, with which he left the apartment- * »^ 9Sm 4^ *£* ^* ^r "c* ^S^ The friar passed through the gal- lery, and descended into the hall, where _he found some domestics, one of whom he prayed to give a message to the baroness* women, requesting them to deliver it to her, and which was to this purport. — '^ Friar Austin, in all humility, salutes the lady Fitz- walter, and prays, as speedily as may be convenient to her, to be admitted into her presence, to converse with her on some business, relative to the melancholy event which has taken place/* The father waited near an hour be- fore OR, THE nun's story. 125 fore . he received the baroness' an- swer, and which was simply declining his visit that day, but appointing him to attend her at twelve the ensuing morning. Alice, in the mean time, had hastened to Margaret, whom she found playing with Isabel, unconsci- ous of the misfortune that had befallen them. The sisters ran to meet her, and clinging round her, asked where she had been, and why she had left them so long. Alice pressed both in her maternal arms; but unequal to holding any conversation, took a seat in silence. Margaret viewed the good woman for some time with attention. *'Dame," at length said she, " your eves are red 3 if you are ill, Isabel and I will nurse you.*' "Yes/' added the prattling Isabel, G 3 ''I will 126 St. MARG ARETES CAVE : '' I will not make a noise at^ all^ ii good dame is sick." Alice took one on each knee, and in the most gentle accents, lilted to their jouthfiil capacity, informed them, that It had pleased God to remove their fa- ther from the troubles of the world to endless felicity. The children listened with attention; but Isabel was too young to feel the loss so acutely as did Margaret, who wept so bitterly, that neither the soothing of Alice nor the caresses of her sister, had for many hours the least effect. •p tjfi ijfi ^ JjC Father Austin, as appointed on the ensuing morning, waited on the ba- roness, to whom he was immediately admitted. The foregoing day, and the wholes OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 127 whole of the night, he had passed in prayer, and by that means had regain- ed a composure, that befitted his holy habit. On his entering the lady Fitz- walter*s chamber, she dismissed her woman, and having received the con- dolence of the father, required to know the business he alluded to the day before. " The business, lady," answered Aus- tin, " was to inform you, that there are some requests in my lord your hus- band's will, that it may be necessary to apprise you of before his funeral." " If the baron had a will, I am un-- acquainted with it," answered she ; " are you possessed of a copy, fa- ther?" " No, it was not intirely compleat- ed the day previous to his death -, but G 4 enough 128 ST. Margaret's cave: enough to satisfy all honest minds. You will find it in the cabinet in the baron's closet, with his other papers.'* *' I have the keys, father ; they were brought me yesterday, take them and bring it hither." Austin, calling some of the princi- pal attendants, entered the late baron's . closet, and unlocked the cabinet, which contained a number of different writ- ings j but the will was not to be found among them. Austin, fearfully alarm- ed, sought every place, but in vain, and was necessitated to return to the lady without it. " By my life," said he, ** there is villainy in this business. I not only saw, but read it, two days since ; a small addition was alone wanting to com- pkat it." «^Iam OR, THE nun's story. 129 ** I am entirely ignorant on the sub- ject/' said the baroness. " My lord was many hours alone the night pre- vious to his death ; the will might not entirely meet his approbation, and he might destroy it." " Impossible !'* replied the friar, '' the confession of the lady Blanch was affixed to it with his own seal, think ye he would destroy that E" As Austin spoke, he fixed his eyeB upon her 5 and a blush, which she could not suppress, .almost convinced him she w^as guilty. " The confession of Blanch Stanley," replied she, " could only publish shame, better for the honour of both forgotten/' ** Perhaps not, lady." ^ It could not be otherwise. The c 5 baron 130 ST. Margaret's cays: baron too well knew my father's will to marry her ; as, in that case, the mortgage would remain in full force." " Grant it was so," replied the friar, " enough would still remain for the eldest daughter of Fitzwalter.'* *^ Eldest daughter of Fitz waiter !" repeated the baroness, passionately. *^ I acknowledge no lawful daughter to Fitzwalter but Isabel: had there been any other, think you not the baron would have appointed her proper guardians ? As it is, I regard Margaret as my especial charge, and shall un- doubtedly do all for her, that my re- spect for the memory of the baron de- mands." The friar paused — He clearly con- ceived that, by the loss of Fitzwaiter's ^ will. OR, THE nun's story. 131 will, the first right to Margaret re- mained with the baroness, and fear- ful of exasperating a serpent that might sting her to death, he replied mildly : " God alone, lady, is a judge of the human heart, and in his own time de- velops or conceals its secret move- ments, as it tends to manifest his glory, or the good of his creatures : this event, therefore, for the present, must rest. *The Parent of orphans knows best what is proper for his children, and to him we will leave her/' The mildness of the friar calmed the v/armth of the baroness. " Father,'' said she, " every care that Margaret enjoyed during the life of the baron shall be continued ^ but when G 6 you 132 ST. Margaret's cave: you speak of placing her in the seat of his lawful daughter, you must excuse the anger it forces from me." The friar made no reply, but chang- ing the conversation, asked if she was informed, that the baron wished his remains to be taken to Germany, and deposited in the convent of St. Mary, near Bremen. The lady answered in the nega- tive ; but said, that as there was no will to enforce that request, she should, for the baron*s own honour, prevent it being put in effect, as it must be highly derogatory for him to be carried from the burial place of his ances- tors, to be laid by a woman, whom she much wondered the nuns had ad- mitted into their holy ground. s The OR, THE NUN*S STORY. ISS The friar felt a sentiment of anger that he could scarcely repress, but struggling to overcome it, he retired, with an appearance of calmness that he was far from feeling. CHAE 134 ST.- Margaret's ca-ve; CHAP. XII. Twelve days after the baron*s death, his body was deposited in the chapel of the castle^ as his lady had ex- pressed to the friar. She then took unlimited command over the whole do- main, and made several new arrange- ments respecting the vassals, which caused them to feel keenly the loss of their good lord. Alice she had never approved, but bound by her marriage- articles not to remove her from Mar- garet, she could only shew her dislike, by treating her and her young charge with disrespect. Tlie care of Isabel she g.ave to one of her own women, and assigned her apartments in a dis- tant OR, THE NUN S STOILT.- 135' tant'part of the castle,. strictly ordering', that no commanication bhould be, held between the children. This command was no sooner given than obeyed. The tenderness of Aiice for Label, and the affection.she had assi> duously cultivated between the sisters, young as they were, had tdken too deep a root to be easily removed* Marga^ ret's fondness for Alice, and the gentle soothings of the good dame,, in same measure compensated to her for the loss of her sister y but not so l^abeL Unaccustomed to look up to her mo- ther with the tenderness she feit for Alice, and. disliking the person in whose care she was placed^ she either sat sul- lenly c>iientj or giving vent to her little passions, screamed and called aioua on Alice and Margaret, vvitU a perseve- rance 136 ST. MARGARET S CAVE ! ranee that few children are capable of, but which lady Fitzwalter declared to be the unbending and obstinate spirit she inherited from her father. Austin, who seldom visited at the castle during the baron's life, now rarely omitted a single day, unless Alice, with Margaret, or David, called at his cell. The baroness* dislike to the friar was even yet stronger than, that she felt for Alice . She well knew, he was thorough- ly acquainted with all the late baron's affairs, was tenderly attached to his memory, and warmly interested in aM that concerned either Margaret or Isa* bel, both of whom he would fondle with even paternal kindness. There was also a dignity in his be- ta viour^ which, together with the mys- terious OR, THE nun's story. 137 terious manner in which he had first been introduced at the castle, that in- spired her, at once, with a mixture of respect and wonder. Frequently had she questioned the late baron concern- ing his friend ; but his answers were ever so careless or evasive, that they rather increased her curiosity than sa- tisfied it. ¥/illingly would she have closed the castle gates against him, but that, from powerful reasons, she felt it impossible. The bosom friend of her lord, and almost idolized by the sur- rounding country for his virtue and hu- mility, what excuse could she make for such a conduct? Thus situated, she was perforce obliged to submit ; and as he ever behaved to herself with respect- ful deference, she the more readily yielded to it. Resolved, however, if possible3 ISS ST. Margaret's cave: possible, to unravel the mystery that hung about him, she one morning commanded David to be sent into her apartment, w^hen she addressed him thus : *^ The cottage and land, David, which you held from my lord Fitzwalter, as I have some reason to suppose he meant it as a gift for your long services, though he did not express it, I am willing to ratify to you." David sighed, and bowed, but did not speak.. ** Nay, more,'* continued she, " I will myself be your friend , but I must be treated with sincerity and openness. I will have no secret plotters, who, un- der the guise of piety and mildness, steal into my family concerns, to for- ward views, derogatory to the fortune and ■m, THE KUN^S STORY. 139 •and honour of the family of Fitz- walter.'* '^ If such plotters there be, lady,^' re- plied David, with modest but manly firmness, " may their arts be exposed to all men, may the evil recoil on their own heads, and shame finally overtake them. For me^ I am old; but in such a cause, methinks, I should possess all the energy of youth ; and had I an hundred tongues, and as many hands, they should all be employed, in vindi- cating the rights and worth of my ho- noured lord." '^ You speak warmly," answered lady Fitzwalter, with a sentiment of anger that she could not entirely suppress, *^ respect, as well as zeal, is necessary in my presence." *•' I crave your, pardon, lady, my error was 140 ST. Margaret's cave : was unintentional ; but even the frosts of sixty winters have not been suffi- cient to deaden the spirit of gratitude, I must ever feel for the respected name of Fitzwalter. Two hundred years, lady, have my poor family been vassals to my noble lord's, and if I had a drop of blood inimical to his honour, and knew what part of my body it dis- graced, by my soul I would let it out/' " Enough," replied she, " of this attachment ; let it suffice, that I have both the will and power to serve you. You, I am well aware, are acquainted with the former situation of Austin 5 say then, what was he ? and what in- duced him to take so extraordinary a step, as becoming a friar ?'* " His misfortunes, lady, as I should conjecture,*' ©R, THE NUNS STORY. 141 conjecture,'* answered David^ " which had sickened him with the bustle of life. As to his former situation, I be- lieve it was highly respectable, and his family distinguished " " You believe,^ answered lady Fitz- waiter, " and is this all the information you choose to bestow ?♦— If so, take the consequence of my displeasure, which you merit, and shall not fail to meet." " I should be grieved to meet your anger, and yet more so to have deserved it, lady," answered the old man. — *' If I, in reality, knew ought of the good friar, and that was entrusted to me under the veil of secrecy, and was of such a na- ture that it injured no man, what should you think of me were I to disclose it ?'* " You would merely perform a duty you owe your superiors,'* replied she. — "The 142 ST. MARGARETS CAVE: " The respect you owed to your lord is now devolved to me, therefore give the proof I require, by answering those questions I have asked." *' The duty I owed my griacious lord is indeed transferred/* replied David, "but for the love and respect I bore him, these shall accompany me to my grave. One of his commands was, " Forget all respecting Austin^ that he himself does not choose to disclose ; and should I falsify that order, should I not be unworthy the trust reposed in me ?" " Prevaricating knave 1" said she, " this obstinacy shall not pass unre- membered. Leave me ; but beware how you give your tongue licence to my disadvantage." David waited no second permission, but bowing, left the apartment. The OR, THE nun's story. 143 '; The imperious conduct of the ba- roness to her vassals, made her univer- sally disHked ; and though her rank procured her the outward marks of re- spect, yet that glow of satisfaction and pleasure, that formerly used to enliven the features of the peasantry at the ap- proach of their lord, was now never to be discovered. On Margaret they looked with an anxious and curious eye. During the baron's life, all had been silent respecting her, yet he had treated her as one whom he had no reason to blush to produce to the world ; and though now, by the lady Fitzwalter's command, she was considered as the baron's natural daughter, yet the same respect and attentive kindness attended her whenever she went abroad. The baroness was observant to all that passed. 144 ST. Margaret's cave: passed, but too artful to discover the impression it made upon her. She con- tinued her usual conduct, and if her behaviour could not merit praise, at least it escaped severe reprehension. ^ ^ :{: :^ ^ The baron had been dead about a year, when, one morning that Austin paid his usual visit, he heard the ba- roness' voice loud in the hall, and \ entering, found her accompanied by Alice, Margaret, and Isabel, all of whom she was reprimanding with the greatest bitterness, for disobedience of her orders, the children having been found that morning, in direct opposition to her commands, fondly embracing each other, in one of the galleries of the »R, THE NUk's story. 145 the castle. Alice was accused of pro- moting such meetmgs, which one of lady Fitzwalter*s women averred to be frequent ; for that Isabel seized every opportunity to steal from her attend- ants, and was certain to be found in Margaret's apartment. Alice denied the charge ; but candidly confessed, that when meetings had taken place, she, undoubtedly, had not endeavoured to restrain the mutual affection of the children, as she should have considered such an act as sinfiil, and acting in di- rect opposition to the will of that Power, who had commanded universal love, especially among those so near of kin. The baroness replied w^ith acrimony ; and regardless of what was due to her rank, descended so low as to use seve- ral bitter invectives , more disgraceful VOL, I. H to 146 ST. Margaret's cave: to herself than the object against whom they were intended. The respectable Alice was severely reprimanded, Isabel was repeatedly struck, and JSIargaret threatened, and called bastard. At that moment the friar entered : the op- probious name bestowed on her darling; had called forth, on the cheeks of Alice, a,' glow of anger she was unaccustomed to feel, but which, mingled piety and prudence made her refrain from ex- pressing in words. Margaret, terrified at the baroness' violence, had clung closer to the good dame, and was en- deavouring to suppress her tears, while, on the contrary, the little unbending Isabel, regardless of blows or threats, appeared resolved to increase her mo- ther's anger by her disregard of it. "I grieve to hear the voice of dis- 3 cord," OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 147 cord," said the friar, as he entered : *' Heaven guide all, forgive the of- fender, and direct the offended.'* Though Austin^s words were per- fectly consonant with his holy function yet, a^ they might be applied to either party, as that injured, the baroness made a short reply, but Isabel, running up to the friar, said : " I pray you, dear father, tell me what is a bastard. I know it is nothing wicked, because Margaret is a ba.stard j but be it what it may, as she is my sister, I will be the same." The resignation, mildness, and hu- mility, that usually marked the features of the friar, for a moment gave place to the deep crimson of anger; his bent form became erect, and his eyes sparkled ivith a vivacity and rage, that made the H 2 baronesS' 148 ST. Margaret's cave: baroness shrink within herself with con- scious inferiority : but as suddenly sup- pressing these emotions, he gently eja- culated a prayer, and turning with mild- ness to Isabel, he replied : " A bastard, my sweet innocent, is a name, given by the unfeeling and narrow-minded, to children, who suffer shame, not from their own errors, but from those of their parents. Margaret can inherit no shame from her parents, therefore that name •cannot be applicable to her." " Not applicable to her," repeated lady Fitzwalter, ^' It would be well, Tnar, that you would bestow more time on the duties of your profession, and less in nourishing ideas, that can end only in disappointment and remorse." " Remorse and disappointment are the companions of sin,, lady. Alas ! I have OR, THE nun's story. 149 have severely felt them. Heaven shield the diildren of my noble friend from the cause, and they will never feel the effect.'* " My actions and their motives," re- plied lady Fitz waiter, looking malici- ously at the friar, '' are open to the world; / need no subterfuge to cover them, and therefore will not be dic- tated to, by any priest whatever." " The actions of all," said Austin, ** are open to the inspection of Heaven, however they may be concealed from man, and the subterfuges of deceit are developed at the time appointed. To dictate, becomes not a servant of the church, neither is it consonant with my will nor inclination ; but to stand forth in the defence of truth and innocence is my privilege, not only as a priest, H 3 but 150 ST. Margaret's cave: but as a man. In this conversation, however, I have unwittingly offended, for I simply replied to the sweet Isabel's question, as I could have no idea, that any one could bestow an epithet of shame on the eldest daughter of the noble Fitz waiter." " That title cannot be disputed,'* answered she ; *' but surely some dif- ference ought to be made, between a legitimate and a natural child." " They are distinctions I cannot enter into," returned the friar calmly, "as, in this case, I consider them not applicable." Alice, who felt the utmost uneasi* ness to have Margaret present at a. con- versation which she knew would not fail to make an impression on her sus- ceptible mind^ taking her by the h^nd with- on, THE nun's story. 151 withdrew, as did also the attendant of Isabel with her young . charge, leaving the baroness alone with the father, who, after some short conversation, also took his leave. H 3 CHAP. 152 ST. Margaret's cavb; CHAP. XIII. XiiE baron Fitzwalter had been dead somewhat more than two years » when a grand tournament to be lield at Westminster was proclaimed through- out England, and to which all the Bri- tish nobility were invited, cither to be actors or spectL>::ors. The baroness, who .had never visited the capital, resolved to profit by this opportunity, and at once to display her riches, and gratify her vanity, by appearing to the w^orld as the widow of Fitzwalter. This resolution once formed, the whole family w-ere busied in prepara- tion for the journey ^ the lady Fitz- #alter making her arrangements for .an ab^nce OR, THE nun's story. 15S absence of at least some months. Of Alice and Margaret she took little no* tice ; but for Isabel, she left her under the care of her usual attendant, with a strict prohibition, that no communi- cation whatever should be held be* tween the children. Elegantly accoutered, mounted upon a beautiful palfrey,, and attended by a large train of dependents, attired in new liveries, emblazoned with the arms ©f Fitzwalter, the baroness, at length, left the castle, and took the road to the metropolis. During the baron's life, his absence, though for ever so short a space, was accustomed to throw a gloom over his dependents ; but not so that of his widow, whose departure gave ahiTOst universal satisfaction, and to no one more particularly than Alice, though H 5 she 154 ST. Margaret's cave: she was careful not to express It.— ^ Again did the youthful Margaret skip cheerfully through the apartments of the castle : unrestrained did she, as in her father's life, speak to the vassals ; and what gave her and Alice yet mor^ satisfaction, they, without reproof, could every afternoon visit Austin in his cell, and join in his prayers at the old chapel. The baroness had not left the tastle more than two months, when' the at- tendant of Isabel was seized with a malignant fever, which, in a short time, terminated her life ; and as there was not any person so immediately proper as Alice, to take on them the care of Isabel, she necessarily resumed that charge, using the precaution, however, to send a messenger to the baroness, to apprize her of the change. Surrounded OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 155 Surrounded by the pleasures of a court, and dazzled by the attentions paid her rank and fortune, lady Fitz- walter thought little of home, and Isa- bel became, at most, a secondary cpn- sideration y sh^ therefore returned back an answer more moderate than she was accustomed, that, for the pre- sent, Isabel must remain under the care of Ahce, until she could select some person to replace her former attendant. Involved in her new pursuits, this pro- raise was neglected, if not forgotten ; for not only months, but even three years passed, without any alteration in the arrangement that had taken place. The inhabitants of the castle seldom heard from the baroness, and Margaret had attained her fourteenth, and Isabel her eleventh year, before they were in- n 6 formed. 156 ST. MARGARET S CAVE formed, they might speedily expect her, not as the widow of Fitzwalter, but as the wife of the lord De Launcy, she having, during the last year of her re- sidence in and near the metropolis, married the baron of that name. Whe- ther lady De Launcy did not possess, l)y nature, that fund of tenderness, that most mothers feel for an only child, or that the difference of Isabel's character from her own estranged it, certain it is, she had never shewn those proofs of affection for her that might be expected, and her pride, rather than her love, apparently actuated her conduct to- %vards her. To consider her as the heiress of Fitzwalter, gratified her va- nity ; but to have conciliated her af- fection, it would have l^een necessary for her to kave been as sensible of the advan^ OR, THE nun's sr^^Y- ^^"^ advantages of rank and fortune as her self. On the baroness' return she was ac- companied by her lord ; and though the vassals did not dare omit the usual mark of respect of going to meet them, y&t no sound of jay testified: their satisfac- tion. The lady they had never loved, and for their new lard, his haughty and distant demeanour did not inspire thena with warmer sentiments. He had at^ tended the king when he fct came to England, and had since been high in his favour, and repeatedly employed in several embassies to foreign courts. De Launcy, when he married lady Fkz- walter, had been a widower some years, with only one son, the fmit of his for- mer marriage ; and though he was dis^ tinguished by courtly employments, and receiving an ample appointment there- ^ from> 15€ ST. Margaret's cave: from, yet his paternal patrimony was «mall, and lady Fitzwalter's fortune a desirable addition. The news of lady De Launcy's re- turn, as it caused no joy among the de- pendents, lit^ither did it among those more immediately concerned. Alice, though she was careful to conceal her thoughts, remembered the former in- •kissing my cheeks and forehead, press- ing me to. his bosom, and while he called me his second Blanch, the tears falling from his eyes upon my face and hands — and to see that hateful lord De Launcy, placed in the \Qry chair where he OR, THE KUk's story. 161 he was accustomed to sit, at the very board where he used to preside, and drinking out of the very silver cup which was appropriated to him, 1 thought my heart would have burst .--- Oh dame ! I w^ell know, that both friar Austin and you will condemn me, but at that moment I wished to possess a giant's strength, or rather that Heaven had made me a man, that I might have shew^n, that though an alien to my fa- ther's fortune, I am none to his blood." Margaret's temper was uncommonly .mild, this effusion, therefore, the more astonished Alice. She, however, at length succeeded in calming the agita- tion of her spirits, by the pious rea- soning she made use of on the occasion ; at the same time pointing out to her, the inconveniences that might arise from 162 ST. Margaret's cave: from Isabel adopting her sentiments, as her temper, though generous, noble, and open, was, notwithstanding her youth, unyielding, where she supposed herself or those she loved injured. In the evening, Isabel being engaged with her mother, Alice and Margaret walked to the cave, where Alice re- lated to the friar the agitation of her charge. Like the good dame^ he strongly recommended calmness. — " Time, my beloved child," • said he, *^ brings strange things to pass, and to bear with impatience the state in 'which it has pleased Providence to place us, is sinful. By the loss of your dear father's will, for well do I know he had one, the whole power over you . devolves on lady De Launcy j it has, therefore, for years, been the study, both •R, THE nun's story. 165 both of your friend Alice and myself, to sooth, not to provoke her 3 and though I am far from recommending dissimulation, yet common prudence requires you to conduct yourself in a similar manner, not only on your own account, but in consideration that she is lord FitzWalter^s widow.** "My dear father,*' replied Margaret, " I hope I shall never forget myself so far as ifo act £)therwise. Your com- mands, and those of my good dame, are sacred to me, as I am convinced they are dictated by rectitude; but in- deed I cannot forget the harshness of lady De Launcy, before she left the castle, not only to me, but to Isabel, and dame Alice. I well remember, though I never mentioned it before, the opprobious names she bestowed . i upon 161^ ST.^ Margaret's cavE: upon me, and vvliich, I am assured, neither you nor my dame think I dc- serv^e : for it I did, then must my blessed mother have been an ill woman, which I know is false 3 for both you, father, and dame Alice, loved her, and speak of her with the highest respect, and even at times call her the sainted Blanch." " Margaret," replied the father, ** you are no longer a child, therefore we shall not treat you as one. Of your father's honour, or your mother's chas- tity, neither Alice nor myself have the smallest doubt; but a stronger testi- mony than ours is wanting, and with- out which we should hazard alL Let this information sufiice, and lock it in your bosom. Unheeded I have, since the baron's deatli, watched over you with OR, THE nun's story. 165 with a scrutinizing attention, and though the baroness has given some cause of complaint, yet it was not sufficient to make me throw off a mask, which it is your interest I should wear some time longer. Her absence of three years I regard as a favourable event, as du- ring that period you have escaped the violence and meanness of lier temper. Bear up, therefore, some years longer : time may assist our wishes, or should it not, at least w^e will make a bold ef- fort, and if we fail, Margaret, we will submit as Christians, to a blow that hu- man wisdom could not prevent.*' The friar's discourse was not entirely intelligible to Margaret ; §he, however, felt, that the good man was her friend, and promised to be guided by his coun- selj and with somewhat more cheerful- ness 166 ST. Margaret's cave: ness than she left it, returcted to the castle, accompanied by Alice. At the hour of rest, Isabel joined them. She, by no means, appeared satisfied with the manner in which she had passed the day ; she notwithstanding expressed herself pleased with her mother's kind- ness to her, but for the baron, she felt all that repugnance, that prejudiced minds experience for a father-in-law. Alice, with her usual probity, combat- ted this disppsition, called it weak and sinful, and finally, though she did not convince her- yomig charge, succeeded in making her restrain her dislike within the bounds- of prudence. CHAP. •OR, THE nun's story. 167 CHAP. XIV. The baron Dc Launcy*s employ- ments at court did not permit him to be long absent from it, and the amuse- ments and bustle of the capital, being far more suited to the temper of the baroness than retirement, it was not designed to prolong their visit to Nor- thumberland beyond the summer sea- son. On her return, she resolved to take Isabel with her, and time having, if not eradicated her dislike to Mar- garet, at least weakened her fears on her account, she determined to leave at the castle. • In lady De Launcy's'resolve concern- ing her daughter, the baron entirely coincided j 168 ST. Margaret's cave: coincided ; a wary negotiator for tlie king, his master, he was not less skilful in arrangements for the future aggran- dizement of himself and family : and which way could that be so easily ef- fected, as by an union hereafter, be- tween his son, Richard De Launcy, and Isabel ? These schemes he, how- ever, divulged to no one. Time was necessary to bring them to perfection ; all that could be done in the present instance being to give the young peo- ple an opportunity of becoming ac- quainted, that as they increased in years, familiarity might the more easily be ripened into affection. The baroness* designs, respecting the future destination of Isabel, made her consider her fondness for Margaret with less acrimony than usual. She had no doubt. OR, THE NUN's> story. 169 doubt, but time and absence would speedily destroy so youthful a partiality, and that, at a proper age, Isabel, intro- duced, to a life of splendour and plea- sure, would have as great an objection as- herself, to admitting a sharer in her fortune. Six months that the baron and his lady passed in Northumberland at length elapsed, and preparations began to be made for their removal, when, for the first time, kdy De Launcy pub- licly declared her intention of taking her daughter with her. This news was a heavy blow, not only on Isabel, but also on Margaret and Alice, who both loved her with that warmth of affection, that youth, innocence, and the early promise of a noble and generous dis- VOL. I. I position. 170 ST. Margaret's cave: position, is sure to claim from kindred minds. The first evening after receiving the intelligence, with more melancholy than was usual to the party, Alice, with her beloved children, as she frequently called them, walked to St. Margaret's, to inform the friar of the arrangement which had given them such uneasi- ness. Even the father did not hear it unmoved. He had flattered himself that the strong affection the sisters had for each other would grow up with them, and take so deep a root, as to render it permanent as their lives. Isabel's youth and removal appeared to crush this idea ; but unwilling to in- crease their depression, by shewing the effect the intelligence had upon him, he OR, THE *NUN*S STORY. iTl ' he treated it lightly, but at the same time strictly enjoined Isabel, to perse- vere in her affection to Margaret, as a duty she owed the memory of her father. Isabel, alternately- throwing her arms around each, in broken sentences pro- mised all that the friar recommended, with that firmness that particularly marked her character. " You need not charge me to love Margaret, father,** said she, " is she not my dear sister ? And though I may be taken frorn her, I will be torn to pieces before I forget her. — No, no, if you think I am likely to be such a weak wicked girl, pray that God may take me before I become so. — One of my mother's women said some days ago, because she saw me sad, tliat I 2 she 112 ST. Margaret's eAv,E: - she wondered how I could.' weep, when in a few years I should be mistress of the castle, and lady of the domain. — Ifiou may be angry, father, and so will dame, but I asked her how long first, and she said in less than ten years ; and though it is a long while, yet it made n>e glad, for then Margaret and I will live together with Alice ; and for you, father, if you will not come to us, why we will go to you, for I love even this great dreary cave, with my friends' around me, better than the sumptuous, carved hall at the castle, with lord De Launcy in the upper seat, for I know it is by his advice that I am to be removed." " My dear child," replied the father, taking her hand, " I fear my injunc- tions will have little weight, for you speedily OR, THE nun's STORY. 173 speedily forg^et them. To obey your mother in airiawfultommands, and in what does not interfere with your duty to Heaven, and your fellow creatures, is a submission she has a right to ex- pect, and you an equal right to tulfil. She has, also, now given lord De Launcy a power over you, by making him her husband: Submit, therefore, without murmur, and be assured, that all in the end will be for the best, and that patience, rectitude, and an approv- ing conscience, will effect, v*^hat violence :and resistance strive in vain to accom- plish.- — For you, Margaret,'* continued the friar, " should you ever forget the affection of Isabel, you would be yet ^more"^ Inexcusable : her extreme youth might prove some exbuse, but you have the advantage of three years, and " not I 3 pnly 174 ST. Margaret's cave: only that, but in dame Alice a monitor^ who during her Hfe will never let you forget your duty." ** AVhen I forget to love my Isabel, father," replied Margaret, " I must first have forgotten myself —No, I will never cease to pray that we may again be together. — Ah ! I wish we could be even in one of the poorest huts in the hamlet v/ith dame Alice : she would be our dear mother, and we her dutiful children." " Isabel," rephed the friar, " has al- ready a mother, persuade her then, Margaret, to submit without repug- nance to what is unavoidable, rather than increase her dislike, by wishes that are impossible, and would be ungrateful for her to join in." After some^more discourse, the friar and OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 175 and his friends separated. Isabel, sob- bing and clinging round him, was some time before Alice could calm her agi- tation ; nor was the good man un- moved; his eyes overflowing with tears, he repeatedly blessed her, and prayed, that the saints would keep her in their especial protection. Some time after their departure, Austin's meditations were broken upon by the entrance of David. " Welcome, my worthy friend," said the friar ; " but what brings you here this evening ? you have already visited me once this day, and surely you might have spared your^ self this second fatigue . ' ' « ^[y gracious master," answered David, " in the hour of distress, to whom can the suffering fly, but to those I 4 whom 116 ST. Margaret's cave: _ - whom they know will kindly sooth their woes, and teach them to bear them ?" '^ If that is your case, my honest David, I would that my power equalled my will ; but, alas ! I have nothing but counsel to offer, and the prayers of a contrite sinner. But say, what is amiss ? The faithfid servant of my Fitzwalter has a right to all my attention and friendship/* " My good master, forgive the lo- quacity of an old man ? My ances- tors have been vassals to the lords of Fitzwalter these two hundred years. In the halls of he cattle theyiiave leat their bread ; in its chambers have they yielded up their souls; in the cloisters of the chapel are they kid side by &ide, and against the wall is a memento of their merits, erected by the generosity of OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 177 of their masters : not one, in the period I have mentioned, has suffered the dis- grace of being discarded, until myself. Thank Heaven, however, that blow came not from the house of Fitzwalter, b\it from one whom Providence, only for a time, permits to usurp his place.'* " Discarded !" repeated the friar, "I surely misunderstood you; so flagrant a mark of disrespect cannot, I think, be shewn to the memory of my friend, as to discard so old and faithful a ser- vant." *' Lord De Launcy, in the presence of his lady, informed me, he had no further occasion for my services. lie was pleased to say, I performed them with an ill grace, and perhaps he spoke true 'y for though I was master of my words, I was not hypocrite enough to I 5 be 178 ST. Margaret's cave : be so of my looks. On my own account, I declare, I should rather rejoice than grieve at this event, but for the sake of my wife, I severely feel it ; for her de- clining years render her unfit to be cast upon the world, which must inevitably be the case, if the cottage which she has so long resided in be taken from us." " David,'* replied the friar, " for the first time you make me feel the loss of fortune ; but bear up, my good friend, lowering as the prospect may now ap- pear, you will yet, I trust, live to pre-^ sent the cup in the great hall, to the lawful owner of the domain.'* " The Virgin grant I could once see that day, how readily would I lay down my life : — as it is, I fear to die, for weak as I am, my testimony may be of service." The OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 179 *' The most essential ; but we have taken every precaution in our power, a nd should it please Heaven to remove us all, still in my brethren, the friars minors, would our Margaret find true and indefatigable friends." It being near the hour of vespers^ David soon after took his leave, and left the father to. his orisons ► s|r ^ :Ji ♦ ^ At the appointed time, the lord and lady De Launcy, accompanied by Isa- bel, and escorted by^a splendid retinue, left the castle. The grief of the sisters at this separation, or that of Alice, though moderated by reason and reflec- tion, would be difncult to describe. Margaret, clasped in the arms of Aiice, I 6 andi J 80 ST. marga.ret's cave: and concealing h^r anguisU in her bo- som, would HQt raise her eyes to see her beloved companion depart, while the good damie, in silent anguish, strove, m vain, to suppress the tears, that a se- paration from so amiable a child forced from her. Isabel, on the contrary, gave unrestrained scope to her vexation, and with all the energy that marked her character, no sooner saw the horses and retinue, than she screamed aloud, and peremptorily refused to go. Lady De Launcy's violence was ill calculated to overcome this obstinacy. Isabel disre- garded both threats and blows, and on the servants, by their lady's order, attempting to place her on the palfrey prepared for her, with the vehemence of passion she even struck them. — Alice, grieved at this conduct, both on Isabel's 1 OR, THE nun's story.' 181 Isabel's account, and the effect it might have on the baroness in respect to Mar- garet, gently disengaged herself from the latter, and approaching the yet re- sisting Isabel, she said in a low voice, " My dear child, how soon have you forgotten the good father's lessons, of •shewing obedience to your mother ; sHe will, doubtless, think this obstinacy is dictated to you by Margaret and my- self, and in consequence, we shall ex- perience her displeasure. - — Go then, let me conjure you, as becomes a du- tiful child. I have no doubt we shall meet again; until when, the Holy Virgin guide, direct, and bless you." As suddenly as a shower succeeds a thunder-storm, and calms the fury of the tempest, so, at this gentle reproof, did Isabel's tears allay the anger she had 182 ST. MARGARETS CAVE: had g*r/en way to : turning to Alice, she threw her arms around her neck, and in a voice scarcely articulate, sob- bed obedience. The baroness, vexed at the delay, and perhaps not. less so at the powder she could not but observe that Alice had over the mind of her daughter, with increased acrimony commanded the do- mestics to place her upon the horse, at the same time regarding the dame with a malignancy, that she neither endea- voured nor indeed could suppress. — " Pardon me, lady,'^ said Alice witL her usual mildness, ^' but I am accus- tomed to the lady Isabel, this little pe- tulance over, she will be grieved for having offended you : ge; tlencbS will always recall her to a remembrance of what is due to you and to her duty.'* " I wiF OR^ THE nun's story. 18S " I will oblige her to remember it," answered lady De Launcy with vehe- mence 5 then, turning to the domestics, she added, " wait no longer, obey me, place her upon her horse, I am resolved to overcome this childish obstinacy.** The domestics, though unwilling^Iy, again advanced towards her, and again Alice spoke in a low persuasive voice, when Isabel, with a haughtiness which astonished all around her, said, " Were my dear father living, which of you would dare to treat me thus ?'* With these words she, without look* ing back, rushed from the hall, and the cavalcade soon after left the castle. Austin, from a hill at some distance from his cell, saw the departure of the baron and his lady, and truly judging of the state of mind of both Alice and Margaret, 184 ST. MARGARET*S CAVE.* Margaret, hastened to the castle^ where he found them^ as he expected, plunged in grief. His pious exhortations, se- conded by those pf Alice, at length, in some measure, soothed the sorrow of Alargaret 3 for true religion inspires that confidence and hope, that never fails to enable us to support our afflictions with fortitude, until, by perseverance, we overcome them, or if they are un- surmountable, to indure them with a patience and magnanimity^ that, in spite of fortune, makes us respectable in all the vicissitudes of life. CHAP. OR, THE NITn's STORY. 185 CHAP. XV. The baron De Launcy had not been Jong returned to court, when the king, his master, employed him to negotiate some political business in Flanders, and which, as it was at- tended with great state, lady De Launcy, with her daughter, accompa- nied him. The baron, as from the iirst, treated Isabel with so distin- guished a kindness, that it could not have failed of its effect on her suscep- tible heart, had she not, in other cases, found him to his dependents harsh, overbearing, and cruel. The lady De Launcy's ruling passloTi, as before ob- served. 186 ST. Margaret's cave: served, w^as splendour, rank, and show, and gratified in that, every other con- sideration became secondar}^ : — not but she felt a secret satisfaction in pro- ducing to the vt^orld, particularly as she had no other child, a daughter, whose person so early gave the promise^ of perfection, and whose rank and for- tune must hereafter make her a de- 'sirable acquisition to the first family in the kingdom. Richard De Launcy was now some- what turned of nineteen: in character he resembled his father, and therefDre readily entered into his future vie:vs ; rejoiced at the prospect of an early in- dependence, and regardless of the ap- pendages that might belong thereunto. Isabel's age, however, precluded any immediate step towards perfecting the plan, . OR, THE Nl.^N*S STORY. 187 plan, and when she embarked with the baron and his lady for Flanders, he re- mained at the court of Henry, waiting promotion. In the mean-time all was peaceful at the castle of Fitzwalter. Margaret, now approaching towards womanhood, was almost idolized by the vassals of the domain; and as, accompanied by Alice, she visited the sick, or adminis- tered the assistance which her con- tracted means afforded, they would, in the warm_th of their hearts, call upon the Saints to bless her, and secretly wish they might consider her as the future heiress of the castle. Es^ery care of her education, in the power of Alice, had been exerted, and what ex- tended beyond her knowledge, the friar had perfected. He taught her the French ■188 ST. MARGARE-T-S CAVEr. French and German slanguages, and gave a polish to the whole of her in- struction, that though bred in a lonely dwelling, and surrounded bythe^mere simple children of nature, her under- standing was ripened even beyond her years, her manners unaffected and graceful, and her person such as the fabulous poets or painters might havie chosen, to personify beauty, blended with innocence and dignity. In a small cottage nearer to the mountains, and consequently to the friar's cell, David and his wife had now taken up their abode, and scarcely with less comfort than during the life of Fitzwalter. Alice, with Margaret, vi- sited them daily, and spared no pains to supply their necessities, Alice ex- erting her industry in spinning flax and wool. OR, THE nun's story. 18^ wool, which was sold for their support; amd Margaret sewing fine works, which were sent to Berwick, and disposed of foif the same purpose. Thus passed nearly three years, when one morning the whole hamlet wasi alarmed by the appearance of a tr6op df'horsemen, gallantly accoutred, and at whose head rode a leader, distin- guished from his: fellows by the richness of his dress.' On his arrival at the castle, an avant-courier announced the son of the baron De Launcy, who, in reality, had paid this visit, from no motive, but to examine the estate, he now hoped j in the course of another year or two, to enjoy. Though not received with the satisfaction of an old master, at least he was entertained with the distinction befitting the ba- roness' 190 ST. Margaret's cave: roness* son-in-law, and all being ar- ranged, his dinner was served in a state, that made his heart exult, as he considered all around him would speedi-' ly be his own. It is true, Isabel's age, now barely fourteen, had not suffered hereto be consulted, but with such powerful auxiliaries as the baron and the baroness, he coyld have no reason to doubt a success equal to his wishes. The repast concluded, Alice re- quested to be admitted into his pre- sence, which being granted, the good dame entreated to be informed of the baron and his lady's health, as also that of Isabel. There was a respectability in the appearance of Alice that com- manded attention, and De Launcy im- mediately answered, that his father and the baroness were well, as was also Isabel: OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 191 Isabel : that the former were yet on their embassy ; but that the lady Isabel had been for some months past with a young lady she had formed an ac- quaintance with, at the convent of St. Mary, near Bremen. " St. Mary, near Bremen!" repeated the dame, crossing herself; but in- stantly suppressing her surprize, she added, " The Blessed Virgin guide her wherever she be ! for a more generous or innocent heart never warmed a hu» man bosom." " If I do not mistake," said De Launcy, " you are the person whom I have heard had the care of the lady Isabel in her infancy, and also of the baron Fitzwalter's natural daughter?" " I was happy in the care of both the lord Fitzwalter's children," replied Alice. 192" ST. marga-R-et's CAVE: Alice. '^ I can but thank ye for the news^ of the family's welfare, and take my leave : — many an anxious houf have I passed on account of the lady Isabel, and now rejoice at her health and safety." Thus saying, Alice made her obei- sance, and left the hall. Margaret and AHce were mutually rejoiced at this information of IsabeFs well-doing, for, during her long ab- sence, they had seldom heard of her, and then only slightly, by the means of the persons lady De Launcy employed to collect the annual dues from the vassals. De Launcy, somev>^hat recovered from his fatigue, explored every part of the castle, with the scrutinizing eye of a man who is upon the point of making a purchase, but first wishes to be well apprised OK, THE NUN*S STORY. 195 apprised of its value. On passing through one of the galleries, Alice and Margaret were seated sewing, and though De Launcy had before no cu- riosity respecting lord Fitzwalter's el- dest daughter, when once seen, she was neither to be overlooked nor yet forgotten. Accustomed from his child- hood to a court, diffidence formed no part of his character ; but all advances towards familiarity were cut off, by the cold and repellant manner of Marga- ret. Common poHteness could not, however, suiter her to refuse conversinsr with him on trifling subjects ; though, as speedily as she could, without giving offence, she rose, and wishing him a good evening, with Alice left the gal- lery. De Launcy, after Margaret's de- voL. T. K parture. 194 ST. Margaret's cave: parture, remained for some time lost in thought. Isabel, when she went to ' Flanders, was little more than eleven years old ^ he was then nineteen, and had merely considered her as not an unpleasant appendage to the estate of Fitzwalter, which title, by the favour of the king, he also hoped some future day to get conferred upon himself. Three years had passed since that pe- riod ; he was now twenty-two, and by letters from his father was informed, that with lady De Launcy's consent, the intended marriage should be con- summated, as soon as Isabel had com- pleted her sixteenth year. Intoxicated with this idea, his whole thoughts turned on rank and riches, until the sight of Margaret put them all to flight, and made him feel, that he was susceptible of 2 OR, THE nun's story. 195 of even a stronger passion than avarice, lunged in these reflections, the bell tolled the hour of eight, without De Launcy having explored more of the castle, when a domestic, named Ste- phen, informed him, that supper was served in the hall. " Request the baron Fitzwalter's daughter to favour me with her con> pany," said De Launcy, " I am a stranger, and the honours of the house done by so fair a maid, will enhance the satisfaction I shall receive from my visit." ^^ Dame Alice and the lady ^larga- ret have been gone out almost two hours," answered the servant. " Put back the supper, then, I will wait her return— she scarcely ventures far in the evening from the castle," K 2 Stephen 196 ST. Margaret's cave: Stephen was warmly attached to his master's house, and naturally too lo- quacious to be prudent, knew no grati- fication superior to conversing on what respected them. ^^ l^y my faith," replied he to De Launcy, " but she does, where I would not venture alone at twilight for the king's ransom ^ as far as the old chapel, and to father Austin's cell. Neither she nor dame Alice seem to know w^hat fe^r is ; but in truth they are, I believe, safe, for no mortal man living would hurl: either, and for spirits, I have heard they are not permitted to visit the like of them, unless for some great and good purpose. Another thing is plain ; the friar, by his piety and prayers, has all the ghosts, that used formerly to haunt the chapel, in subjection, and he would OK, THE nun's story. 197 would sooner cast them into the Red Sea, than suffer them to hurt a hair of either dame AHce or the lady Marga- ret's head." De. Launcy found he had met one whose loquacity would satisfy his cu- riosity, he therefore said, — '^ What dis- tinction do you make between the baron Fitzw^lter's daughters? I re- mark you name his natural daughter the lady Margaret, you can give no higher distinction to his legitimate one/' " The vassals all call her," answered he, " the same as they did during the baron's life. Certain it is, he loved the very ground she trod upon : — and if she be, as some people give out, a bastard, she is still, as you say, my good m.aster, my lord's natiu^al daughter, for she is as like him, not only in person but good- K 3 ness. 198 ST. Margaret's cave: nesS;,' as two peas. Marry, well do I remember her mother; many a night have I seen her^, and my then young lordj walking through the wood, her light step scarcely pressing the herbage under her feet, and her bright amber- coloured locks, flying loosely in the wind, and shining like threads of gold. We all then thought she would have been our lady ^ but it proved otherwise, for she died in a foreign land, and right sorrowful was my lord : troth I think he never was himself again." ** ^Tis strange, if what I have heard be true, that the baron made no provi- sion for the offspring of so warm an at- tachment," replied De Launcy. " Too true," answered Stephen — " though David, who was in all my late master's secrets^ affirms, that the baron had a will: OR, THE NUN*S STORY: 199 will : and so, in truth, does friar Aus- tin; but none was to be found." " Who is this friar ?" said De Launcy, " who was so well informed." " That," replied Stephen," is more than I know, or iany person here, ex- cept David, who,, as I said before, was in all my lord's secrets ; but you might as well inquire of one of the old statues in the hall as to ask him. There is not a better tempered fellow living, nor a worthier heart than David *s; it is a thousand pities he is so close." De Launcy's curiosity excited, he questioned and obtained of Stephen all the information in his power to give ; as, friar Austin's first arrival in the country—his madness— his fiight~his assuming the holy vocation — his rigid austerity of life, and lastly, his warm K 4 attachment 200 ST. Margaret's cave: attachment to all those who had been estimable to the baron, and most par- ticularly to Margaret. De Launcy making him a trifling present, asked the road to the old chapel, saying he would walk half an hour, and then return to supper. CHAP, OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 201 CHAP. XVI. Alice and Margaret, as soon as they left De Launcy, had hastened to the friar, whom they found at vespers in St. Margaret's chapeL Joining his prayers, no conversation passed till all rose from their knees, w^hen Alice ex- claimed, '"' Father, I am convinced, in spite of the cloud that has so long hung over our dearest prospects, all in the end will work tog-ether for the best — lord De Launcy's son is our guest at the castle, and w^elcome may he be, for he brought us news of our Isabel.'- " My good dame," answered the friar, " I congratulate you ; I can elearly discern that your news is plea- K 5 S^Ut. 202 ST. Margaret's cave: sant. That our dear Isabel may re- main such as your instructions began to make her, is one of my sincerest wishes; and may the virtues and honour she inherits from Fitz waiter, predominate over all other qualities in her heart." *' She is not now with the baroness/' replied Alice, she is upon a visit at the convent of St. Mary, near Bremen." • " St. Mary's !" repeated the friar, in a voice scarcely articulate ; '' but, sin- ful wretch that I am, what is the con- vent of St. Mary to me ? — Merciful God r* continued he, raising his hands and eyes to Heaven, " accept my con- trition, pardon my manifold offences, and dismiss me." Never did Margaret recollect seeing the friar thus moved. Before she had attained years of reflection and obser- vation. OR, THE nun's story. 203 vatlon, his frenzied sorrow had given way to mental suffering, without any outward sign, except his woe-worn form, and the heavy dejection that coiir stantly hung over him. " Dismiss you-, father," repeated Margaret. " Surely you do not mean by death : if you do, pray that the same stroke may serve for dame Alice and me, for if we lose you, we have no friend left upon earth." The energy of Margaret's manner, the tears that filled her eyes, instantly recalled the friar to recollection. " My beloved child," answered he, " forgive me j the wish, was, indeed, sinful, but it was involuntary. There are affec-* tions, Margaret, which death alone can overcome ; and notwithstanding that grey hairs begin to shade my temples^ K 6 and 204 ST. Margaret's cave. and the sacred vocation I have adopted, yet, even now, one of these rend my heart. — Pity me, therefore, my child. I endeavour to act uprightly, but alas ! I am still a man, and cannot forget what formerly constituted the happiness of my life." *^ Father," returned Margaret, " you were the most beloved friend of my parents ; Oh ! consider me as a daugh- ter to you. From their hearts I would, if possible, have chased every care, had Heaven spared them to me y but as it has not, accept the duty I have to be- stow, and spare me the distress of see- ing your mind thus shaken with sor- row." As Margaret spoke, she bent her knees before him, when Austin, raising her OR, THE nun's story. 205 her in his arms, repeatedly blest her, and at length replied : " Oh ! Margaret, thy uncertain situa- tion, thy virtue, and unprotected youth, call for every exertion, and every selfish thought shall sink before them. Thou art now seventeen, and the decisive stroke must soon take place, that fixes thee either high in rank and honour, or dooms thee to remain through life even as thou art. If the first, receive the good as becomes thee ; if the latter, re- member that our situation here is but transitory, and will speedily pass away.** '^ Father," replied Margaret, " what- ever you judge right, I shall endeavour to obey : but if, by a decisive stroke, you mean ought that may injure our beloved Isabel, upon my knees I con- jure you, abandon it 3 for sooner would I forfeit 206 ST. Margaret's cave: forfeit my life, than yield her the smallest vexation.*' '^ The peace and welfare of Isabel is as dear to me as to yourself, and unless she be greatly changed, I think her too nobly minded, to be swayed by the paltry consideration of dividing h^r fa- ther's fortune with an elder sister. But should she even deceive our hopes, re- member what is due to yourself, to your father's honour, and your mother's chas- tity. — Margaret, they call upon you from their sepulchres to assert your right, and to shew them to the world as they really were. In this very chapel, at this ruined altar, did they plight their mu- tual vows, six days before they departed for Germany. The priest who united them was a Benedictine, and soon after went on a mission to India, since when we OR, THE nun's story. 207 we have not been able to trace him. Alice and David, who were present at the sacred ceremony, are our only vouchers ; for the strange loss of your father's will, and with it your mother's confession, has deprived us of all other. A copy of that confession also remained in the hands of a friar at Bremen, but as if all things conspired to counteract the right, the good man removed, and after tracing him for years without effect, we found he died only two years since in the Holy-Land, where he had gone on a pilgrimage ; but w^hat became of his papers, if he had any, we could never be certified. You will, perhaps, won- der how, buried in the solitude of my eell, I could learn even so much ; but know, Margaret, though apparently in- active, no precaution has been neg- lected. 208 ST. Margaret's cave: lected. After the loss of your dear fa- ther, fearful that another sudden death should deprive you of the testimonies ' left, I not only caused dame Alice, but also David, to give their oaths to every particular event : these I transmitted to the Franciscans at Bervvdck, and by their means made the inquiries I have in- formed you of. I likewise to them gave my ow^n testimony, respecting my know^- ledge of the baron's v^ill and its con- tents, praying them, in case of my de- cease, to spare no pains in .'* The fall of a fragment of stone at some small distance, caused the friar to cease : but all being again still, Mar- garet replied : " My dear father, pardon my inex- perience. I am convinced you have done all for the best, yet surely my mo- ther's OR, THE nun's STORV, 209 ther's honour should have been excul- pated long since." *' But how, Margaret, was that to be effected ? During your grandfa« ther's life, duty, and the request of your dying mother, kept your father silent. After the baron's death, pru- dence made him wish to continue the deception, until, by economy, he could clear the incumbrance, and leave his beloved child an estate, worthy the eldest daughter of the house of Fitz- walter. This plan was, in some degree, effected, though not compleat, at his decease, when, at all events, the truth would have been disclosed, but for the villainy of secreting the will." " If it was secreted from a fear of my claims injuring those of Isabel," replied Margaret, " how little could they 210 ST. Margaret's cave: they judge of my heart who took that step. — Never yet did I feel a sentiment for her but of the most sincere affec- tion. — Yes, father, I am content to wave all claim, but that of being lord Fitzwalter's lawful daughter ; and that title, now I know my right, death itself shall not make me forego. The blessed spirits of my parents, as you truly say, call upon me to proclaim my mother's chastity and my father's honour. — Oh!" continued she, throwing herself before the altar, and kissing the marble step, *' here did they pledge their faith, and receive the nuptial benediction, and here doth their daughter call upon the saints to assist her in clearing their fame, and shewing them unspotted to the world.'* " My dear child," said Alice, " we have OR, THE nun's story. 211 have rich and powerful enemies to con- tend with, and the baron having mar- ried previous to his espousing Edith Mountford, will, I fear, by her father's testament, leave the estate greatly in her power." '' Be it so," replied Margaret, " still- was my mother no unchaste wanton, as I once heard the cruel baroness name her — I am no bastard, dame. — Oh fa- ther ! though I have concealed it in my own heart, how deeply have I felt those epithets. In such a case, now, me- thinks, I could return scorn for scorn. Let her take all, drive me to want, to penury, still the consciousness of my parent's honour should support me." *' Again I repeat, prudence, yet awhile, Margaret, must still guide us. You want four years of being of age, until 2112 ST. MARGARET*S CAVE: until which the laciy De Launcy can^ undoubtedly, claim a right over you. That consideration has, for years, kept me silent, as also Alice, and David.** After some more conversation, the gloom of night, which began to over- shadow the chapel, made them think of separating, the father conducting them to the castle gate, where he bade them good even. When Margaret and Alice entered, De Launcy was in the hall, wrapped in his cloak. ^^ You walk late, fair maid," said he, addressing Margaret, '^ are you not alarmed in those lonely paths?" " Our errand was of a nature to pre- clude fear," replied Alice. — " The evening was fine, and we walked ta the old chapel." '' You OR, THE NUN*S STORY, 213 " You have a good friar there, I un- derstand," answered De Launcy, fixing his eyes inquisitively on Margaret. " You heard truly," ansv^^ered AUce. ■^^ I wished to entreat you to honour me with your company at supper," said De I^auncy ; ^^ the table has no plea- sure fpr me, unless a lady presides." " I am sorry for it," answered Mar- garet coolly. I am not accustomed to take my seat in the hall when the lady De Launcy resides here, and must be excused accepting the invitation of a -stranger. " That punctilio is surely too far stretched," replied he. " It would be injustice to punish me, for lady De Launcy not being sensible of your merit. You are foimed to grace the hall of the castle of Fitzwalter, \q\. me enjoy 214 ST. Margaret's cave: enjoy the honour of seating you there r" As he spoke, he attempted to take her hand 5 but recoiUng, she said — " You — From whence arises your right to place me there r" " I plead no right/* replied De Launcy, ^' I only asked a favour, which I should have been honoured by your granting me.'* " I am sorry you ask what I must refuse — Good night." So saying, with Alice, she left the hall, and retired to her apartment. What had passed at the old chapel employed all Margaret's thoughts, nor was she speedily tired of conversing of it ; for though she had always been as- sured, from the discourse of Alice and the friar, that her parents were lawfully united, yet she now possessed the posi- tive OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 215 tive certainty of even the time and place, together with the reason that had made it so long concealed. From a discourse respecting her parents, she reverted to the friar. " Aly dear dame," said she, " my satisfaction of this night met with a considerable drawback, at the visible uneasiness of our dear friend, Austin. I am convinced some severe sorrow hangs over him ; would to Hea- ven I could remove it ! Did you not mark his violent emotion at the men- tion of St. Mary*s convent?'* " I did," replied AUce. " Notwithstanding his extreme mea- greness, and grey hairs, he has not even now the appearance of age," said Mar- garet. '^ Pardon me, dame, but indeed I could not help surmising, that he had formerly loved some one that dwelt there." '' You 216 ST. Margaret's cave: ^' You, perhaps, judged truly," aii- sv/ered Alice. " He is, I believe, now not more than fifty; but what little I know respecting him, as he chooses it concealed, I am not at liberty to dis- close." " My dear dame," said Margaret, " I meant not to express curiosity, though I confess it has frequently been excited, from the accounts that have casually reached me. My father loved him, and you highly honour him, I therefore know that he is a good man, and all other information is super- fluous," Such conversation filled up the hours till Margaret and Alice retired to rest. CHx\P. ■«R, THE nun's story. 217 CHAP. XVII. On the ensuing morning, as father Austin, after matins, was seated at the entrance of his cell, he perceived a man, whose appearance bespoke him of rank, advancing tov^ards him. " Good day, father," said he. " My name is De Launcy : I come to crave your advice and assistance, which I hope you will not refuse me ?" " My advice and assistance, in all that is good, you may comm^and," re- plied Austin coldly, " though I cannot conjecture in what the advice and assist- ance of a poor Franciscan may be ne- cessary to the son of the lord De Liuncy." VOL. I. L " In 218 ST. Margaret's cave: " In this case^ father, you can be of the utmost service ; and to wave all ceremony, I must first inform you, that I love Margaret Fitzv^alter, and am willing to make her my bride — ** '' Make her your bride !" interrupted the friar, " I thought you were unac- quainted y that you never saw her till yesterday.'* ^' Granting it so, father, is she not made to be beloved V* " As far as outward form I should judge so 3 but are you convinced that your minds will assimilate? Are you sure of her concurrence to your de- sires ?" " No, father -, but your influence will have its proper effect. Every one is acquainted with the deference she pays to your opinion." " On ©R, THE NUN*S STOPx-Y. 219 " On this subject I shall decline giv- ing it/' answered the friar, '^ particularly if it might influence her ; as marriage, more than any other event in life, ought to be free and unprejudiced. The af- fection too, you have conceived for her, is so young, that it will easily be com- batted ; for it is surely no difficult task, to forget what we have only momenta- rily known." *^ I do not w^ish to forget her," re- plied De Launcy, ^^ nor will I endea- vour it." '^ At your pleasure. I am not autho- rized to answer for Margaret ; but well I know the purity of her mind will not suffer her to descend to clandestine ad- • dresses. — Are the the lord and lady De Launcy apprised of your inclination ? Do they authorize your offer ?" L 2 "As 220 ST. MARGARET S CAVE ; ^^ As yet it has been impossible to ask their concurrence ; but were it otherways, father^ am I the onbj person who hold secrets from lord and lady De Launey ?" *' That I know not, nor care," an- swered the friar, with some haughti- ness ; *' the ties of blood and duty de- mand that respect from you, that is not requisite from others." ** Father," said De Launcy, " let us understand each other. I am not to learn, that you hereafter mean to pro- duce Margaret to the world as the baron Fitzwalter's legitimate daughter ; but, on my honour, no motive of in- terest sways me. On the contrary, both my father and lady De Launcy have consented to unite, in giving me their sanction to espouse the lady Isabel, as sole OR, THE nun's story. 221. sole heiress of Fitzwalter. I build, however, upon my father's affection ; ^nd Margaret once my wife, which with her concurrence and your assist- ance could speedily be effected, it would become his interest and honour, to exert his influence with the king, to acknowledge her rights as joint heiress to the late baron/* " Young man,*' answered Austin, *^ should Margaret stoop to any secon- dary means to ascertain her right, I my- self should doubt her claim to such a father as Fitzwalter. You say, on your honour, you have no interested views in the alliance ; but may I not distrust the honour of a man, who, con- cealed in the shades of night, steals upon the unsuspicious, and with a L 3 mean- 222 ST. MARGARETS CAVE; meanness that upright minds disdain, robs them of their secrets ?" " Friar/' replied De Launcy warmly, " you forget yourself ; though your ha« bit protects you, you should remember what is due to my rank." *^ While you remember it yourself, I shall not easily forget," replied Austin. *^ My habit, as you truly say, protects me ; nor is this the first time that, united with those holy vows which shall ever hold me, it hath prctscted olhcrs.--* Elated with youth and prosperity, young lord, if you think you may act with impunity, you mistake 3 all good men will despise you, if you. transgress these bounds which are the only safeguards of society. By the pitiful meanness of listening, you have possessed yourself of OR, THE nun's story. 223^ of Margaret's secrets. But would it not have been more nobly done, to have made yoiir proposals first ? Would that not more effectually have shev^n your disinterestedness ? You might then have been entitled to our confidence and to our thanks." " And how are you assured that I listened, friar ?" said De Launcy. " By your being informed of what you could not otherways have known. • — Go, go, young man; learn, I repeat, to respect yourself, and others will re- spect you. — Or should you ever more (descend to so derogatory a deed, re- niember first," said he, ironically, " to take the feathers from your hat. Those decorations are, doubtless, meant to distinguish you from the vulgar, and to bespeak your quality and honour. l4 In 224 ST. MARGARET*S CAVE: In such employments they are super- fluous, and often lead to discovery ; as witness the plume that I found this morning in the aisle of the chapel, and "which is similar to that you now wear.'* Be Launcy remained silent. After a pause, father Austin conti- nued, " Believe me I am no one's enemy, therefore I cannot be yours .-^- Truly will I lay before Margaret, what you have said ; but no w^ord or action of mine shall influence her judgment. As, to her cause, that I leave to Him who has protected her from the cradle, not doubting, but his powerful arm will fix her in the state most conducive to her happiness. " By my soul, father," said De Launcy, *^ I came not intentionally for such a purpose as you infer. My curiosity was,, undoubt- OR, THE nun's story. 225 undoubtedly, excited, by an account I had heard of you ; and being also told that Margaret had walked hither, I came to seek her. On entering the chapel, your discourse arrested my at- tention, and I involuntarily listened unto it." ^^ You will excuse me conversing longer on the subject," answered the friar, " I have, at this hour, occupations, to which all others must give place." With these words the father bowed slightly, and took his way to the cha- pel, while De Launcy, vexed at the ill success of his application, returned to the castle. Revolving future plans, he passed the remainder of the day in his own chamber, complaining of a slight indisposition, but cautiously observant on all that passed. L.5 Towards 226 ' ST. Margaret's cave: Towards evening, Margaret and Alice, who were far from suspecting the discovery De Launcy had made, took their usual w^alk to the chapel, where they found the friar and David in earnest discourse. The father, after bidding them welcome, candidly re- lated all that had passed between him- self and De Launcy, though without comment, leaving the answer entirely to Margaret. With fixed attention she remained silent until he concluded ; when she . replied/a blush tinging her cheek: " To answer methodically to the strange relation you have made, I must begin by the affection you say De Launcy professes for me. I think you called it love, father ^ if so, how erro- neous an opinion had I formed of that passion. OR, THE nun's story. 227 passion. Methought it meant friend- ship and esteem, in the most extensive meaning of the words ; but now I fmd it otherwise, for what friendship or es- teem can De Lamicy have for me on so short an acquaintance ? The love I feel for you, for dame Alice, my Isabel, and honest David, has been growing for years, and, like a tree whose strong root is immoveably fixed, must shatter the soil that nurtured it, ere it can be des- troyed or displaced. Such alone, fa- ther, is the love that I comprehend, and such, I am convinced, is that which my friends bear to me ; I will, therefore, none . of this strange sudden affec- tion, that springs up like a summer flower, and doubtless fades as soon. I love neither the lord De Launcy nor his son; and am grieved the latter should L 6 bestow 228 ST. MARGARETS CAVE: bestow a thought upon me after I quit- ted his presence." The whole of Margaret's words and manner convinced her friends, that there were no hopes for De Launcy ; Austin therefore replied : " As you appear entirely determined in this business, I shall not scruple to speak my sentiments. — Though I have no doubt of the efficacy of De Launcy's espousing our cause, yet I confess I would rather owe all to right and justice, than submit to an obligation so humi- liating, and for which I should think you paid far too dear, by giving your hand, where you could not, without he- sitation, bestow your heart.'* The friar then proceeded to inform them, that he meant to lose no time in bringing forward Margaret's claim/ which. OR, THE nun's story. 22^ which, if contended, he would lay be- fore the throne, and personally demand of Henry the Seventh, protection and justice for the daughter of his friend^ Fitzwalter. ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ As Margaret and Alice walked home- ward, passing a small wood they met De Launcy, apparently plunged in thought. At their approach he, how- ever, shook off his reverie, and advanc- ing, said : " Fortune favours me to-night, will you permit me to attend you home ?" Margaret bowed coldly, but remain- ed silent. " The friar is a happy man," conti- nued he, taking his place by Marga- ret's side, " that can thus tempt youth ^ and 230 ST. Margaret's cave: and beauty to brave the horrors that are said to attend his dv*"elHng, and to en- counter the damps of the night air." " For his happiness," replied Mar- garet, " I cannot answer; bat if hap- piness, as v/e are taught to beheve, is the result of virtue, he is doubtless so." " I am, unfortunately, not in his fa- vour. I consulted him this morning, on a subject very near my heart, but he listened unpropitiously." " Might I advise, then," said Mar- garet, " relinguish it;. I never yet found his judgment erroneous." ^^ That council is more easily given than adopted," answered he. " I am convinced you know to what I allude, and though I was unfortunate in my ap- plication to him, yet may I flatter myself with a patient hearing from you." *^ I know OR, THE nun's story. 231 " I know not in what I can be in- terested that concerns you," repUed Margaret. '' However, if you request it, you may depend upon my candid opinion." A youth, plainly attired, of a com- manding height, and as it should seem .by his manner, (for the evening was too far advanced to render his features dis- cernible), of superior rank to the pea- santry around, at that moment turned from an opposite path, and advancing towards them, said: " I pray ye . direct me, if in your power,' the shortest way to father Aus- tin's cell. I know he dwells near this spot, for I had a direction from yonder cottages; but unacquainted with the country, have bewildered myself in the wood." *^ You 232 ST. MARGARET^S CAVE: *' You are a stranger then," replied Alice. " I am, lady 3 but am no stranger to the character of the pious father Austin." Alice then directed the youth through tiie wood to the old chapel, where, if he did not find the friar, she informed him of the path to the cave. The stranger bowed, and with thanks was turning from them, when Margaret, who had not spoken, addressing him, said : " Good youth, walk as speedily as you can through the wood, for the evening draws in, and the way, though short, is intricate to those unacquainted with it ; beware, ako, as you leave the path to cross to the chapel, for there Is a deep pit on the left side." The OR, THE NUN*S STORY. 233 The youth had instantly stopped when Margaret addressed him. " Heaven shield you, lady," replied he, " I will cautiously observe your council. The good will you bear to others revert upon your own head.'* With these words he pursued his way, and Margaret, with Alica and De Launcy, walked forward to the castle. CHAR 234 ST. Margaret's cave; CHAP. XVIII. De Launcy again attempted to prevail upon Margaret to sup v^ith him in the hall y but declining the in- vitation, she retired to her chamber, consenting, however, at his earnest re- quest, to see him on the ensuing morn- ing, as he declared he had business to communicate of the utmost importance. " I wonder what that youth wanted with father Austin," said Margaret to Alice, after they had retired ; '^ 'tis evi- dent he is a stranger, methought too he had rather a foreign accent." ^' Doubtless he comes," replied the dame, " to relieve his mind from some sorrow that oppresses it 3 if so, the good man OR, THE nun's story. 235 man will speak comfort to his wounded spirit.'* *' I trust he may. Perhaps the loss of tender parents. Poor youth ! if it be so, how much should I pity him." " If he has been guilty of any gross error, I shall pity him far more," replied Alice. " The loss of affectionate pa- rents, though hard to support, is to be overcome by reason and reflection ; but an evil and reproaching conscience who can bear? It is like a vulture, perpe-: tually gnawing at the heart." " He appears very young, dame ; bis deportment too was gentle, and his voice sounded as one familiar to my ear." The discourse then turned upon dif- ferent subjects, and among others, the interview with De Launcy on the ensu- ing day. I neither 236 ST. MARGARET^S CAVE : " I neither respect nor esteem the young man/* said Margaret, " there- fore wish at once to convince him of the futility of his paying me attentions, w^hich I am predetermined never to re- turn. — No, dame/' added she v^ith warmth, " I would sooner bear my father's name, without blemish or dis- grace, in the meanest cottage, and clothed with the most humble habili- ments that poverty could give, rather than be lady of this domain, however just my title, were it to be received as a favour from the baroness De Launcy*s son-in-law." ^0 ^ %Sf •S^ ^^ .. 'J j;-,^ such 260 ST, MARGARET S CAVE such a wish to a weary guest, was a breach of hospitality his humanity would mot suffer him to commit j he, there- fore, expressed his thanks for his offered confidence, and prepared some rushes^ that lay in one corner of the cave, for him to repose his wearied limbs. The youth received the friar's atten- tion with respect -, and, after joining him in his orisons, retired to rest. 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