&. UNIVERSITY LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN The person charging this material is responsible for its renewal or return to the library on or before the due date. The minimum fee for a lost item is $125.00, $300.00 for bound journals. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. Please note: self-stick notes may result in torn pages and lift some inks. Renew via the Telephone Center at 217-333-8400, 846-262-1510 (toll-free) or circlib@uiuc.edu. Renew online by choosing the My Account option at: http://www.library.uiuc.edu/catalog/ SEPl 7 RECD L I B R.AFLY OF THE UN IVLR.5ITY Of ILLINOIS ^^^ .A THE FFvIAB HILDAMG A LEGENDARY TALE. IN FIVE VOLUMES. EDWARD MORTIMER, ESO. . VOLUME I. LONDON: PRINTED BY J. DENNETT, LEATHER LANE, FOR J. F. HUGHES, WIGMORE STREET, CAVENDISH SaUARE, I8O7, Digitized by tine Internet Archive in 2009 witii funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/friarhildargoleg01mort "^ F7m7' Hildargo. A TALE OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY, CHAPTER I. Ihe night was dark and stormy; the J>' Avind howled through the lofty battle- ^ ments of the castle of Manstow, and i shook the umbrageous tenants of the ^ neighbouring wood. f The black scud passed swiftly on^ ^ driven by the furious violence of the ?gale^ which rushed in sighing murmurs -^ over the plains, ^. The moon, momentarily emerging ^ 'from the dark bosom of a cloudy threw VOL. I. B her bright silver beams over the silent face of nature, and pointed out the way through the avenue that led from the castle of Manstow to the hapless Lady Anna; who, with trembling steps, had issued from a private postern under the western rampart of the castle. She turned around, and for a moment contemplated its grey walls, now bright- ened by the beams of the pale regent of night, while the rising gale shook her delicate frame with its rude encoun- tering. ** And is it thus," said she mourn- fully, " that I am forced to fly the roofs which covered my helpless infancy, and of which, through the death of my ever- lamented parent, I am the rightful pos- sessor, to avoid a detested alliance, from which, my soul shrinks back with horror; without a friend to apply to, save that All- seeing Power, who has so graciously assisted me in this my escape from the miseries which impended over my head." " The Saints protect you, lady!" said a voice, which made Anna start with sensations of the Hveliest terror, until she recognized the form of Hubert, her father's favourite domestic. ^^ What do you here, lady, at this uncouth time of- night ? Forgive the unlicensed speech of your faithful Hubert ; but I fear all is not right, and that your mind accords not with the solemnities which are to take place the day after to-morrow, if I may judge from the tenor of your dis- course, which, forgive me lady, I have overheard." " Oh 1 Hubert," said Anna, *^ my mind indeed accords not with those bonds thou hast alluded to. Hubert, may I, can I trust thee ? Wilt thou be as true to the daughter of thy deceased lord, as thou was to him ?" Hubert, affected at her discourse, un- covered his head, while his grey locks B 2 4 fetreamed in the wind, and falling on one knee, '^ Lady," said he, " thy father was iny long honoured master : he favoured me with his confidence ; he has placed me in a state of unexpected, undeserved independence ; and shall Hubert be un- grateful ? Shall he forsake the daughter of his lord — the scion of the stock that supported him ? No, lady : while life yet flows in these aged veins, command my most faithful services ; depend on my fidelity, and listen to me, that now swears by the blessed Saints, to assist you, my honoured lady, in whatever you shall think most fitting to be done." " Rise, Hubert," said the Lady Anna; *^ I do indeed believe thee : the moments are precious; nor must we waste the time in converse. Conduct my steps to the hamlet : I fly these proud towers ; I fly the unprincipled De Vortimer. Hubert, thou now beholdest thy mistress, a fugi- tive from her rightful domains, uncertain whither to direct her wandering steps." ^* Oh ! my honoured lady/' said Hu- bert, " how is my soul affected at your present state ! but forgive me for endea- vouring to recall to your mind, your aunt, the Lady Gertrude de Percy, whose castle gates will surely be most gladly opened to receive you. Why not, lady, bend thy steps thitherward ? to which I, by your good permission, will attend you." *^ I thank thee, good Hubert," re- plied the Lady Anna, '^ in that thoa hast mentioned to me the Lady De Percy ; for in the tumult of distracted thoughts which overwhelmed my agi- tated bosom, the idea never occurred to me of soliciting her protection, and I only felt anxious to make my escape from the castle, trusting in the goodness of Providence to instruct me in what fur- ther I should do. To her will I now direct my journey ; and I will accept of thy services to see me safe beneath the roofs of her castle. But I fear, Hubert, B 3 on reflection, thy years will not permit thee to endure the fatigues of so long a journey. No, Hubert, tliou goest not with nne ; thy aged frame would sink beneath the toilsome way. How did it happen I could bear the idea for a mo- ment in my mind ? Alone will I dare the dangers of the road ; my mind is too full of sad ruminations to want the converse of society." " Oh ! lady," said the ancient Hu- bert, " in what have I so much offended thee, that thou deniest me this great comfort ? I do conjure you to hearken to my solicitations. Here, lady," said he, " will I for ever kneel ; here on this damp ground expire, if thou dost not permit me to attend thee. The Saints forbid thee to attempt the fatiguing journey alone \ Oh I my honoured mis- tress, I must indeed insist on being your humble follower." *^ Enough," said Anna ; " Hubert I yield to thy request. But see, is not that before us the cottage ? By your leave I will enter therein, while thou canst seek a palfrey for me ; for longer than that I may not stay here, else I shall perchance be observed, and fall into the power of the remorseless De Vortimer. Delay not, good Hubert, I beseech thee; the necessity of my flight is in- deed urgent." '^ I go, lady," returned the venerable Hubert ; " and now I do bethink myself, I saw your favourite palfrey in the pad- dock, not far from hence : perhaps I may be able to procure him for you." '* The Saints speed thee !" said the agitated Anna, as she lifted up the latch of the humble door, and entered into the cottage ; where, trembling with the most painful emotions of fear, she sat down on a bench before the embers, which yet glowed on the hearth. Hubert, exerting himself, now hasted towards the inclosure where he had ob- served the day before, the Lady Anna's B 4 8 palfrey was grazing. As soon as he en^ tared the fields which^ owing to the dark- ness of the night, he found with some difficulty, for a black lowering cloud now prevented the moon from shedding her silver beams over the earth — he called the palfrey, which he had himself reared with much care, and was pleased to find it still remembered his voice, and imme- diately ran up to him accompanied by another horse. Hubert, thus provided, returned to his cottage ; and having caparisoned the steeds in the best manner he was able^ he assisted the trembling Lady Anna to seat herself on her palfrey ; and then, having mounted his horse, they silently proceeded on their journey as swiftly as the agitation of Anna would permit her. She shuddered at every gale, as it swept over the extended plains ; and often fancied she heard the sounds of horses' feet in pursuit of her : frequently she would stop her steed to listen, and 9 when at length convinced her fears were groundless, again proceeded on her journey. The Lady Gertrude de Percy, to whom the Lady Anna de Vortimer was now bending her steps, resided in the north of England, many leagues from Manstow Castle: her husband, the Lord de Percy had departed this transitory stage of existence in the sanguinary field of battle some years back ; and the Lady Gertrude had from that period se- cluded herself from the world, and passed her solitary hours within the massy walls of her castle. She had once since her marriage visited, .with her regretted lord, her brother. Sir Willoughby de Vortimer ; and had seen the young. Anna> whose beauties had not then blossomed, but awaited the genial warmth of a few more summers ere the sweet bud should unfold its charms to an admiring world, B 6 10 Even at that tender age the tittfe Anna promised to become what she since so amply fulfilled, namely, in being pos- sessed of more beauty, more sensibility, and more refinement of manners thaa fell to the lot of one person. Her mother died ere she had learned to lisp her name ; but the tender and affectionate attentions of Sir Willoughby compensated for that great loss. Although the Lady de Percy would not, after the death of her lord, listen to the persuasion of her relations and friends to enter into society : yet she held the infantine form and endearing^ graces of the little Anna in her mind,. and ofttimes dispatched messengers to the castle of Manstow with inquiries afler her and Sir Willoughby de Vorti- mer, whom she loved with the most sisterly affection. Not such was her esteem for her other brother, Orlando, whom an acquaint- n ance with his vicious, revengeful, and ambitious disposition taught her to con- temn : of him, therefore, her inquiries were seldom. The Castle de Percy, in which she re- sided, w^as built on the brow of a hill,, commanding on one side an unlimited view of the restless ocean, and on the other the bleak mountains of Scotia's cold clime. It was a pile of great mag- nitude, and had been long erected, and its« numerous possessors each added to its strength in proportion as the art of war- fare became more known and studied^ Part of the eastern ramparts hung over the beach below> and completely stopped any approach on that side; and the other parts of the castle were equally protected by the united assistance of na* ture and art. Here, amidst a train of ancient do- mestics, resided the Lady Gertrude de Percy, beloved by all who knew her, for her charitable and humane disposition ; B 6 12 her sole falling being that of an insur- mountable pride, which her high birth in some degree warranted : yet not to- wards her dependants did she exercise that weakness ; but merely shewed it when her family were brought in ques- tion, and in the alliances they made; and her dislike to Orlando de Vortimer was not a little increased by his mar- riage with a lady, whose family was in some small degree inferior to his in no- bleness of origin. The glooms of night were now slowly dispersed by the orient beams of the sun, who, emerging from behind the lofty summit of the eastern hills, assisted by the refreshing breeze of morn, drove away the nocturnal vapours that had condensed upon the earth, and cheered the care-worn countenance of the Lady Anna de Vortimer, who, accompanied by the faithful old Hubert, was pursu- ing the road that led to Percy Castle,"1n hopes to find; under its lofty roofs, a safe 13 asylum from the machinations of Sir Orlando de Vortimer. The Lady Anna at lengthy weary with her great exertions, requested Hubert to seek some peasant's cottage^ where they might repose themselves for a short pe~ riod, and procure some refreshment. This, Hubert joyfully obeyed ; for his aged frame was but ill calculated to en- dure the fatigues he had undergone. Eager to serve the daughter of his be^ loved lord, he at first thought not of the weight of years that hung upon him, and only felt for the sufferings of the hapless Anna. Hubert, having at length procured a cottage, informed the Lady Anna, who immediately directed her steps towards it. Winding down the steep hill, which they had ascended to discover the signs of habitations, the blue curling smoke, they proceeded by the clear waves of an extensive sheet of water, until they ar- rived at the hut ; where, having obtained 14 permission to refresh herself from a fe- male of a youthful and interesting ap- pearance, who stood at the door, the Lady Anna dismounted and entered into the lowly cottage ; as did Hubert, after he had turned the horses loose, to graze on the luxurious herbage which sur- rounded it, and respectfully took his sta- tion behind the chair of Anna, from whence her repeated desires could not remove him. i5 CHAP. II. 1 o you, my brother, to your car6 do I leave my beloved child; be to her, I beseech you, a second father, that she may the less feel my loss. This charge, my brother, will cease when she attains the age of twenty-one years : then, it is my wish, she should be at her own controul, the mistress of her estates and actions ; and may the All- merciful Providence guide and direct her in them V Thus spoke Sir Willoughby de Vorti- mer, who, feeling the spark of life that animated his sickened frame, begin to grow pale, settled, in a private converse with his brother Orlando, his affairs, and imposed on him the guardianship of 1^ his only child Anna ; who thus replied to him : *^ Your wishes and desires, my dear brother, in this, as well as in every other instance, shall be most punctually obeyed ; nor shall the Lady Anna want a father while I exist." " Enough," faintly replied Sir Wil- loughby ; " let me now again see my Anna, that I may give to her ray last blessing." Orlando immediately passed hito the next apartment, where sat the weeping Anna de Vortimer, surrounded by the pale domestics, who unceasingly la- mented the heavy loss they were about to sustain. They had all been desired to quit the apartment when Sir Willoughby was ar- ranging his last worldly concerns with his brother, in presence of Father Hil- dargo, the confessor to the castle. '* Approach, my dear child," said Sir Willoughby to the Lady Anna, who now entered ; '* and while my yet remaining strength allows me the power of speech, attend to my words. To your uncle Orlando, have I bequeathed the guar- dianship of yourself and estates until you are of age, when that trust will cease. Look on him, my beloved Anna, as on a father ; follow his counsels, and be directed by him. — May the Almighty, my beloved child, bless, and make you happy, both here and hereafter !'* Fatigued with his exertions, Sir Wil- loughby paused — Silently he took the trembling hand of Anna in his, and having slightly pressed it, looked on her with a hint smile, and shorly after breathed his last sigh. The miserable Anna was borne sense- less from the. apartment, and conveyed by her weeping domestics to her cham- ber ; where for many days she continued in a silent stupor of grief that occa- sioned general alarm. No tears came 18 forth ; her eyes rolled about with a va- cant gaze. When any refreshment was offered to her, she would instantly attempt to par- take of it, and then, ere she had reached the food to her mouth, would lay it down again. When spoke to, she sel- dom replied ; and when she did, her answers betrayed the distracted ideas of her mind. Editha, an ancient domestic, who had long been held in great respect by the household, which she superintended, left not her dear young lady a moment. She would at times converse to her about her father ; but Anna never seemed to be affected at her discourse. Greatly alarmed, Editha, on the third day, judged it prudent to pursue som^e otlier steps to recall her to a state of re- collection ere it should he too late. She tlierefore took the passive hand of Anna, and demanded if she would like to see 19 her father ere he was inclosed in the coffin ? Anna started at the request ; but im- mediately relapsed into her former le- thargic insensibility. Editha repeated her question. Anna replied in a faint voice^ ^* Yes ; lead me to him." She then rose up, and was supported by Editha to the chamber where Sir Willoughby lay. For some time she gazed on the aw- ful remains of mortality, without evinc- ing her having any inw^ard knowledge of what appeared to her sight. " It is your father/' said Editha ; " do not you know him, lady ?" Some sudden recollection now seemed to agitate her for a moment : she took up the cold hand of Sir Willoughby, which, having kissed, she gently replaced it, aiKl then turned round ; and Editha, de- spairing of her recovery, conducted her to her chamber. 20 The last sad offices were that even- ing to be paid to the pale remains of Sir Willoughby ; and as soon as the shades of night had descended upon the earth, a train of monks arrived from the monastery of St. Austin, and the service to the dead being performed in the castle chapel, the body was borne to the vaults. The Lady Anna de Vortimer followed it, supported by Editha. She silently gazed on the awful ceremony ; but when the earth rattled on the coffin, she awoke to recollection, and throwing her- self on it, with a piercing shriek, said, *^ Oh, my beloved father, I will be bu- ried with you 1" Orlando de Vortimer hasted to raise her up, and she was carried away sense- less. The monks now solemnly chaunted a requiem, and departed. Orlando then repaired to the chamber of the Lady Anna, whom he found bathed in tears : her recollection had re- 21 turned; and nature^ unable to bear more, was now giving vent to the sorrow that else would soon have terminated her ex- istence. Time at length, with his lenient hand, wore off the deep sorrov/ that dwelt in her mind, and she was now able to reflect on her situation. She was placed by her father under the guardianship of her unck, Orlando de Vortimer ; a cir- cumstance that occasioned great pain to her, as she had a particular dislike to him ; for his deportment was proud, haughty, and unconciliating. Had her beloved father placed her under the guidance of Lady Gertrude de Percy, she would have been infinitely more pleased : determined, however, to comport herself with all respect and at- tention to Sir Orlando, she at kngth complied with his request, that she would leave the solitary gloom of her chamber, and again appear at the mid -day repast in the hall. 2'2 The Lady Anna de Vortimer now could not help being surprised at the at- tention which Sir Orlando paid her ; un- like his former haughty behaviour, and which she was much at a loss to account for, unless it proceeded from his respect for the wishes of her departed parent. The deportment of Father Hildargo also, was much changed ; and Anna, in- stead of being pleased, felt uneasy at the adulation he paid her. The father, she had indeed never much liked ; but she reverenced his holy calling. He had been appointed confessor to the castle by Sir Willoughby de Vortimer, at the instigation of Orlando, who had brought him to it on his return from Bretagne, en the decease of his lady, whom he had married there. The Castle of Manstovv was situated on a risng ground ; it was a noble edi- fice, of great extent and strength, and was built by one of the proud Norman lords, who, when they had obtained a 23 footing ill this country, shewed their skill in erecting places of defence for themselves and their numerous vassals ; and their pride and ostentation in ren- dering them as magnificent as the ages they lived in, afforded. Its lofty turrets rose with majestic grandeur over the woods, which sur- rounded three sides of this extensive building. In the front was a spacious lawn, which, sloping down, was ter- minated by a stream, whose waters increased by the rills that descended from the neighbouring hills, formed there a large sheet of that restless element, and added as well to the strength of the castle, as beauty of the scene. Beyond it were the cultivated lands of the domain, spreading far away in gentle undulations, till a small village and the grey spire of its church, bounded them. Hills rising in romantic grandeur over each other ; their dark sides clothed with the tall fir, the spreading beech, and 24 the knotty oak, with here and there scattered cottages, whose situations were perceptible only by the blue smoke wliich rose from their humble hearths, their lowly walls being deeply immured in the surrounding underwood, bound- ed the view. Over these hills, the sun rising in ma- jestic splendour, first threw his beams on the green summits of the forests; then would they gladden the walls of the proud turrets of Manstow; and when that radiant attendant of the morn had emergeil still farther from the em- bosoming hills, his beams would glitter on the surface of the lake, whose capa- cious bosom, trembling with the morn- ing breeze, reflected his glorious light. The grand entrance to the castle was in the center of the western front, and was defended by a barbacan, beneath which, was the portal, flanked by two cir- cular towers ; the summits of which were embattled ; the immense folding gates 25 were further secured by a portcullis, which, when let down from the roof above, by massy chains, added to their strength. Over the grand entrance was affixed the arms of the family of the De Vor- timers ; and, above that, a place was made for the purpose of casting hot lead and pitch on an assailant below, in case the gates should be attacked. The passages which v/ound up the turrets, were lighted by many loop-holes, which were made in the massy walls, from which, the besieged could with impunity, annoy the enemy with their winged messengers of death. Crossing the extensive court-yard, the entrance to the grand hall appeared op- posite the castle gates ; marble steps led up to the folding portals, which were co- vered by a portico, whose cumbrous roof was supported by lofty rows of columns. On each side of the castle walls, which surrounded the court-yard, were VOL. I. c a6 pillars which supported the galleries, that ran round the whole building. These were made for the accommo- dation of the ladies, and other spectators who thronged to see the gay tourna- ments which were performed in the court-yard, where the valorous knights, to gain the love of their fair damCvS, who with pallid faces viewed their fierce en- counters, dared each other to the com- bat. In this court-yard, when the castle w^as attacked, were assembled the hardy forces, who, on a signal given, would rush out of the castle gates, and, by their daring, scatter pale fears and dis- may amongst the adverse host, driving them with many a trickling wound, inflicted by the arrow, the pike, or the shining glave, into the yielding waters of the lake, whose pellucid streams soon assumed a sanguine hue. And here too, assembling, when drove back by superior force, they v/ould close 27 the strong gates, and lowering the huge portcallis, ascend the embattled turrets, and from their commanding heights, and the loop-holes in the flanking tower, scatter death round. The grand hall of the castle was of great size ; double rows of columns sup- ported the lofty roof on both sides, whose huge trunks were adorned with coats of armour, helmets, and spears, that had been taken from the adverse host by the proud lords of the castle ; and above these, waved the banners won in the well-fought fields of san- guine strife. Over the entrance was a gallery, which led to the chambers on each side, but which had no communication with the hall itself. Fronting the portals, on the opposite side, was a large casement, whose tinted panes, adorned with ar- morial bearings, cast a dim light into the extensive place. Doors on each side of the hall opened c 2 28 into long and lofty corridores^ lighted at the ends by large casements, which be- ing likewise adorned with paintings, scarcely, even in meridian beams of day, admitted siifl^cient light to drive away the shades from the dusky interior. These corridores led to the different state apartments of the castle on each side the hall, which, as was before ob- served, had a communication with each other by the gallery, which run over the hall portal. The wings of this extensive building were appropriated to domestic purposes; having each in their centre, a hall for the accommodation of the vassals and re- tainers ; and though not of suc'h great ex- tent, were equal in beauty to the grand one, to which these had communication by passages to the extensive corridores, which opened into it. One of these wings, with the state apartments on one side of the hall, did Sir Willoughby de Vortimer, with a 2# truly tVaternal kindness, allot to his bro-- ther Orlando. The other, himself and the peerless Anna, with their respective trains of domestics occupied. The chapel was on one side of the castle gates ; and below it, were the vaults, in which were laid those who once had proudly paced the castle s spa- cious halls, and had listened, with con- scious pride, to the tuneful minstrels, who were proclaiming their hardy prowess in the tented hills ; and also the sweet beauty, whose blooming charms had urged them to those desperate deeds of valour, and for whom the proud tour- nament, the splendid feast, and costly spectacle, had often been exhibited, and wiio had trod the mazes of the sportive dance with the gallant warriors, who, resting from the toils of warfare, courted the syren, happiness, in her captivating forms, and sighed with hearts unfraught with mutual love ; and with all fond ex- C 3 - 30 pectancies of unalloyed delight, engaged in bondage of connubial bliss. The proud dame, who listened not to love, and unblessing and unblessed, wore out her solitary life. These, with the poor menial, the toiling domestic, and the hardy soldier, alike lay in the silent grave, that with an iron and relentless hand, levels all distinctions. The vaults communicated with many secret passages, which it was customary to make in those troublesome times, in building, either for personal conceal- ment, or for the purposes of securing the treasures, in case the castle should, in the uncertain fate of war, fall into other hands. Beneath the ponderous edifice, were the dungeons of the castle, in whose solitary dismal walls, had pined many a hapless mortal, a victim to feu- dal tyranny. Si CHAR IIL oiR Orlando de Vortimer had, when he first entered into the honour- able profession of arms, sailed with many brave knights to the shores of Bretagne^ to aid the forces of the ba- rons, who had risen to avenge the cause of the infant heir, who was entrusted to the care of an uncle, who, in a per- fidious manner, disdaining the title of regent, with which he was invested during the minority of the young prince, had seized the sovereignty ; of which, to dispossess him, the faithful barons took up arms. One evening, after a hot action, as Sir Orlando was reposing with his bro- ther knights, on the tented plain, word was brought that a lady of noble de- c 4 32 meanour, having a young child with her, had been stopped by the centinels^ and had been detained by the officer who commanded the advanced posts, until the pleasure of Sir Orlando should be known. Leaving his tent, b^ passed hastily on^ till he arrived at the place, where he saw, resting her weary frame on the fallen trunk of a tree, a beautiful wo- man, with a young child, u ho, uncon- scious of its situation,, was lading asleep^ in her arms. Orlando, interested by the assemblage of beauties which were pourtrayed in the; lovely countenance of the lady,, instantly made his rank knowa to her, to preclude-. the idea of his enquiry resulting frora curiosity, and begged to know in what, he could serve her. ^^ You see before you, Sir Knight,, the hapless widow of Henri de St. Clair, who, aiding the cause of the barons, against the duke regent, lost his life m. 33 the ilrst action that was fought near Rennes. Your soldiers^ disregarding my asseverations of being a friend to their causey have^ instigated by the desire of plunder, forced into my chateau, and drove myself and domestics out of it, , I now appear before you to seek redress for such unwarrantable acts, and which. I claim from you as a true knight.'* Orlando, during this speech, gazed on the interesting suppliant, whose beau- ties, though somewhat clouded by terror and distress, most powerfully attract- ed his- regard. He continued viewing her v/ith. evident emotion for some time after she had finished her request ; and,, at length, recovering himself, '^ Lady," said he, " I will this instant . proceed, and render you justice ; and much it doth grieve me, that my soldiers should have comported themselves so shame- fully. Meanwhile I must entreat yoii to partake of the poor accommodation of my tent for the night, which will, ill ac^ C 5 34 eord with your delicate frame. Permit me/'said he, " to bear the little cherub, that is in your arms, myself, while I con- duct your steps to the camp." The child, w^ho had hitherto slept undisturbed on his mother's lap, now awoke ; and, seeing Orlando motioning to take him, uttered a fearful cry, and, clinging round his mother, refused to leave her. Orlando, therefore, forbore to urge his request, and Lady St. Clair, holding the child by the hand, was supported by Orlando to his tent, who having placed a guard before the door to prevent in- truders disturbing his fair petitioner, set forward to her chateau, to restrain the unlicensed rudeness of the soldiery. He soon effected the tenor of her re- quest ; and, having reproved the con- duct of his men ; when the sun, peep- ing over the eastern mountains, pro- claimed the glad arrival of day, he again returned, and appeared before the beautiful Lady Agnes de St. Clair; and having provided her with an escort befitting her rank, she departed, with many acknowledgments for his attention,. to her chateau. The toils of war could not drive away from the mind of De Vortimer, the be- witching smile with which she thanked him for his services : and a cessation of hostilities soon after being agreed on between the barons and the duke, for the space of fifteen days, he determined' to visit her. There was another consideration,, which ^ was regarded by him with no small interest ; which was the great pro- perty the Lady de St. Clair was pos- sessed of. He, as a younger brother, had no other possessions than his sword, though SirWilloughby's generous friend- ship amply supplied his wants ; yet he inwardly spurned his dependant situa- tion, and repeatedly lamented his unto- c6 S6 ward fate, which had doomed him ta such a state. He had long lived in hope, for his brother had been married for some time without having a child, and he knev/ that should he die so, and he, was- by many years his elder, the vast estates and domains attached to Manstow cas- tle would then descend to him. With this idea he in some measurcj consoled himself ; but all his hopes were rendered fallacious by the birth of a daughter, who was called Anna. Ths entrance of the child into the world was followed by the departure of her mo- ther, who lived but to see her offspringj and then closed her eyes for ever. Thus situated, he had now no hopes of possessing the estate, and he eagerly sought, by some alliance, to aggrandize himself, and to secure the envied posses- sion of wealth ; little did he care as to the manner in which it was to be obtained. 37 The elegant form and beauties of the Lady De St. Claii% interested him ; but t4ie fortune she possessed had more charms for him, than personal accom- plishments. His own figure, of which he was- not a little vain, was allowed to be very- elegant and interesting,^ He was some- thing above the common stature, well made, and of a commanding deport- ment ; dark expressive eyes, and ani- mated features ; added to these advan- tages, his capacities were great, and he well knew how to make himself interest- ing to the fair. ,When v.'ith them, laying aside that haughty air and disdainful regard which his pride made him assume to his own sex, he would clothe his countenance with smiles, and put on a respectful and insinuating demeanour, which, added to his manly form, conveyed a general re- gard in his favour. De Vortimer was conscioivs of this^ 38 therefore studied how to improve it^ and by frequent practice of his dissimulative comportment to render himself an ob- ject of interest, hoping that he should, one day, reap the rewards of it, by a union with some fair dame, whose am- ple fortune would recom pence him for the constrainment and deceit he must put in force to gain his ends. Full of these ideas, he repaired to the chateau of the Lady Agnes de St. Glair, who, grateful to him, for the favours he had rendered her, received him with, much pleasure. Orlando de Vortimer,. sedulous to please, exerted all his abili- ties ;. and finally obtained a promise from the Lady Agnes, that she would, as soon as the present troubles should cease,, unite her destiny to his. With much impatience Orlando waited • the tardy operations of the barons, and the delays and cessations of hostilities, which the duke regent, with much sub- til ty, from time to time obtained, and ; 39 which the barons, with an inconsiderate blindness, agreed to. The duke wisely foreseeing that the longer he delayed their efforts, the more he strengthened himself in the regal seat. At length, however, the eyes of the barons were opened, and all differences were now adjusted, and peace and tran- quillity restored by the death of the duke, and which decided the quarrel that had for so long a time agitated Bretagne ; the young king was acknow- ledged the rightful sovereign of the country, and another regent appointed during his minority. De Vor timer then hasted to the Lady Agnes de St. Clair, and agreeable to promise, possessed himself of her hand. The marriage was performed with all the splendor of those ages ; and De Vor- timer fondly hoped, that he had now gained the summit of his wishes. The young Edmund de St. Clair par- took largely of the graceful form and 40 interesting Gountenance of his mother, and was now near ten years of age. Added to an interesting form, he possessed a larger share of sense and discernment, than was usual in one of so tender an age. He neither hked nor v/as Hked by his father-in-law, who, for some reasons, which we will relate to our readers, now conceived against him an irreconcileable aversion. Orlando de Vortiraer some time after hi& marriage, had been requested to dis- charge several considerable debts which h€ had incurred previous to his union with Lady de St. Clair. In order to effect this, it was necessary that he should ap- ply to her for the means, as she still held the papers relative to her estates ; and for which De Vortimer, fearful lest she should so soon discover the true reason of his soliciting the alliance^ had never demanded of her. But what was his surprise, when on making this request, lie was informed by 11 i>er, that sikIi a sum as be wanted was out of her power to grant, avS great part of the estates were only held by her in trust for her son, Edmund de St. Clair, until be sboukl attain the age of man- hood ; neither was the annual incomes arising fFom them to be touched, but to be applied to the culture of tbe estates, or kid ourt in fresh purchases. Her own fortune was indeed amply sufficient to purchase all the ki>;uries of bfe, but would not suffice to discharge claims of so extensive a nature as that ^hich De Vortimer was now necessitated V) pay ; and as it was entirely settled on. herself, she did not feel inclined to ac-^ cede to his request. Thunderstruck at this declaration, De Vortimer remained for some moments silent. He had supposed that he had become the possessor of the w^hole of the property when he married the Lady Agnes; but instead of that, to. find that a large portion of the estates were only 42 held by her in trust for Edmund de St. Clair, and the remainder settled on her- self, over which he had no power, but had even been refused the sum he wanted ; he was agitated with the most deadly emotions of rage, and deter- mined, if it were possible, to secure the estates to himself. With a haughty air he quitted the presence of the Lady Agnes, and re- tired to his apartments, to bethink him* self of the most feasible means to put his designs in execution. With this idea, he sent a domestic to inform Fa^ ther Hildargo that he wished to speak; to him. This father was confessor to the fa- mily for some years, and had, previous to the departure of Sir Henri de St. Clair, to aid the barons, assisted him in arranging his family affairs, and had witnessed the will and documents which confined to the young Edmund the estates, and also settled on the Lady 43 Agnes her fortune, which could not be transferred by her to any other person ; but in case of her death, were then to be added to the possessions of Edmund de St. Clair. This, on inquiry, was what Sir Or- lando learnt from Hildargo ; whom he now by various artifices assayed to make him subservient to his designs : and in this he succeeded ; for the greedy monk listened with avidity to his words, and promised and agreed, in consideration of an ample reward, to procure for him the papers of the estates, and also the will ; which, when possessed of, there would no longer remain any obstacle to his seizing on the whole of the estates, and applying them to his own purposes, without the Lady Agnes being able to hinder him, the authority by which she acted, being lost. Hildargo having continual access to the apartment of the Lady de St. Clair, soon found an opportunity of procuring 44 the key of the iron chest in which they were deposited ; and rising at midnight^ he silently entered her study, and turn- ing the key in the large wards of the locks, drew back the bolts that secured the lid, he now selected the papers rela- tive to the estates, and also the will of Sir Henri de St. Clair* which, cover- ing n^ in- fche folds of his garments^ he safely conveyed away, and appeared with the packets before the delighted eyes of Orlando de¥ortimer, who im- mediately secured them in a secret re- cess, known only to himself^ and then prepared to put in force the remainder of his project. The next morning Orlando dispatched a domestic to the Lady Agnes, to inform her that her lord w^aited her presence ia his apartm.ents. Surprised at this unexpected message, she comported herself thereto, and en- tering the chamber, beheld only Sir Oi:- iando and Father Hildargo. 46 *' I sent for you, lady/' said he, " in consequence of certain converse which I held with you not many days back, in ^.'hich, I am grieved to say, that you re- fused to accord to the tenor of my re- quest. Inform me now, lady, before this holy father, how it is that the pro- perty of the late Henri de St. Clair was settled solely on yourself, so as to debar the participation of a future husband ?" The Lady Agnes, surprised at the de- mand, with some indignation replied, that the will of her late lord was her authority. *^ Will you then, lady," returned Or- lando de Vortimer, " to ease and do away certain doubts which are taking fast root in my mind, let mersee that paper ; for it is right I should be well assured ef v/hat so nearly concerns me." " Certainly," replied the Lady de Vortimer, " I will shew you the papers on which my rights are grounded." ^* In that case," said De Vortimer, we 46 shall ourselves see how far the power vested in you extends." '* We/' replied the Lady Agnes, with some surprise ; " Father Hildargo is as well acquainted as myself with the pa- pers in question ; for, if I mistake not, some of them are of his own inditing." " Pardon me, fair daughter," said the monk, rising up, and bowing with much apparent humility, " either my memory fails, or you, lady, mistake ; for I am in complete ignorance of the affair of which my Lord de Vortimer hath but now been questioning me." Confounded at this reply, which she knew must be false, and fearing that there was some dark plot carrying for- ward against her, Lady Agnes, casting a look of abhorrence at the false monk, hastily left the chamber to seek the pa- pers, to decide the doubts of the deep and designing Orlando de Vortimer. 47 CHAR IV. JL HE Lady Agnes de Vortlmer, with a palpitating heart, repaired immediately to the chamber in which was the iron chest. This she opened ; for Hildargo had replaced the key, after he had com- pleted his designs, in the secret niche of the cabinet where it was deposited. Her astonishment and horror, when she could not find the papers, can more easily be conceived than described. With emotions too violent for her deli- cate frame to bear, she repaired again to the apartments of De Vortimer, and there openly taxed him with having either himself, or by his agents, pro- cured the packets containing Henri de St. Clair's will, and the titles to the estates. 48 De Vortlmer, who expected nothing less, received the accusation with an in- sulting smile. '^ Lady," said he, *' 'tis right you should appear to be in trouble at the loss of these imaginary docu- ments, which now, I am full well as- sured, never had existence, save in your own min'd. Some reports I have of late heard, created surmises in my breast, that what you said could not be claimed by truth, and now behold all my suspi- cions verified. You also did endeavour, lady, to suborn this holy father to be your evidence in so false a case : but in that you are mistaken ; for truth is so deeply implanted in his words, that the breath of doubt rests not on them. I shall, therefore, as is best fitting for me to do, take instant possession of the rentals of these estates; and Edmund de St. Clair may, when his years demand it, receive a portion of them amply suited to his wants ; but that, nevertheless, must, on my part, be optional.". . , ^9 '* And think you, De Vortimer/' said the Lady Agnes, ^' that I will patiently submit to this injustice to myself and son ; the result of your successful plans devised between you and that, whom I thus call to his face, deceitful agent. Father Hildargo." ^' Why, lady, doth thy tongue move thus maliciously against me ? Sure it is, thou hast no cause for such a word as thou hast spoken, which is — but I do forgive thee ; I am commanded so to do. I had almost spoken harshly ; but the poor w^orm who crawls on the damp bosom of the earth, will, if pressed too hard, turn on its torturer." " The worm — the serpent, say rather, father, who seeks to sting the friend that cherished it. Ask thy own heart, if what I say is not true ?*' " The words I have but now spoke,^' returned the monk, " proceeded thence; a double meaning exists not there. Your passion, lady, makes you unmind- VOL. I, D 50 iul of my holy calling, which else, I think, for I have ever known you a strict observer of religious duty, would cause the blush of shame to tinge your cheek, for thus rudely treating a mem- ber of the holy church." '^ Further converse to thee," said the Lady Agnes, " imports not; but, De Vortimer, know my resolves : I will hence, with my poor Edmund, unto the king, and at his feet a suppliant lay till he has granted me the justice I shall sue for." Having said this, she departed the chamber, and left Sir Orlando and the monk to their consultations. They had been prepared for her reproaches, which passed almost unnoticed by their ears ; but her last threat, of seeking redress from the king, alarmed them. Beauty ever had great weight with him, and it was to be feared, that her charms, and the justice of her cause, would eventually overwhelm them in the oi ruins of the splendid structure they were now raising up. This step then must be prevented; and Sir Orlando, with some agitation, re- quested Fatli^r Hildargo to summon in- stantly the seneschal of the chateau to him ; to whom he instantly gave direc- tions on IK) account to permit any of the domestics to leave the castle without his permission. Mortimer de Veseri, for so \vas the, seneschal called, promised obedience to his commands, and then departed to issue the orders. The Lady Agnes de St. Clair had in- stantly repaired to her apartments, and summoning a part of the domestics, bade them get ready to attend her to the shores of Albion. , Astonished at the order, they never- theless instantly prepared to obey it ; and while so doing, were ordered to de- sist by the seneschal, agreeable to Sir Orlando's mandate. D 2 52 This being communicated to the Lady Agnes, left her in doubt what to do, as the country was infested by armed bands of lawless banditti, and without a strong escort the greatest dangers were to be expected. While she was thus pondering in her mind what course to take, the young Edmund de St. Clair entered the apart- ment, and was running up to embrace his beloved parent, when he suddenly stopped, on perceiving the tears that coursed each other down her pallid cheeks. ** What is the matter, my dear mo- ther ?" said the youth ; " Are you not well ? You are crying now, as you did when the news came of my poor father's death. Alas ! I do remember it well. I wish he was alive now ; he was so kind, and never frowned at me, as Sir Orlando does. Why did you make him my fa- ther ?" This artless conversation of the child 53 increased the grief of the Lady AgncR, who, folding him in her maternal arms, " Yes, Edmund, I have indeed erred in giving thee so base a father^ and who would deprive thee of thy birthright ; but it shall not be so, even if I were to. traverse the globe alone, and seek a sus- tenance from the green herbage. No, my child, thou shalt not be wronged. Together we will depart, and brave all dangers ; for we have harmed no one, but are as the persecuted lambs flying from the remorseless wolf. We cannot, sure, encounter worse than those we leave behind.'* JHaving said this, she packed up in a casket her most valuable jewels, and w^aited with impatience in her apart- ments till the shades of evening, de- scending on the earth, enveloped it in a dusky gloom. She then secretly left the chateau by a private door, and proceeded to a neigh- bouring hamlet, where, covering her D 3 54 face with a thick veil, she entered a cot- tage, and seeing a peasant, requested he would instantly procure them horses, and attend her to the sea-coast, for which she would amply reward him. She accompanied these words with a valuable present, which the man receiv- ing, promised to comply with her de- sires, and departed to procure the steeds. With much anxiety the Lady Agnes remained with Edmund in the cottage, counting the tardy moments, till at length they heard the welcome sound of horses feet at the door. She started up, and raising the latch of the humble postern, saw the peasant mounted, and holding two horses. She instantly directed the young Ed- mund to mount one, and springing on the other, in spite of the darkness of the night, proceeded as swiftly as she possibly could tov;ards the sea-coast ; more fearful of being overtaken by Or- 65 lando*s party, than of meeting the san- guinary robber. The Lady Agnes had so well timed her departure from the chateau, that her fliglit was not discovered till the uext morning. Sensations of fear and dismay took instant possession of the soul of Sir Or- lando ; and fearful, lest she should reach the shores of Albion ere his emis- saries could overtake her^ he instantly sent for Father Hildargo, and requested that he would disguise himself, and, at- tended by two chosen ruffians, seek the steps of the Lady Agnes. The monk readily consented to this ; and putting on the habiliments of a peasant, left the castle privately, and passing through a small wood which was near the chateau, found there the horses ready prepared by order of De Vortimer,, and the two ruffians, who were to aid him in his search. They soon proceeded on their way^ D 4 50 which Hildargo directed towards the- sea shore. Lady Agnes de Vortimer, with her son Edmund de St. Clair^ attended by by the peasant, found themselves, when the morning dawned, near the forest of Gnirche. She was faint, and greatly fatigued with her journey ; but the hope of rendering justice to her son and her- self, animated her, and made her able to encounter the perilous attempt of proceeding through a country so lately rent by intestine factions, and which had not yet recovered its wonted se- renity ; for the troops, just disbanded, instead of retiring to their homes, Sought, by combining together, and committing all manner of outrages, to enrich themselves with plunder. The fugitives, when the sun had thrown on them, for some time, his fer- vid riays, and had increased the lassitude that now not only possessed them, but the tired steeds ; fortunately discovered 57 a neat hut, in the bosom of a valley, to which they instantly repaired, and their request of being allowed to refresh them- selves and their horses, was instantly granted by an aged peasant, and his daughter, who resided in it. A vineyard of some extent lay on one side, which was the sole source frona; which the inhabitants of the cot derived- their subsistence. Basil, which was the peasant's name, welcomed the travellers with much hospitality^ and placed be- fore them the coarse fare, which the exercise they had taken,> made appear to them more inviting than the most luxurious viands to the palled appetite. He seemed much surprized at the at- tempt of the Lady Agnes to cross the country, which he represented as full of roving bands of unlicensed soU diery, who plundered, and sometimes- destroyed the unwary and defenceless 'traveller. The Lady Agnes listened to his tale D 5 58 with some apprehensive ideas, but look* ing on Edmund, felt her courage re- vive. And as soon as she was in some degree refreshed, went to the little pallet^ whereon Edmund, after he had satisfied the cravings of nature, had laid himself, and was soon enwrapped in the soft embraces of sleep. The Lady Agnes awoke him, and the peasant, having prepared the steeds, who had been grazing on the luxurious herbage which grew on the green plat before the cottage, they again mounted, and having liberally satisfied their atten- tive hosts, proceeded on their adventu- rous journey. They now wound up a lofty hill ; and when they arrived on the summit, the Lady De Vortim^r beheld the extensive forest of Guirche stretching far and wide beneath them. The sun was nov/ on the decline, and the lengthening shadow foretold that he would soon throw his beams ou other 59 worlds; she tremblingly demanded of the guide, if there was no other road than that which seemed to lead directly through the extensive forest ; and how it was possible they could proceed through it at that time of the day, since it was evident that the gloom of the fo- rest, aided by the dusky hue of even- ing, would soon render their way imper^ vious, and they must necessarily pass the night in its dark labyrinths, and perhaps, might miss the path which led through it. This difficulty the foresight of the pea- sant, in some degree, had provided against, having got a torch, and imple- ments for lighting it, at the vine-dresser's cottage. But on the Lady Agnes inquir- ing whether there was not another path ; he replied, that no other than the one they were in, led to the sea-coast, and that the forest must be crossed. Thus situated, the Lady De Vortimer j> 6 6o increased the speed of her horse, that she might pass the dismal forest as soon as possible. They had now entered it, and the gloom around began to deepeil, the sun had sunk some time below the horizon, and the evening vapours descended around. The way how became obscured, and the peasant struck a light, and having illumined his torch, proceeded before the Lady Agnes. Edmund, who, too young to be con- scious of the dangers that surrounded hlrp, arid who' never anticipated any evil in the presence of his mother, was amused by the novelty of the joufney, the great consequence of which he was a strangei* to. " Like otner young nobles, he had been iiccustorned, from his earliest years, to ride, to yaiilt on a horse in speed, and other ev lutions of the manege^ for in 6i the government of the steed consisted one of the chief aGcortipHshments of a knight. By this means he was well enabled to undergo the fatigue of the journey,, which began to harass the delicate frame of his mother^ who now looked fearfully around her^ and listened to the nocturnal blast as it howled through the branches of the trees, or rustled an the leafy summits of the forest. The guide, who proceeded forward with the light, now stopped, and turn- ing round, shrouded the torch with his mantle, and, in alow voice, directed the Lady Agnes and Edmund^ to turn out of the road, which she, miich Surprised^ with a palpitating heart, complied with 5 and the peasant then extinguished his torch. They now heard a rustling sound artlttiigst the bushes, and a hoarse voice^ calling out '^ Hugo ; they must be here- about, or perhaps, they have gone further into the wood." 02 One of the horses now started at the rustling of the bushes, and discovered the place where the fugitives had con- cealed themselves. ^' Surrender/' ex- claimed a rough voice, '^ or take the consequence.'* The Lady Agnes now, to her fear- distracted sight, saw opposed to her bosom, the glittering point of a spear, and trembling more for the fate of Ed- mund than for herself, said, in a faint voice, " We are your prisoners, deal not harshly with us, I beseech you." One of the gang now lit a torch, which gleaming on their faces, disco- vered to the Lady de Vortimer, a party of fierce looking men in the faded uni- form of soldiers, having on battered hel- mets, and rusty coats of mail. Each was armed with a long spear and a sword ; and by their savage features, seemed ca- pable of performing any action, how- ever desperate and horible. 63 CHAP. V. X HE leader of the party now approached the trembling Lady de Vortimer, who immediately, in an agitated voice, im- plored he would permit them to pass on : " That may not be, lady/' said he, in a rough accent, " you must be brought unto our chief, and to him you can direct your petition." The despairing Lady Agnes replied not ; and one of the gang, getting on the steed that the alarmed Edmund rode, made him set behind him ; the peasant was ordered to dismount, and the leader, vaulting on his horse, held the bridle of the palfrey the Lady Agnes rode, and then proceeded by the light of the torches directly across the forest. The red glare of the light flashed ok the branches of the trees^ and their large trunks, overgrown with ivy, served to shew the dreary parts through which the party now proceeded. The loud blast roared in the leafy summits of the pines^ and rushing through the forest, chilled the tender frame of the agitated Lady DeVortimer.. No sound was heard but the gale, or the shriek of the owl, or some timid- bird, frightened from its resting place by the unusual light. They continued for a considerable time in the same track, till, tlie road branched off in some smaller paths. The leader stopped and looked round him for some time, as if to discover the tight path ; and, at length, struck into one where the huge trees formed a close avenue, and their large roots> covered; with the slippery moss, and the trailing Stems of the brambles entangled the feet of the horses, and impeded their progress. 05 A deeper emotion offeai mnk into the agitated bosom of Agnes de Vortimer, as she beheld the furious leader unsheath his shining glave, and cut away the ob- structing briars, and heard one of the gang, who followed on foot, exclaim, with a rough voice, " that they were in the wrong path." This was the first time that the silence which they kept, had been disturbed, and caused the Lady Agnes to tremble. The leader now replied, " Dost take me for a fool, Hugo, that I should miss my way." ^- No, no, Roland," said the other, *' but I am almost sure this is not the right road." '' Peace, blockhead," returned Ro- land, " I warrant you I am right ; here, bring me a torch, for, by St. Jago, I can hardly see my way." He now stopped his horse, and a torch being handed to him, again pro- ceeded. 06 The path now widened ; when on a a sudden, some noises were heard, " Hearken/' said the leader. The party now halted. When the sound of horses hoofs were distinctly heard by the whole party. ^' Our lights will betray us," said the leader ; " hide, or put them out. Who can it be ? none of our party are this way to-night ; conceal yourselves behind the bushes." They now heard the party make rapid advances towards the spot. Lady Agnes, trusting that they were no part of the banditti, felt a gleam of hope dart across her agitated bosom, that succour was nigh : and determined, at all events, to implore the protection of the travel- lers, should they pass near enough for her to effect her purpose. The horsemen now brushed past the bushes which concealed them from their sight ; when Agnes, raising her voice, exclaimed, " Oh ! whoever you are. 67 protect a female, in the power of rude and unprincipled outlaws.'* At the same moment, she checked the reins of her horse, who suddenly started forward, and escaped the instant death wliich the savage Roland was aiming at her. She now found herself amongst the party, who, at the sound of her voice, had stopped, and, by their torches, dis- covered the gang. A knight, who was riding at their head, called out to the banditti to de- hver up themselves, or be instantly cut to pieces. This, Roland refused, and with his pike, aimed at the breast of the cavalier, which being seen by his party, they instantly unsheathed their swords, and drove furiously at the robbers, who defended themselves with their long pikes, in the most resolute manner. The party had left the Lady de Vorti- mer, in the heat of the engagement, and for a while, slffe remained alone, listening to the furious clash of arms, and shouts of the party. The groans of the wounded, 68 at intervals caught her ear, and she trembled for the fate of her beloved Edmund. Soon the conflict ceased ; and the cavalier, riding up to her, congratulated her on her preservation. *^ But my son, my Edmund, where is he ?" said she, in a voice of agony. ** Lady, I know not,'* returned the cavalier ; *' no one, of that description, have I met with." Several of the horsemen now came up, but all of them declared that they had not observed a child. " Oh, heavens !'* exclaimed she, " perhaps he is slain ! perhaps, even now, he is gasping his last !" saying this, in an agony of despair, she leaped cfF her horse, and rushed to the place where she had left him ; she called re- peatedly on his name, but no answer was returned, save by the echo which reverberated her cries, till they died away in indistinct murmurs. Now the certainty of his having beea 09 killed, forcibly recurred to her tortured imagination ; and seizing a torch, which lay burning on the ground, she exa- mined the bodies of the slain, and wounded ; in this, the party, who pitied her sufferings, assisted her; but no trace of the youth could be found. It was now discovered, that the horse on which he rode, was missing ; and it was therefore conjectured, that the rob- ber, behind whom he rode, had effected his escape, taking with him the unfor- tunate Edmund de St. Clair. The cavalier, who was called Sir Wil- liam Gavaston, now dispatched some of his train to scour the forest, and endea- vour to find the fugitive ; and approaching Lady Agnes de Vortimer, he then said, ** Lady, affairs of great import oblige me to proceed. I am now going from the English Court to the Duke Regent, on business of weighty moment, which may not be delayed : I leave with you some of my people, who will see you to 70 ti place of safety, and use their utmost to assist you in the discovery of your son, whom I trust you will soon happily find." The Lady Agnes, whose heart was overwhelmed with grief, returned him, in a faultering voice, her acknowledg- ments for his exertions in her protec- tion ; and the knight, making a re- spectful obeisance, pursued his way with part of his train, leaving the rest to fol- low, when they had performed the orders enjoined them, respecting the Lady de Vortimer. With much emotion did she, seated on the trunk of a fallen tree, await the return of the men who had been dis- patched into the forest. Her fears, re- specting the death of her son, were done away by the assurance that he was not amongst the slain, and the circumstance of the horse he rode, being missing ; all which afforded her some slight degree of comfort : and a thousand times she 71 invoked tlic Saints to restore him to her from the power of the ferocious barba- rians^ into whose hands he had so un- happily fallen. At length, the men who remained, announced to her, that they heard the sound of the voices of their companions, who soon after returned, and with them the peasant, who, being acquainted with the different windings of the extensive forest, directed them in their search. The Lady Agnes in vain strained her eyes as she saw them approaching, to seek her son Edmund ; and the downcast looks of the party convinced her that their search was fruitless. One of the men now intreated her to proceed to the cottage of a wood-cutter, which was not much more than a league from the place where they then were. For a long time the miserable Lady Agnes refused to comply with the re- spectful request of the man, and be- moaned her wretched fate in thus losing 72, tier beloved Edmund, at whose lemeiii- brance many a big tear rolled down her pallid countenance. Often would she endeavour to listen, if, haply, she might hear the sound of his voice call- ing on her ; but all was silent, save the rude rushing of the nocturnal blast, which agitated the lofty inhabitants of the forest. The domestics, keeping a respectful distance, in silence awaited her com- mands ; till at length, the man, who had addressed her before, again besought tier to retire for the night to the v/ood- cutter's cabin, and tbat the whole of their party would the next day make a strict search throughout the wood. He also observed, that their remaining there could be of ^no possible use, as the haunts of the robbers, to which it was probable the young Edmund deSt. Clair had been conveyed, might be in anoth^ part of the forest ; or, even should their residence be near that place, they might 73 come in great numbers, and take an ample revenge on their small party for their comrades whom they had slain, and again have the Lady de Vortimer in their power. These observations had the wished effect on the mind of the unfortunate Agnes. Rising up, the man respect- fully assisted her to mount her steed^ and with an aching heart she rode from the eventful spot. The peasant followed the party, who retraced their steps in the direction of the cabin. The path they were in now grev/ wider, and^the trees becoming less fre- quent, a view of the sky was obtained. The gale w^as now subsiding, and the grey tint of morning began to break from the opening clouds ; a few ruddy streaks gleamed in the east, and the fra- grant breath of morn succeeded the nocturnal blast. The birds began to forsake their abodes, and the tuneful lark^ soaring VOL, I. E laigh in the air, commenced his matin song ; the lowly hut of the wood-cutter now met their view, and the inhabitants were aroused from their peaceful slum- bers by the calls of the domestics of Sir Gaveston, who in treated shelter for a short time, till there was sufficient light for them to proceed on their intended search. After some delay, the door was opened, and the party was admitted into the hut, where the men soon kindled a comfortable fire, and placing a chair near it for the Lady de Vortimer, re- spectfully retired to the other side of the room. The Lady Agnes sat overwhelmed in melancholy ruminations on the fate of her beloved Edmund, thus cruelly torn from her, and impatiently waited till the sun, throwing his radiant beams over the face of nature, should enable the men tq proceed on their intended search. Her beauty and condescending de- portment interested tlie domestics of Sir William Gaveston, who, anxious to alle- viate her distress^ and to endeavour to do away the present cause of the afflic- tion which weighed so heavy at her heart, continually looked towards tiie casement, to see if there was sufficient light to enable them to commence their search. As soon, therefore, as the ruddy- tinted east proclaimed the coming day, they collected their horses, which they had turned loose to graze, and comfort- ing the Lady Agnes with hopes of their success, rode off, accompanied by the peasant, who, being well acquainted with the country, w^as a valuable acquisition. The Lady Agnes stood at the door, looking on the party, till the surround- ing trees hid them from her sight, and, comforted by the hope that they would restore her beloved Edmund to her ma- ternal arms, returned into the cottage, E 2 1^ where the wife of the wood-cutter had prepared some cakes of millet, and bunches of grapes for her morning re- past. She sparingly partook of this fare, and anxiously listened to every noise, in the hope of its being occasioned by the return of the party. The meridian sun now darted his fer- vid beams on the earth, and no intelli- gence of the party had been received. The Lady Agnes impatiently stood at the door of the hut, casting her eyes to that part of the wood where she had last beheld the party, in the hope of seeing them again, accompanying her Joved Edmund. Impatient, at length, she determined to walk towards that part, in the hopes of seeing them a few minutes sooner. In that continued idea, she advanced into the forest, till the gloom around, occasioned by the numerous trees, which, stretching their extravagant arms across n the path, denied all access to the solar beam, and created an artificial night in the recesses of the forest, made her think of returning. Mournfully she now retraced her way to the woodman's hut, frequently stop- ping to listen if the party were return- ing. At length, fatigued with her walk, she seated herself on the emerging root of a knotty oak to recover her strength, which was nearly exhausted by the un- usual fatigues she had undergone the last three days both in her mind and body. The party of Sir Gaveston's domes- tics, after they had left the hut, pro- ceeded to the spot where they had en- countered the banditti. The bodies of the men still remained there ; nor could they discover tNe least signs of life in any of them, so that all hopes of ob- taining information that way was hope- less. They now followed the supposed track 7B of the man who had fled with Edmund^ and, in the continued hope of finding vSome traces of him, penetrated far into the intricate mazes of the forest. Their search, however, proved inef- fectual ; for during the whole of the day they observed not the smallest ap- pearance of human habitation. Fatigued, and despairing of finding the youth, they now proposed to return ; and, though assisted by the knowledge of the peasant, with the greatest diffi- culty traced their way back to the wood- cutter's cottage, where they arrived late in tlie evening, and inquiring for the Lady Agnes de Vortimer, they were in- formed that she left the cottage about noon, and had directed her steps to- wards the wood, in the hopes, as was supposed, of meeting the party, and that she had not returned since. As.tonished at this intelligence, and fearful lest she should have wandered into the perplexing paths of the forest, 79 and had lost her way, they again set oi^t with torches, and, though greatly fa- tigued, exerted themselves to discover her, hut without effect : they agaiii went to the hut ; hut she had not been heard of during their absence. Sleep was now necessary to recruit their wearied frames, and throwing themselves on the floor of the cabin, they tiiere reposed until the returning sun animated the face of nature ; when again did the domestics, anxious for her safety, traverse the forest, and at length, not being able to obtain the least infor- mation concerning her, they were obliged' to proceed on their journey, to join the train of Sir William Gavestoii. E 4 •60 CHAP. VI. 1^ ATHER HILDARGO, with his twO aS- sociates, proceeded swiftly on their way^ and rightly judging the road she had taken, traced her as far as the cottage of the vine-dresser, where they likewise stopped for a short refreshment. After which, continuing their jour- ney, they niet Sir William Gaveston and his train, from whom they collected an account of the accident that had befel the Lady Agnes de Vortimer, in being taken by robbers, and the subsequent loss of' her son Edmund de St. Clair, adding, that a part of Sir William's do- mestics had been left with her, to at- tempt the recovery of the child. Having attained this information, though they affected not to be at all 81 concerned in the relation^ Hildargo and the ruffians, arrived near the wood-cut- ter's cabin ; and fearful of some of the domestics being with her, they dared not be seen near the place, but care^ fully concealed themselves, and at times stole from their hiding-place to watch the proceedings of the party. They had observed them setting out on the first morning, to search the fo- rest of Guirche, after the young Ed- mund ; and saw the Lady Agnes stand- ing gazing on the forest from the door of the cottage. Hildargo entertained hopes that she would, in expectation of seeing the party, walk into the wood, and at length observed her entering its dark recesses. With great caution he followed her steps ; and, when at length she had seated herself on the emerging root of the oak tree, he advanced with the two men behind her, and suddenly lifted her up iti his arms, after having thrown h E 5 82 cloak over her face, to prevent her see- ing who it was that was thus conveying her away, and also to prevent her screams being heard, bore her to the place where the horses were concealed ; andHildargo setting her before him, pro- ceeded with the terrified and fainting Lady Agnes, out of the precincts of the forest. He travelled with great speed all that day, still keeping the head of the Lady de Vortimer, covered ; and when the shades of night descended on the earth, he alighted, and having taken his trembling captive off the horse, and the cloak from her face, he placed before her some provisons, of which, faint, and almost sinking beneath the fatigue she had undergone, she partook of. As yet she had not seen who her per- secutors were, but believed that they w^ere a part of the banditti into whose power she had before fallen ; and as the monk and the two men conversed in 83 low tones^ she could gain no informa- tion from that ; but what was her terror and amazement^ when one of the party having lighted a torch, the glare gleamed fiill on the person who appeared to be the principal in the dark transaction, and discovered to her the well-known fea- tures of Hildargo ! Horror and distraction, at thus find- ing herself so completely in the power of this the foul accomplice of her un- principled husband, De Vortimer, sus- pended the faculties of life ; and she sunk on the damp ground, for a while un- conscious of the misery of her situation. Father Hildargo raised her up, and having procured some water in an empty flask, threw it in her face, and poured some of it, with difficulty, into her mouth ; at length she opened her eyes, but the recollections that at that mo- ment crowded to her memory, and at finding herself supported by the false Hildargo, and the view of the savage e6 84 features of the two ruffians who were hanging over her, made her again re- lapse into a death-like stupor. Hildargo began to fear he should lose his victim, and which, for many reasons, greatly distressed him ; he watched her pallid features for a long time, without being able to discover any symptoms of returning animation. At length a deep sigh announced that life still lingered in her veins, and soon the roses began to revisit her lips. The first movement she made, was to extricate herself from the arms of Hildargo, who, notwithstanding her hapless state, had, while he had put his arm round her deli- cate waste to support her up, and saw her beauteous face reclining on his shoul- der, and beheld the shining ringlets of her dark hair, as they wantoned over her snowy bosom, felt a sensation of in- expressible delight thrill through . his veins ; and had not the presence of the ruffians prevented him, her situation 85 would not have been a sufficient guard for her honour^ against which he now secretly entertained the most brutal de- signs ; and the directions he had re- ceived concerning the future disposal of her from De Vortimer, gave him room to hope for the greatest success in them. He quickly perceived her wish to ex- tricate herself from his arms ; and put- ting on a respectful demeanor, he arose, and assisted by the two men, helped her to arise, and then seated her on the fallen stump of a tree, at the same time offering her some wine. * " Lady," said he, "^ look not on me, I beseech you, as your enemy ; it is true I do at present obey the orders of Sir Orlando, but my will accords not with them." '^ And can you still persevere in your liypocrisy ?" returned the Lady Agnes, " know, monk, I look on you, as the lamb does on the savage wolf, whom instinct teaches the helpless animal to avoid. If it is my blood you thirst for. 86 this place is fitting for the deed ; strike then the blow, and rid the miserable Agnes of her wretched life/* " The Saints forbid ! Lady, that one drop of your precious blood should be • shed ! No, Lady, my orders are to convey you hence unto the Biscayan shores, where you are to reside. Com- pose your spirits, I pray you, for the time is urgent, and I must soon depart." The assurance that her life was not in danger, and the animating hope that she might yet find an opportunity to escape, comforted the hapless Lady Agnes, and made her, in some degree, able to sup- port the horrors of her present situation. Hildargo saw, with much delight, that she endeavoured to allay the inter- nal agitations of her mind ; and left her, to converse apart with the two ruffians, whom he now sent on to Orlando de Vortimer, to make him acquainted with the recent occurrences. The Lady Agnes beheld the men de- part with emotions of regret ; and she 87 shuddered to find herself alone with Hil- dargo, in a dark gloomy wood, at the silent hour of midnight. She felt her- self surrounded by a thousand dangers, and oppressed by a thousand fears. She listened to the sound of the hoofs of the horses on which the men rode, till it ceased to be heard ; and a solemn silence again reigned undisturbed around her. She then looked up, and beheld the gloomy form of Hildargo advancing towards her ; with some surprise she perceived that he had resumed his monk- ish habit, the cowl of which covered his dark expressive features. He quickly approached ; then hold- ing up the torch, stopped and gazed on her, without uttering a word ; he then turned aside, and paced with unequal steps, the hollow-sounding earth. He seemed to be deeply involved in his ru- minations, intent on the perpetration of some deed, and irresolute as to the per- formance of it. Agnes viewed him with surprise. She ss beheld his frequent starts^ and seeming disturbment of his mind. She became at last much alarmed ; and rising up, said, " I am now ready, father, to at- tend you.'* The monk started at the sound of her voice ; he gazed on her without speak- ing ; while Agnes trembled as he raised the cowl, to see his eyes fixed upon her; at length, seeming to recollect himself, he said, "Then I will prepare the horses; the dawn is now breaking, and we must reach the banks of the Lille ere the sun has completed half his course." He now brought op the steeds, on one of which he assisted the trembling Agnes to ascend, and mounting the other, threw aside the torch, and pro- ceeding forwards, they soon emerged from the dark recesses of the extensive forest of Guirche, the scene of so much misery to the unfortunate Lady de Vor- timer. The grey dawn now began to peep over the eastern hills, and the lark soar« By ing high on the invigorating breath of morn, commenced his early notes. The monk, who seemed deeply ab- sorbed in ruminations, with his face wrapped up in the cowl, silently rode by the side of Agnes, whose tortur- ing reflections on the loss of her be- loved Edmund, the base conduct of Orlando, and her present situation, left not a vacancy in her mind unfilled by the most poignant grief. She, however, trusted in a guardian power, who was perfectly sufficient to pro- tect ancj deliver her from her present afflictions, and to give her ample means of retaliation for the injuries she had re- ceived. Such was her trust, and as the morning dawned, so did her spirits feel lighter and more composed. She hoped too, that some means of escape from the place she was to be con- veyed, would occur ; and she trusted that the life of Edmund would be safe, as the most savage barbarians would go hardly lift the murderous hand against a helpless youth, and that she should soon have the delight of folding him in her arms. The rising sun now gladdened the face of nature with his golden beams, and his warm rays gave comfort to the toil-worn frame of the Lady Agnes. They now crossed over a track- less uncultivated country, whose uni- form appearance wearied the eye ; at length they ascended a hill, on the side of which were many small villages, with the humble spires of their churches almost hid by the groves of lime trees. Agnes gazed on the peaceful scene before her with silent regret, that for- tune should have placed her so far be- yond the happiness enjoyed by the simple peasants who inhabited those peaceful dwellings, and whose thoughts pro- ceeded no further than the green luxu- riant vales they dwelt in, and whose fruitful soil satisfied all their real wants. 91 and afForJed to them the most substan- tial comforts of life, health and con- tent. She shuddered as she looked behind her, and beheld the dark waving sam- mits of the forest of Guirche, which spread a gloomy horror around them. ** Alas !" said she, mentally, *' in those dark shades is my poor Edmund residing, with a blood-thirsty banditti. But still," continued she, " the party might have been successful iir their search, and not finding me, may haply convey him to Sir William Gaveston, who doubtless will protect him." This idea gave her much pleasure ; she wished to believe it real, and prayed the Saints that it might be so. They now descended into the beauti- ful vallies ; it was the wine season, and the peasantry were every where busily employed in the vineyards, or in carry- ing to their presses, the clusters of blooming grapes, cheering each other at their labour, singing their nationa 9*2 songs with jocund hearts, smiling in their cheerful countenances. Ere they approached the confines of the village. Father Hildargo, raising his cowl, looked at Agnes, who trembled at the dark and malignant passions that were expressed in his countenance, grasp- ing the hilt of a dagger, which was concealed beneath his black garment, ^' Lady," said he, '* if you make the slightest attempt to escape, look on this, it will that instant be deep planted in your bosom, although at the next mo- ment my existence were forfeited by it." Agnes, shuddered, and turned away her eyes from the monk, who now again covering his face, proceeded on the journey. She was too well acquainted with his savage disposition to doubt his words, and well . knowing that should she cease to exist, her beloved Edmund would be without a friend to reinstate him in his rights, she determined to ac- quiesce with his demands, and silently rode by his side. 93 They passed through the village, where the peasants, now too busy to notice travellers, were employed in mak- ing wine. Winding through the valley, they be- gan to ascend a steep mountain ; and when they had proceeded half way up its rugged sides, the cabin of a peasant appeared, at which Hildargo stopped. The door was closed, and the monk endeavoured to make himself be heard by the inhabitants. "Is Pierro within ?" said he, in a loud voice. No answer, however, was returned ; he repeated the words — still all was silent. " What can this mean ?" said he, dismounting ; " Surely he is not gone away." He now approached the door, which he opened, and entered the hut, fol- lowed by Agnes, who, weary of her horse, had descended from it. When, what was her horror and amazement at seeing stretched on a miserable pallet^, the pale and ghastly corpse of a man ? 9i Hiklargo started at the first view, but approaching the body, he examined the features with an expressive grin of satis- faction. One of the horses was now straying from the door, and he hastily left the hut to stop its progress, Agnes was now left alone, transfixed with terror to the spot, from whence she first beheld the horrid figure. She had observed the sardonic smile which sat on the countenance of Hildargo when he saw the body, and her curio- sity was roused by it. She could not refrain from contem- plating its frightful appearance ; and while she was so doing, observed a roll of papers lying beneath the truss of straw that supported the head. Impel- led by a sudden emotion she hastily ad- vanced, and with a trembling hand drew them forth, and concealing them in her bosom, started with horror from the cold corpse. 9-> Hiklargo now entered, and having with scrupulous attention surveyed every part of the chamber, went to an old worm-eaten coffer that was in a corner of it, which he dragged out into the room, turned it on its side, and touching a spring, a piece of wood flew up, and a drawer appeared ; this he drew out, and took from thence a casket, which he carefully concealed in his garments, and then returning the coffer in the place from whence he had taken it, cast another look of satsifaction at the body, and desired Agnes to follow him. Full of wonder at his mysterious de- portment, she left the cabin, the door of which the monk closed, and Agnes having mounted her horse, they de- parted fcpm the place. They now de- scended the mountain, and turning into a path that wound round its base, con- tinued their course by the romantic shores of the Lille. This last adventure filled the mind of 9Q Agnes with a great desire to peruse the papers which she had taken, and which would probably unfold the mysterious behaviour of the monk. She had remarked the readiness with which Hildargo found out the secret spring in the coffer, which assured her that he was no stranger to the contents of the private drawers; the exulting look with v^hich he eyed the corpse, she could not drive from her recollection, and the attention with which he exa- mined the cabin, made her conceive that he had expected to find the papers of which she had become the possessor. No change, however, now appeared in the countenance of the monk; he had relapsed into his reverie, and si- lently continued his course along the shore, till they came to the abode of a fisherman, where he requested to be al- lowed to purchase some refreshment, and to rest themselves for a short time, till the renewed strength of the horses 97 woiild permit tliein to proceed ; and their request was granted with cheer- fuhiess hy the peasant, who appeared at the humble door. fL, r 98 CHAP. VII, Agnes gladly descended from her horse ; but ere she had entered the hut, Hildargo went up to her, and said in a low, hollow tone, " Remember !" She started at the sound of his voice, and, overcome with the fatigue she had un- dergone, and the terror which pervaded her mind, she with difficulty staggered into the hut, and rested her wearied frame on the rude bench which was placed beside the table, on which she leant for support. The peasant placed before them some millet cakes and broiled fish, with a small kind of wine, the produce of that part of the country. Agnes partook of the scanty fare, and 99 then demanded of the peasant, if she might be permitted to he down. Hildargo started at her request, and looked at her with a threatening aspect, which she too well understood. The peasant went to the door and called his wife, who was by the side of the water, employed in repairing her husband's nets. Hildargo now addressed the Lady Agnes in a low voice : ^^ Be careful," said he, '^ how you disobey my injunctions ; remember, you survive it not." Agnes siglied deeply ; but did not reply to his threatening speech. The peasant's wife now entered, and opening a door on one side of the apart- ment they were in, pointed to a pallet that was in a little recess, and Agnes entering in, she closed the door, and retired to her employment at the water- side. Agnes, greatly fatigued, slept till the sun began to descend behind the wes- 100 tern hills. She then awoke, refreshed by her slumbers, and arising from her lowly pallet, gently opened the door, and beheld the monk sleeping, with his head lying on the table. He had thrown back the cowl, as the weather was very warm, and Agnes beheld his counte- nance, which appeared agitated by sorne imaginations which then possessed his mind. She observed his involuntary starts— *^ How comfortless," said she, men- tally, *^ is the sleep of the wicked ! Even now his guilty fancy is torturing him with horrid visionary forms, which dis- turb the sweets of repose. Perchance even now I might escape ; the Saints assist me." Thus saying, she gently paced the chamber, and was just lifting up the latch of the door, which was closed, when Hildargo started up, and seizing her arm, dragged her down on the benchj " Whither/' said he, ^^ were you 101 going ? hast thou so soon forgot my threats ? Beware," said he, in a voice of thunder, loosing his grasp of her arm, " how you again attempt to escape." Agnes replied not ; the pain he had caused her, and the agitation of her mind, prevented her the power of speech. The monk now paced the chamber for some time, and then opening the door, called the fisherman, who was on the beach, to him ; when the man came up, he directed him to prepare the horses, as they would set out immediately : he now again traversed the apartment, of- ten stopping to gaze on Agnes^ who turned away from his view, and opening the small casement, beheld the last rays of the sun gild the highest summits of the mountains. The horses were now brought, and the monk opening the door, said to Agnes, " Come, lady, our time is short, we have far to go to-night ;'* Agnes F 3 102 followed him, and with a heavy heart, proceeded on the toilsome journey. Continuing some time on the banks of the river, they at length left its pebbly shores and proceeded across the country. The gloom of night now be- gan to thicken around ; and Agnes, who dreaded the thoughts of passing another night in the damp air, now gathered sufficient courage to demand of Hil- dargo *^ If he travelled that night ?" The monk quickly turned round at the sound of her voice, and after some reflection, replied, ^* That he should re- main till the dawn at the next village, if she would promise not to attempt in any way her escape." Cheered with the prospect of a little rest after the toilsome journey she had taken, she faintly replied, " Then I will promise, father." The monk returned no answer, but again relapsed into his reverie ; from 103 which he was disturbed by the sound V)f some voices, which were now borne to their ears by the passing breeze. Hildargo stopped his horse to listen ; " We are now near the village," replied he, " the noise we hear is the song of the peasants indulging themselves after the toils of the day. Be heedful now, lady, of the promise you made me, and dread the consequences of the second attempt of a deviation from my commands." Agnes replied not ; and now, guided by the sounds, they approached a cot- tages before the door of which, was seated a party of peasants, with their wives and children enjoying the cool breeze of the evening, and singing their simple rural songs. As Hildargo passed them, they rose up, and respectfully^salufeed them, which he returned, and hastily passed on to the extremity of the village, where, alighting, he entered a cottage ; and F 4 104 with some difficulty procured a lodging for the night. Agnes entered the place, the neatness of which she greatly admired ; a peasant, his wife, and two small children, wel- comed her to their humble abode, and with anxious solicitude for their accom- modation, now stirred themselves to provide a repast for their visitors. Agnes, often looked with a tearful eye on the boy, which brought her lost Edmund to her recollection, and his uncertain fate, distracted her distem- pered fancy, which too frequently made her anticipate the worst. Her sad reflections took away her appe- tite ; and she soon desired to be conducted to the chamber assigned her. She fol- lowed the peasant's wife Jannetta, up the narrow flight of stairs, into a small, but neat apartment, who, observing her me- lancholy deportment, respectfully en- quired if she was unwell. 305 Agnes felt half inclined to tell her situation, but remembering her promise, and the fear that she might fail in her ends ; and hearing the voice of the monk below, made her conceal it. She, there- fore, only replied with a deep sigh, and telling her that she was greatly fatigued with a long journey she had taken, and hoped to be better in the morning. She then wished Jannetta a g©od night, who retired, and commending herself to the care of Him who is omni- potent, laid down to rest her agitated frame. The monk Hildargo, confiding in the promises of Agnes, and having, when left in the room by the peasant, who had retired with Jannetta and her chil- dren to an adjoining cottage to rest ; their only chamber having been given up to the Lady Agnes, fastened the door that led to her apartment, threw himself on the clean straw that was F 5 io6 spread for him, and endeavoured to sleep. For a short time the fatigues he had undergone, weighed heavy on his eyes; but soon dreams of horrid import began to disturb him. Again the ghastly body of Pierro met his view ; he thought it stood erect beside him without mo- tion^ whilst a voice seemed to issue from the distorted mouthy the under jaw of which, had fallen inanimate on the breast, and in appalling accents, bid him to remember the field near Rennes. A cold sweat bedewed his limbs ; en- deavouring to avoid the sight of the dreadful corpse, he awoke, and trem- bling with agitation, sat up in the straw, the rustling motion of which, made him start with horrible apprehensions. Some embers still gleamed on the hearth ; he arose and kindled a fire, illumined the walls of the apartment with the blaze 5 unable to lie down 107 again, he sat watching the consuming wood, meditating on his horrid dream, and of his fature plans, which he in- tended to carry into effect against his innocent victim, the hapless Agnes, whose beauteous form had so fevered his imagination, and painted scenes of the most exquisite delight to his fancy. As soon as the first beams of the morning illumined the chamber, where,, enjoying a peaceful slumber, in the pos- session of conscious innocence, lay the unfortunate Agnes, she arose, and has- tily dressing herself, threw open the small casement to enjoy the pure breath of the morning. In the front of the cottage was a little garden, bedecked with the blush- mg rose, the sweet violet, and auri- cula ; the gaudy tulip, the anemone, and the entwining honeysuckle and jessamine, which enriched the air with their mingled odours, and refreshed the care-worn senses of Agnes, who viewed F 6 108 the sweet prospect that lay before her, with indescribable emotions. '^ Repose and quiet,'* thought she, " reigns over this tranquil scene. The peasants who inhabit those humble roofs will soon awake, and hail the returning dawn with fresh emotions of pleasure, and with contented hearts, pursue their daily labour. Alas ! the repose I view, the happiness I picture to my fancy, as enjoyed by the lowly peasant, dwells »ot in my bosom. O, Edmund ! where art thou ? — thou, I trust, will, at some future day, revenge thy mother's wrongs, heaped on thee by him, who, in an ill- fated hour, I made the master of my- self, and, by that deed, have, I fear, destroyed the growth of all those ho- nours which were budding fast upon, thee, thou unfortunate descendentof my- lamented St. Clair." Agnes was interrupted in these her melancholy ruminations, by the appear- ance of the peasant and his wife, wha lOQ had left the cottage where they had slept, and were proceeding to their own to attend their visitors. Soon after they had entered the room below, Agnes heard Jannetta ascending the stairs. She seemed surprised to find the Lady Agnes was risen and dressed, and in a solicitous tone enquired, ^Mf she was JDetter after her repose ?" Agnes, wiping away the traces of the tears which had bedewed her lovely face, smiled on her hostess, and told her, " That she was much relieved by her rest." She then followed her down stairs, where she saw Hildargo in earnest conversation with the peasant, about the road he was to take, to a part of the Biscay an shores. The man having satisfied his enqui- ries, he sat down to partake of the morning repast, as did also Agnes ; and when they had concluded the homely meal, Hildargo went out with the pea- sant, and soon after returned, and in- formed Agnes that he was ready. 110 She now left the cottage^ and found- two mules waiting at the door ; from this circumstance she concluded that their journey would prove a mountainous one^ as these creatures were always used for that purpose, being far more sure footed than a horse. Trusting in Heaven for protection,, she mounted one, and bidding adieu to the attentive Jannetta, proceeded on her journey with the monk. Leaving the beautiful vallies, soon all around them exhibited a bleak and de- solate appearance. Mountains now rose before them, not in gentle undulations, but appearing as if piled on each other ; and as the sun shone on them, she viewed the waving summits of the fo- rests of pines and larches that grew on their sides, and the dark chasms where his beams descended not. Slowly they wound up the steep paths' that led to these airy regions, till they came to a place where the roads branched off in two directions, Hildargo took Ill the right, and ascending another hill, Agnes saw at a distance, the waves of the Atlantic, rolling into the spacious Bay of Biscay. They now began to descend the lofty mountains, and coming to a spot where , the over-hanging cliff formed a shade from the sun's hot beams, Hildargo stopped, 'and alighted from his mule, breaking his long silence, by directing Agnes to do the same. He then spread on the grass some provisions which he had brought with him, and of which the Lady De Vor- timer partook. " You will," said the monk, in a hollow tone, *^ reach the end of your journey to-night." Agnes shuddered at the sound of his voice. ^' And where is it. Father," said she, " that I am to be taken to ?" " Look to the right," returned Hil- dargo, ^^ along the shore to that high cliff, that projects over the sea ; it is on the other side of that where you are going.'* ]12 " Is it a convent ?" anxiously de- manded Agnes. The monk replied not, but seemed absorbed in some sudden ideas ; and Agnes, who feared to repeat the ques- tion, directed her gaze to the solitary shore she was proceeding to. Turning suddenly round, she, to her great sur- prise, perceived that Hildargo had thrown off the cowl, and was looking intently at her. As soon as he saw he was ob- served, he hastily threw the cowl over his face ; and rising off the ground, paced forwards to some distance, appa- rently involved in some deep reflections ; once he stopped, and turning round, looked at her. She was also observing liim, which seemed to cause him in- stantly to resume his walk. Agnes remained sitting on a piece of a rock that had fallen from the cliff above, lost in astonishment at the monk's conduct. When she had at first ob- served his eyes fixed on her, she beheld such a mixture of malicious joy and 113 savage exultation, depicted in his fea- tures, as could not fail to remain fixed in her memory ; and she began to feel an inward terror take possession of her, for which she could not account. Her present hapless situation, the re- collection of the uncertain fate of Ed- mund, now occurred with fresh emo- tions of grief to her mind ; for a while she remained with her eyes fixed on the ground, ruminating on her ill-starred fortunes, till the agony of her mind was relieved by a flood of tears. She was now raising her eyes to Heaven, to im- plore its pity and protection ; when she started at beholding Hildargo close by her side. He had returned unperceived ; and observing that she was deeply engaged in thought, had approached near to her to glut his eyes with her beauties ; her dark tresses that waved on her snowy bosom, her beautiful neck, and her pal- pitating breast, fired his imagination ; J 14 and he was on the point of catching her in his arms, when she suddenly burst into a flood of tears ; and turning round, sav/ him : he remarked the sudden start and fear that appeared when she beheld him ; and letting fall his cowl, he said, " Come, lady, we must go; we have still far to travel, and the time admits not of delay.'* Sighing, Agnes arose, and Hildarga bringing up the mules, that had been feeding on the surrounding herbage, continued lier sad journey. Leaving the hills, they now passed over a large tract of uncultivated lands, and at length, came again in sight of the troubled waves of the Atlantic Ocean. Agnes surveyed the tall skiff, adventu- rously ploughing the yielding waves, till, by degrees, its mast was hid by the in- tervening sea. The sun now sunk into the bosom of the ocean ; and the grey-tinted evening cast over the horizon her dusky livery ». 115 Agnes and Hildargo were proceeding along the pebbly confines of the world of waters, and at a small distance ap- peared the high cliff, rearing its lofty head over the ocean, which dashed with terrific roar against its abrupt base. The cold rushing gale from the sea, chilled the delicate frame of Agnes, who tremblingly listened to the noise of the water, and beheld the waves, as impelled by those behind them, they rolled on the shore in hollow murmurs, covered with white foam ; all else was solemnly still. No busy cry of men, or barking of watch-dogs, proclaimed them near the haunts of human beings. ' The low-hung clouds passed swifdy along on the broad pinions of the gale ; and nov/ and then a pale flash of lighten- ing gleamed over the rafRed surface of the waters, while the distant thunder rolled slowly along the vaulted arch of heaven. 116 The spray of the briny ocean^ borne from the foaming summits of the waves, by the blast, wetted the garments of the Lady De Vortimer, the agitation of whose spirits, increased by the wild and desolate situation she was in, almost sunk be- neath the pressure of her misfortunes. ^ 117 CHAP. VIIL At length, having wound round the base of the lofty clifF, a large mansion ap- peared to the enquiring eyes of the Lady Agnes on the sea- shore, at a short dis-^ tance from it. The gloomy appearance of the place made Agnes shudder when she heard Hildargo say, " This, Lady, is the termination of our journey." They now advanced to the portal, and Hildargo dismounting, essayed to open it ; he inserted the key in the lock, but the rusty wards, for a long time pre- vented its turning ; at length, after some trouble, the bolts retreated, and he pushed the portal open. All within wa^ enveloped in gloomy obscurity. The monk now called to Agnes to descend, and follow him.. Tremblingly lis she obeyed the unwelcome sammons, and alighted, entered the portal, and crossed a small court, wild and grass- grown. Hildargo now opened a second door, and entered a large passage, then turn- ing into a small chamber, the casements of which were shattered, and part of them hung in fragments amongst the mantling ivy, which, clinging round, served to support them, whilst the gale rushed through the broken panes, and shook the dilapidated mansion. Terri- fied and struck with horror at this deso- late abode, Agnes stood tlie mute image of despair, while Hildargo, striking a light, lit a lamp, and then essayed to prevent the wind from entering the room, by fixing up the shutters to the windows, but the fastenings were all decayed, and unable to effect it, he set the lamp on the ground ; " Lady," said he, " remain here while I go and put the mules into the court-yard, and shut up 119 the outward portals, I must then seek a more convenient chamber. It is now ten years since I was here, and the house is strangely gone to ruin since that time." Thus saying, he left the chamber. Agnes, fatigued with her weary jour- ney, now advanced to an antique chair which stood against the wall, and was going to sit down, when, as she touched it, it fell to pieces. The damps from the sea had settled on the stone walls of the chamber, which had, in consequence, assumed a greenish hue, the floor too, was also moist and slippery. It appeared that it would be impossible to render the place habitable : for what purpose then was she brought there, but to be sacrificed ! Horror-struck at the thought, and unable to support the conflict of distress- ing ideas that took possession of her mind, she leant for support against the frame of the window, and putting aside 120 tiie clustering ivy, saw before her the troubled ocean, wbose foaming billowy nearly washed the walls of the mansion. The hollow dashing of the water frightened her, while the spray, forced by the gale through the shattered case- ment upon her, obliged her to leave the window- seat. Hildargo now returned, and taking the lamp, desired Agnes to follow him, saying as he went into the passage, "If Pierro had been alive, I intended he should have been here before us to make the place something more comfortable ; however, as he is gone, we must manage as well as we can." He now, opening a door, entered a chamber on the opposite side of the pas- sage, and holding up the lamp, Agnes beheld a lofty room, seemingly In a to- lerable state of preservation. The shut- ters were fastened up against the case- ments, and prevented the nocturnal blasts from entering it. 121 Agiies now gladly seated herself on a t:ouch, overcome v;ith fatigue of body and agitation of mind. The monk kindled a fire on tlie hearth with some faggots that were piled up in a corner of the room ; the dry wood soon made a comfortable blaze, and cheered the shivering form of the hapless Agnes. Hildargo taking the lamp, left the apartment, closing the door after him ; and Agnes listened to his steps, as they echoed along the corridores of the man- sion, till the reverberation ceased. She then advanced a chair near the fire, to which she added another faggot. A distant voice now made her listen, and she heard the heavy paces of the monk over her head, and the doors of the apartments above, closed. A hollow gale that rushed through the passages, suddenly forced open the portal of the chamber she was in, and made her start from her seat. VOL, I. G 122 Impelled by curiosity, she advanced to it, and was leaning into the corridore to listen if the monk was returning, when, to her astonisment^ she beheld a figure glide by the door, and disappear in the surrounding gloom. She distinctly heard its slow paces returned by the echo ; and while she was attentively listening, a door was closed with some violence above, and the steps of some person now descended the stairs ; they approached the cham- ber, where she was trembling with fear, when she at length perceived the tall figure of Hildargo. He was much surprised at finding the door open, and Agnes in the entry. He regarded her with a stern look, ^^ Did you wish to escape ?" said he, roughly ; '^ know. Lady, it is beyond the extent of thy ability." " Nay, Father,*' said the Lady Agnes, ^^ it entered not in my idea ; but I have 1 23 been alarmed by a figure that I saw but now glide by the door.^* " A figure !" repeated Hildargo^ " How long since ?'* " Just before you descend- ed the stairs," returned Agnes. *^ I will endeavour to find out who it is/* replied the monk, drawing the dag- ger from the folds of his vest, " Which way went it ?" Agnes having satisfied him in that particular, he departed, while she went to the door, and beheld the monk pro- ceeding along the passage, till he came to the end, v/here it hranched ofF in two directions. She saw liim turn to the right, and di-sappear, and then re- turned to her seat before theh earth, and sat listening to the loud roaring of the winds and waves, and ruminating on her own miserable state. She thought too of the mysterious %ure which had alarmed her so much ; that what she saw was real, there ex- isted not a doubt, for the glare of the G 2 124 •fire, had illumined that part of the pas- sage which fronted the door of the cham- ber, and rendered the person perfectly visible, &he having heard his steps as he retreated from her view; and she now expected the return of the monk to un- fold the mystery, with some impatience, Hildargo had been absent almost an hour, when he returned into the apart^ •ment where Agnes was sitting. She observed with horror that he still grasped the dagger, which was now dropping v/itli blood, the hand which held it was also bloody, and likewise the sleeve of his gar- ment. She started at the sight, and in- stantly rose from her chair, fearful lest the period of her dissolution was ap- proaching. The monk, whose pallid face shewed the agitation that ingrossed his mind, sat down, and for some minutes seemed in- capable of speech ; at length his eyes, which had rolled about with an expres- sion of savage wildness, that added to the 125 fears of Agnes, rested on his bloody garments, and the dagger, yet reeking with the sanguine stream ; hastily he cast it aside, and essayed to wipe the murderous evidence from his hand. Agnes stood viewing him with horror, till at length he seemed to recollect him- self. " Lady," said he, looking at Agnes, ^* you were right in what you saw. An assassin was lurking in this house, but he has reaped the reward of his intended villainy, and I am now hap- pily safe from all fears of — • — " Here he started, and suddenly stop- f)ed his discourse ; and then rose up, €ayir>g, " But I forget, Lady Agnes, that you need refreshment ; some yet remains of what we partook of in th6 morning ; to-morrow I will procure you more." So saying, he produced the provisions; but Agnes, who could not take her eyes from off his hand, stained with the blood of a fellow-creature, refused to accept G 3 J 25 of any thing but some wine wbidi re- mained in the flask, and of which she stood in great need, for her agitation was so great, as almost to cause her senses to forsake her tottering frame. Hildargo now arose, and taking up a lamp, desired Agnes to accompany him, and he would shew her the apartment she was to sleep in. She followed him down the passage,, till they entered a large saloon, in which was a flight of stairs^ which the monk ascended. These stairs led to a gallery, which wound round the saloon, and commu- nicated with all the passages at the up- per part of the chateau, passing along the gallery, which trembled beneath the pressure of their feet ; they turned into a corridore, at the extremity of which, Hildargo opened a door of a chamber, into which Agnes entering, saw a pallet, and some old furniture, part of which rested against the wall of the room for 127 support ; the pallet, however, appeared in better condition than the other fur- niture. " This, Lady/' said the monk, " is your apartment. As the night is cold, I will bring some wood to air the room.'* Hav- ing thus said, he went out, leaving Agnes in total darkness. She sat on the lowly couch, listening to the monk's receding steps, busy fancy painting to her mind the image of the mysterious person she had seen, who now lay a cold corpse weltering in his blood. The dagger — the bloody hand — the ensanguined sleeve — and the pal- lid agitated face of the monk Hildargo, rose to her ideal view. Had Agnes been of a superstitious turn of mind, she might also have de- picted to herself the airy form of the murdered man appearing before her, and taxing her with being the cause of his death ; she was, however, too much enlightened for 5uch ideas to take root G 4 123' in her mind, else the situation — the time — the place — all would have concurred to have brought the suppositious form to her ideas. When Hildargo returned^ he brought some faggots, and what was of more value to Agnes, a small lamp, which he trimmed and lit. ^^ As this is a strange place, Lady, and you may be disturbed by tlie noises the wind makes about this old mansion, I shall this night permit you to have a light, but which indulgence you must not expect to be repeated. He now set fire to the faggots, and and left her, closing the door o-f her chamber after him., and shooting the large bolts that were fixed on the out- side of it into the thick beams that com- posed the sides of the door-case, he went down into the room below. Agnes, when he had been gone some time, took up the lamp, and examined the fastenings of the shutters ; these she 129 easily loosened, and removing them, found that the window was perfect, al- though the ivy nearly obscured the glass ; with some difficulty she tore away a part of it, and opening the casement, looked out to discover what part of the man- sion she was in, and found that it fronted the sea. She saw the lightnings darting over the troubled waters, and illumine the foamy summits of the waves, which now rose higher than when she first beheld them from the dilapidated chamber be- low, and impelled by the rushing gale, dashed against the outward wall of the building. The wind blew cool arid comfortless; the rain and spray was forced into the casement, and Agnes, chilled by the nocturnal blast, closed it, and returned sorrowfully to her seat. The scene that took place at the cot- tage where she had beheld the misera- ble remains of Pierro, came to her busy G 5 130 recollection, and she now felt for the roll of papers, which she took out of her bosom, and drawing near to the lamp to peruse them, she trembled as she touched them, reflecting on the miserable object who had traced the characters, whose hand was now cold and inanimate, and whose meagre corpse, left without the ^lemn funeral rites, would moulder, ^nd return to its original dust, where 3he had seen it. A sudden faint ness overpowered her, and the papers fell from her trembling hands. She listened with horror to the rushing gale, as it sighed through the corridores, or shook the portal of her chamber, or when creeping between the oaken pannels of the wainscoting that lined the walls of the room, made sud- den noises which would cause her to start, and direct her eyes to the parts from whence they proceeded. The roll of papers met her view ; she arose and gathered them up; and placed 131 them In a niche of the wall between the stone and wood-work that surrounded the casement. A new sensation of fear now struck her. The lonely, unprotected situation she was in, and the impossibility of hu- man succour ; the remembrance of the many looks that the monk Hildargo had at times given her, and the suddenness with which he would retract his glances when observed, made her fear, that he me- ditated still further designs against her peace ; the bare idea of which recurred with horror to her imagination. She now arose, and moving some of the furniture, placed it against the door, so as that when it was opened, the noise occasioned by the sudden falling of it, might awaken her, should sleep haply revisit her eyes in that melancholy abode. Having done this, she looked through the casement and beheld the first tint of approaching morn,xind recommending g6 132 herself to the protection of the Saints, she laid down in her clothes, and en- deavoured to compose herself to sleep. Her disturbed imagination, however, rested not ; she thought she was in a gloomy dungeon, and a snake of great size was twining round her, notwith-r standing all her efforts to prevent it; when suddenly a man, cased in armour, came to her assistance, and drawing his falchion, smote the reptile on the head. Hastily she turned about to thank her deliverer, who was uncovering his vizor, when a sudden noise in the chamber awoke her, and caused her to start up from her couch. When the monk had returned to the room helow% after he had conducted Agnes to her chamber, he sat down by the hearth, and, with some satisfaction, bethought himself of the occurrences of the two last days. ** Now," said he, mentally, " all my Sears are done away ; Pierro is dead, and 133 Bardino but now fallen beneath my dag* ger, I may again breathe without fear of detection. I have sated my revenge, and have nothing to dread from it. Agnes too, the beautiful Agnes, is in my power: soon will I feast myself in a sea of de- light — soon enjoy those charms, for which I have so long sighed in vain. The thought is ecstacy ! — Soon I shall behold her panting beneath my embrace, and gather delicious honey from her coral lips ; " And what," said he, start- ing up, " hinders the immediate com- pletion of my wishes ? why do I delay the blissful possession of so much beau- ty ? But be still my fierce desires ; the time is scarcely ripe enough : she may not be asleep ; and when locked in its soft embrace, 'tis then I would surprise the peerless beauty, and ere she is con- acious of it, render it beyond the power of fate to dispossess me." The eyes of the monk gleamed with satisfaction ; and as he contemplated the picture bis heated imagination had 134 drawn, his sallow countenance became nnusually animated, and a smile marked his approbation of it. He was too much involved in these reflections to think of sleep ; and as soon as the morning dawned, knowing that he must proceed to a village that w^as some leagues off, to provide many things which he had occasion for, he left his room, and proceeded up stairs to the chamber of the Lady Agnes. The noise that had so much disturbed Agnes, was occasioned by the monk endeavouring to force away the furniture, that, preventing the door from being opened, obstructed his entrance into the room. At first Agnes shook with affright ; but when she saw the beams of the sun penetrate the ivy that covered the ease- ment, she grew more composed, and hastily moving the furniture, admitted the monk. " There was no occasion, lady," said he, with a look of suspicion, '' for you to take such great care in securing the 135 door; there is no one now in the chateau who would hurt you." *' Nay, father," said Agnes, " the reason is, that I was fearful lest the fu- rious blasts of wind should force it open ; and I do confess, since I saw the myste- rious figure glide by me last night, I have had some fears take root in my mind." " That cause, I told you," returned the monk in a hollow tone, ^^ was done away, and the outward fastenings of the door are sufficient to secure it against the wind. I have brought,'' continued he, " what provision yet remains, and I am now going to the nearest place to purchase more : it is probable I shall not return till the sun begins to descend." So saying, he placed the remnant of the food on the table, and departed, having carefully secured the doors. Left to the undisturbed possession of her thoughts, Agnes now reflected on the remarkable dream which had ap- 136 pearedtoher wakeful fancy ; but the more she considered it, the more she was per* plexed to discover the meaning, if any was attached to it. Had not the monk disturbed her at the moment the knight was uncovering his face, she might have been able to have found out what she now would, perhaps, remain for ever ignorant of. Though faint, for want of nourish- ment, she could not bring herself to partake of the provisions the monk had brought her, as they so forcibly recalled to her mind the sanguinary hand that had touched them. 137 CHAP. IX. Agnes now bethought herself of the packet which she had concealed in the niche of the wall ; and as she knew it would be some time ere she should again see the monk, determined to employ her solitary momenta in perusing it. With some agitation she took it down, and taking off the cover, read as fol- lows : " Let those who should chance to -pe- ^^ ruse these lines, pray for the repose " of the soul of Pierro Guiscardo." Agnes dropt a tear when she reflected on the miserable end of the writer ; and laying aside that sheet, turned to the others, some of which appeared to have been wrote a lon^ time, while others 138 wore a more recent appearance. They began thus : *^ To alleviate the melancholy of my mind, and to give an awful lesson to others to avoid the snares by which I fell, do I attempt to write down some of the events of my life, that have overwhelmed it in misery and horror. " I am the son of a Neapolitan fa- mily ; my father had, by engaging in some successful undertaking, acquired sufficient, not only for himself to live comfortably on, but also to leave me at his decease. Fond of me to ex- cess, he denied me nothing that I asked. *^ One evening, as I was passing by the Strada di Piulo, I observed a lady elegantly dressed, come out of one of the houses in it ; her shape and grace- ful walk, instantly attracted my atten- tion ; and I followed her through some of the streets, determined to see where she was going. 139 ^' She went to a distant part of the city ; and when we were passing the walls of the convent of Santa Maria, the lady dropped her handkerchief; availing myself of this favourable op- portunity, I picked it up, and pre- sented it to her. She seemed to be much confused ; and in the agitation she was in, her veil falling, disclosed to me the most beautiful face I had ever beheld. " I could scarcely prevent myself from falling at the feet of this angelic creature, who, in a sweet voice, thanked me for the service I had done her. I replied in a manner that shewed the confusion I was in ; and, without being conscious of what I was doing, walked some way by her side, until I was disturbed from the reverie of love and admiration into which the sight of her charms had plunged me by hep saying. 140 ** ^ Signor Cavaliero, I must remind you, that I have not the honour of your acquaintance ; should any person to whom I am known, meet you, the consequences might be fatal. I thank you for your civility. I am now going to the church of San Nichola.' So saying, she passed on, while I stood fixed to the spot, admiring her lovely form, and thinking on her beautiful countenance. " When she was no longer visible, I still directed my eyes the way she had gone ; and, at length, remembering that she said she was going to San Ni- chola, I directed my;steps thither, and entering that edifice, beheld her on her knees at a confessional at the further end, near the grand altar. " I then concealed myself behind a column, and waited till she should re- turn, gazing on her interesting form. At length she arose, and as she was Ml passing along the grand aisle, I thought she directed her view to that part of the church where I was. " As soon as she was out, I followed her along the different stradas, till I saw her enter the house from which •she went out. '' I enquired in the neighbourhood about her, but all the information I could obtain was, that her name was Donna Palmyra^ and that she lived with her mother. " From that day I thought of nothing eke than the beautiful signora, and con- stantly directed my steps through those parts where I had followed her. ** Two days after, I had the happi- *ness to see her approaching me; and as she passed, I bowed, she returned my salutation, and passed on. Encouraged by this, I continued watching her when- ever she went out, and thought myself happy if I could obtain even a distant fight of her. 142 ^^ One day as I passed her, I observed that she dropped a billet, which I hastily caught up, and immediately hur- ried away to peruse it; the contents were as follows : " ' Signor, I know not whether I ought to judge of your sentiments by your actions : fail, however, not to be in the Strada Nuovo, at the back of the church of San Marco, at sun-set.' *^ It would be difficult to express my sensations at the perusal of these lines, or how I longed^ for the moment when i was to be at the appointed place. Never did the sun appear so long to continue to shed his beams on the earth. At kst, however, the length- ening shadow shewed his descent, and I repaired to the place appointed. " I looked anxiously round ; no per- son was there ; but after I had walked up and down a short time, I saw an old woman at the corner, seemingly waiting for some person. I iminecli- ately advanced towards her ; she looked earnestly at me. ** ' Signor/ said she^ ^ are you waiting here for any one ?' *^ 1 impatiently told her I was. *• * Shew me, then/ said she, * some proof of it.* I then let her see the bil- let. ^ It is right,' said she, ' the signora will be glad to see you, but you must first promise that you will be dis- creet ; the smallest deviation from the strictest virtue will offend my lady.' " I immediately made the most solemn promises. * Hush,' said the old lady, ' do not talk so loud ; we may be over- heard. The signora has a most fero- cious brother, and all our lives would be sacrificed to his rage, if he was to know that you had even spoke to my mistress. You may now follow me, but let it be at some distance, lest we be observed.' " I obeyed the injunctions of the old i44 lady, and followed her into the street where the Signora Palmyra lived. We entered the house, and passed up a flight of dark stairs. My conductress then opened a door, and we entered a cham- ber most elegantly furnished, and lit by a number of lamps. Here I was left, and had leave to survey the paintings which adorned the walls, all of which were calculated to raise and inflame the passions. " The furniture v/as of blue sattin, embroidered with gold ; in each cor- ner were tripods, richly ^ilt, support- ing vases filled with flowers, whose deli- -cious odours perfumed the chamber. " The effect that this apartment, so suited to the luxurious enjoyment of the passions, had on ray imagination, is more easily to be felt, than de- " scribed. " A door now opened, and in walked the angelic Palmyra, her sweet face, covered by a veil. I immediately fell 115 on my knees before her, and seizing her delicate white hand, was going to im- print a kiss on it, but she hastily with- drew it, and in an agitated voice said, ^ Signor, my attendant has informed me, that ,you promised you would not take any undue advantage of the pemiission I have given you to wait oa me.' Reflecting on my promise, I relin- quished my hold, and with a deep sigh, apologized for my conduct. " She then ^at down on a sofa, and desired I would hand her some refresh- ments that were laid on a marble table. After we had drank a few glasses of wine, I observed her perturbation de- crease ; and I ventured to request that she would unveil, and again bless my sight with a view of her unrivalled charms ; this, however, she refused. ^* Our conversation became, however, every moment more interesting; and VOL. I. H 146 at last, I seized her hand, whose beau- tiful whiteness, the fingers elegantly turned, the nails of a deep rose colour, and the soft silken fee], drew from me an expression of rapture, as I kissed and placed it on my heart. We had both taken largely of the delicious wine ; my senses were heated with it, and my situation — I looked at the signora ; she was silent ; I ob- served the agitation of her bosom ; un- able to refrain, I leant forward, and without moving the veil, joined my lips with her^s — 1 felt her delicious breath. — She no longer drew from me with a trembling hand. I displaced her veil, and beheld her languishing dark eyes, her coral lips, and ivory teeth. Again I kissed her ; she leant on my bosom. I clasped the loveliest wo- man my eyes had ever seen, in my arms ; felt the soft pressure of her em- brace; and beheld her beautiful dark ring- 147 l^ts waving over her bosom, whose whiteness exceeded the driven snow. It was then the silent hour of midnight ; I could hear the palpitations of my heart against my side. " When I awoke from this delirium of bliss, I looked around — the tapers in the chamber were expiring, and the beams of the morning pierced through the silken curtains which hung before the case- ments. The lovely Palmyra was sleep- ing, I admired at full length her beau- ties ; and while I was thus engaged, she opened her lovely eyes ; but as soon as she beheld me, she hid her blushes in my bosom, and conjured me, in a low voice, to leave the house ere the day was too far advanced, lest I should be seen. Reluctantly I prepared to com- ply ; and having made her promise to permit my future visits, I departed. '' In this manner did I continue for some, visiting in private, this fasci- nating woman, whose demands upon H 2 3 18 my purse greatly embarrassed me ; but I chose rather to suffer any thing, than fail in making her the most costly pre- sents, with which she appeared much pleased. " At length my father, on whom I had made many pecuniary requests, refused to comply with my wants, and express- ed his astonishment at them ; this greatly distressed me ; and rather than fail in my grateful acknowledgments to the Signora Palmyra, I formed the plwi of robbing him. '^ At first the idea struck me with horror ; and for some days I hesitated to commit the foul act. In the interim I visited her, and thought that she seemed rather cold towards me ; this I instantly attributed to my not having lately made her any presents. Greatly distressed at this, and fearing to lose her, I deter- mined to carry my project into effect. ** I knew that in my father's cham- ber was an iron coffer, in which he kept 140 his plate and ready money, but as he constantly carried the key about hiu), I knew not how to effect my purpose. *' At length, after much deliberation, I determined to mix a sleepy draught iu his wine, and while under its iniluence, to cai'ry my design into effect. *- One evening, a short time after this, he complained of thirst, and in- stead of calling a servant, I arose my- self, and with some agitation presented him some wine, in which I had infused the potion ; the dusky shades that en- veloped the chamber, prevented him from observing my confusion, and un- suspectingly he drained the contents of the goblet. " In silence I waited the event, and soon beheld him fall back on his couch, op- pressed with its powerful influence. I drew towards him. It was the first guilty act I had committed against my parent. I trembled, and stopped ; but at that crisis H 3 150 I unfortunately reflected on the charms of Palmyra. ** The thought that! might lose her, urged me on, and with caution I felt for, and discovered the key, which I took from my insensible father, and proceeded directly to the chamber ; then I approached to, and hastily unlocked the coffer, and drew forth a bag of mo- ney. Pleased with my success, I hastily retired, and replacing the key in the pocket of my fiither's vest, went out of the house ; but in vain I endeavoured to stifle the unrelenting stings of con- science. I was for a time truly miserable, and with impatience looked for the mo- ment when I should again see Palmyra. '^ I wandered about the city almost unconscious of what I was doing. And at length, when the night was far ad- vanced, I returned, and proceeded di- rectly to my apartments ; where I passed the remainder of the time that inter- J51 vened, till the sun again illumined the earth, restless and agitated. '* I feared to behold my father, whom I had wronged, lest he should read my guilty act in my agitated countenance; but considering that my absenting my- self, would breed an instant suspicion, I endeavoured to compose my agitated feelings, and met him in the saloon. ** He appeared rather pale, and com- plained of being unwell ; which I attri- buted to the effect of the draught I had given him. I, however, guarded my looks as much as possible ; and as soon as I could^ departed from the presence of him whom I had so greatly injured. " That evening I saw the lovely Pal- myra, whose countenance was lit with smiles, when I presented her with part of my ill-gotten treasures. So great was my infatuation, so great was my love for her, tliat I perceived not that it was interest, not love, that swayed her ac- tions. — H 4 Here the page was defaced ; and in some parts unintelligible ; and Agnes with difficulty, read the remaining words. **' When that money was gone, I Had recourse to the same means ; and that I -might visit the coffer as often as I had occasion, I procured a key to be made from an impression of the one that be- longed to it. " At length my father discovered that •he was robbed ; and one day he sent for me to his room, a summons that with great agitation I obeyed. " He locked the door ; and then look- ing at me with a stern countenance, ^ Little did I think, Pierro,' said he, ■' that I was nourishing so fell a viper. I have long'suspected thee. I have dis- covered that thou hast robbed me, and the vile wretch on whom thou hast bestowed my money, shall soon repent her insidious arts ; and as for thee, thou art no longer my son ; from this hour I disclaim thee. *' Although my guilty mind matle me, 153 in some measure, expect what I heard, yet my astonishment was so great at his having discovered the beauteous Palmyra, that I was for a while silent. But at length his threats of punishing her, awoke me from the stupor which had overwhelmed me. *^ ^ Whatever/ I replied, ^ you think tit to do with regard to me, I submit ; but beware how you conduct yourself to- wards her, who is dearer to me than life.* So saying, I departed : and repaired to my chamber, which, greatly agitated, I paced, oppressed with sensations of dread, at what my greatly incensed fa- ther might do with regard to Palmyra. That evening I was to visit her ; and I waited with impatience till it should be sufficiently dark for me to enter her house unperceived. " As soon as she saw me, she re- marked the agitation in my countenance, and tenderly enquired the cause. I could not then refrain, but, falling at her feet, u5 154 told her every circumstance, not con- cealing my father's threats towards her. *^ When I had finished my relation, she was for a while silent ; and I, who attentively examined her countenance, saw how greatly she was disturbed by what I told her. " ' Pierro/ said she to me, at last, ^ will you, then, tamely see your Pal- myra insulted; she who has made so great a sacrifice for you.* " I was affected by her tears, and so- lemnly swore that rather than her repu- tation should be sullied, I would not he- sitate to perform any act, however des- perate. " * Enough,' said Palmyra, ' I believe you ; the time is precious ; your father may not have made his will ; or if he has, it is likely he has not yet altered it. You understand me. If after his threats, he lives, you never again see Palmyra ; for I must instantly leave this city. Be re- solute ; be a man ; and you will possess 155 his fortune ; and if you still love Pal- myra ' ** She accompanied these words with a languishing look and a tender embrace. She joined her lovely lips to mine ; I in- haled her balmy breath ; my senses were ravished with ecstatic delight, and in the delirium of my rapturous sensations, I swore to do whatever she required. *^ Palmyra then went out of the apartment, and soon returned with a smiling countenance. She kept me with her till late that night, and then dis- missed me, telling me, that under the colonnades of San Marco I should see a man, wrapped up in a black cloak, standing near the third column, on the right of the grand entrance, who, on my approaching, would speak to me. ' This man,' added the signora, * will take off the impediment to your possessing an ample fortune and Palmyra. Fail not to be with me to-morrow night : I lan- guish for the dear delight of seeing you.' .H.6 156 Saying thls^ she pressed my hand, and I departed. " The occurrences of that day all crowded to my mind as I passed the stradas that led to' San Marco. I felt myself deprived of every possibility of existence: Palmyra disgraced, and lost to me for ever, if my father still lived. *^ On the other hand, I painted to my imagination the hours of halcyon bliss that I should enjoy with that lovely wo- man, and the possession of the property of my father, if I did as she [had made me promise, and I hurried on to the place appointed to rid me of all my fears. ^^ I approached the church of San Marco, and leaning against the second column, I directed my view to the next, when I saw slowly emerge from the dark shade, a gigantic figure, who passed be- fore me, and appeared •t€^"^ famine me with attention. The whole of the body of the man was enveloped in a black mantle, which .157 shrouded all the visage except the eyes, the dark expression of which I could perceive as they were fixed on me. " The man now returned, and coming nearer to me, said in a low, harsh voice, * Do you know the Signora Palmyra ?' '' ' All is right,' I replied ; ' she told me you would be here." " 'I wait your directions then, signor,' said the man ; ^ only shew me where he is.' I shuddered ; but recollecting my- selfi bade the ruffian follow me. *^ In profound silence he accompa- nied me through the streets till we came to my father's mansion. I then opened a private postern, of which I kept the key, and proceeded to my apartments ; I then illumined the tapers from a lamp that was burning, and turned to look on my companion, who stood silent in the chamber, still concealing his features. " I started at the singular appearance of the man : his long black garments covered his feet ; he wore a large hat^ and his face was enveloped in the cloak ; his arms were folded, and in one of his hands I thought I beheld something glitter : it was the handle of a stiletto, the instrument with which he was on the point of imbruing in the blood of my parent. I hesitated and trembled. " The ruffian observed my emotion. ^ Well, signor/ said he, ^ why this de- lay ? Do you repent ? Shall I bear that message back to Palmyra ? Answer me; for I must be going.' " ^ Oh, no,' said I, ^ listen to what I am now going to say : Ascend the stair- case at the end of the saloon, and the fourth door to the right is the chamber which leads to the one he is in. Be cautious how you tread/ lest the domes- tics hear you.' " ' O trust me, signor, Bardino has done these things before now ; besides, if any of them should wake, I will soon quiet them.' Saying this, he took up a taper and departed. 159 " Then, oh, God ! what horror, what distraction seized my mind ! A thousand times was I on the point of rushing for- wards, and preventing the horrible deed ; but the remembrance of Palmyra as often made me hesitate. ''Thus did I delay the time till I thought it was too late. The least breath of wind made me start mth horror. I expected to see the bloody form of my father, de- nouncing on me the punishment due to my crimes. Terrified, I hid my face with my hand, and remained for some time motionless. " A blow on the shoulder made me start up from my seat. Overwhelmed with terror and affright, I hardly dared to look up, lest my fears should be verified, and I should behold some soul-apalling form. ''At length, the voice of Bardino met my ear. ' What is the matter, signor ? Why do you shake so ?* '' ' Is it done ?' said I. '^ ' Aye, by St. Pedro ; I never failed yet; i6o ^^ Taking courage, I ventured to raise my eyes to look on him, and saw a countenance, in which blood-thirsty vil- lainy was deeply stamped. I beheld his hand, holding the sanguine evidence of the deed of darkness he had just perpe- trated, and, unable to bear the sight, I withdrew them again with horror. " Bardino laughed at me, and ridi- culed the agonies of my tormenting con- science. ^ If you are then afflicted, sig- nor,' said he, ^ suspicion will most cer- tainly attach itself to you. — Reflect, keep up your spirits. You must now shew me the way to the entrance of this house, that I may leave the doors open ; other- wise it will appear that some one in it was guilty of the transaction that has now taken place. '^ Overwhelmed as I was with horror, yet I saw the necessity of being cau- tious, and I directed him to follow me. " He parted from me at the hall -door with a sardonic smile on his count e- JOl uance, and I returned to my apartment?, trembling with fear^ lest I should have been observed. " I undressed myself and laid down. I tried to sleep — I tried to forget the recent events ; but in vain. When I closed my eyes, my imagination drew to me the cold corpse of my father, welter- ing in its blood. I shook with affright; a cold sweat bedewed my limbs, and at Jast my senses, worn out with my exqui- site agonies, I laid almost bereft of ani- mation. " Thus passed that long, wretched, miserable night — a night, stained with murder's blackest crimes ; a night that never will be forgotten by me, but re- turn to my memory with tenfold sensa- tions of horror. *' Will the days of pennance and re- pentance that I have since passed, do it away ? — Alas ! I fear not. ^' The next morning my father's ojd domestic came into my chamber. I l62 heard bis steps sound along the corrl- dore ; every pace he took struck to my heart. The agitation he was in, pre- vented his observing my guilty looks, and tremblingly I followed him into the chafnber. " There I beheld my father hanging half out of the bed. I saw the horrid gash Bardino had made in his side, and the stream of life still flowing from it. My sensations were too powerful for me to support, and I fell senseless on the floor. " When 1 recovered, I found myself in my own chamber. My senses were confused ; I raved incessantly of my niurdered father. At length, however, I became more composed, and at the close of the next day, rose from oflf my couch. *^ I recollected the promise I had made to see Palmyra the evening before; and supposing that she would expect ine the next night, as I had failed in being with her according to my promise, i63 on account of my illness ; I determined to call on her, and to alleviate the an- guish of my heart by her bewitching smiles. " When it was dark, 1 left my house and proceeded to her's. I walked cau- tiously ivp the stairs, and was just going to give the accustomed signal at the xloor, when I thought I heard the voice of a man within. Startled at this cir- cumstance, I listened, and found I was not deceived ; some expressions too, that smote on my ear, told me it was a fa- voured lover. " Transported with rage, I burst open the door, and beheld Palmyra in the arms of a man. In the delirium of passion I drew my sword, and ere he could prevent it, plunged it thrice in his body. " Uttering the deepest imprecations on the faithless Palmyra, who, affrighted at my unexpected entrance and conduct, sat trembling on the couch, expecting, l64 no doubt, that she would be the next victim to my resentment ; I left the chamber, and wandered about the streets, without noticing whither I was going ; about midnight I found myself before my own house. I started, and hastily turned about, to avoid the well-known place, which instantly brought to my remembrance my father. " I walked away as quickly as pos- sible, till a voice, calling me by my name, caused me to look around. I heard some footsteps, and at length I disco- vered through the gloom, the gigantic figure of Bardino approaching me. " Imagining he had been sent to me by Palmyra, to revenge the death of her lover, I drew my sword, and pre* pared to defend myself. " ' Do not be afraid of me, signor/ said the ruffian ; * by St. Pedro, I am as bad off as yourself. I have made an unsuccessful attempt this night on the Prince de Marinelli : his people are now 165 after me ; you are also pursued. Pal- myra has given information to the offi- cers of the Holy Brotherhood of your having, as is supposed, mortally wounded an Italian nobleman whom she has long known ; and to my certain knowledge, your house has been searched. Take my advice; delay not a moment to leave the city, and, if you ch use, we will join our fortunes together.' *^ Oppressed with fear, and seeing the great danger I ran of being appre- hended, I joyfully consented, and was proceeding with Bardino, when he stop- ped, and said, ' One thing, however, we must have, or we shall make but a sorry appearance. You understand me — my purse is empty ; suppose we pay a visit to the old man's strong box ; we may do it now with safety, as the party who searched your house, have left it some time.' " Seeing the necessity of this, I con- sented. We returned to it, and having 166 entered by the private postern, pro- ceeded immediately to his chamber. " The domestics who were in the house, were all asleep, and we could not procure any light without subjecting ourselves to discovery. " The night was gloomy, and the pale moon refused to lend her silver beams to assist our cautious steps ; I, however, found out the chamber, Bar- dino following me close behind. " The servants had neglected the ac- customed attention to the remains of my unfortunate parent, and the chamber was involved in utter darkness. As I was stretching out my hand, to feel where the coifer was, what was my hor- ror when I laid it on the cold form of my father! I stopped, transfixed to the spot, with the indescribable sensations of my guilty breast ; Bardino, who was advancing behind, pushed against me, and I fell on the inanimate body. ** Merciful Power! what agonies I 167 felt ! Even now the icy coldness strikes to my heart. The powers of speech were denied me ; I groaned aloud, and Bardino conjecturing what liad befallen me, hastily drew me off the couch, and seated me on the ground. *' He endeavoured for a long time to rally ray senses, but in vain ; the shock I had received was too great, and I sat on the ground, the picture of horror and affiight. At length, urged by the danger I was in of being discovered, I got up, and taking out the key, with a trembling hand, opened the coffer. " Bardino hastily took out some of the bags of gold and silver coin, and we then hastily left the chamber, where I had suffered so much, and where lay the pale victim to the insidious arts of the faithless Palmyra. " Thus was I completely bereft of my peace of mind, and leagued with the assassin who had so lately imbrued his hands in the blood of my father, and i68 whose terrific form, and ferocious counte- nance, not only continually reminded me of his looks when he had committed the fell deed, but also filled me with constant apprehensions for my own safety. " The eastern clouds began to be tinged with a roseate glow when we left the city. We travelled on with our ut- most speed ; and when the sun had risen over the distant hills, we repaired to the ruins of Sporzzini, where we intended to remain till the dusky mantle of even- ing had enveloped the earth in gloomy obscurity. '^ Bardino, who knew the way to the vaults, where it seems he had often been on his predatory excursions, led me down a dilapidated flight of steps, which brought us into a passage which w^e passed along ; from different parts of this passage, which received the beams of the day from several gratings in the roof, others branched off in various di- rections, which Bardino informed me fed to the chambers where the mo* numents of the former possessors of the splendid pallazzio of Sporzzini lay, fast intermingUng with their original dust. *^ At length Bardino brought me to a small chamber, in the centre of it was a marble monument ; on the top of which was carved a bloody hand, grasping a dagger. I remarked this singular cir- cumstance to Bardino, as we sat down on the marble steps that was raised round it. " ^ The story that is told of that mo- nument,* said Bardino, ^ is rather a sin- gular one ; and as we must remain here the whole of this day, I will relate it to you. " ' One night, when the Marchese de Sporzzini had some time retired to rest, being disturbed by a noise, he im- mediately arose, and taking his sword and a taper, went into the corridore; the noise increased, and directed him to VOL. I, I 170 a chamber, where his only daughter lay. He instantly forced open the door of the room, and beheld her struggling in the embrace of a man ; who immedi- ately on seeing the marchese, drew his dagger, and aimed it at the signora. " ^ Sporzzini endeavoured to hinder his purpose, but too late ; and in the confusion his taper was extinguished ; he heard the retiring steps of the man, and summoning his domestics to pro- cure a light ; he then went to the cham- ber, and beheld his daughter dying with a dagger in her breast, and a hand lying on the floor, which, it seems, the mar- chese had severed from the unknown person, though too late to prevent the deed. *^' ' Every exertion was used to appre- hend the assassin, but without effect ; the signora died, and was buried in this monument ; and to commemorate the means by which she met her end, that band was carved on it. !71 *' * Some years after this event, word was brought to the marchese, that the body of a man was found lying in tliis vault without a hand, " * Sporzzini immediately went and examined the corpse, which appeared to have been deprived of existence not more than a day. No traces were found by which they could discover who he was ; nor were any marks of violence perceptible on the body. *' ^ It was conjectured, that, struck with remorse at the deed he had com* mitted, he had come to breathe his last at the tomb of the signora. *' ^ The marchese had him buried beneath that rise you see in yonder corner ; and notwithstanding all his en- quiry, was never able to discover who he was.' •",1;/.. " Bardino had scarcely concluded his narrative, when the door of the cemetery was opened by five or six fierce-looking; ^ 2 172 Ha ! Cartado/ said he to the foremost, ^ from whence come you ?' " f What is that, Bardino !' exclaimed the other, * What do you do here ? and who is this ?' pointing to me. ^^ ^ One who is as bad off as myself,' returned Bardino, ^ we were obhged to run, or else suffer the rack.' " ^ If that be the case,' said Cartado, ' why not live with us ? we are rather weak now.* *^ * Where are the rest of the party ?' said Bardino, ^ In the cavern below, from whence we heard the noise you made, and which caused us to pay you this visit. *' ^ What say yOu, signor,' said Bar- dino, to me, ' will you join us ?' ** ^ How,' said Cartado, ' that ques- tion is needless, after what has passed ; you know our rules, Bardino,' said he, * with a meaning in his look, that made me tremble, and which I perfectly un- derstood. 173 " I therefore thought it best to com* ply with a good grace ; and signified my desire to enter into their society. They accepted my offer, and conducted me below, through a secret passage to a large cavern, illuminated by lamps fas- tened to the stone pillars, which sup- ported the roof, where sat round a large table, about twenty of the most demo- niac-looking ruffians my eyes had ever beheld, compared with whom, even Bar- dino had a gentle aspect. " Cartado, who was their chief, in- troduced me to the banditti ; and the oath of secrecy was administered to me, which was as follows : " I swear by the Holy Saints, to be faithful and obedient to the chief; to spare no- one, not even my father, my mother, or other relation, if it should be thought necessary for the safety or good of the society, that they should be de- stroyed, and never to divulge the place of their residence. I 3 174 " This oath I was forced to take ; the horrid, import of which, guilty as I wa&> greatly shocked me. '^ Bardino, who did not know that the gang was in the cavern when he firs^t came to the ruins, as tney often changed their place of abode, appeared pleased to be amongst his old companions, who were relating to him an adventure, which they had been hired to perform, and at which, they frequently burst out in sa- vage exclamations of merriment, in which Bardino joined. " The story they were telling him, and which was afterwards related to me, appeared so extraordinary, that I shall give it a place in this sad recital of my ill-spent life, as it will serve to eluci- date the mysterious events of the trans- action, and rescue an innocent family from the imputation of crimes of which they were innocent. '^ It seems that the families of Gon- doni and Molini were at variance. Mo- 175' llni bore such an inveterate hatred to Gondoni, that he was determined, by the most infernal scheme that ever entered the mind of man, to ruin his family, and to bring him to an ignominious death. "The reason of tliis hatred was, that Gondoni had a son, who was enamoured of the daughter of Molini, who, insti- gated by their persuasions, waited on Gondoni, to propose the alliance, but was repulsed by the haughty Gondoni, who instantly forbade his son to visit the Sig- nora Molini. " Piqued at his refusal, and the conduct of the young Gondoni, who, in obedience to his father's order, studiously avoided his daughter. Molini hired one of the banditti, who, watching an opportunity, murdered the son, and buried him in the vault beneath the pallazzio of Gon- doni. " But the revengeful Molini was not yet appeased ; another victim was neces- sary ; and this was Gondoni himself, not I 4 176 by the hand of the assassin, but by the public executioner, in which case he knew his estates would be forfeited, and his family tota}ly ruined. *^ A few days after the disappearance of the young Gondoni, the confessor, who resided in the pallazzio, was disturbed in the niglit by a spectre resembling him, who appeared beside his couch, looking on him with a melancholy air, and shewing a wound in his breast. " It slowly turned away, and beckoned to the father to accompany it ; who, struck with fear and surprise, was not able to obey ; and the spectre at length disappeared, and left the father to ru- minate on the circumstance; who, think- ing he saw the hand of Providence in it, and that by means of the visionary being, he might discover what had become of the young Gondoni, whom it so greatly represented ; determined, if it should appear again, to follow it. '^ Accordingly the next night he watched, and as the clock struck twelve. 177 saw it approach his bed, and again beckon him to follow it. '' The father obeyed ; and taking his lamp, proceeded after the spectre, which wound slowly down the steps that led to the vaults ; and at length turned into a small place, where, pointing to a heap of fresh raised earth, it uttered a deep groan, and disappeared. " The father was for some time mo- tionless with his astonishment ; and at length retired from the place, deter- mined to see what was concealed be- neath the earth, repaired there the next evening with a spade, when, removing the heap, what was his horror to find the body of the young Gondoni, with a dagger in his breast, which he knew belonged to his father, whose name was on it. " Not knowing how to proceed, he left the body, and retired to his chamber, where, when the midnight hour arrived, he again saw the spectre, who conjured I 5 ITS him, in a hollow tone, to revenge his death, adding that the dagger would shew who it was that had committed the horrid act ; and then disappeared. " Early the next morning, the friar went to the doge, and related to him the mysterious circumstances he had witnessed. The judge having caused en- quiry to be made, Gondoni was taken up, and accused of the murder. " The dagger, and the deposition of the confessor, were accounted sufficient evidence of his having been guilty of the death of his son ; and the unfortunate Gondoni perished under the torture of the rack, because he would not confess his supposed guilt. " It may easily be supposed that the spectre was no other than one of the gang, who had conducted the whole of the business in consideration of a suita- ble reward from Moltni, who, through their assistance, so fatally succeeded. " Should these pages, when I am no 179 more, ever be perused, I trust, that steps will be taken to restore to the un- fortunate family of Gondoni, the estates of which they have been deprived through the revengeful acts of the cruel Molini. '•' To relate the desperate enterprlzes we engaged in, and the narrow escapes we had, would exceed a volume, and I shall now relate the circumstance that made me leave the gang. ** Bardino had received an offer from Signor Ferdinando Scarlatti, a man of high rank and power, of a large sum of money to undertake a piece of business, which, requiring the aid of a second per- son, Bardino fixed on me to accompany him ; to which, weary of the miserable life I led, I, with the hopes of escap- ing from my fell associates, gladly con« sen ted. " Ferdinando Scarlatti had paid his addresses to the Signora Laura Favelli, who, it seems, had, in the first instance, i5 180 received his attentions, and had given him every reason to suppose that in a short time she would accompany him to the altar. " Scarlatti regarded that as a certain event, and even made preparations for the nuptials ; but in the meantime the Compte Marino declared himself her admirer, and a day was fixed for the marriage. *' Scarlatti, burning with the most outrageous fury, determined to wreak his revenge on the pair ; and to effect his purposes, engaged Bardino and my- self to aid him. " It was resolved that we should at- tempt to carry them off on the first night of their nuptials to a habitation which Scarlatti possessed on a distant coast. He had bribed some of the compte's domestics, who admitted him^ Bardino, and myself, into the pallazzio in the evening, and concealed us in a chamber adjoining to the one in which 181 the unfortunate pair were to pass the night. " We waited with much impatience till the pallazzio should be cleared of the numerous guests, and our intended vic- tims should retire to rest. At length, from our concealment we beheld the Sig- nora Laura enter the room, and get into the bed. " The chamber was brilliantly illumi- nated, and the chinks in the wainscot admitted a partial light, by which I could perceive the expressive counte- nance of Scarlatti, which sliewed the conflict of furious passions which warred in his bosom ; and but for the cool con^ siderate conduct of Bardino, he would have discovered himself to the incon- stant Laura before the time was suffi- ciently ripe for him to effect his pur- pose. " The female attendant .of the Signora Laura, now retired, and soon after the compte entered in his dressing gown, and wasjust getting into the bed, when we 182 burst from our concealment, and seiz- ing the compte, held a handkerchief before his mouth to prevent his cries being heard ; while Scarlatti did the same to the Signora Laura ; and taking up some of her clothes as quick as we were able, we carried them down the private stairs of the pallazzio, and placed our prisoners in two carriages that were waiting at no great distance. Scarlatti and Laura entering one, Bardino, my- self, and the Compte Marino the other. " We travelled on without intermis- sion, and arriving in France, we pro- ceeded on till we came to the shores of the spacious Bay of Biscay, preserving the whole of the time a strict silence towards the Compte Marino, who we found was ignorant who his persecutor was : but when the carriage in which Scarlatti was, with the Signora Laura stopped at the gate of a lonely edifice, which was raised near the raging waves of the spacious bay, and he saw him hand out that lady, his rage was exces- 183 sire, and calling on Ferdinando, he re- viled him in the bitterest terms. " Scarlatti's passion, roused by his con- duct, ordered him to be confined in a dungeon that was beneath the house. " This with some difficulty we effected, I was now grown savage and ferocious, the result of associating with the ban- ditti. I was used to bloody scenes, and could see, without feeling the impulse of pity, the streams of life flow from the convulsed body of my victim. In the heat of my rage at the resistance of the Compte Marino, I drew my stiletto and wounded him ; the loss of blood made him weak, and Bardino soon carried him below,"— — - 184 CHAP. X. X HE noise occasioned by the closing of a distant door, made the Lady Agnes de Vortimer start from her seat ; and ima- gining that it was Hildargo returned from his journey, she hastily gathered up the papers, and put them back in the crevice in the wall. She was sur- prised to find, on looking through the casement, that the sun was fast descend- ing ; her mind had been so entirely en- gaged with the sad tale she was perus- ing, that for a time all other ideas were obliterated — alas, but to return with re- doubled violence ! It was plain, by Pierro's narrative, that the house she was in, had been that in which the unfortunate Laura and the Compte Marino had been taken to. I8b Its lonely situation made it convenient for the commitment of any atrocious act. '* Perhaps," thought she, mentally, " this chamber has witnessed many a horrible scene ; and in the gloomy dun- geons many an unfortunate victim to the outrageous passions of mankind, have breathed their last sighs ; and their habitation, when alive, has become their grave, when dead. Oh, Edmund ! my beloved son, happily thou art spared the tortures of seeing thy mother a wretched captive ; how would it rend thy tender bosom ! " But," said she aloud, ^^ there is a day of retribution, then tremble, De Vorti- mer, thou base contriver of my wrongs ; and thou, Hildargo, his fit associate, who, under the mask of religion, con- cealest thy black heart, and serpent-en* gendering bosom. A rustling noise beside her, made Agnes start, and turning round, she be^ 186 held the monk Hildargo standing close to her. Surprised at his sudden ap- pearance, and affrighted at the sardonic smile of contempt that appeared on his countenance, Agnes shrieked. Hildargo caught hold of her arm ; "Why, lady," said he, '^ so inveterate, so harsh, in the abuse of one in whose power thou art, and who would do any thing to contri- bute to thy happiness ?'* *^ Happiness l" exclaimed Agnes, " can that word be pronounced by thee ? Re- store me then my Edmund ; restore him to his rights, and let the world know the villainy of the deceitful Orlando de Vortimer. — Do that, and Agnes will bless thee." " Nay, lady," said the monk, "that must not be." " How then would thou confer hap- piness on me ?" returned Agnes. " If lady," said the monk, taking her hand, " if you would accept Hil- dargo' s love, he would open the gate of 187 your prison, restore you to your rigfits, and Orlando de Vortimer should breathe his last groans here..'* Saying this, the monk drew the trem- bling form of Agnes towards him, who, struggling to disengage herself, the veil that concealed the beauties of her bo- som, was torn. Hildargo fixed his eyes upon her pant- ing orbs, whose whiteness exceeded the Parian marble; while Agnes, trans- fixed with horror, beheld his eyes glisten with delight ; and the glow of desire illumine his sallow countenance. " Stop, execrable monster!" said she, *' pollute me not with thy detested touch. The Saints protect me in this moment of horror." *' Thy Saints," said the monk, " hear thee not ; the time is auspicious, thy beauties have raised my passion." Saying this, he encircled her in his arms ; he profaned her lovely bosom by his daring hand, and was proceeding to IS8 further violence, when Agnes, rendered furious by the horror of her situation, by a sudden effort sprung from his hold, and her foot slipping, she struck her head against the pillar that supported the table, with such violence, that she fell on the floor, which was stained by her innocent blood, and soon became insensible to the memory of her past sufferings, and the horrors of her present situation. Hildargo hastily raised her up, and carried her to the couch, and for a long time he in vain endeavoured to stop the sanguine stream, the damps of death began to settle on her face, and the monk feared that the grim king of ter- rors would deprive him of his beauteous prey. Not the smallest pulsation, the indi- cation that life still lingered in her veins, could he perceive ; he tore off a piece of his garment, and wrapped it tightly round her head ; the blood now ceased to flow with so much violence, and at leg length stopped ; still Agnes was motloiv less, and Hildargo feared she was lost for ever : her lovely bosom was stained with the sanguine stream, and her . cheeks, so late the residence of the blushing rose, were now wan and cold. Hildargo drew a chair beside the couch, and with folded arms sat con- templating the pale motionless form of the unfortunate Agnes de Vortimer, the unhappy victim of his nefarious schemes. The moment of desire was fled ; and antipathy at beholding the blood-stained form of Agues succeeded in its place. He turned away with disgust from the sight, and fixed his eyes on the floor. He thought of the body of the man he had murdered, and which he had left to moulder where it fell. Other ideas then crossed his mind. What scenes had he not witnessed in that house — in that chamber ! A sudden fear came on him ; a cold sweat burst from every pore. The chamber was enveloped in th^ dusky l§0 gloom of night. Hildargo looked around him, and in the uncertain mass of ob- scurity, a thousand shapes seemed to flit along. '' Something black appeared before him on the floor. He looked at it for some time, and not being able to con- ceive what it was, he got up, and laid his hand on it. It was moist, he held his hand up to the casement, and found it covered with blood. He shuddered ; it was the blood of Agnes, which had flowed from the wound in her head. He hastily essayed to wipe it ofl^, when a deep sigh broke on the silence around. Hildargo shook with terror. He rolled his eyes about ; but no object met his view. Trembling, he every moment expected to see some hideous phantom burst through the murky gloom. He moved not, and hardly dared to breathe^ lest the sound should affright him. Such are the horrors attendant on guilt. No comfort can the wicked en- joy ; to them the downy pillow appears a heap of thorns, and the kixurious bani]uct is spread in vain. When in society they are miserable, lest in theit disturbed looks their crimes should be read ; and when alone, they are tor- mented by a thousand horrors. Another sigh, or rather groan, now met the ears of the monk, and the idea that it must proceed from Agnes, now occurred to him. He hastily approached the bed, and laid his hand on her; he felt her heart gently beat beneath her now warm breast, the silken, firm feel of which was not unheeded by him ; and in the Jiope, that he should still be able to sa- tiate his lustful desires, he hastily left the chamber to procure a light from be- low, and to fetch some wine to pour down her throat. Hildargo was not long ere he re- turned. He raised up the languid form of Agnes^ gave her some wine, and a^ length she opened her eyes. She re- garded the monk with a stedfast gaze, without seeming to know him. Hil- dargo spoke not ; he felt confused, and endeavoured to avoid her sight. Agnes now called on Edmund. '^ Where are you, my son?" said she, in a low voice, " why do not you awake, and kiss me ? Soft ! let him sleep ;-i— he is happy — See how he smiles — Dear St. Clair, disturb him not. O God!" said she, in a louder tone, *^ keep off that villain De Vortimer from him — see, how he wants to destroy him ! — Hold me not ! — I will go to him — I will preserve my child !" Thus did the miserable Agnes conti- nue for some time uttering the wild ideas of her disordered senses. At length, wearied with her emotions, she fell into a slumber ; still, however, her agitated body shewed that her imagina- tion rested not. Hildargo watched her the whole 193 night ; and at intervals made her swal- low some wine. She attempted once or twice to arise from the couch, but fell back again through weakness. When at length the beams of the morn- ing darted through the casement, Agnes was able to sit up. She appeared better in her health, but the empire of reason held not its accustomed sway. Thus was the unhappy Agnes bereft of her senses. She raved incessantly of her son Edmund. She would often look at Hildargo, but appeared not to know him ; she never refused any nourish- ment or wine that he gave her, but would endea'v^our to partake of it. By this means her strength daily in- creased ; Hildargo removed the bandage from her head, the wound was healing fast, and he still continued to hope that her senses would return. While she was thus deprived of her reason, he might easily have completed his designs ; but he regarded her now VOL. I. K J 94 but as a beautiful painting, which only pleased the sight, without exciting other sensations. On the fourth day Agnes fell into a deep slumber; and Hildargo perceived with pleasure, that she, for the first time, rested quietly. He now hoped her senses would return when she awoke ; and fearing, that if she beheld him when she first opened her eyes, it might delay her re- covery, he took that opportunity to re- pair to the village to purchase necessarie?. With cautious steps he left the apart- ment, and was proceeding to the outer gate, when he bethought himself of the body of the intruder whom he had so successfully attacked the first evening he had arrived at the mansion : he was fearful lest in returning to its original state, it might be offensive, and deter- mined to remove it. He therefore turned back, and arriv- ing at the end of the long passage, he turned to the right, and descending a ig5 flight of steps, found the body lying with the head downwards, almost at the bottom of them. Hildargo, when he had stabbed the ill-fated wretch, had thrown him down the steps, where it appeared he had breathed his last. He now took him l^* the legs, and dragged the gigantic corpse after him, till he came to a hole in which the sea had found an entrance, that was at the extremity of the passage, into which he flung it. The body swiftly descended, and dashed on the waters below, which, closing over it, became its tomb. Hildargo, pleased with having per- formed this unpleasant, but necessary task, returned to the court-yard, and mounting his mule, left the mansion. When he returned, he softly ap- proached the chamber, and found Agnes still in the soft embraces of the slumbrous deity. A delicate soft bloom illumined her downy cheek, and her lips wore a K 2 196 deep Vermillion tint. Hildargo wishing her to be alone when she awoke, again left the cbamber ; and leaving the man- sion, directed his steps to the pebbly shores of the ocean. Agnes, meanwhile, awoke from her tranquil slumbers. She looked around for some time, and then with difficulty arose from her couch ; she felt herself very weak and faint, and wishing to inhale the fresh air, she approached to the case- ment : the deep stain of the blood on the floor, caught her eye ; her garments too, were stiff with the sanguine stream, and, for the first time, she was sensible that she had hurt herself. Some confused ideas now arose in her mind of what had happened ; and by degrees, she brought to her recollection the behaviour of the monk Hildargo, and the fall she had in attempting to disengage herself from his detested hold, when she conjectured she must have hurt herself. 397 She felt the wound on her head, the pain of which had subsided, and was now only a little swollen. She now opened the casement, and the first ob- ject she beheld was the tall figure of the monk Hildargo, slowly pacing the beach, with folded arms and downcast eyes. So unwelcome an object made her in- stantly retire from the place, and she sat down to recover the disturbment that the sight of the perfidious father had caused in her mind. The day was now drawing near to its close, and the unhappy Agnes sat in- dulging iier melancholy ruminations till it was nearly dark. Silently she invoked the All-seeing Power who watches and protects the innocent, and fervently recommended herself to his all-powerful providence. Trusting to his goodness, Agnes felt more composed ; but still, when she heard the steps of the monk ascending the stairs, and saw the light of the lamp K 3 he carried, flash against the walls of the corridore> her heart beat with in- creased violence against her side; and the emotions of fear banished the pale rose from her cheeks, and left the lily to reside alone. Hildargo, when he entered the cham- ber, looked with much satisfaction ^t Agnes. '^ The Saints be praised, Lady,'* said he,. " that you are at length enabled to rise from your couch. I do confess myself truly penitent for what has hap- pened : I beseech you, consider it no further." Agnes, who at first trembled at the sound of his voice, by degrees recovered' her courage. She reflected on the im*- port of his speech ; and, though she credited not his assertions, yet she thought it would be better to appear as if she did ; she therefore raised her languid head, and looking at Hildargo, who ardently shrunk from her observa- tion, said, " If you are sincere, father. i99 in what you say, I will forget your late conduct, and impute it to the heedless impulse of the moment, which, I trust, your reflections have made you look on with horror." Hildargo was pleased with her expres- sions, though he inwardly laughed at her credulity ; and immediately endeavoured to shew his attention to her, by pre- paring her meal, of which she slightly partook. Hildargo left the apartment, and re- turned with a change of apparel, which he laid on the couch, and making ^ cheerful fire on the hearth, he retired. When Agnes heard the bolts of the door of her chamber forced into the outward wall, she arose from her seat, and taking up the clothes, began to exa- mine them. Their extraordinary fine texture great- ly surprised her. They were of a foreign make, and appeared as if they had been lain by a long time. A sudden ide^ K 4 200 crossed her mind, which agitated her so much, that she let the garments fall from her hand with horror. — These might have been the clothes of the Sig- nora Favelli, who was married to the Count Marino, and was, according to Pierro's narrative, brought to that house; and the sumptuousness and ele- gance of them, confirmed her in this idea. She longed to peruse the remainder of the roll of papers, that she might learn her fate ; but feared to do it in the pre- sent weak state of her delicate frame, as she recollected how much the perusal had before affected tier. Unwilling to give way to thought, she hastily took the garments off her couch, and laid down to rest her agitated senses by a short repose. Sleep but at intervals weighed down her eyelids; and as soon as the tuneful lark, the harbinger of day, soaring high on the morning breeze, began his early 201 song, and ere the sun had begun to tinge the clouds that skirted the eastern horizon with his radiant beams, Agnes arose, and opening the casement, par- took of the reviving influence of the gentle gale, that sweeping over a vast extent of country, rolled back from the shores the ample waves of the Bay of Biscay. Agnes pensively reclined against the stone frame of the casement, resting her head on her arm, and watching the dis- tant barks as they skimmed lightly oyer the restless bosom of the ocean. The sun, at length rising in majestic splen- dour, shone on their white sails, and cast a radiant glow over the face of nature. *' How calm, how peaceful," thought Agnes, *^ is the scene before me ; how cal- culated to inspire sentiments of love and veneration for the Great Master of the universe! But the repose I view, the tranquillity I see spread over the face of K 5 202 nature, is alas! far banished from my bosom." Hildargo now entering the chamber, disturbed her from these mournful reve- ries. He had brought with him her morning repast, and having laid it on the table, he departed. Agnes soon after saw him walking on the sea-shore, with his arms folded, and his head covered by his cowl. On a sudden he stopped, and directed his view to the casement where Agnes was ; she then saw him slowly return to the man- sion, and soon after her door opened, and he entered. " Lady," said he, " will you descend to the sea-shore ; the fresh breeze and the exercise may contribute to your re- covery, I shall await you below.*' *' I thank you, father," said Agnes, ** I will accompany you.** The monk then left the chamber, and Agnes was following him, when she rt- 203 fleeted that she had no veil with her ; she returned, and taking up her own, found that it was torn and unfit to put on ; she then hastily took one that the monk had brought with the bundle of garments, and throwing it over her, de- scended the stairs. When the monk saw her in the hall with the veil on, he started, and ap* peared greatly disturbed. " From whence got you that veil, lady ?" said he, in a faultering voice. " It was one you brought me last night, father," said Agnes. " True, lady," said Hildargo ; « I had forgot that circumstance/* He then relapsed into a deep reverie, and Agues proceeded to the sea-shore.. She walked on for some time, refliect- Ing with much surprise on the confusioia of the father when he had beheld the veil, and longed much to know if he was acquainted with the circumstances rela- tive to the Signora Marinoi At length K d 204: she turned round, and found that she was walking alone. She saw the monk standhig still at some distance, with his eyes directed to- wards her ; and when he saw her look- ing at him, he folded his arms, and throwing his cowl over his face, walked away. Agnes continued slowly proceeding towards the lofty cliff, whose summit was covered with low shrubs, the abode of numbers of sea-gulls, and other aqua- tic birds. Fatigued with her walk, she sat down and rested herself on a piece of rock, and often cast her eyes towards the lofty cliff, which she longed to as- cend, in the hope of being able to dis- cover some village or fisherman's hut^ where, if she was ever so fortunate as to get out of the power of the dark, de- signing Hildargo, she might find an asylum. When she had rested herself, she pre- pared to ascend, and turning round a. 205 projecting point of the rock, she beheld Hildargo leaning against it. Starting at thus beholding him when she least ex- pected it, she disturbed the monk, who, raising his head, said, " Lady, you had better now proceed to the mansion, lest you fatigue yourself too much. Ano- ther day, if you wish it, you may again walk here." Agnes, fearful of being denied the indulence, delayed not her acquiescence ; and slowly returned to her lonely prison. Her long walk, in her weak state, had indeed much fatigued her, and she laid on her couch to refresh her wearied limbs. Hildargo left the chamber and re- paired to the one below ; there he sat down, and for a time was deeply in- volved in thought. At length he took from the folds of his garments the cas- ket which he had brought from the hut where the ghastly pale corpse of Pierro lay. He opened it and examined some ^o6 luable jewels, and then, to his great sur- prise, discovered at the bottom, a mi- niature-case. Laying aside the casket he touched the spring, and started at ^beholding the painting it concealed. He considered it for some time, *' How much,'* said he, *' doth it resemble the sweet original ! What smiles, what graces adorn those downy cheeks ! What happiness to pos- sess thy beauties! to fold thee to my heart ! to behold thy eyes languishing ! to feel the quick palpitation of thy hea- venly bosom I — 'Tis now long since thy beauties first struck my enamoured senses ; but they took too deep root to be ever extirpated I" Here the monk was disturbed by a noise above. He hastily put the minia- ture in his vest, and ascended the stairs that led to the chamber of his hapless captive. Agnes, when she had thrown herself on her couch, tried to sleep, but in 207 vain. Her imagination dwelt on the great surprise which Hildargo evinced at the sight of the veil. Her curiosity to know the reason was roused ; but in vain did she attempt to develope the cause. At length it occurred to her, that the papers she possessed might explain it, and she arose from her couch and went to the casement to get them. For their better security, she had placed them as high, up as she could reach, and a chair being near the place, she moved it, and put her foot on it to raise herself up ; but the seat, unable to sustain her weight, fell to pieces, and Agnes with difficulty preserved herself from falling. The noise brought up the monk Hil- dargo, who hastily entered the room* He was on the point of speaking when he beheld the broken chair ; and Agnes endeavoured to account for the circum- stance by saying, that it fell to pieces as she was moving it from the window. 208 Hildargo was satisfied at the explana- tion, and collected the fragments, which he carried out of the chamber. Agnes, who was looking at him, be- held a small case fall from his garments as he was stooping down. She noticed not to him this circumstance; and as he was leaving the chamber, to deposit his burthen in the corridore, she hastily arose from her seat, and taking up the case, concealed it in her bosom. As soon as the monk had taken away the remains of the chair, he left the chamber, and when Agnes heard his steps descending the stairs, she drew from her bosom the case, which she opened, and to her astonishment beheld a miniature of herself. She gazed on it for some moments, while her mind was involved in the deepest perplexity. She well recollected the painting to be one which her be- loved Henri de St. Clair possessed, and which she knew he had with him whea 209 he left her to join the forces of the ba- rons ; but how it could come into the possession of the monlc, was an enigma which she was unable to solve. While engaged in these ruminations, she heard the steps of Hildargo ap- proaching, and fearful that he should discover that she had taken the minia- ture, she laid it down on the floor and returned to her seat. Hildargo now entered. He directed an enquiring eye at Agnes, and then looked round the room. She observed his countenance brighten when he saw the case lay on the floor ; which he in- stantly took up, and, telling Agnes that he would bring her some provisions, de- parted. When Hildargo again returned, and had laid her repast on the table, Agnes, who had resolved to devote that night to the perusal of the narrative of Pierro, mentioned her wish to retire early, and requested the monk to allow her a lamp 210 and some wood for a lire, lest, if she should not be able to rest, she might have the consolation of a light. Hildargo, who wished to appear at- tentive to her wants, that he might do away her suspicions of the sincerity of his avowal, that he might tlie more easily at some period, which he resolv- ed should not be far distant, possess himself of her charms — readily con- sented, and procuring what she wanted, fastened the door and proceeded to his apartment below ; which, disturbed by the continual sting of conscience, he paced, till at length nature, wearied by the harassing tortures of a guilty mind, resigned him to disturbed and broken slumbers. aii CHAP, xr, 1 HE Lady Agnes de Vortimer, wlien Hildargo had retired some time, arose, and taking down the roll of papers, pro- ceeded to peruse the remainder of the narrative of Pierro. " From that time I never saw the Count Marino. My charge was to at- tend the Signora Laura, who was con- fined in one of the upper chambers ; and to fetch provisions from a neigh- bouring village. I used often to pity the miserable situation of the unfortu- nate Laura, whom I generally found in tears, and particularly whenever the Signor Scarlatti had been with her. " One evening as I was sitting witli Bardino, in one of the lower chambers. 212 I heard a confused noise above, and some steps swiftly passing along the corridore, Bardino and myself rushed out. We immediately pursued the fu- gitive, who was the Signora Laura ; meanwhile, having heard some groans above, I run up to her chamber, and found the Signor Scarlatti on the floor, wounded in the side. " I lifted him up on the couch, and proceeded to stop the effusion of life that issued from the wound. As it was not very dery deep, I soon succeeded. Soon after, Bardino brought up in his arms the Signora Laura, from whom he had with difficulty taken a dagger. " The confusion of her dress, which was torn in several places, her dishe- velled hair, and agitated look, were plain evidences of the deed, which Scar- latti either had, or was endeavouring, to commit, when the signora had, with. his own stiletto, given him the wound. *^ Never shall I forget the look which ^13 Scarlatti gave her when she was brought into the room. She too observed it; and her strength and resoUition being now overcome, she sunk on a chair^ and her senses forsaking her, she became for a while unconscious of the horrors of her situation. *' Bardino and myself leaving her in this helpless state, now carried down the signer, and laid him on his own bed ; and as soon as I could, humanity prompted me to assist the hapless Laura, who I found still insensible. I raised kcr up from the floor, poured some water dowai her throat, and soon per- ceived the tide of life returning. *•' When she opened her eyes, she gazed on me with such an expression of hopeless grief, that even my obdurate heart was, for a moment, touched by it ; but, alas \ it was but for the moment. '^ She conjured me to save her ; but her words were no more to me than the passing breeze is to the lofty oak ; for 2!4 a while its topmost branches yield to Hi influence, but soon return to their na- tural position. So fatally obdurate was my heart, so much estranged was I be- come to the tender feelings of commi- seration, that I scarcely knew them, and if for a moment a sensation of pity ob- truded itself on me hastily, I banished it as an unwelcome guest. " Signor Scarlatti soon recovered from the wound which he received from the unfortunate Laura Marino, and ap- peared determined to put his designs, with respect to the signora, in exe- cution. ^' For two or three days he appeared gloomy, and unusually reserved. The day that preceded the evening, fatal to Laura, he passed on the shores of the restless ocean. ^^ When the shades of night de- scended on the earth, he entered the mansron, and passed some time in his chamber ; and when he left it^ I met him in the corridore 5 he appeared to be flushed with wine 5 hastily he passed me, and ascended the stairs that led to the signora's chamber. I conjectured what his intention was ; and, for a moment, felt some commiseration for Laura. " Tlie chamber I used, was directly under her apartment ; and as I sat by myself, for Bardino was absent at that time on some business, I could hear the screams and entreaties of the signora. At length all was silent — soon after I heard the Signor Scarlatti enter his own room, which was next to the one I was in ; he seemed much disturbed, and un- able to rest, for he contir>iied pacing his chamber for a long time. " At length I went to bed, and was awoke in the middle of the night by the deep groans of the Signora Laura. ^* These audible expressions of her ^igonized mind, disturbed me so much, that I found it impossible to compose myself to sleep, and I waited impati- 2l6 ently for the morning, that I might know whether Scarlatti had entirely com- pleted his nefarious schemes. '^ At the accustomed time I went as usual to her apartment, and when I en- tered into it, beheld a scene that made me start with horror. In one corner of the room lay the unfortunate Laura, her garments dirty and torn, her beau- tiful hair all disordered, her eyes swollen, her face pale, and her body trembling beneath the tortures of her anguished mind."— The dark curtain of ^night now began quickly to descend, and envelope the earth in its gloomy shades. The tear of pity descended fron) the beauteous eyes of Agnes de Vortimer ; and the sighs of commiseration for the sufferings of the unfortunate Laura, issued from her heart. She laid the papers aside, stirred up the dying embers, lit her lamp, and un- able, from the violence of her grief, to continue the perusal of the narrative, sat 217 deeply involved in painful ruminations, and listening to the nocturnal blast, as it raised on high the waves of the ocean, which dashed against the outward walls of the building, or with mournful sounds rushed through the long corridores, or shook the shattered casements. Agnes arose from her seat, and cross- ing her chamber, stood at the casement. The silver lamp of night was obscured by dark lowring clouds ; the ocean looked black and dreary, and a single star now and then appeared, but was quickly hid by the dark scud. This melancholy scene was in unison with the feelings of Agnes ; and she in- dulged her grief, excited by the mise- ries of her own situation, and the tale she had been perusing. At length the violence of her sorrows began to abate ; she left the casement, trimmed her lamp, and took up the papers with a trembling hand. " I approached the wretched victim VOL. I. L 218 of Scarlatti's ungovernable passions. I attempttid to raise her from the ground, but she resisted my efforts. She covered her face ; and so remained while I was in the chamber. I left her provisions on the table, and departed, " That day Scarlatti appeared not. Doubtless the thorns of conscience, that never-failing monitor, had fixed deep in his breast its sharp point ; and he waited till he had endeavoured to lull its pain, ere he again appeared in the face of day. " The next morning I again saw the signora. She had not moved from her former position ; her eyes appeared deep sunk in head ; her cheeks were pale and hollow. ^^ I looked at the provisions I had brought the day before — they were un- touched. A sentiment of pity rops in my mind ; I approached her, and offered to raise her from the ground, but she waved her hand for me to de&ist ; and 219 said, in a hollow tone, ' Leave to perish a miserable wretch, to whom the light is loathsome, and who has no other wish than to die. Yet tell me, while I have breath to ask it. Does Marino still exist ?* " I hesitated, for I was ignorant of his fate. Bardino was away, and he had for a long time kept a strict silence, con- cerning his prisoner. " She observed my confusion ; *^ Enough,' said she, ^ I read his fate in your countenance. Savage Scarlatti ; Was not one victim sufficient !' " * Lady,' said I, ^ you misinterpret ray looks ; I am ignorant of the fate of the signer ; and I have not heard any thing to make me think that he is no more.' " ^ I thank thee Pierro,' said she, ^ for that gleam of comfort thou hast given me ; I shall now die content.' *' I entreated her to eat ; but she persisted in her refusal ; and I left her, h 2 220 ^* That day Scarlatti visited lier, but he staid not long ; and I observed that his countenance assumed a blacker hue, and his frequent starts bespoke the agi- tation of his mind. He went to the beach, and walked albng it with a dis- ordered pace. " Bardino this day returned. I learnt from him, that he had been to Naples on some business for Scarlatti, which Bar- dino afterwards informed me, was to find out if the signor was suspected with the carrying off of the compte and Laura. " The favourable intelligence he com- municated to the signor, seemed to please him ; and his savage features relaxed of something of their usual sternness. " The next morning, on entering her chamber, I saw the unfortunate Laura extended on the floor. She moved not as I approached ; I felt her hand, it was cold and stiff. I took some of the wine, and tried to pour it into her ifiouth, but my efforts to restore her 221 to animation were vain, for the stream of life had for ever ceased to flow." Here Agnes stopped, unable to pro- ceed from the violence of her emotions. " Gracious heaven !" said she, '^ it was then, in this chamber, that the unfor- tunate Laura breathed her last ! She looked around her ; the lamp which had been some time untrimmed, sent forth a dim light, and the embers were fast expir- ing on the hearth ; the further end of the room was enveloped in murky obscu- rity ; and Agnes almost expected to see the pale form of Laura issue from the dark mass. At length, however, she overcame her terrors : she made a comfortable Are ; the rising blaze, while its heat cheered her languid frame, with the assistance of the lamp, dispelled the gloom of her chamber ; and in some small degree, en- livened her drooping spirits ; and she again resumed the perusal of the nar- rative. h 3 222 ** I went down and acquainted Scar- latti with the death of Laura. He re- ceived the intelligence without any emo- tions of sorrow, and desired that Bar- dino and myself, should take the body, and inter it by the side of the cliff. ^* We accordingly dug a hole in the sand, and then returned to the man- sion to convey away the cold shrunkeu form. We took some clothes from the bed, and wrapping them round the body, carried it down stairs. As we were passing the door of Scarlatti's chamber, he came out; but when he saw our burthen, his countenance grew of a livid paleness, and seemingly horror- struck, he rushed back, and closed the door. ," The remains of Signora Laura were committed to the cold bosom of the grave, without the solemn service of the church, or the tears of pitying relatives. Bardino, still more savage than myself, even laughed while he 223 was throwing the sand over the pale corpse. " The next morning I saw him walk- ing with Scarlatti on the beach ; they seemed to be deeply engaged in conver- sation, and remained there some time. " That morning I left the mansion to get a supply of provisions. Bardino was not in the chamber when I returned, but he entered soon after ; he appeared as if he was much fatigued ; and I saw some blood on his clothes. " It immediately occurred to me, that day had been the last of the Compte Marino ; and I afterwards found that my conjectures were right. Thus was the cruel Scarlatti amply revenged of the unfortunate pair. *' We soon after left our dreary resi- dence ; and accompanied Signor Ferdi- nando to Naples ; Bardino and myself re- maining in his vervice. But now a circum- stance took place, that quickly changed the scene. Scarlatti and Bardino quarrelled, L 4 224 for the wicked agree not long together ; and the revengeful ruffian immediately gave information of the horrible acts of Scarlatti to the relatives the of Compte Marino, having first assured himself of a pardon, on condition that he appeared to accuse his employer. '^ Scarlatti received intimation of his danger time enough to escape ; and I accompanied him back to the house on the sea-shore, the scene of so many atrocious acts. ^' Scarlatti's disposition grew more gloomy every day ; he was afraid to ap- pear again to the world ; his estates were confiscated ; and he was fearful lest he should meet the due reward of his crimes, from the hands of the incensed relations of Marino ; and to secure his person, he formed the resolution of en- tering into a monastery. This he effected, and by his desire, I retired to a hut not far distant. ^^ Scarlatti had not been long in the 225 monastery, ere he appeared to devote himself entirely to religion, the ex- ternal offices of which he performed in so exemplary a manner, and inflicted such voluntary pennances on himself, that he became greatly respected by those who saw not through the mask of hypocrisy and dissimulation, which veiled his actions from common observ- ance. The first families in that part of .. the country in which he resided, chose him for their confessor. *^ At length the beauties of the Lady Agnes, who was married to the Baron Henri de St. Clair " Here Agnes dropi)ed the papers from }ier hand, and a sudden faintness now seized her trembling frame ; a cold chill stopped the progress of the stream of life, and uttering a groan of horror, she closed her eyes, and became insensible to her miseries. When her senses again returned, L 5 220 Agnes found herself lying on the floor, with the fatal papers by her side ; with difficulty she raised herself up, and rested her fragile form on her couch. To know that Hildargo was no other than Ferdinando Scarlatti^ the man whose dreadful crimes had so shocked her na- ture ! To know too tliat she was in his power ! and that she was the long des- tined object of his diabolical desires, of which she had of late so great a proof, was more than she could reflect on with- out feeling her agitated heart ready to burst from its trembling enclosure 1 She devoutly crossed herself, and raid- ing up her beauteous eyes to heaven, while the drops of agony rolled down her pale cheeks, silently, for expression was denied her, implored heaven to pro^ tect and preserve her from Hildargo. She passed some time in this posture, till her fortitude returned, and the hope that her prayers were heard, made her 227 reflect with some degree of calmness 011 what she had learnt of her cruel perse- cutor, the monk. She now could easily account for his agitation, when he saw the veil which had belonged to the victim of his pas- sions, the unfortunate Laura; but the manner in which he became possessed of her miniature, was still a secret — the pa- pers would, perhaps, acquaint her ; but she was unable now to continue the pe- rusal ; and as soon as her strength would permit her, she collected them ; and with tottering steps went to the case- ment, and replaced them in the niche. The radiant beams of the morning now began to dissolve the nocturnal gloom ; and Agnes tried to refresh her- self by sleep, after having past so mi- serable a night ; her harrassed senses at length were lulled into a short compo- sure ; and the unresting powers of her imagination produced visions of peace 228 and happiness, doubtless sent to her by the angelic guardians of the virtuous. Hlldargo, when the morning dawned, arose from his couch. Again he gazed on the miniature ; suddenly he threw it -aside. '' Why," said he, " do I thus look at the resemblance, when the ori- ginal is in my possession ?" He paused, and seeined to reflect. '^ And why not now r" said he, in a low voice, as he turned towards the door ; " but it were best to wait till her health is amended ; perhaps she is up ; I will go and see her." He opened the door, and ascending the stairs, drew back with caution the bolts of the door of Agnes's chamber. — He listened ; all was still ; he gently opened the door, and entering, saw her asleep on the couch. Hildargo could not resist this oppor- tunity of gazing on her charms ; he ap- proached^ and stood with his arms ^29 folded^ and his eyes intently fixed on her. Whether it was some pleasing sensa- tion which her imagination had pourtray- . ed to her, or that returning health had brought back the pale rose to her cheek, is uncertain ; but her countenance now wore that delicate tinge, which is so much more facinating than a more ruddy hue. And while Hildargo was feasting his eyes with the contemplation of her charms_, her moving lips expressed a gentle smile, which brought to view the fascinating dimples. Her bosom was uncovered, and a ringlet of her dark glossy hair which had escaped from its confinement, wantonly curled on her snowy breast. The passions of Hildargo were roused as he beheld the sleeping beauty, and his eyes were rivetted on her charms, Agnes, while she was resting from real misery, awoke to visionary joys. 230 She dreamed that she was embracing her beloved St. Clair, and her darling Edmund, who now appeared to have thrown off the softness of youth, and to have put on the finished graces of a man. Seated between those dear friends, she enjoyed the most delightful hap- piness, and all her sufferings were forgot* Sometimes she gazed on her Edmund, then on St. Clair ; while they exchanged looks of smiling love and affection. At length she awoke from this tran- sitory scene of bliss ; and beheld, stand- ing beside her, not the graceful form of St. Clair, or the animated Edmund, but the gloomy forbidding figure of Hildargo ! She started with horror, remember- ing the narrative of Pierro ; and hastily gathering up the clothes that had fallen from her bosom, she hid her face from 231 his view. The monk turned away, and without deigning to speak, departed the room. When Agnes had recovered the per- turbation which the sudden sight of her persecutor, increased by the knowledge she now had of his crimes, had excited, she raised her head, and looking round the chamber, found she was alone; pleased at this, she arose, and recom- mending herself in the most fervent manner to the Deity, felt her spirits revive, and a glow of resolution to en- counter the worst, pervade her mind, trusting in the strong arm of Providence to defend her. Feeling herself so much better, she determined to leave the perusal of the remainder of the narrative for another period : and when she had concluded her repast which the monk brought her, she gladly consented to the leave he now gave her of walking on the beach. 232 When she left the mansion, she di- rected her inquiring eyes to the ground at the bottom of the cliff, in hopes of being able to discover where the unfor- tunate Laura was buried, that she might breathe over the spot a prayer for her re- pose ; but the furious blasts which had agitated the immense waves of the At- lantic, bringing them in huge mountains to the shore on which they broke with outrageous violence, had completely " effaced the mark, if there ever had been any, of the spot where her ashes rested. Agnes enjoyed the refreshing breeze which came off the ridgy surface of the ocean ; and her mind was elated by the sweet hope (the probable effect of her dream,) that she might yet escape from the power of Hildargo, and again see her beloved Edmund. She ascended the cliff, and from its summit viewed the country ; but no vil- lage or hut met her view : all around 233 was uncultivated and desolate. From the bosom of a forest that bounded her view on the land side, Agnes beheld a rising smoke that she thought might be situ- ated the village from whence the monk got the provisions, and what Pierro af- terwards made mention of. Disappointed in h^r hopes of finding some habitation near her, Agnes gazed on the ocean, and saw afar off the tall vessels gliding along, laden with the produce of distant shores, returning to their native climes, guided by the ad- venturous mariners, who, traversing the trackless elements in search of gain, in the hope of enjoying the fruits of their labours, hail with delight the long wished-for shore. Agnes now descended the cliff, whi- ther Hildargo had not accompanied her, but remained on the beach below. As she was fatigued with her exertions, she immediately proceeded to the mansion ; 234 and wishing to see the other parts of it, she intentionally passed the stairs that led up to her apartment, and was pro- ceeding on, when Hildargo, who was now close to her, said, ^' Lady, you have mistaken the way ; yonder are the stairs that lead to your chamber.*' Agnes turned round, and the monk following her to the room above ; when she had entered it, closed the door, which he as usual, fastened. END OF THE FIHST VOLUME. rrinttd by J. Dennett, Union BuiMin»s, Leather Lane, yNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 3 0112 041765964