&. c<^ (H-?"^ C^ eyy^Q ci^t^^ C^CO'^L- "L I E, RARY OF THE U N IVLRSITY or ILLINOIS Si 242c v.\ Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2010 witii funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/confessionalofva01stan CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. A ROMANCE. Printed by Lane, Darling, & Co. Leadenhall- Street, London. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE<, 9 Jaomance. IN FOUR VOLUMES, BY LOUISA SIDNEY STANHOPE^ AUTHOR OF MONTIiRASIL ABBEY; THE BANDIT' S BRIDE; STRIKING LIIiE*NESSES) SfC, SfC, Oh, such a deed As from the body of contraction plucks The very soul; and sweet religion makes A rhapsody of words ! SII AKESPE ARE. VOL. I, LONDON : PRINTED AT THE FOR A. K. NEWMAN AND CO, LEADENHALL-STREET. 1812. C5 o CO THE Confessional of Vcdomhre. •«ss®®e#" S CHAP. I. The croaking raven doth bellow for revenge. Shakespeake. -It was at the close of the festival of St. Fabian, when the last sonorous tone of \^ the organ had ceased, and the pale glim- ^ mer of the tapers had expired, when na- ^. tare had sealed the eyes of fanaticism, ^ and even the vigil virgin had ceased to ^ watch, that a stranger paused at the gate of the convent of Valombre. The stilly gloom of the hour, the hollow moaning - VOL. I. 15 of 2 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. of the blast, the darkened concave of the heavens, from which no star, no casual reflection of light was emitted, recalled to mind the object of his embassy. He started — he drew from beneath his cloak a dagger; and as he grasped the hilt, as carefully he replaced the folds of his habit, burying under their dark disguise the burden his left arm supported, a fiendlike smile distorted his visage : he -cast a scowling glance around.; his mind seemed pregnant with some weighty mat- ter ; he looked the slave of impulse — he felt the man of blood. "Pity is transient,'* he muttered ; *' down, down, damned weakness ! memory, be thou the goading spur of action; revenge, be thou eternal." Again the dagger was replaced in its sheath — again he listened, fearful of detection. The rolling waves of the CONPESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE^ $ the Garonne sullenly bubbled o'er their pebbled bed, and the wind v»^histling among the leafy branches of the cy- press, lentons, and cork-trees^ bent their tall heads to the flood. He pressed his spread hand upon his forehead ; he passed in review the deeds of other years ; fancy peopled the gloom^ and imagination fired his brain to frenzy. *' Pardon !" he articulated — '' can the victim of prejudice — can the bleeding slave of oppression — can the injured dupe of power plead mercy? No, no, blood shall avenge the deed — blood/' dropping on his knee, and again unsheath- ing the dagger — " blood, by the awful powers of eternal wrath ! blood shall ap- pease the memory of Ermissende ! Yes, in his heart I will seek the secret — What if he hesitate?" starting; '* then — then %% be 4 COKFESSIONAL OF VALOMBKE. be Ermissende the ransom of life. Na- ture, I disclaim thee — Nature " and every power of his mind seemed awaken- ed ; love^ hatred, revenge, horror, des- pair, alternately racked, alternately sub- dued. One moment the tear of com- miseration dried upon the burning cheek of rage; the next beheld it chased by some new start of passion. Again he rose; again, with breathless haste, he approached the gate; he grasped the bell — Ermissende flitted before him ; his eyes closed against the self-created phantom: but the calm of death was brok- en ; the hollow peal echoed to the vigo- rous pull, and the turretted towers of the monastery returned the deep vibration. Again he paused, but short was the reign of suspense; he traced the faint gleam of a light descending the opposite tower; he heard CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMRRE. 5 heard the sound of approaching foosteps, and an instant after a voice addressed him. "Who art thou ?" demanded the monk, *^ that at an hour so unsalutary, th.iu disturbest the deep repose of our holy dwelling ?'* '' A wanderer and a sinner/' replied the stranger: ''as the first, I claim a sanctuary ; as the second, I would sue the blessed privilege of confession. Fa- ther, I have travelled far; sorely laden with the burden of sin, a lowly penitent, I approach the hallowed shrine of Va- lombre : contrite, subdued, there would I pour into the ear of the holy abbot of this fraternity the long-smothered tale of a black, a foul transaction/* '' The abbot slumbers," rejoined the B 3 monk. 6 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMERE. monk. *' Welcome, my son, within the sacred pale of religion's sanctuary ; but till the morning dawns o'er the eastern hills " '*The morning/' interrupted the stran- ger. ^' Father, you know not what you say ; father, ere yon ebon clouds " He paused, shuddered, then quickly re- sumed — " Man of God, this night, this close of the festival of St. Fabian, I must be heard; this night the slumbers of the abbot St. Theodore must be broken ; this night, or never, the tale of horror must be told." " This night ?" repeated the monk. " Forbear, my son ; nature demands re- pose. Scarce an hour has elapsed, ere closing the rites of our order, we quitted the chapel. The slumbers of exhausted strenijth CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 7 strenoth are heavy — the slumbers of the abbot St. Theodore must not be dis- turbed." *' Then the tale of murder shall be smothered/' exclaimed thestranger, ''nei- ther shall the injured be appeased." He retreated a few paces; he seemed to commune within himself — then suddenly returning, artfully said — " To seize the enemy of faith, to silence the sacrilegi- ous blasphemer of religion, to quell the doubts of scepticism, to enfranchise the victims of error, surely a follower oi Christianity, a monk, a disciple of pri- meval purity, may exert the influence of zeal, may embrace the powers of oppor- tunity. Father, now is the hour to un- cloak hypocrisy ; father, ere the clock strikes two, the avenged and the avenger shall be at rest: f^ither, lead me to St. B 4 Theodore — 8 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. Theodore — breathe but the name of Er- missende — shew him thisring — Tell him — nay^ stay, stay — tell him/' gasping, and almost breathless, " I bring with me a claim, indisputable, irresistible ; (ell him 'tis mercy, 'tis justice which impels this interview ; tell him, this night alone the life of innocence can be spared." *' Peace/' rejoined the monk, " your looks are wild, your words incoherent. Alas ! my son, calamity has tinged the colour of your ideas, and jaundiced every thought with horroT." '* Calamity 1" muttered the stranger, with a convulsive laugh ; '' true, call it calamity ; but lead me to St. Theodore. The air is cold, the night is comfortless — father, I crave shelter — charity in the type of faith, and yet am I shivering beneath the walls of Valombre." The CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE, 9 The door was unbarred ; the stranger sprung forward ; he followed the monk across the court-yard, nor, till he reached the entrance of the chapel, did he for a moment pause : then firmly grasping the cloak of his guide — '' Not one step fur- ther/* he exclaimed, " no, not one. Fa- ther, I have made a vow; father, my oath is deep, is irreversible. I have sworn never to rest beneath the conse- crated roof of religion until my con- science is unburdened — father, the weight is heavy, the forfeiture is death. This night — this festival of St. Fabian, I will await the abbot. Go, go ; my soul sickens; bring him to the confessional, for the moment for action advances.'* "I will attend you to the confessional/' replied father Betsolin ; '' I, my son, will B 5 listen 10 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. listen to the tale of sin , I will explain the promises of salvation ; I will " " You !" interrupted the stranger; " oh no ! mine is no common crime — mine is no casual trespass of mortality : no venal fault craves the light penance of absolution, or fades before the offer- ing of prayer. 'Tis deep — 'lis hidden — 'tis in the heart it must be deposited — 'tis on the heart it must be impressed." The monk pointed to the confessi- onal. The stranger moved towards it — " I will away to the cell of the abbot," said the monk; '' yet/* returning, and again approaching the mysterious intru- der, ^'^what language shall I use? what plea shall I educe?" " This ring," said the stranger, ex- tending one towards him ; " this ring will CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. 1 1 will speak a language not to be miscon- strued. Shew him this ring, and tell him, the burdened soul of the owner pines for absolution. Yet stay/' reading doubt and hesitation in the strongly-marked features of the religieux; ''when the ab- bot St. Theodore looks at this ring, tell him the finger upon which it once spark- led — tell him, Ermissende — tell him the elucidation is mine." The monk quitted the chapel, and the stranger eagerly ascended the steps of the confessional. He paused on the summit; he listened to the gradual retreat of the father, and when the last faint echo sank in silence, a mingled smile of irony and triumph succeeded. " Some say, man is the slave of circumstances, the sport of accident, the creature of chance,'* he muttered — ''no, no, it is not accident, it B 6 is 12 CONFESSIONAL OF l^ALOMERE. is not chance which has brought me to Valombre; it is love — it is that predis- posing power which governs all my ac- tions, which colours all my hopes." A faint light flashed on the opposite wall ; a side door opened, and the abbot St. Theodore entered the chapel. His step was agitated ; the dignified firmness of resignation was fled ; his head was un- covered, and in the place of his habitual smile of benignity, might be traced anx- iety and amazement. In one hand he held a taper ; the other grasped the ring delivered to him by the father Betsolin. The stranger, wrapping himself in his cloak, shrunk within the darkened shadow of the confessional. The abbot approach- ed — '' Ermissende !" he faltered — " mer- ciful Heaven ! ah, guard my heart against the coming trial ! Ermissende ! lost, wretched CONFESSIONAL OF VAI.OMBRE. 13 wretched Ermissende !" He paused ; trembling* he clung to the railing, for the quick, short breathing of the stran- ger bespoke interest bordering on ago- ny. Animated by a new and instantane- ous hope of elucidating at once all that he desired to know, the abbot sprung forward— he reached the summit of the stairs— he stood before the stranger : si- lence and darkness remained, for the door of the confessional was closed. CHAP. 14 CONFESSIONAL OF VAI.OMBKK. CHAP. II. Can such things be. And overcome us, hke a sunivner's cloud. Without our special wonder ? SlIAKESPEAIlE. " Infancy, the mimic imagei-y of nature, Tlie reflective mirror jof the inmost soul, Peeps forth, and loudly speaks the attributes of nwin." Long had the confessional been closed ; »lon2: had the abbot St. Theodore been closetted with the stranger: an hour and an hour rolled away, and the deep si- lence in the chapel was unbroken. '^''Tis strange !" said the monk Betsolin, as stealing from his cell he hurried down the passage. The broad glare of day- burst through the storied windows: he looked towards the east; he saw the sun's golden splendour tinging the purple bo- som CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 15 som of the clouds, and dissipating the murky vapours of night's departing reign ; he saw the pendant dewdrops hanging on the rich blossoms of the pomegranate, and sparkling with a thou- sand variegated reflections : he heard the garden's embowerino; clusters echoing o o o the wild notes of grateful nature ; and saw myriads of the feathered race per- ched among its leafy branches. Yet did he proceed, for the stranger and the con- fessional was the spur of action, as the long and mysterious conference filled him with dismay. He looked at the clock : it was on the stroke of two when he disturbed the repose of the abbot St. Theodore; and now, twice had its re- volving hand noted the hour's limitation. The brethren were already stirring, and the monotonous tinkling of the matin- bell 16 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. bell echoed the call of devotion. '' Holy Mary!" aspirated the monk, as, crossing himself, he entered the chapel : he stop- ped irresolute, for a faint cry reached his ear. He listened — it seemed like the moaning of infancy — it proceeded from the confessional. He trembled as he ap- proached the steps; again he paused, for the fathers of Valombre now entered the chapel. 'Tis true, the abbot St. Theo- dore was absent ; but yet the organ vi- brated the hymn of praise : as its loud full tones, dying to the softest, sweetest modulations, gradually ceased to breathe, and the chaunting accompaniment of the monks closed in the sacred calm of de- votion, a second cry, more loud, more piercing than the former, filled every heart with pity — every face with wonder. Intuitively several of the monks rushed towards CONFESSIONAL OF VaLOMBRE. 17 towards the confessional; but the father Betsolin had already mounted the steps, had already opened the door. Horror and dismay succeeded — murder had profaned the holy .ordination — the stranger had fled— the abbot St, Theodore, pale, stiff, ghastly, lay stretched upon the floor, and on his bosom, smeared with blood, and clinging as though for succour, they beheld an infant boy. A shriek of imploring earnestness burst from the lips of the little sufferer, as his tender hands grasped the coarse serge of the abbot's garment. Father Betsolin raised him in his arms : but short was the moment of caressing fondness: the infant stranger was resigned to the care of a lay-brother; and all thoughts, all assiduities, all exer- tions, reverted to the lifeless superior. Alas ! no feeble pulsation of the heart fluttered 18 ; CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. fluttered beneath the pressure of anxious affection — no sigh passed his lips — no faint indication of lingering existence. Deep and vital was the wound : still -was thp' bright blade of the dagger sheathed in his breast ; and his hand, though mar- bled in death, grasped the mysterious memento of recognition. Long numbed, as it were, by the overwhelming influence of horror, a deep languor, a supine inactivity, pre- vailed among the brethren of Valom- bre : awe-struck, they gazed at each other, though each alike was incap- able of exertion ; and not till the sua had reached its meridian height was the murderer thou2:ht of, was the murderer sought after. Instantly a new pursuit prevailed : hope for the reanimation of the abbot had expired, and zeal, not to colour eONPESSlONAL OP VALOMERE. 19 colour devotion with the mortal passion ofrevenge^ spurred on to seize the sa- crilegious hypocrite, who, under the guise of piety, in the very precincts of immaculate faith, had crushed the plead- ings of Christian charity, and martyred the officiating servant of Heaven. But vain proved every exertion : though each corner of the monastery, though each woody glen, though each rocky de- file was diligently examined, night clos- ed on the researches of the fathers, with- out one ray of light beaming on the path of the proscribed. Day after day alike rose in ex^ertion, alike closed in disap- pointmerit ; and the sad remains of the murdered abbot St. Theodore were con- veyed to the last silent receptacle of mortality, pitied, deplored, but una- venged. Time, which assuages the pangs of anguish. 20 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. anguish, which blunts the arrows of affliction, which wipes even from the widowed cheek the burnincr tears of cor- roding woe, and in the aching heart of orphaned sorrow implants resignation and acquiescence — time restored to the calm current of devotional exercise the holy brotherhood of Valombre. But the boy ? my readers inquire — The boy was the bequest of Heaven — the boy was the charge of the father Betsolin. A foundling, and unknown, deserted, friendless, destitute, at the baptismal font the name of Theodore was revived, and given by Christian sponsors to a new and innocent candidate for Christian hope. Nurtured beneath the monastic roof, ele- vated, even in infancy, to the divine wor- ship of religion, his hopes and his wishes, his joys and his anticipations, reached not beyond the prescribed limits of the con- vent CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. '21 vent walls — reached not beyond the pi- ous praise of the virtuous father Betsolin. By him, the warm, the glowing energies of sensibility were awakened; for he had catched the first smile of pleading helplessness ; he had coloured the first tint of dawning gratitude . But though examples of divine resigna- tion, of patient endurance, of sublime sa- crifices, of heroic virtue, were constantly set before his eyes ; though the depravity, the ingratitude of man, was talkedof with- out resentment; though the meek humili- ty of the saint prescribed patience under injury, gentleness and fortitude, even under suffering, shame, and death, yet at times would the nature of Theodore, would his warm and ardent feelings, be- tray an impatience, which threatened even the overthrow of monkish controul, and S2 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. and which resisted the erudite dogmas of monkish reasoning. Then alone the heart must be assailed to quench the glow of passion ; and then alone the efferves- cing gust would pass away, hushed upon the parental bosom of father Betsolin — would lose its aim, nay, its very being — * would become the meek and yielding convert to obedience and conviction. Conscious that the delineation of the hero is the darling theme of an author's panegyric, yet will I not seek to decy- pher the internal movements of Theo- dore's soul. His character was scarce formed, because his character had never been called into being ; it wanted but the animating hand of opportunity, to stamp it great, magnanimous ; it wanted but incident and circumstance to arouse its energies, to give it all the fortitude, all CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 23 all the sentiment, all the substance of equity, moderation, and virtue. Ere ten revolving masses had stamped the yearly commemoration of the abbot St. Theodore's murder, an incident, if not worthy of being recorded, at least suffi- cient to evince that no common soul ac- tuated the mindandconduct of the found- ling, occurred at Valombre. At the extremity of a serpentine walk, cut through the clo^e int win- ing branches of sombre evergreens, in the midst of a grove of cypress, weep- ing birch, and cedars of Lebanus, was scited a small build ?ng, originally a watch-tower, to command the rocky passes to the monastery, but now, un- der the inspection of the father supe- rior, converted into a chapel sacred to his own meditations. The contrast to his predecessor. 24 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. predecessor, a commanding and imperi- ous demeanour guised an innate worthi- ness of heart ; and the abbot Augustin frequently incurred the smothered mur- murs of the community, because he was too proud to relax from the dignity of his situation: fear, not love, consequent- ly actuated the conduct of the monks; and respect, not confidence, duty, not inclination, enforced the claims of au- thority. Within this chapel, thus dedicated to prayer and self-scrutiny, the play- ful foot of youth was forbid to enter: Theodore had explored with scrutinizing eye the deep intricacy of the grove ; but Theodore, on pain of deprivation and disgrace, was interdicted crossing the threshold. As he was one day reclining upon a bank of moss, immediately be- neath CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 25 neath the walls of the chapel, wondering at the restriction, which pride held sacred, but which curiosity strongly urged him to violate, he perceived not the cautious approach of Nicholi the gardener. Smil- ing at the apparent abstraction of his young favourite, the old man plucked an apple from a neighbouring branch, and incautiously flung it, not with the intent of alarming, but of arousing him. The unfortunate apple, winged by the very god pf mischief, shivered the storied window directly over the altar-piece, and fell into the chapel. Theodore started. Old Nicholi turned pale. '^ Holy saints!** he ejaculated, " I have sinned beyond pardon — I shall be driven with disgrace and shame from Valombre.'* '' Do not fear,'* whispered Theodore; ^' I will not betray you." VOL. I, C Nii^uui. 26 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. Nicholi fled, for the opening of the chapel-door succeeded. Theodore shrunk not within the sheltering umbrage of the grove, but stood undaunted, though in the presence of the angry abbot. "■' Pro- fane, sacrilegious boy !** exchumed the superior, holding forth the luckless in- truder, *^ know you this apple?" *' Yes, holy father," mildly replied Theodore, ''it grew, a few minutes ago, upon yonder tree." *' And your unhallowed hand," sternly rejoined the monk, '' aimed it at the very altar of my devotions." '' Not my hand, father in God," said Theodore, " but the sport of accident." ^'Accident!" incredulously repeated the superior, sternly viewing a firmness which 'appeared to him the effects of ef- frontery, " Fie, fie, Theodore! seek not CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 97 not by subterfuge to hide your wilful and malicious intentions; nor, to screen a fault, fly to the mean, the sinful expedi- ent of falsehood.** '^Falsehood!" echoed the youth, his proud heart swelling, and his cheek flush- ing the crimson of indignant anger—- "Falsehood! Father, had I been capable of the.charge, I might, by flight, have evaded yoursuspicion — Falsehood 1 " *' Who then hurled the apple ?'* inter- rupted the abbot. "I have answered you," replied Theo- dore. '^ Go to your cell, and learn respect," angrily exclaimed the abbot. '' Boy, you have defaced the chapel's consecrated al- tar, and shivered the holy image of a martyred saint — go to your cell, I com- mand you, and there await the punish- c 2 ment 28 CONlPESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. ment my justly- offended clemency may award." Without the slightest appearance of fear, with a countenance firm from prin- ciple, not the too common bravado of spirit, Theodore quitted the grove. Re- gret for the anger of the abbot had given place to indignation for the suspicions he had breathed : his blood boiled ; his heart felt too big for his bosom ; he longed to stand forth arrayed in all the native innocence of his character; yet to screen old Nicholi, he determined to brave even an apparent deviation from truth ; he determined to persevere in si- lence, to endure punishment without a murmur ; for he felt that oppression is bearable, when the soul is incapable of dishonour. While Theodore was buried in the solitude CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. *29 solitude of his little chamber, the tale of his supposed aggression was told and retold among the brethren, and his ob- stinacy and artifice discussed and con- demned.. His judges were stern, because being themselves dead to venal trespasses, they knew not how to excuse an error which bigotry swelled into sin. The consecrated window of the chapel was broken, and playfulness and inadverten- cy were poor pleas for a result so inau- spicious; nay, even father Betsolin, blinded by appearances, mournfully ac- quiesced in the condemnation. The little culprit was summoned : no tear bedewed his cheek ; no relaxing indica- tion of contrition : he looked a hero, as boldly he stood before his accuser. The story was again repeated, and his perse- vering firmness again displayed. He c 3 spoke 30 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMERE. spoke not in defence: numbers and cir- cumstances v^ere against him: he looked at father Betsolin, but no approving smile animated his features : once' the monk whispered, *' Theodore, acknowledge your fault;" but Theodore's reply was a glance of proud superiority. The trial was closed; the sentence was decided ; for a whole week, Theodore was io be banished the society of the fathers — for a whole week, Theodore was to know no relaxation from study. " Why are you so undaunted ?*' in- quired father Betsolin, tracing no change in the countenance of his young charge. " Because I am innocent," firmly re- plied Theodore. The monk shook his head, and the boy retreated towards the door. *' Stop, stop," exclaimed old Nicholi, who. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 31 who, entering at the instant, forcibly re- conducted him to the abbot. " 'Tvvas I who threw the apple — 'twas I who broke the chapel-window ;** and then panegyrizing the persevering ge- nerosity of the youth, he recapitulated the incident. Father Betsolin snatched Theodore to his bosom, and Theodore burst into tears. *' Why do you weep ?" demanded the delighted monk. '' Because," sobbed Theodore, " old Nicholi thinks I cannot bear punish- ment." G 4 CHAP. 32 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. CHAP. III. What I am Is but thy gift : make what thou canst of me, Secure of no repulse. Drydes, Oh ! be hush'd, Ye dictates of my ever-torturing reason : Let me not ♦■hinlc. Haywood. Abstruse and unceasing were the studies of the young Theodore: no compulsion, no argument was necessary to point out the tract to knowledge : blessed with a judg- ment which wanted but experience to stamp it erudite ; blessed with a heart stored with every emulous, every noble qualification, he would kiss the chasten- ing hand of aflTection ; he would thank the lips of discriminating error. 'Tis true, at times, the playful frolic of youth would relax the native pensiveness of thought ; CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 33 thought; yet had custom tinged every idea with gloomy seriousness; and what gained birth in example, soon strength- ened into confirmed habit. His chief amusement consisted in the culture of his little garden, in the conversation of fa- ther Betsolin, and in exploring the clois- tered mazes of the monastery. His eyes never wearied in perusing the moulder- ing monuments of departed worth ; his heart never sickened at the calls of de- votion ; neither did his mind wander, in sanguine impatience, beyond walls, which from infancy had been his boundary, and which, though familiar, created not dis- gust. Excluded the benefits of enlightened society, shut out from social change and polite intercourse, confined solely to the converse of men, who, from misfortune, c 5 from 34 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. from caprice, or from misanthropy, bad forsworn all the incitements of pleasure —all the claims of consanguinity — all the allurements of friendship — all the delusions of love — Theodore, with the softened sadness of melancholy, had im- bibed a deep, a propelling tincture of romance, which coloured every action of his future life ; which left his heart open to impression, and his mind alive to quick and dangerous susceptibility. Sometimes life offered no charms be- yond the cowl's negative existence ; sometimes the awe of devotional rites, the thrilling ecstacies of enthusiastic wor- ship, conquered every sensation, and ele- vated him to the highest pinnacle of di- vine rapture : then again. Nature, strug- gling against the usurpation_, would re- deem her empire, and something more than CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. 35 than religion would colour the sigh which wafted from his soul. Alas ! he had yet to learn the force of passion, the tyranny of love ! Alas ! he had yet to learn the sleepless nights, the tear- bedewed pillow of hopeless fascination — he had yet to feel the pleasing pangs of infant inthralment, and smile at a bon- dage, which for life would he not forego ! God of nature ! hef^had yet to learn, that man's boasted prerogative of reason is but a feather in the scale of preposses- sion ! Ever pliant to the calls of affection, ever grateful to the thrill of tenderness, Theodore would fly, with pleasing name- less attention, to the melancholy haunts of father Betsolin, whose countenance, and whose pursuits, evinced more than a common distaste for the world— would C.6 fly. 36 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. fly^ in the hours assigned to amusement and recreation, to support the steps of his valued preceptor-— to awaken a smile —to rob corrosive sorrow of one fester- ing pang. The monk, grateful for the rich har- vest of his own unceasing toil — grateful for a heart, throbbing, as it were, under his own formation, acknowledged him a solace — accepted him a companion — nominated him a friend. It was at the close of day, that Theo- dore, glowing with a new-formed pro- ject, hastened in search of father Betso- lin, to pour into his bosom the confi- dence of a romantic decision. He found him beneath the cypress grove, which "waved over the no longer interdicted chapel. " Father,*' he articulated, and then paused, for a momentary damp crushed CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 37 crushed the ardour of his feelings, on tracing the early lineaments of sorrow on the furrowed cheeks of his compa-^ nion. *^ Proceed, my son/* said the monk. " Alas ! you have been weeping,'* ob- served Theodore : and then, in accents half-sorrowful, half-reproachful^ conti- nued — '' Why do you court this uncon- genial solitude ? why fly to haunts, which even from the brow of cheerfulness must snatch the ready smile^ and contract it with the gloom of thought ?'* "Because it is necessary to my being/' replied the monk. '^ Believe me, my young friend, it is our actions, not our situations, which stamp the colour of our reflections/* '* Then,** eagerly rejoined Theodore, •' must the reflective hue be brilliant. Father, 38 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. Father, a soul like yours, breathing the pure essence of philanthropy, versed in every Christian attribute, existing, lingering on earth, but to bless and to instruct — soothing, comforting, redressing — Ah 1-^ " *' Forbear, iny son,'' interrupted fa- ther Betsolin : '' elevate me not beyond this mortal calling : though dead to the world, though the energies of emula- tion have long been frozen, yet does the pleasing praise of affection whisper that the weakness of humanity still prevails." " I would tread in your footsteps," eagerly exclaimed Theodore, reverting in a moment to his original purpose; "I too would die to the world ; I too would crush the energies of emulation. Father, give me but an approving smile, aild to- morrow I prostrate myself at the feet of the CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 39 the abbot — to-morrow I offer the volun- tary sacrifice of an inspired soul." " You, Theodore!" said the astonished monk — '' you become a brother of Va- lombre ! — you wed your being to for- bearance and deprivation ! First speak your reasons; first explain the grounds of your decision. 'Tis no momentary burst of enthusiasm — 'tis no premature birth of zeal — 'tis no expatriated hope, or capricious fancy, which warrants the renunciation." '' Father/* rejoined Theodore, *' tell me one blessing I have ever enjoyed be- yond these walls, and then talk of re- nunciation /' " When these walls become, for life a limitation,'* said the monk ; *' when na- ture and when feeling pine for emanci- pation; 40 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. pation ; when maturity sickens at the decision of youth, and revels in the rich anticipations of forbidden pleasure, then, boy — then, Theodore, will the question be resolved/' '' And yet 7/on fled the world/' ex- claimed our hero — " ^l>« sought content within the narrow boundary of a religi- ous cell — ;?/a?i curbed the wild wishes of your heart; and one calm unvarying- line of duty has been the tract of your life/' '' True," observed father Betsolin : " but mark the difference of our motives — I took the cowl, because the world had nothing more to offer; because sorrow had dried every sluice of consolation, and nature and futui;ity were barren — I took the Gowl because all hope of peace was CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMERE. 4 1 was exterminated; because death had severed the dear ties of connubial confi- dence and love '' ''Love/' interrupted the ardent Theo- dore — "' oh, father ! that is an enigma which perception cannot solve." " It is an enigma which the heart co- vets/' rejoined the monk, gazing on the glowing energies of soul which spoke in every feature of the youth, as the bright rays of the moon shone full upon his face, and the light breeze of evening parted the ebon locks floating on his forehead. " But you interrupt me — I took the cowl, because an insatiate world demanded exertions which my broken spirit could not make; because hope pictured no expectations for time to re- alize, and memory harrowed the pro- tracted pilgrimage of existence — I took the -12 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. the cowl, because the seraphrform of Religion, like the rays of the sun, pene- trating the nr\ists of darkness, shot through my benighted brain, and presented an anchor of reliance. I yielded to the sweet consoler — I trod the path marked out by Heaven — I became a humble can- didate for favour; and beneath the roof of Valombre, regained that peace I thought for ever fled. But you, TheoT dore, you can educe no plea to embrace the sacred covenant ; you can hold forth no substantial argument, to silence the fresh-springing obstacles of fickle fancy. Your years are not the years of discre- tion ; your decisions are not the deci- sionsofmaturedeliberation — you have no contrasting wioes to lighten the lingering- flight of time; for your sorrows are not the legitimate offspring of misfortune. Though CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 4S Though a monk, I would not force the vow of celibacy on the unguarded ; though a monk, I would not bind the youthful heart in the chains of thraldom; for I am no candidate for Heaven, through the offering of an inexperienced sacri- fice " *' Ah no ! it is no inexperienced sacri- fice/* interrupted Theodore. Father Betsolin smiled — " Name but the experience which eighteen years, passed within this convent, can have gleaned, and I am silenced." The youth hesitated, then replied : *' The perpetual calm — the unclouded content — the unvaried prayers of the holy brothers, surely, fatber, offer an un- questionable precedence." " No, my son,'' rejoined the monk, '^ your own weapon is the foil by which I would 44 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMERE. I would convict you. The prospects of age, and the prospects of youths are seen throui^h diflferent mediums: the one closes the world ; the other opens on the world: the one points to the coming glory, of eternity ; the other fans the an- ticipations of blissj and revels in the lux- ury of thought. First obliterate the years which must intervene ere you reach the age of those examples you would point out, and then speak with the confidence of security. I have traced your heart — I have formed its every wish, its every sensation : the unvarying calm of devotion will not satisfy it ; the supine inactivity, the negative calm of profession, will freeze and corrode it to chilling stagnant insensibility. Alas ! the pent-up sigh will rise, the repining tear will flow, when death shall be the sole passport CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 45 passport to emancipation — when slum- ber's bright visions shall mock the goal reality whispers can never be passed. Youth must not shrink from the busy scenes of life — scenes which the Creator of nature ordains and commands — scenes which unfolds the energies of action, and stamps the temperament, the virtue, the character of man/' "Scenes which destiny forbids me to enter!'* exclaimed Theodore, '' or whv, alone and solitary, am I stationed be- neath the roof of Valombre ? why ba- nished the claims of kindred ? why ba- nished the shelter of a parent's arms? Father,'* and eagerly he grasped the arm of the monk, '* I have heard the abbot — I have heard the holy brothers call me foundling — I have heard them speak of mystery — I have heard them whisper murder. 46 -CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. murder. Father — but you are pale — say then is it true ? Ah ! you shudder — you turn away your face, OncC;, in the chapel^ I heard them talk of sacrilege, of profa- nation, of blood, of a dagger, of a ring: and when they beheld me, they cried — V Wronged, injured Theodore!' Why did they call me wronged ? ^vhy did they call me injured ? Father, tell me the in- juries r should redress? tell me the being who has deprived me of nature's inhe- ritance — a parent's blessing; and through the world, yes," with proud, with digni- fied superiority, '' even to the grave will I pursue him." '' The type of Christian faith is for- giveness of injury," reproachfully ob- served father Betsolin, '' is meekness un- der suffering, is endurance, fortitude, submission — ah, then, Theodore ! how can CONrESSiONAL OF VALOMBRE. 47 can you offer yourself a candidate for profession ? Even in the world, these bursts of impetuosity would be danger- ous ; invested with the sacred habit of religion, they become criminal/' " You do not tell me the tale — you do not elucidate the mystery/' almost breathless, articulated Theodore, who, yielding to his own incongruous ideas, had lost every syllable of the monk's ex- ordium. '' Point out the tract of blood that I may trace it. Tell me why I am here, unknown^ unclaiined, unacknow- ledged? tell me what direful foe hasblasted the early spring of promise ? — oh, fa- ther ! tell me the guessed at secret, and by yon chaste luminary," raising his clasped hands to the cloudless moon, ''I swear ** *' Forbear ! forbear ! breathe not the frantic 48 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. franticasseveration/' interrupted theshud- dering monk. ''Rash boy! the aveng- ing wrath of Heaven rest on the offender: far be it for us to delegate the power of Omnipotence." '' Pardon me, friend ! counsellor ! benefactor! do not chide me: even now my pent-up bosom feels ^weight threat- ening suffocation. Ah, God I it is not the injuries of self.? — no, no; it is a fa- ther's — it is a mother's wrongs I would avenge." ''A father I a mother !" said the monk. " Theodore, you rave : what wild sur- mise, what groundless supposition, erec- ted the baseless fabric of delusive hope?" " Na wild surmise, no gromidless suppo- sition/* replied Theodora ; '' 'tis the un- erring voice of Heaven ; 'tis the presen- timent of nature ; I feel I am not an orphan — CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 49 orphan — Father, my heart is proud — I feel it owns no ignoble lineage." ^'i\nd yet," said father Betsolin, " you "Would sacrifice its ardent hopes, its glow- ing attributes, on the dull cold altar of devotion ; you would take the cowl, and ■waste all the energies of thought, all the play of action, in the midnight vigil ; you would " " No, not now, father, not now," eagerly rejoined the youth. ^' Convic- tion breaks upon my mind like a ray from heaven : it seems to inspire me. I will not fly the world — I will not court the supine inactivity of conventual soli- tude — I will fulfil the aim of my being — I will uncloak the scene of horror, and drag the cruel perpetrator of a parentis wrongs to justice, to condemnation — oh! give me but a clue to guide my search ; VOL. I. D direct 50 COkpESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. direct me through the maze of darkness; tell me why the holy brothers called me wronged, injured Theodore; and I will fly, in endless persevering scrutiny, o'er land, o'er ocean. Yes, by the all-wise, ' all-omniscient Creator of earth, of hea- ven, to the globe's furthest boundary will I roam, to " " Boy," interrupted the monk, in ac- cents of stern reproof, '^ know you the import of your rash and irreligious fer- vour ? True heroism is meek, is lowly ; not vaunting in idle words, in boasting phrases, in noisy asseverations. Yau would be a hero ; first become a man : you would be an avenger; change it, and become a Christian." Theodore sighed ; he bowed in acqui- escence to the monk's reproof; but still his eyes flashed fire, and the heightened flush CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE* 6 1. Hush upon his cheek betrayed the fever of the mind. " 'Tis strange/' pursued father Betso- lin., " that an ideal cause^ an imagined injury, can thus lay waste the noble im- pulse of mercy ! If the hydra-headed shadow of self-created wrongs can thus o'erthrow the long, the arduously^erect- ed firmness of the mind, where exists security, even far virtue, even for hon- our, when assailed by temptation ? The- odore, I would have you live free from the ties of the church, because I would have you live to fulfil the claims society has on the young and the happy ; not to sacrifice the calm dignity of modera- tion to inordinate passion, not to pro- fane the fair face of mercy by the frenzy of revenge." ''What ties can society boast/'demanded D 2 Theodore, LIBRARY 52 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. Theodore, "which possess not a kindred claim within your own bosom ? Father, 'tis true, lam young — but, ah! not hap- py. Eighteen years ago, nay longer,*' fixing his dark eyes on the countenance of the monk, "possibly you might boast ofboth." Thetrionk started; he raised his spread hand to his forehead. " Touch not that string, Theodore,*' he articulated ; " 'lis grief, 'tis torture. Eighteen years ago— ah, God of omnipotence ! eighteen years ago, I was writhing beneath a stroke — ^ — •" He paused, then piously drop- ping the beads of his rosary, and casting oh Heaven a look of assured confidence, concluded-—" Pardon and pence to all 1'* "Forgive me," faltered Theodore, all consideration yielding to the sorrows of his friends " Afas ! my heart bleeds, for having CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMRRE. 53 having incautiously awakened the pangs of memory." " You have not awakened them, my son/' he replied, forcing a faint smile, *' for, in truth, they never slumber. Even to the very altar, the shade of murdered pi^ace pursues me ; in my cell's solitude, ^vhen wearied by long watching, the re- pose of nature weighs down my eye- lids, then — then does fancy conjure up a delusive train, and mock me with buried bliss. Theodore, dear, mistaken boy ! believe me, eighteen years ago, there ex- isted no similarity between us." " Let us wave a discussion which fans but the flame of melancholy," said the youth, in imploring accents: '' father, dear father, say no more; for already does my heart smite me with ingratitude and presumption." D 3 The 51 CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. The monk rested his hand on the shoul- der of Theodore. '^ 'Tis your reason, not your hearty, I would claim convert/' he mildly observed. " Were you to take the cowl, you would be flying from ima- gined difficulties to negative peace ; you ■would leave a station which God enjoin- ed^ and man was born to fill. With me 'tis different : my conscience acquits me. of having slighted any command, of hav- ing shrunk from any duty; for whether 1 drop into the grave amidst the bustle of the worlds or whether I quietly sink to sleep beneath the roof of Valombre, is immaterial. It was not misanthropy, neither was it guilt which drove me from the haunts of my fellow-creatures: it was affliction ; it was woe, deep, heartfelt. I have been a husband — I have been a father/' struggling with the rising sob, and CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRi:. 55 3nd dashing from his cheek the impulsive tear of memory — " You too may become a husband — yon too may become a fa- ther—you too may live -*' "II" interrupted Theodore, and a new and delightful emotion throbbed in every vein — '' I become a hus- band! — /become a father! — God of na- ture !'* raising his ardent eyes to the cloudless concave of heaven, "' what dreams of bliss — what visions of delight flit o'er my brain ! / alleviate, soften, sooth the cares of affection ! — / catch the lisping accents of tender infancy! — / breathe the proud, the grateful prayer of praise, for growing virtues, for bud- ding promises, for parental transports! — /, when the winter of age steals o'er my being, freezing my youthful ardour, / D 4 retrace 56 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. retrace that ardour, re-acted, re-existing in- *' Boy/' interrupted the monk, start- ing almost in frenzy, " who delineated the delusive vision ? who lingered o'er the perishable shadows of sublunary hope r' "Nature,** replied Theodore, his cheek glowing, and his whole soul irradiating his features — " Nature, father, portrays the blissful prospect — Nature conveys the eyes beyond the vale of present being, and fixes on cloudless, endless joys." ''Nature, aided by Fancy guiding the pencil of enthusiasm, is a seductive, trea- cherous artist!" mournfully observed the monk : " methinks, in your picture, Theodore, she has sketched the ocean, calm, smiling, undulating; not swollen with CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 57 with angry tempests, and death-fraught rocks — Alas I she has sketched it such as it once appeared to me, when the glowing sun of anticipation spread o'er its lengthened surface the yellow beams of glorious splendour and transcendant brightness. But I lived to see it changed, transformed. Spirit of mercy ! it rose, not with coming blackness, not with gra- dual swell — it rose, it overwhelmed, it destroyed." The monk sobbed; he clung to the arm of Theodore; his whole frame shook in palsied agitation ; he paused for a moment, then wildly articulated — " Boy, if you would know peace, seek it in the grave; yet there, even there it may mock you. Misery led me to its brink: des-. pair, deep, subtle, irremediable, congeal- ed the current of hope, and existence d5 pined 58 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. pined for annihilation : but when I ex- tended my arms to court the Lethe of sorrow^ the spectre fled, death eluded my embrace, and though disease had bent me almost to its tempting oblivion, yet nature snatched me back, reserving me to envy, not to share its slumbers. Theodore, my soul sickens, my spirit dies — Theodore, ungrateful, dissatisfied boy ! what do you know of misery ?*' *' Not to you, father; no, not to you," exclaimed the distressed youth : '' grati- tude is the very essence of my being: call me dissatisfied, but, in justice, in pity, call me not ungrateful/' " *Tis to Heaven, not to me, dear, adopted son of my affection !" rejoined the monk, folding his almost sobbing pupil to his bosom. " Surely health, quiet, repose, youth, activity, enjoy- ment. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 59 ment, merit praise — merit thankful ado- ration." Theodore, crossing his hands upon his bosom, moved silently by the side of the monk. Their path was darkened by the thick entwining foliage interrupting the moonbeams, save, ever and anon, when the softened breeze gently fanned aside the branches, and then the lengthened shadows reflected a thousand fantastic images. Theodore started : involuntarily he grasped the arm of his companion ; for, as his eyes rested on the ivy-crowned arch of the chapel, he saw a figure glide across the path, and shrink within its shelter. *' Did vou see it?'* he eagerJv demanded. " See what?'* questioned the monk. " As Heaven shall judge me," exclaim- D 6 ed 60 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. ed Theodore, " I lost a human figure be*^ ncath yonder arch !'* The monk smiled. '^ 'Twas the coin- age of your own brain, my son, or per-- haps one of the holy brethren.*' Theodore paused for a moment, then thoughtfully replied — " No, father, it wore not the garb of the order." "Then has it gained birth in fancy,** concluded father Betsolin. Theodore replied not : he traced inh- ered ulity in the speaking features of his friend : he could not produce proof, but on his own mind the evidence of his eyes stamped conviction. Absorbed in the varying wishes, the un- formed character, the quick, the ground- less projects of his pupil, father Betsolin: forgot, in the review of his romantic hopes CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBHE. 61 hopes and wishes, the sudden intrusion of the figure; and, with a sigh of bitter tendency, exclaimed — '' Were I to doubt your affection, were I to doubt the fer- vour of your sincerity, justly, Theodore,, might you accuse me of ingratitude. Dear and deserted child ! when first your helpless pleadings assailed my heart — when first, in the language of nature, you spoke desertion and misery — when first, in the sweet, the irresistible yearn- ings of compassion, I raised you in my arms, though stained with the blood of the murdered '* He paused abruptly, for the anxious, searching, horror-struck expression of Theodore's countenance recalled him to himself. *' At that fearful period,'* he hesitatingly pursued, *' my heart was al- most broken ; I was drooping, hopeless, cheerless ; 6^2 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRIT. cheerless ; sinking beneath a stroke, which had blio:hted all the ener that caprice led me not to this dwelling ; that. 64 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. that, estranged from society, flyj"g the ties of kindred, my heart courted prayer as its only hope. Theodore, a spirit like yours requires more than mere warning ; it needs conviction." " But not at the expence of one sa dear, so indulgent," urged the youth. *^ Father, behold me the meek disciple of your principles, the convert to your arguments. Disclose the mysterious tale of my first admission within these walls, but spare your mind the torture of re- capitulating woes, which defies even the alleviating power of time to efface/' '' Think you I have curbed the angry burst of passion, again to excite its fury? No, my son," mildly observed father Betsolin, '' I would soften, not irritate; I would behold you patient and submis- sive, not again convulsed with man's deadly. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 65 deadly, baleful curse of revenge. My story- The monk paused abruptly^, fori the vesper bell chimed the call of devotion^ and with pious haste he turned to Va- lombre. '' When the evening duty is accomplished, when the hour of prayer is passed/* he said, pausing at the en- trance of the chapel, *^ remember, my son, in the solitude of my cell I shall await you/' CHAP. 66 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRiE. CHAP. IV. le comfort to be found in thinking then f Oh no ! my mind has rang'd from thought to thoUghfic Fi'orifi place to piace^ to seek it-^but in vain. Marty Iff. What is this world ? Thy school, oh ffiistry ! Our only lesson is to learn to suffer ; And he who knows not that, was born for nothing. YOUKG. On quitting the chapel^ Theodore repair- ed to the cell of father Betsolin : prayer had calmed the agitation of the good maa*s mind, and he welcomed his young favourite, with a smile of the sweetest benignity. Every discordant passioi> slumbered, for peace and hope appeared alike to calm the present, and to gild the future. " You wonder/' said the monk, seat- ing himself by the side of the attentive /^/ Theodore, CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBKET. 67 Theodore, '' that a being, as. I have de- scribed myseir, the sport of calamity, with a heart still bleeding beneath the inflic- tions of fortune, should so strenuously oppose the decision of inexperience, and argue against the irreparable step of self-immolation. Theodore, your reason, not your heart, shall be my judge; the lapse of years shall be renewed ; and what, from mere curiosity I would with- hold, becomes a voluntary tribute to in- struction. '' Cradled in camps, and bred to warlike feats, my early youth was pass- ed in tending the rough ventures of a soldier's fortune. Midst the loud din of war my father reared me ; and ere my infant hand could grasp the sword, my heart, with glowing fervour, panted at 68 CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. at the martial clang of drums and trum- pets/' *' Ah, to be born a hero V exclaimed Theodore, imbibing the infection of he- roism, and gazing on the latent fire which, e'en beneath the cowl, betrayed a soldier's feelings, The monk smile* ■ : he traced a new character in the animated eyes of Theo- dore, whose every action spoke a mind open to each succeeding impulse. ''I too was an enthusiast," continued father Betsolin; '^ and when maturer years stamped nature's mellowed cast, I grasped my sovereign's banner, and became a candidate for future fame. Leagued with the forces of Spain, we met the hos- tile bands of warring Infidels, and in reli- gion's cause^ deluged with human gore a devoted CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBHE. 69 devoted land. Oh, fatal influence of misjudging power, to seize the shield of faith, and 'neath the cause of universal peace, to niartyr nature! E'en now my. soul revolts at the sad scenes of woe and desolation, for war, with chilling sway, marbles the hearts of men, and stamps them deaf to the soft pleadings of hu- * manity/' The monk paused in momentary irre- solution; his lip quivered, and a tear rolled from his eye: piously he raised the cross which pended from his girdle ; and as he steadfastly gazed upon it, the influence of faith recalled the reign of fortitude, for in accents of restored com- posure, he resumed — *' 'Twas at the head of an adventurous band, I pierced the smoking ruins of a scattered village, to which the firebrand of enthusiastic zeal had 70 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. had fatally been applied. My heart, alive e'en to the misery of these denoun- ced Infidels, and panting to save the vic- tims of mistaken bigotry, shinink not at danger ; aud though the shrieks of op- pression sounded from the ruined pile of desolation, still mercy gave me strength and perseverance. Guided by the sound, I mounted a flight of Parian steps, and beheld, in a small temple, dismantled and defaced, an aged Moor, still combat- ing, with bleeding wounds and unsub- dued courage, the bold attack of a re- lentless Spaniard. *Twas the last effort nature could essay — the sad, the frantic stretch of paternal fondness — for at the instant that I rushed to succour, the ci- meter dropped powerless, and blood and tears commingled on the soft bosom of an angel child. The Moor, exhausted, dying. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 71 ^ying, still glanced defiance, still grasp- ed the hand of his beloved charge — then whispered Alia — and died. Thrown on iTiy care by nature and by Heaven;, I rais- ed the weeping Cassima ; and as I led her from the contemplation of her woes, I swore, by the great Author of my being, to guard her with the tender caution of a brother — But ah! how dangerous was gratitude from lips like Cassima's ! I had sworn to act, but could not feel a brother's part — Love, tyrannic Love ! as- sumed his sway, and bound me the resist- less slave of hopes and wishes." . Again the monk paused, for he marked, in the countenance of his youthful audi- tor, a variation of expression. '^ Love!" faltered Theodore — *' ah, fa- ther ! r tremble for you:" and then, with 72 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. with shuddering horror, he concluded, ^' an Infidel ! an apostate to the faith f" '^ An angel !'* eagerly rejoined father Betsolin. *' Mistaken boy ! Cassima> my Cassima was more than woman ! Con- viction wrought the change : and when, in the divine spirit of Christianity, she owned the God I worshipped, then did the bright, the heavenly spark of pure undying piety, denoiC the deep conver- sion of her inward soul.'* '' Ah, you have wrought salvation !" exclaimed the enthusiastic youth; " you '* Cassima lived — Cassima died a Chris- tian !" interrupted the monk. '* Cassima is in heaven!" again burst from the lips of Theodore. The monk bowed in acquiescence ; his CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 73 his hands were clasped ; and his tear- fraught eyes forbad each effort to speak. It was long ere sorrow yielded to com- posure, for a thousand tender recollec- tions crowded upon memory, and revived the bitter trials of the past. *^ To enu- merate the tender virtues, the excellen- cies of the gentle Moor,*' at length re- sumed father Betsolin, '' would be to swell my sad recital, without unfolding the gradual progress of my sorrows : be it enough to say, that love, omnipotent and eternal, encn-ossed mv soul. Le s captivated with the external beauty, than with the simplicity, the innocence, the artless graces of Cassima, I considered her the most precious gift of my Crea- tor; and received her at the altar of my faith, as the worshipped bride, the tender partner of my existence. Week>, months VOL, I. E of 74 CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMEHE. of unclouded bliss became my own. Peace smiled upon my native plains^ and I returned to the bosom of my country, loving and beloved. Ah ! how little can the soul, unallied, uninfluenced by sym- pathy, conceive the pure delights, the unalloyed transports of mutual love, and mutual confidence ! ' Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will.* How little " '' It must be a foretaste of Heaven !" interrupted Theodore, his cheeks glow- ing with the fervour of his ideas — *' ah, father ! it must be as the pure award of beatified spirits !'' The monk echoed a responsive sigh, then, forcing a smile of melancholy birth, pursued — *' In the sweet retreat I had chosen. Heaven and nature augmented my blessings : my Cassima made me a father^ CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRl?. 75 father, and rapturous were the sensations that novel tie awakened ! - Wrapt^ as it were, within my comforts, the w^orld va- nished as a cloud before my sight : I felt elevated beyond the reach of affliction : the possibility of change damped not my ardour; and even my love became more fervent, more exalted. Often as I gazed on this new, this innocent candidate for protection — often, as I w^hispered the thanksgiving of a grateful heart, did I pity the being, who, unfixed, estranged, owning no care but self, ne'er traced the smile of early recognition — ne'er clasped the pledge of hallowed love. Alas ! fain Jwould I linger o'er the hours of felicity ! fain forget the chilling blast of rude car lamity ! fain blot from the faithful regis- rer of memory the coming contrast, which from woe claimed not one mo- F. 3 mcntary 7Q CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. jnentary suspension ! ah, yes/' and he raised his eyes in reverence to Heaven, *' fain would I revise the blissful epoch when Cassima and our child claimed every thought, every action of my life ! it was a period the soul will dwell on, whilst yet the corporeal frame remains accessible to soft impression." The monk paused for a few moments, then, with a shuddering sigh, proceeded — •" The blast of war again sounded, and honour called me from the bosom of my family : the glow of heroism was re- kindled, was refelt; the slumbering trance of valour roused at the charge, and each impulsive hope betrayed a soldier's feel- ings. Behold me then, tearing myself from the in twining arms of Cassima, and e>xchanging, for the blissful calm of love^ the perils, the incertitudes of war. Quick was CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 77 was the change, from tears of tender sor- row to the necessary exertions %f per- sonal valour ; for scarce had we losC sight of the rocky cliffs of our native land^ scarce had we ploughed the waves of unobstructed space, when a corsair, bearing down upon us, boarded, and, af- ter a desperate resistance, captured our vessel. I was senseless — I was lost to the consciousness of our calamity ; for in the early part of the engagement, a deep and anguished wound had checked alike sensation and exertion. Ah, Theodore!" continued father Betsolin, " long, ray- less was the blank of time which inter- vened ! heavy the hours of sufferance ! When I awoke to life, when I awoke to recollection, I found myself a captive, without one ray of hope to lighten my prison's gloom. Twas then the pang of E % absence 78 CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMERE. absence became more bitter; 'twas then my Cassima, and our babe, arose to me- morVj and sharpened the torture of des- pair. Father of Heaven ! had death — ah no ! Pardon, omnipotent Ruler of the Universe, pardon the weak arraigner of thy decrees ! Had prosperity shone upon my path, had happiness been my lot, this cowl had not been worn, the type of resignation and unmurmuring piety." *' To woes like yours," said the sym- pathizing Theodore, '' where, but in the balm of religion, can the soul find com- fort ?" " True, my son,'* resumed the monk, numbering the beads of his rosary; " 'tis a source which never fails; when man for- sakes, when health, when fortune disap- pears^ 'tis a rock of adamantine strength, the staff of ages, and the prop of worlds. Even CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. 7d Even at this period of time/' regaining the thread of his narrative,/' the recol- lection of the pangs which accompa- nied restored sanity rouses every faculty of action. Alas ! excess of misery serves but to animate the torpid mind, exerting it to fortitude, and renovating the nearly- exhausted thread of existence. ** Landed at Tunis, my health scarce re* stored, when the price of my liberty was paid by a rich renegado, and my proud' and struggling spirit compelled to sub- ^nit to al! the degradations of slavery. Al- Zahel, the tyrant I was destined to serve, possessed a wife — that fiend — that wife — ah, give me pause !" and father Betsolin grasped the hand of his pupil, and clung for support to his shoulder. Theodore spoke not ; he traced the torture of ex- E 4 cessive. 80 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBilK. ccssive feeling, yet he felt incapable of giving comfort. At length, with a heavy sigh, he con- tinued — •' It was past sunset^ long after my fellow-slaves had retired from the scene of their labours^ that dwelling on the cherished image of my absent Cassi- ma^ I lingered in the gardens of the ha- rem — I had thrown mvself beneath the spreading luxuriance of a rose-bush^ my eyes fixed on the partial reflections of glory which still mellowed the purple- tinted bosom of the west. In idea, I was happy : the dire doom of sla\nery was forgotten : I seemed transported to the blissful calm of my little domain — Cassi- ina returned my caresses, and the smile of innocence sported o'er the downy fea- tures of my boy. I know not how long this CaNFESSrONAL OF VALOMERE. Bl this trance of thought continued ; sud- denly it vanished ; suddenly a new dan- ger rushed athwart my brain, a fear which registered the inconsistency of nature^ for /, bereaved of every comfort, en- slaved^ degraded, lost, existing in toil,, and labouring in misery, J clung to the vile possession, life, and trembled for the consequence of my temerity. Al- ready the cimeter seemed upraised — al- ready th« awakened jealousy of Al-Zahel seemed to award the blow, for I had war- • red ao^ainst forfjjiveness — I had intruded within the sacred limits of harem. Though my labour was in the culture of this garden, still at a given signal, the Wearied slaves retired^ and the rich scene' of toil changed to the softer haunts of youth and beauty. Too late to fly, my eyes, with timid caution, rested an thei - s ^ forKi 8^ CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRIi. form which barred my passage — fear va- nished at the glance — hope, fallacious hope, fluttered around my heart, for saint-like was the smile which dimpled the peerless features of Cale-Cairi ! * Stranger,' she softly whispered, ' know you the price of your temerity?* I bent my knee before her; I placed my spread hand upon my heart ; I articulated, 'Xz/e/ — *Fear not,' she replied ; and then a hand, white as the new-fallen snow, w^as extended it token of assurance — I took that hand — I felt it tremble as I held it — I saw a radiant blush suffuse a cheek which nature gifted with external beau- ty; yet might the pure, the angel bosom of my Cassima, have read each passing thought, without one doubtful sigh. * Christian,' she resumed, and then she pausedj and glanced around with timid caution. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBHE. SB caution^ ' unseen I have marked your labours^ and your sorrows — Al-Zahel is your tyrant — Cale-Cairi is your friend/ I read pity in the tender thrill of her ac- centj and my heart, long dead to the soft offering, believed each treacherous sound. Warm were the expressions of iny gratitude, impulsive the dictates of my feelings ; I could have worshipped her, not with the glowing energy of love^ but as a being worthy to be adored. Checking me with a smile, she said — ' I "will lighten the chains of slavery ; I will give ease to the tortured heart.' — ' And will you — will you,' Ldemanded, again sinking on my knee, ' will you, gener- ous, angelic being ! will you open the pass to freedom ? — will you restore me the blessings I have lost ?* — 'Hope all E 6 from S4 CONFESSTONAL OF VALOMBBE. from my influence/ she murmured, as she pointed to the gate ; and then she bid me fly, and bury the adventure in my own breast. *' Trembling for the safety of my be- nefactress, I quitted the garden, and, un- perceived, mingled with my companions in misery. Sweet were the hours of that night ! balmy the slumbers of repose I Alas ! in life, how often, how swift is the transition from despair to hope ! Actu- ated by each passing incident, man, the dupe to his feelings, imbibes from local circumstances the evanescent ray of bliss. The three succeeding days I heard not from Cale-Cairi; but on the morning of the fourth, as I laboured beneath the me- ridian beams of a burning sun, a boy^ beauteous as the god of love, lingering under CONFESSIONAL OF VALOxMBRE. S3 under the pretence of culling a bouquet of sweets, approached, dropped a folded paper at my feet, and fled. '' Fearing the Argus-eye of suspicion^ I carefully concealed my imagined trea- sure, and not till in safety I could peruse the contents, did I break the seal, ' My heart slumbers not in the cause of the unfortunate/ wrote the artful Cale-Cairk ' Stranger, this night, when the sun has set, linger near the gate of the garden, and fear not to follow my faithful Nirza/ " Eager to fulfil the appointment, free- dom the spur, and Cassima the reward, I watched each lagging moment^ with an impatience which mocked the controul of reason. At length the sun sunk be- neath its vapoury curtain, and the grey eye of evening, eclipsing each vivifying ray, left me at liberty for action. I hasten- ed 86 CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRZ. ed to the appointed spot ; the gate was open ; and Nirza, the infant bearer of the billet, with an expressive gesture im- porting silence, led me forward. We proceeded across the garden, and enter- ing an avenue, soon approached a Parian temple. Brilliant was the blaze of light, which issuing from the interior, illumi- ned the surrounding gloom. I paused involuntarily; not suspicion, but sur- prise assailed me ; and turning to ques- tion my guide, found that he had fled. Perseverance could alone ensure solu- tion : carefully approaching the temple; I gazed through the close intwining lux*- uriance of the scarlet blossoming pome- granate, and party-coloured passion-- flower, which mantled its marble pillars^ and beheld the siren form of Cale-Cairi^ reclining on a low couch of rose-colour- ed CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 87 ed taffeta. The interior of the temple vras decorated in all the voluptuous splen- dour of the east, and every embellish- ment which art could devise heightened the charms of the captivating Moor. Studded with the gems of Golconda, flowed the raven ringlets of her glossy- hair; and the contrasting whiteness of her skin shamed e'en the costly pearls of Ormutz. *' Starting from the couch, Cale-Cairi gently chided my delay ; and murmured, in accents not to be misconstrued, that she had watched the envious sunbeams, even to the last faint streak of its reful- gence. God of heaven! how did the scene change! in one instant, how in- conceivable the revolution in my ideas ! The philanthropy of virtue vanished ; vice dropped the angel garb of assumed compassion : S3 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. compassion: the asp, long coiling wfth- in the dewy fraf^rance of the rose, put forth its sting, and hononr and convic- tion gave speed to my retreat." *' Ah ! surely, even in youth, yoit -' were a philosopher,** interrupted Thea- dore. The monk smiled — *■' No, my young friend, I was a husband, and the wor- shipped image of my Cassima was before my eyes." "Does the sacred name of husband, ever chain the wandering fancy?" de- manded the youth. "Father, does ca- price ne'er sway, and duty totter?" " In the world, the hearts of men be- come contaminated," replied father Bet- solin, " and, as the exterior, differ— In the world, circumstances of various and contrasting stamps shackle the hand, of- ten CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 89 ten when the soul mingles not in the election/* "Then in the world/' eagerly observed the youth, ''happinessyieldstointerest." " Or else," rejoined the monk, '"men would not so often, a-.Kl so ungratefully burden Heaven with complaints, and fate with injustice." " Surely the world must alter the phy- sical system,'* said Theodore ; " surely the contagion of pleasure, and the force of example, must stagnate the genial current of the soul, and subvert the or- dinations of nature ; or love, the pure essence of our being, love, father, could not be sacrificed at the shrine of sordid avarice, or mad ambition." " Love," answered father Betsolin,/^of all the passions w^hich sway the heart of man, is the most often, and the most fa- tally 90 CONFBSSIONAL OP VALOMBKE. tally profaned. Felt when least talked oC treasured when most opposed, its sa- cred name covers oft the gust of pas- sion, and the surreptitious colouring of design. Ah ! my son, "'tis when the mind enchains the kindred mind — when hope, v;hen joy, when sorrow, all alike can claim a sympathetic partner — when can- dour and when confidence become the rule of action, and the sway of thought, that love alone can boast the original stamp which marked its pristine purity." " And does it ever boast — — " inter- rogated Theodore. '' Yet stay,'* check- ing himself, "^ your pardon, father, nor judge that interest slumbers, from the wild innovation of inquiry. Quitting the garden of the harem, you fled the Circean spell of Cale-Cairi's witchery." ^' True, my son," said the monk. '' I fled CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBBE. 91 fled with horror and dismaV;, my hopes destroyed^ my expectations blasted. Holy virgin ! I fled with despair, with distrac- tion in iny brain, and every mental power abstracted^ bewildered in the wild chaos of ideas. Long and restless were the hours destined to repose : with the dawn of day I arose to labour ; and at its close, freed from toil^ I again courted the me- lancholy of reflection. For a whole week, sleep closed not my eyes, or reno- vated the languor of fatigue ; for a whole week,' the enervating lassitude of disease threatened, and then subdued. My spirit broken, my strength destroyed, I sank unresisting on my miserable pallet, and hailed the wished-for^moment of en- largement. Alas! it came not; death, when most coveted, eludes our call, and I was spared for further woes, for further sufferings. 92 COKPESSrONAL OF VALOMBKE, sufferings. Burning under the ravages of a fever, my brain frenzied, and sanity dislodged; insensible to external cir- cumstances, and lost tc^ the pampering luxuries of persevering tenderness, I knew not the perfidious wife of Al-Za- hel, by short and stolen visits, watched my slumbers, and ministered to m.y com- fort. Blessed saints ! never shall I forget the moment, when reason and gratitude stamped me a debtor to Cale-Cairi's care — when I felt her warm tear upon my hand, and heard the sigh of interest flutter on her lip. Enfeebled, sub- dued, I could not breathe reproach— I could not breathe invective : I could only articulate %e cherishied name of Cassima, and weep at the perversity of fortune. My health, my strength re- turned, but not the task of labour; Cale- Cairi's CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 93 Cairi's interest lightened the chain of slavery; and I was placed to tend the per- son of Al-Zahel. Bitter was the change; endless the perseverance of the Moor : darkaiid ambiguous were her hints; deep and mysterious her design. Unschooled in a heart so black, fatally fancying na- ture cloaked not devil in an angel's sem- blance, piiy palliated the soft effusion which supposed sensibility inspired™ which habit authorized. She spoke of liberty, pointed out the path as easy^ decked it in the unfading roses of bliss^ then murmured-—' Courage and perse-* verance !'— ' Lady, I have both/ I ex-- claimed, yielding to the sanguine enthu- siasm of hope, and already retracing t{\e verdant plains of my native province. She drew a dagger from her girdle^ — she held it, with a siren-smiJe, towards me. * This opens '94 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. opens the pass/ she articulated, and then she paused. I trembled, yet I grasped the hilt. '^ Lady, point out the barrier?' steadfastly fixing my eyes on the beaute- ous features of the tempter. ' Al-Zahei.* — ' Your husband!* Iexclaimed,dropping the dagger. — 'My tyrant!* she replied, snatching it from the earth, and calmly holding it towards me. '^ Horror and dismay, palsying every faculty, iced the warm stream in my veins: transfixed, as though by Heaven's^ thunder, I felt incapable of exertion, in- capable of speech. Cale-Cairi smiled : she attributed my agitation to indecision; and, as a further incentive, sank at my i^et, and threw her ivory arms around me. I bsroke from the restraint; I darted from the chamber \ annihilation was in the touch : no fury^ black from Tarta- CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 95 riis^ e'er teemed with mischief so death- fraught. ' No, no, my Casslma/ I arti- culated, ^better to resign thee, than sink the tool of a perfidious woman/ "A blank of inaction succeeded; Cale- Cairi ceased to persecute, and I ceased to hope. A life of unvarying slavery spread itself before me,and every transient ray of expectation, every intruding stretch of possibility, closed in the impulsive shud- der of despair. 1 thought her pride had conquered e'en her tenderness— alas ! I guessed not of what the human heart ia capable, when virtue is dethroned, and vice triumphs-— I forgot chat vice rivets the most despotic chains which art can forge. Weeks, months, succeeded ; but though Al-Zahel smiled upon my servi* ces, he breathed no distant hope of my enlargement : rioting in the Indulgence qf 96 CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. of excessive luxury^ he thought not of the contrastino: oloom which fate had spread upon our fortunes ; he thought that nature bent the Christian to the yoke, for Mussel men to order. '^ It was night, and I was musing o'er the remembrance of former joys; every agonizing pang had yielded to the soft encroachment of melancholy, and Cassi- ma and our boy were recalled with a flood of tender regret: I sat insensible to the flight of time, gating on the cloudless mooHj whose silver radiance mantled the verdant bosom of creation^ every faGulty absorbed in the halcyon moments of the past, and hope, the vital «park of bliss, fanning the possibility of enlargement, ^^ Suddenly my mind was recalled fvcYa my home and my comforts, by the open- CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 97 ing of my door, and turning, I beheld the little Nirza, the trusted messenger of Cale-Cairi. My heart shrunk at his ap- proach ; suspicion and dread alternately assailed me; and when he smiled, when he tendered a billet, I seized it with that desperation which dares the threat of death. ^ Fear not to trust me,* wrote the artful Moor, ' nor spurn the boon of liberty, because Cale-Cairi is the bestow- er.'— ^ Liberty!' I exclaimed; 'Holy Heaven T and then I grasped the hand of Nirza, and implored an explanation; but the boy, deep taught, was, or pleaded, ig- norant. He whispered me to follow ; he placed his hand upon his heart, in token of confidence, then pointed to the dis- tant ocean, and pronoujiced, ' Freedom !' I'Jectric was the wild thrill of pleasure. • Lead on ! lead on !* I implored, flying VOL, T. F with 0^8 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. iMith breathless eagerness towards the tloor. Nirza followed : he passed, he beckoned me; and proceeding down the gallery, we descended into the garden. Cale-Cairi awaited me in the temple, not, as heretofore, giiised in the siren garb of soft voluptuousness, but in a new, in a character more dangerous to a heart like mine, sanguine and confiding — in a cha- racter which artifice had framed, which seeming nature too fatally supported. She approached me with timid caution, her dark eyes bent upon the earth, and her faultless features irradiated with the borrowed smile of conciliating frankness. ^ Christian,* she exclaimed, ' though re- jected and despised, yet shall you own Cale-Cairi has a heart which scorns re- venge. If from her hands the gift of li- berty may be offered^ prepare, this night, to CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 99 to fly the authority of Al-Zahel — to de- part from Tunis.* Ah! just God! 'tis for the beings whose sad and wretched pilgrimage has, like mine^ been dashed with woe^ and shadowed with the clouds ^ of Calamity; the being whose heart has ceased to throb w^ith hope's sweet fer- vour, and to whom the lingering hours of existence have closed the blank of slavery —'tis for that being alone to conceive the wild, the tumultuous emotions which agitated my soul, and checked almost the powers of expression. I knelt at the feet of Cale-Cairi — I beheld her as my gi^-^r- dian genius, as my guide to liberty— I forgot that slie would have tempted me to dishonour, would have instigated trie to iTiurder — I forgot all that militated ^.gainst my hopes— -that warred against my felicity. ' Stranger/ shearticul^ated' V % checking 100 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. checking my eager exclamations, ' not in wortls must gratitude be shewn.' I started. ' Fear not/ she continued, ' Cale-Cairi forswears all interest — but friendship. The youth who guides you hence must share your fortune.' — ' Nir- za?' interrupting her. ' No, not Nirza, but one who fain, like you, would fly the iron sway of Al-Zahels tyranny — a youth whose life ne'er knew misfortune — ne*er met the threat of difficulty.' — * Then why encounter both ?' I demanded. ' Lady, the perils of the ocean, to one thus schooled ' — ^ Do you retract ? do you reject the charge?' interrupting me ; and I traced an expression, a fire in her eye, which filled me with alarm and doubt. ' No, lady, no, I would but name the danger/ — 'Then you will be his guar- dian,* with eager importunity, ' you will be CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMRRE. 101 be his protector ?'— ' I will be both. He shall share my home ;. he shall be as my brother.'— ' Poor Aladdin!* murmured Cale-Cairi^ and a soft blush mantled her cheeks. ' Christian, he is young ; he has been cradled in luxury ; but he is faith- ful, he is passive, he is obedient. Gain his heart by kindness, and he will repay you with diligence.' Alas ! I dreamt not the charge I had undertaken : and when I quitted the temple to prepare for my liight, little did I conceive the design working to my undoing. I will pass over the transition from despair to bliss, the wild exultation of my spirits, and the im- patience with which I awaited the ex- pected signal. It was given. Unsuspec- ted I fled the power of Al-Zahel, and under the pilotage of my new charge, embarked in a vessel, which Cale-Cairi's p 3 interest 102 COKFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. interest had procured. Prosperous was the breeze which wafted me to the loved shores of my native land ! blissful the gay flights of imagination ! "Tis true, I smiled on the attentions^^f the youthful Aladdin; but my heart, wrapped- in the contemplation of my own hopes, had no room even for gratitude : a wife and child were the only objects in creation it could infold; and when their names hung upon my. lips, tears registered the ar- dour of my feelings. Vv'e landed at Mar- seilles, and from thence, with unwearied haste, proceeded into Gascoriy. Every impeding obstacle augmented my impa- tience, and the rapidity of my reflections gave a seeming tardiness to our progress —I could think— Icould speak but of my Cassima : my heart pictured the changes of a three-years' absence, but never, ne- ver Cqnfessional of valombrk. 103 ver harboured a suspicion of her faith. Rapturous was the moment of our meet- ing ! Cassima, ray angel wife ! with all the fervour of unimpaired aflection, wel- comed her wanderer; and my boy — my blooming cherub ! — Theodore, give me pause — Blessed Mary ! e'en now the re- membrance mocks the powers of faith, and the meek submission of piety. — Alad- din — the perfidious Aladdin!" and the monk, burying his face in his cowl, sought in vain to check his convulsive sobs. " Ah ! little did I suspect/' he at length resumed, ''the serpent I was cherishing! Aladdin smiled upon the advances of friendship : he conciliated the esteem, the confidence of Cassima; he caressed, he fondled our little Eugene ; he betray- ed no start of pride, no indication of F 4 hatred ; 104? CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMERE. hatred ; he seemed, with the meekness of the dove, to possess that grateful sense of favour, which forbad suspicion, which defied disguise. Ah God! how could I dive into the inflexibility — into the baseness of a heart devoid of human feeling — a heart lost to honour and phi- lanthropy — a heart watching, with fiend- like diligence, to blast the happiness it could not share 1 Months wore away, and felicity knew no change : gratitude, in our orisons, singled our benefactress ; and even the lips of the little Eugene lisped the name of Cale-Cairi. Tranced in security, the augmentation of my blessings awaited but the ripening hand of time, for Cassima was about to give a second candidate to my arms. Dearer than existence, I watched her, with that unceasing regard which speaks the ado- ration C0'NPESSr01)AL OF VALaMBRK. 105 ration of a heart devoted, of a mind which owns no change. Once, as her head reclined upon my bosom, and Eu- gene sported at our feet, I saw the eyes of Aladdin fixed upon us : quick he withdrew them ; and then he rose to quit the room, but trembling, gasping, clung for support, even to the weak shoulder of our boy. Alarmed I flew to aid him ; he snatched away his hand ; he shudder- ed, then murmured, ' Faintness,* and fled from the chamber. My Cassima foilow- ■ed : in a few moments she returned — Aladdin was in tears; and on her ap- proach, had hurried into the garden. I instantly repaired thither ; but carefully he evaded my search — I saw him maunt a rocky pass which projected over the bed of a river ; softly I stole behind him. 'One step, and all is over,' he exclaimed. F 3 I shuddered — 106 CONFESSIONAL OF,YALOMBRE. I shuddered — I grasped his arm ; he ut- tered a loud shriek, and. then he struggled for freedom. 'Boy! Aladdin! what mad, what destructive passion, thws wars against reason — thus dare oppose the sa- cred mandate of Heaven ? Think * Again he shrieked; again he struggled ; but still my firmer arm restrained him. He sank at my feet — he fixed his eyes upon me — and horror, unknown, impul- sive, froze my blood. 'Christian!' — Holy Heaven ! that accent, that well-re- membered accent. He tore off his dis- guise — he dashed the borrowed tresses on the earth — and I beheld the raven locks of Cale-Cairi floating on her snow- white forehead. Scarce crediting , the evidenceof my senses, I gazed upon her, my heart marbled, my whole form para- lyzed. ' Christian/ she again uttered, ' His CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 107 ''tis I — *tis Cale-Cairi, scorned, rejected — 'tis I who have pursued — 'tis I who have triumphed/ — ' You- — you/ I mur- mured — * unhappy woman !' A demo- niac smile played on her features. ' Yes, I, ungrateful/ interrupting me. 'My love despised, I lived for vengeance — your wife — your Cassima — your boy — your Eugene.' — ' Proceed/ interrupting her; ' fiend ! traitress ! your fury could not harm them.' She lowered her voice to a whisper; she fired her dark eyes upon me. ' All human aid is vain : in their breasts the seeds of death lie hid — 'Tis I who gave the draught' — I heard no more^ — I rushed down the rocky steep —but ere I reached the base, I saw the guilty, the wretched Cale-Cairi, spring from the summit, and plunge into the flood. Humanity was lost in the im- F 6 pulse 108 CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. pulse of desperation — I beheld her but as the murderer of my joys — Cassima expiring, Cassima racked, "torn with the agonizing throes of death, swam before my sight, and fanned my brain to mad- ness. "On reaching our dwelling, every fear was confirmed ; my wife, my child, were alike seized — were alike powerless — were alike racked by sharp and convulsive spasms. In vain every art, every anti- dote was essayed — in one short night," and father Betsolin's tears flowed at the remembrance, '' I became a widower — I became childless. Vain, vain would I pourtray the anguish of my feelings; my mind, e'en now, retains but a confused idea of weeks, of months which succeed- ed : every tie in life was severed; the world was a barren waste, and man the being CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRK. 1-09 being I would shun. On the grave of my Cassima, I swore to live but for her memory, but for the exercise of devo- tion — on the grave of my Cassima, I swore never to know another love — Ah, Theodore ! true love is immortal ! those who have loved in purity — those hearts will love for ever. Bidding a last adieu to the quiet tomb which enshrined my treasures, with a heart desponding, droop- ing, I repaired to Valombre. The holy fraternity received me with compassion, with kindness ; and here have I breathed those vows, which have wedded me to religion, and which I have studied to fulfil, with all the exactitude which the frailty of human nature will admit." CHAP, 110 CONCESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE, CHAP. V. This man's brow, like to a tltle-Icv^f, Foretells the nature of a tragic volume! So looks the strand, whereon th' Imperious flood Hath left a wltness'd usurpation^ SlIAKESPEABE, The clock tolled one, as Theodore quit- ted the cell of the monk : a drooping sadness hung upon his spirit — a sadness^ beyond what the powers of sympathy could have awakened — a sadness, which absorbed every feeling of his mind, and rendered him unmindful of outward ob- jects. Incapable of wooing the sanative influence of sleep, he descended from the dormitory, and wandered, without aim or object, through the cloisters. No vi- sionary scheme of coming bliss lighten- ed the dreary path of his pilgrimage ; no vivid CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMERE. Ill vivid offspring of fancy played around the darkened pile of melancholy abstrac- tion : wrapt in the wild chaos of gloom and despondence, courting the semblance, woCj though, in fact, a stranger to cala- mity, he moved mechanically forward : no sound " grew on the stillness of night;'' nor did he pause, till the long- lingering echo of his own sigh dissipated reflection. He started, for he found himself in the nave of the chapel; and as he looked around, the refulgent moon- beams^ peering through the high and par- ty>stained glass of the casements, shone full upon the marble tablet of the abbot St. Theodore's monument. It was a spot — an hour to awaken thought; for who can tread o'er the hallowed dust of the dead, and not sigh at the shallow tenure of existence ? who can visit the last re- ceptacle 112 CONCESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. ceptacle of humanity, and not reflect on the thousand^ thousand casualties which checks the breath of life ; which bends the young, the gay, the prosperous, the happy, to the still cold grave ? Tremble, thou sceptic, for the boast of profana- tion may be thy last ; a breath, an atom,- one step — one little step,, and eternity is thine ! tremble, thou, who in the vairt conceit of self-created knowledge, dare cavil at the supremacy of power — dare blend the term of chance with the wis- dom of omnipotence ! tremble, weak "worm, for earth — ^sea — air — heaven — ^or- der— nature — creation, speaks " God in all, and good in every thing !" Impul- sively his knee bent at the base of the tablet; he knew not why, yet he perused the commemoration ef the departed ab- bot's virtues, with tear-fraugbfe eyes-;^ and though. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 113 though on either side the iincarved stone more humbly marked the eternal sleep of Valombre's brotherhood, yet his attention and his interest dwelt on no other objet — it was sympathy — it was nature — it was that predisposing power which governs the mind of man — which tends the sensitive heart irresistibly — which awakens gratitude, where know- ledge, "where conviction are wanting. Little did he think, that the hour of his admission was the hour of the abbot's fate ! — little did he think, that the being who yielded him to the protection, the guidance of the virtuous father Betsolin, had plunged in the bosom of devoted worth the ruthless steel of murder ! — little did he think that the shrouded form, upon whose cold bosom the mar- ble tablet pressed, had baptized him, not ^vith 114; CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMME. With water^ but with blood — had opened to him a name, by yielding up his own ! Theodore, in silent meditation, continu- ed to kneel by the side of the grave, his arm supporting his head, and his elbow resting against the outer rail. The suf- ferings of father Betsolin recurred in full- force to his memory; and as he dwelt on: the disappointments, on the miseries, on the blighted hopes of the unfortunate re- cluse, the disquietude he had himself en- couraged, the murmurs he had himself dared to breathe, rose in the mental lan- guage of reproof, and whispered, by comparison, the weakness, the folly, the irreligion of self-created evils, of waking dreams of misery. Unfortu- nate Theodore ! those dreams were to be realized — Fate, pregnant with events, awaited but the coining moment, to try the CONFESSIONAL OP \^ALOMB!lE. 115 the energies of nature^ the impulsive feeling of soul* Suddenly he started ; suddenly reflec- tion was dissipated; thought^ memory, all were subdued, all alike gave place to surprise and horror, for a hand, cold and deathlike, grasped the one v/hich hung inactive by his side. He looked up; he saw a tall gigantic figure, habited as a monk of Valombre; but the countenance defied his. scrutiny, for muffled in the folds of his cowl, not an outline of fea- ture could be distinguished. "God of mercy!*' ejaculated the youth, recoiling from his touch ; but the intruder relinquished not his hand. " Theodore," he whispered, " arise. Weak boy, banish these idle terrors, and snap at once the deceptive influence of superstition and prejudice." " Who 116 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRB. " Who are you ?'* eagerly demanded Theodore, starting from his knees, and recovering the powers of exertion. " Your habit speaks you an inmate of these walls, but your voice and your figure deny the conclusion. Declare for what hidden end the garb of reli- gion is profaned, and myself marked as the pliant tool of your machinations?'* " Fate is in my hands," pronounced the stranger, in low but terror-striking ac- cents; "question not my motives, but yield yourself to my guidance. Theo« dore, life ebbs or flows at my will. Mark me," drawing aside his cloak, and dis- covering the sparkling blade of a dagger, '^ blood once stained yon emblem of man's weakness," pointing to the con- fessional; ''another monk may be offered up a sacrifice to Heaven/' '' Mather CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. 1 1 7 *' Mother of God !" ejaculated the youth. ''Peace, boy, peace!" resumed the intruder. '' Time fiics, and piety must give place to action. FoHow me, and at the foot of yon altar, repeat the oath I require." '' An oath," echoed Theodore. "No hesitation," sternly pursued the stranger; '' an oath which biiids you to secrecy and obedience, or a resistance which at once decides the fate of the monk Betsolin." Theodore sprung towards ^he altar: it was the safety of his friend which im- pelled him forwad; it was gratitude, it was almost filial love. *' Man of mvs- tery!" he exclaimed, shuddering, pant^ jng, '' name but the sacrifice to ensure the safety of my preceptorj and in the sight 1 18 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. sight of that Being who readest the rec- titude of my intentions, here, at the foot of Ids consecrated altar, erected for wor- ship and adoration, I swear to preserve the condition !" '' Kneel,'* said the stranger, '' and call for condemnation, call for perdition, when you break your vow." Theodore hesitated; his soul sickened in horror, for he knew not the com- pact he was about to close. The stranger frowned: he extended the dagger. ''^Look at the point,*' he ex- claimed; *^ read there the name of Jkt^ solln; resi^^t the desired oath, and this night, yes, ere the morn shall dawn, the glittering polish of this tempered steei shall be dimmed in his blood,*' Theodore groaned ; he sank upon his knees i he noised bis clasped hands to heaven. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 119 heaven. "Father! Father!" he wildly aspirated, '' guide me ! direct me ! save me!" "Time flies," urged the stranger. "Boy, throw off this idle mockery: .the cant of priests has hoodwinked your senses, and poisoned the current of reason. Become at once the free agent of your own ac- tions, and scofFat the restraints of autho- rity. Theodore's reply was a look of horrorj of proud, of dignified contempt. " Say," pursued the stranger, " accept you the conditions, or must the soul of the hoary hypocrite-- — -" " Fiend !" interrupted Theodore, "his body may be exposed to treachery, but his soul is beyond your threat." " I care not for the soul," muttered the intruder, again displaying the terror- striking: 120 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBHE. Striking dagger; " be the body my vic- tim." '' Hold I hold !*' articulated the youth, grasping, with imploring earnestness, the cloak of th|p threatener ; " spiire but the life of my instructor ; spare but the first, the early friend of my helplessness, and command at once my obedience and my gratitude.'* , '' Take the oath then/' answered the stranger, '' and the life of the monk shall be sacred." ^' It is for thee, dear and revered pre- ceptor," murmured Theodore, as his knee again bent on the step of the altar— '-' it is for ihee that the dark, the mvs~ terious compact is sealed. Yet,'* eager- ly, doubtfully, ^^ does it threaten my eoul's quiet ? for, if it does/* with ener- gy, *^the pious^ the just, the exemplary father CONCESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 1 1 1 father Betsolin, will smile at the fiat, will welcome the decree which adjudges death, sooner than blast my hopes with the deadly mildew of guilt. Yet, stran- ger, does no spark of mercy glow within your breast ? — does no relenting softness ^peak compassion ? Oh! ifyouare hu- man, yield to my entreaties; not for the threatened victim, but for the assassin. Think of the crime of murder — think of the condemnation of the Eternal — think of the days, the hours of penitence, when memory shall swim upon a sea of blood ; when conscience, with corroding pang, shall blast the hope of pardon. Oh think '' No m.ore,*' interrupted the stranger. '' Boy, your zeal is lost ; keep it for those who shrink at shadows; not for one VOL. I. G whom 122 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. whom substance cannot frighten. Come/* with a smile of irony, "be nobly disin- terested ; and for the salvation of my soul, as well as the monk's body, take the desired oath. It is but silence and secrecy required." *^' Nothing further ?" eagerly demand- ed Theodore. " Say, mysterious being, does no deep crime, no subtle policy lurk beneath the mask? does no ser- pent's sting lie hid within the smiling folds of ofFered moderation ? Is silence and secrecy the required redemption for father Betsolin*s existence ^" " Silence, as to the occurrences of this night/' rejoined the stranger, ''^secrecy, as to the future; and an unconditional communication with me whenever cir- cumstances and opportunity favour. Remember, CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 123 Remember, the slightest infringement of this oath is death to the friend you would save." "Where can we meet?** questioned Theodore — '' How can this communica- tion be observed?" " I am now in the chapel of Valom- bre," exuhingly exclaimed the stranger: *^ mark me, boy, the father abbot, nay, nor the whole fraternity, cannot bar my passage. My will is absolute. I could force you hence ; I could convey you beyond these walls, and then laugh at their threats and denunciations: but I would be your friend, not your tyrant." " Friend!" despondingly echoed The- odore. '*Yes, friend," rejoined the stranger^ in accents of angry decision; "reject not the offering, for my enmity is bale- en 2 ful. 1S4 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE, ful. Theodore, your hopes, your pros- pects, your being, are in my hands: I could now unfold the page of your des- tiny, and freeze the current of your blood ; I could tell you who you are, and why- " He paused, for the youth, full of new-fraught hope, was at his feet, imploring, soliciting, kneeling. " Assuage this agony,'* he faltered, *' dark, inexplicable being! breathe but the secret of my birth — breat-he but the iianve x>f my parents. Say, do they live? Have ihey been wronged ? Know they of their son ? Shall I see — shall! rescue —shall I comfort them ? Oh, Father of omnipotence ! nature strikes at my heart, and misery, danger, death, all alike are despised." Buried in abstraction, tbe stranger jptesscd his hand upon his forehead, then suddenly CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. 125 suddenly Starting, "The oath — the oath/' he repeated : " avaunt, weak boy T these woman's tears disgrace you; 'tis courage, 'tis fortitude I claim; tears are a coward's weapon. *'^ " Oh no, no, no !" interrupted Theo- dore, " tears disgrace not the eyes of a: hero ; tears, father Betsolin says, is the heart's soft pledge of mercy, and mercy ''^ Idiot! prattler! bigot!'* muttered' the stranger, grasping his-^m, and rudely impelling to the altar. ^' Now, boy — now, Theodore, take the oath, or never : to-morrow will be toa late; to-morrow the life's-blood of the hoary dotard " Theodore shuddered. '' Monster ! barbarian ! fiend !" burst from his qui- vering lips, as the mists of delusive plea- G 3 sure !26 CONFESSIONAL OF rALOMERE. sure vanished, and horror superseded the fresh glowing trac'es of filial love. '' This war of words, this vaunting passion, is puerile," coldly resumed the stranger ; ^^ 'tis action, not energy, 'tis decision, not iinpulse^ I would have you practise.*' '' Cede the life of the holy Betsolin, cede the knov/ledge of ray parents," ar- ticulated Theodore; '' thela hear me swear—' — " *' What if they live?" interrupted the intruder. "Live!" repeated the youth, with a burst of wild, of almost frenzied joy— ''live!" and instantly, in imagination, the chapel and the stranger vanished ; in- stantly the warm embrace of parental fervour seemed to encircle him, and the reviving CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. 127 reviving bliss of a parent's benediction echoed in his ear. All was hope — all ivas concord — every pulse beat to the magic thrill, and not till the stranger rudely severed the thread of his reverie, did he start, as it were, into being. " The mystery may be solved, the tale may be told/' said the intruder, in reply to the new solicitations of the youth : "be guided by me, Theodore, and the dream of a parent's blessing may be re- alized. Father Betsolin knows you the child of mystery — I know you such as . you really are." Theodore no longer hesitated ; inno- cence was not the price of acquiescence; it Was only silence — it was only secrecy — it was only a casual intercourse with a being, who might, who could elucidate G 4 his 328 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRB. his fate — who might, who could restore him to his natural protectors. Guided at once by the sanguine infe- rences of youth, he knelt upon the step of the altar, and in the sight and in the name of that Being who readeth the in- tricate movements of the heart, bound himself by an oath the most solemn, nay, denounced upon his own head, misery, disgrace, ruin, death, in case of its slight- est infringement. '' Yes/' he exclaim- ed, in the fervour of the moment, '' it is for thee, dear, exemplary friend, pious, excellent father Betsolin, it is for thee the zeal of faith, the sacrifice of feeling is offered; and may the God of mercy bless or curse me, as I preserve or violate the compact !*' Solemn was the pause which ensued ; with CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE, 125 With the moment vanished the heroic fervour of exertion, and a damp cold chill, a presaging horror pierced the heart of our hero. Upon his lips the oath still trembled, and his knees still bent upon the consecrated pavement : the stranger stood by his side, apparently wrapt in abstraction ; his arms were folded upon his breast ; his cowl was thrown back ; and as the cloudless moonbeams played o'er his features, the smile of exulting triumph relaxed their stern expression. The clock tolled four — the stranger start- ed. " Perhaps 'tis guilt," thought Theo- dore, casting on him a hurried look : the impulse and the action were one, for in- voluntarily he placed his spread hand be- fore his eyes, as though m antipathy, as though in horror. The stranger retreated towards the door, G 5 for ISO CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. for a tinkling bell proclaimed the waking fervour of religion. '' Remember your oath,'* he whispered, then paused, and beckoned towards the garden. Theodore hesitated; the mysterious in- truder approached him. '' Boy/' he ar- ticulated, in smothered but authoritative accents, *' follow me : obedience is the test of faith." He led through the cloisters, and into the garden. The lagging clouds of dark- ness were dispersing ; the misty empire of night yielding to the reins of coming day ; streaks of glory dappled the grey bosom of the east, and the chirping ma- tin of the feathered race spoke the awakening gratitude of creation. The stranger led to the once interdic- ted chapel, nor paused till he reached a low arch immediately at the base of the belfry. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 131 belfry. The spot was desolate, for the weeping birch, the gloomy cypress, and perennial laurel, entwining their som- bre branches, met o'er the tottering ruins of the tower, whose time-encrusted walls, mantled with iv}^ briony, wild chirvil, and moss-wort, stood the fragile monuments of man's imbecility. '' ?vlark me, Theodore,'* he exclaimed; " re- member I order, not request." The youth started — the glowing flush of pride passed quickly o'er his cheek ; but instantly recollecting his oath, he bowed submissive. "Each month, when the moon, full and resplendent, rides majestic through the heavens, mark me/' impatiently re- peated the stranger, " it must be the night which completes that circular orb, leaving to the human eye no vacant G 6 space — 1 32 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. space — theiij when the brethren of V^- lombre shall have retired to their narrow cells, repair you to this ruin — tarry be- neath this arch — attend — listen. Should the sound of a horn reach your ear, then thrice knock upon this tablet; if the signal be repeated, quit at once the ruin, and in the grove await my appearance : but should the echo of your blows die in silence, then raise the tablet, and be- neath it you will find a letter. Remember the full moon — remember three knocks on the tablet — remember secrecy — re- member submission — and now> Theo^ dore, return to your celL" " Should the monks — should father Betsolin behold me/* hesitatingly de- manded the youth, '' how can I evade their inquiries ?** . "Pshaw, boy ! by a thousand ways. Say, CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 133 Say, tempted by the beauty of the nighty and unable to sleep, you quitted ** • '' A falsehood !'* interrupted Theodore, with a burst of indignation ; '' man, you have yet to know me. Though fettered by a deadly oath, my soul spurns even the shadow of subterfuge — how then can I acquiesce in falsehood ? 'Tis for you to remember, ere I bound myself the slave of your secret, its preservation was in no way to militate against my inno- cence/' The stranger smiled ironically. "I have pointed out," he replied, " and you reject my precaution ; become at once the guide of yaur own actions; but know, the moment that absolves your oath, absolves my promise relative to the life of the monk Betsolin. Go, deluded sophist, even through the chapel, even through 134 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. through the assembled brotherhood ; gOj £nd should the spiritual mentors ques- tion you, let the sharpened point of my dao^ser be before vaur eves — let the o'er- banging threat of murder give colour to your answers." CHAP. VI. What mystic riddle lurks beneath thy words, Wiiich thou would'st seem unwilling to express^ Rows,, ^' Not because the life of pious worth isr Sever'd by the blast of accident, should^ Man presume to murmur. Ereruity's A book he cannot read. The present hour He sees — God sees the future." Theodore, for the first time in existence, dreaded to encounter the pious inmates of the monastery ; nay, above all, dread- ed CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBHE. 135 ed to encounter the beloved being, who till now had read every secret impulse of his soul. He fled, as though the slave of guilt, through the garden, and when in the cloisters, paused and listened, with almost breathless trepidation, for each coming sound, the fall of a leaf, the whistling of the wind, paralyzed the pow- ers of action, and stamped hinivthe sport 6f fancy. '^ I am innocent," he mentally sighed, '^ and yet I tremble. Holy Hea- %^en ! what means this strange perturba- tion, this revolution in my feelings? 'Tis to save a life I am become a slave— a slave," shuddering — ''a slave, and to whom ?" Unable to answer the question, he bu- ried his face in his spread hands, and remained, forgetful of his dread of ob- servation. 136 CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. servation, abandoned to each start of imagination — to each fugitive impres- sion of soul. "Theodore/* articulated the alarmed voice of father Betsolin, " beloved son of my affection !" The youth started from his absorption; he gazed for a moment on the anxious countenance of his friend, then, with a spring of almost frenzied swiftness, bounded through the cloisters, and rush^ ed to his cell. Treinbling for the health, nay almost for the sanity of his pupil, the good monk, exerting the feeble remnant of exhausted strength, hurried after him; Pausing to recover breath, he pushed open the door of the little dormitory, and beheld the youth upon his knees be- fore CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMERE. 137 fore a crucifix, his eyes resting on the emblem of immaculate suffering, and his hands clasped in prayer. '^ God of omnipotence !'' he ejaculated, '' guide me through the labyrinth I aiTi doomed to tread." The monk was at his side ; his staff fell to the ground, as his arms enfolded his pupil. "What labyrinth?'* he eagerly demanded. " Say, dear, enigmatical boy, what new labyrinth entangles your feet ?" Theodore could no longer shrink front the scrutiny ; he shuddered — he almost gasped for breath ; then burying his face in the dark folds of the monk's habit, faltered out, ''Life." Father Betsolin arose; with amaze- ment he beheld the palpable emotion which dappled the flushed cheek of the youth, and extending to his voice, almost deprived 13B CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. deprived him of the powers of articula- tion. ''Theodore/' he exclaimed, ''some iDystery lurks beneath your words— some romantic project fills every avenue of your comprehensive mind, and stagnates the current of communication. Last Jiight when we parted " '^ Last night — last night," quickly re- peated Theodore. *' Jesu Maria ! last night — ■ — '' but recovering himself— *^ last nighty father, you told me the story of your sufferings — last night, fa* ther, I could not rest." '' Was it the story of my sufferings which frightened sleep?" interrogated the monk. *' Was it sympathy for my past years of misery which led you to the cloisters ?'* Theodore hung his head in silence. *' Say," pursued his inquisitor, '^was it CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 139^ it to muse o'er ray wrongs — was it to glean strength by my example, that you quitted the scene of your slumbers ?'* ''Cruel! cruel!" murmured Theo- dore, and large and scaldijig tears stream- ed down his cheeks. The monk wept with him. "Holy saints 1" he aspirated, "^ how is th« child of my hopes changed ! — how, in one short night, have the genuine feelings of nature become annihilated!" '* Hear me, father," exclaimed Theo- dore, in all the energy of innocence — in all the enthusiastic ardour of his charac- ter. '^I am not changed, but bound " He paused — he shuddered — the blood forsook his cheeks ; his lips quivered, for his " mind's eye" pointed to the heart of the holy Betsolin the murderous po- niard of the stranger. He shrunk from the no COKFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. the arms of his preceptor — he sank on. his knees before him. ''Father/' he Im- plored, " leave me ; I dare not be my- self. There is a tie — there is a vow re- gistered — oh deep, deep ! Leave me, father, leave me/* *' Leave you,'* reproachfully repeated the monk, " thus the sport of delirium, thus actuated by the wild fever of frenzy, Theodore, know^ you what you ask ? Poor boy!*' gazing on him with aching fondness, '^ leave you: day and nighty sleeping or waking, here will I take my station/* Theodore wept as he grasped the hands? of the father : his heart felt grateful for so niuch kindness, yet could he not repay it by confidence. '' Dearest of friends I best of human beings !'* he articulated, *^ it is not delirium, it is not fever which causes CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 141 t:aiises this agitation ; it Is the spirits^ not the health ; it is the mind, not the body. I would but pass an hour in prayer — it is a cordial:, father," forcing a smile, "which the sick soul covets. I feel my days of inactivity arc passed ; and now tJiat fate calls upon me to fulfil a more vigorous part, I would implore Heaven to inspire me with strength and forti- tude, sufficient to acquit myself in the trial." As he spoke, the mild beams of conscious rectitude o erspread his fea- tures; his eyes regained their animation, and his smile was the smile of hope. *' 'Tis enough," said the monk, curio- sity yielding io astonishment — " I leave you, Theodore, not idly to guess at your secretj but to strengthen its preservations- gratitude shall no longer torture your feeling mind, or endanger the prescribed limits 143 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOlVrBRE. limits of honour. Boy ! — son ! — friend! — become the guide of your own ac- tions. Humble yourself ever thus before your Maker; persevere in the brave^ the undaunted elevation of your own prin- ciples^ and never w^ill the blush of shame paint your cheeks^ never stigmatize your jctions.'* Theodore stretched forth his arms, but the monk had fled ; his little cell was de- serted; and unobserved he could now revise the past, and plan for the future — The past extended not beyond the visit of the mysterious stranger; the future, all concentrated in the links so strongly forged by Nature^ in the anticipated hope of yet beholding the authors of his being. His mind, always alive to some darling passion, always buoyed by some reigning impulse, now felt all the glowing attri- butes CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. 143 tutes of filial love — now panted for the warm reciprocity of parental fervoiih To be known — to be acknowledged — to be blessed by the endearing appellation of son, was a reverie of exquisite delight; a reverie, which in the noonday beams, in the darkness of night, in the refectory, in the chapel, alike pursued, alike ab- sorbed every faculty. Yes, the devoted soul of the cowl's most bigoted convert, the zealous candidate for devotional re- strictions, even at the foot of the altar, ^ven when the vaulted roof echoed the solemnity of holiness, dipt not the bur- nished pinions of fancy, but suffered them to waft him beyond the walls of 'Val ombre. Day succeeded day, and Theodore watched the gradual increase of the moon, with an ardour not to be controuled : the IM CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE, the letter, the anxiously looked-for, the promised letter, imagination pictured as the solution of every mystery — imagina- tion deposited in his hands glowing with the names of father and of motlier. At length the night arrived; the moon, round as a burnished shield, shone re- splendent in the heavens. Theodore, with a palpitating heart, stationed at the window, watched the retiring footsteps of tlie monks: his thoughts w^re compli- cated, one moment fanned into joy, the next subdued even to despondence. Alas! the solemn oath of concealment was the poisoning mildew of peace ; the necessity for reserve, a draught upon|his gratitude, and a violence to his feelings. The mild voice of father Betsolin seemed to reproach him, seemed to discard him ; the compact of friendship, the bond of confidence CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 145 confidence was severed^ and he felt au alien, even beneath the roof of his infan- cy. A slave to the sensibility of the heart, to the propelling force of feeling, firm in moments of difficulty, capable of the most heroic efforts, yet in an instant^ by a word, by a look, by a thought, bent to the very verge of feminine weakness, Theodore hung his head upon his breast, and his heart swelled almost to sufToca- tion ; tears of bilterness streamed from his eyes ; visions of despairing sadness fiitted o'er his brnin : the lapse of time was forgotten, and not until the deep reverberating clock tolled the hour of midnight, did he start, as it were, into being. *' I am called upon," he articu- lated; " 'tis the moment for action ,* the moment when guilt stalks upon ' the world," He shuddered— he gt^ied upon voi. I. a the 146 CON^FESSIOK.iL OF Vi\L0Mfe2S. the calm stillness of creation, "lam not guilty/* he concliidecU with a grief- fraught sigh, *' and yet destiny eom« m^nds me.*' He quitted the window ; he humbled himself before the prototype of faith; and elevating his every thought ta the divine throne of grace, passed many minutes in silent but fervent prayer, Calmedi strengthened, inspired, he arose, his spirits eind his fortitude rector* ed^ his mind invigorated^ and feeling capable of combating, against even morts than imaginary evils, Yes^ swe^t-eyi&d Piety I when man forsakes, when sorrows multiply, beneath thy guardian.wing,tha broken heart dndsj covert J ihm be tho healing bplm o( subjunary woe i thim be the g4?ntle menhor of reason * from the eye of affliction, ''iiMft<^w^h<>^^'»pf^ weakness, he struggled to force a smile; but the effort tlied in the birth. Mignon was a little sportive squirrel, the gift of father Betsolin : Mignon had fallen an early victim to the thoughtless- ness of youth ; for Theodore had foro^ot- ten to shelter him in a cold night, and the succeeding morning he had died in his bosom. " Poor favcurile !'* he sigh- CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMRRE. 119 ed, " thy pangs were past when mine began : surely if an involuntary act, if an omission causes such acute sensations, what must the wretch endure, whose ac- tions mark premeditated cruelty — whose days are passed in intentional guilt!** He forgot, that as the cast of the human countenance, so does the properties of Ihe soul vary; he forgot, that whatwoiild torture the nerves of refined sensibility, would but excite the smile of the volup] tuary, would but awaken the derision of the man of the world. Theodore was no casuist: until the mysterious introduction of the stranger, he had judged mankind by the inmates ofValombre; lie had thought all alike harmless, all alike guileless; nay, even now, his inexperienced mind pictured,: a 3 _ that 150 CONFESSIONAL OP A'ALOMBIIB. that as on the sun's bright disk there are sombre spcts, which^ if visible to the eye, %vould by contrast increase its dazzling ]usrrc% so here and there, amidst the va- riegated productions of nature, beings of moxnstroiis enormity burdened thfe earth, piaking the actions of the virtuous -more resplendent. Blissful are the flights of imagination ! — wonderful the soaring ge- nius of fancy ! In one short moment, the days of l-ong-departed mirth were re- vived ; in one short moment, each nook, each corner^ recalled to the ductile tniod of our hero the infantine sports of childhood. He stood beside the little garden he had assidnously cultivated, his eyes bent upon the seat of his toil and his recreation, now o'ergrown by the fra- grant shrubs his hands had planted. " God of CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 151 of compassion I " he aspirated, ''^ am I, like these flowers, to blossom and to dfe i»n the self-same spot ? Am I— — '* The abbey clock struck one : he start- ed : the present, like an o'erwhelming Hood, effaced the past ; his oath, his compact, was alone remembered, and with unceasing speed he fled towards the chapel. Scarce had he shrunk beneath the darkened shadow of the archway, when a blast, shrill and piercing, echoed through the ruin. He knew the signal, yet did his heart feel paralyzed. Again the horn reverberated. Short Were his struggles; feeling gave way to action, and thrice he struck his hand upbh the tablet. No sound was returned. He listened, but deep and unvaried was the stillness which prevailed ; no footstep, no single indication of a human being. II 4 Anxious, 159 CONFESSIONAL OF VAI.GMBRE. Anxious, yet unable to solve the mystery, he carefully raised the tablet, and press- ing his hand into the aperture, grasped a folded paper. His heart exulted as though he had found a treasure; and hastily re- placing the stone, he hurried from the ruin, nor paused till he had gained the se- curity of his cell. The faint and unsteady fiame of his taper still threw a sickly gleam around — still decked the melan- choly mementoes of mortality with a saffron hue — the crucifix, the death'shead, and the hour-glass. The last sand was run ; Theodore turned it, and sighed. Night after night, hour after hour, had it trembled in the hands of its late possessor. '*Xalm be the grave's quiet! Poor Hi- ther Theophile, peaceful the slumbers of thv soul !" he articulated, as imagination, reverting to the sad close of the monk's earthly CONFESSIONAL OF VALO.MBRE. 153 earthly pilgrimage, effaced even the re- collection of his own difficulties. ''Poor father Theophile ! the earth which pil- lows thy head, the stone which presses oil thy bosom " ^ *'' But the letter?'* inquires the inqui- sitive peruser of these pages. Be pa- tient, gentle lady, and the letter shall yet be unfolded. The letter was grasped by the hand of Theodore, yet did the ge- nial sympathy of his nature wander to . the awful scene of dissolution, hang upon the melancholy rites of the monk's ob- sequies. Every eye in the choir beamed the soul-softening language of commise- ration ; every heart throbbed with the magic impulse of feeling : the organ was touched with a tremulous i^and, and the Libera Md was sobbed rather than chaunted. H 5 Father 3 54 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. Father Theophile had died in the ser- v.ice of benevolence — had died in the discharge of a duty, fFom which even \Tioiiachal courage had shrunk. Flying to the seclusion of Valombre;, not be- cause he would shun misfortune— not because he would renounce the haunts of nien—^not because he wanted fortitude to stem the torrent of persecution — but because his pious mind would pray for peace and pardon on his persecutors, he there enriched the hallowed altar of faith with the pure thanksgiving of a spotless •soul. Ever awake to the calls of true holiness, ever a candidate for the com- fortless offices of restriction and self- mortification, the humble mind of the .devotee gradually became jaundiced with the bigotry of ^eal ; for man, born to imperfection^ man, the slave of opinion, dives C0KFES5I0NAL OV VALOMB1»E. 155 div^ not through the hyperbole of sci- ence, but follows too readily, and too frequently, its occult practices. The path to salvation lay through the suffer- ings of the spirit, and the nights of father Theophile were broken and disturbed, because nature pined for rest. Enthu- siasm stamped e'en weakness virtue, and credulity glowed beneath the term faith. Such was the dark era of unpurified xeal i^But 1 v/ander : I too am lost in a labj^^. rinth, whose voluminous clue here for- bids delineation — I forget that my hero, \vith the letter in his hand, yielding to the light tissue of imagination, now stands in his cell, recalling the Libera Mei chaunted at the monk's obsequies. Shall I, here, following the straight-for- ivard tract of my history, unfold the let- le ? or shall I, yielding to the s6nsitir* II 6 impulse 156 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. impulse of the heart, explain why every eye wept the fall of father Theoph ie ? The laws of historic delineation should not be violated ; true, but the heart is uncontroulable. , The long gathering storm broke in re- verberating echoes, as father Theophile, and three of his brethren, returning from a visit of charity, bent their steps towards yalombre. Dreadful was the din of electric inatter: theearthrockedbeneath the howl- ing blast ; the hardy trees of the forest bow- ed their tall heads; and the rapid waves of the Garonne, swollen and dark, threw high their feathered surf. Agitated with nameless dread, with awful terror, the monks would have fled foi shelter — Father Theophile alone stood firm and undaunted ; what was the wreck joC worlds to hini ? he had gained a con- quest CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. 157 quest which heroes cannot boast — aeon- quest over his own heart, a subjugation of his feelings ; at least he thought so-* Nature is eternal : map may arrogantly boast, but circumstances will recall the lambent flame, stamping the die irrever- sible. Suddenly his cheek became bleach- ed ; suddenly his arms were extended ; suddenly his eyes, in expectant horror, rested on a juttingrock,which bulged o'er the bed of the river. Wild were the shrieks which filled the pauses of the blast — a child, an adventurous peasant child, had climbed the highest peak, to rob the cur- lew's nest, and now implored for suc- cour. One — one step further, and the little trembler would be ingulphed; one — one step further, and the efforts of ex- ertion would be useless. The monks shrunk in dismay : all save father 158 CONFESSIONAL OS VALOMfeBH. father Theophile recoursed to prayer: father Theophile was pious — but father Theophile felt himself called to actioti. He darted up the side of the rock ; re- gardless of his own safety, he thought but of the infant sufferer ; yet could he not reach the point. The child shrieked louder, as the storm became more furi- ous. The wind had blown back the hood of the monk's scapular, and his shorn head was exposed to the rude peltings of the tempest. His staff dropped from his hands — he Raised them with frenzied fer- vout to Heaven. '^ Blessed saints, aid thy servant !'* he ejaculated, and then^, ■with an effort more than mortal, sprung upon the point. One hand grasped the^ child — one hand threw him Oh the plalfx above, whilst with the other he clung to the o'erhanging shrubs. The child was safe^ — CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 15§ safe — was rescued. He saw his danger: — a prayer quivered on his bloodless lips —the treacherous holcj gave way, and father Theophile sank amidst the angry waves of the Garonne. Dreadful was the conflict passing in the breasts of the brethren ! dreadful the shrieks of anguish, the exclamations of despair ! The ill-fated monk was rescued from the waves — was conveyed to Va- lombre. He spoke not, but Kis eyes un- closed — he moved not, but still he breath- ed. At night, when the storm was hushed, and the winds of heaven scarcely mur- mured, his eyes closed forever — at night, when the lightnings ceased to play, and the thunder no longer rumbled, he breathed no more. For the first time, doubt and incon- gruity pervaded the youn^ mind of The- odore:: 160 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. odore: till then he had pictured a life of devoted sanctity the peculiar charge of Providence; till then he had pictured the love, the prayers of father Theophile, a safeguard even to others. '' A death so violent/* he articulated, as, with the monk Betsolin, he watched by the cold corse; '' his piety and his faith, his precepts and his example, his restric- tions and his zeal — Oh, father, me- thought Heaven's angels would have guarded a life so precious! Father " The monk looked fearfully towards himv *' Wherefore should man renounce the pleasures of the world,'* pursued Theor- dore, regardless of the deep scrutiny of liis companion ; '' wherefore should man shrink from the enjoymentsof life, if " *' Boy, what is it I hear?" interrupted the shuddering devotee. '' Banish the inroads CONFESSIONAL OP VaLOMBRB. 16 1 Inroads oFscepticisni ; 'tis a poison which corrodes every moral dnty, whicli can- kers c\'erj virtue of the soul/' " I am no sceptic, father," mildly re- plied Theodore. '' I would hut ask, why a being so immaculate, so pure, so per- fect, should be snatched from the wor- ship of Heaven, in rescuing a child, whose future days may be darkened with guilt — whose future actions may be in- stigated by evil ?" The monk raised his eyes to Heaven^ murmured a credo, then turning to the youth — '" Vain boy,*' he said, " you would dive whither the blind and mis- judging eye of humanity is forbidden. It is not because God spares the guilty, and strikes the innocent, that the mind of man should waver : faith is the tenet of our holy worship ; and in rneek humility^ without 162 €0]SrE^SlO"lNAL OP VAIJOM^RS. without daring to question, without dar- mg to repine, 'tis the Christian's duty to bow to his decrees.'* Theodore, crossing his bosom, bent his headintoken of conviction. Piety sub- verted the rising mists of error; the doc- trines of zeal were conclusive; and our hero, more effectually to impress on me* mory the record of father Theophile's •virtues, petitioned of the abbot the in- dulgence of inhabiting the same cell, iil the hope of treading the inspired steps of his predecessor. The request, decked in the language of piety, and pleaded with the warm ardour of enthusfesra, was accorded ; and the night \i^hich witnessed the transient lapse of established forti- tude — which sprinkled the cold limits of itature's sanctuary with the almost frozen tears of ]ong dqvotionaTapathy— -whic^ softened. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE, 165 softened, to sobbing weakness, the voices of the holy choir, and filled with enan- giiished pauses the sacred strains of the Libera Mei, beheld Theodore reclining on the hard pallet of father Thecphile, his eyes fixed on the hour-glass, and his thoughts lixed on the slight and perii»h- able tenure of existence. CIL\P 1^4- CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBR«r CHAP. VTI. 'Tis Godlike magnanimity to keep - — =- Our reason calm and clear, And execute her will, from a strong sense Of what is right. Tiiomso::?, Sweet Recreation barr'd, what doth ensue, But moody and dull Melancholy, Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair; And at her heels a huge infectious troop Of pale distemperatiueSp and foes to life ? Shakespeare. As Theodore started from his deep ab- straction, the prolengthened chain of fancy vanished, and the mental visions of never-slumbering imagination gave place to the mysterious incident of the past hour — to the coming difficulties of the future. With a trembling hand he broke the seal of the letter; with a palpitating heart CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 165 heart he perused its contents. " Ke- niember absolution cannot cleanse a per- jured soul/' was the appalling lino ofitS commencement ; '^ remember the vow of eternal denunciation is registered deeper than on my memory, Theodore^ you have bound your very being to my guidance — you have yielded yourself a slave to my controul," Theodore shuddered ; he grasped the paper with the energy of passion ; his cheek flushed crimson, and the fire of defiance sparkled in his eyes, *' Vain boaster!'* burst from his burning lips, and then a heavy sigh cnecked utterance, for the chapel scene, and the solemn te* nor of his oathj crowded upon his brain, ** A, slave!'* he emphatically murmured —"a slave— and to whom ?** Again his eyes 16G CONPESSrONAI, OP VALOMBBB. eyes sought the paper, and again indrg- nation banished every other feeling. ^^ Mine is no common stretch of au- thority, neither is it the coercion of self- created power— it is absolute— it is un- eontroukble. Theodore, the breath of life h^x\g% on my dagger's point, and dis« ©bediance paves the way to murdert M^rlc ma, when n^yit I write^ the janguOf of inactivity, the lassitude oS indulgencQ riiu^t yield to e^ert|on-^mi^s^, boy, for the puerile piirsuirs of Valombr^'s breth's f^n sylt not the magnitude of a nwand glorlQU^ enterprise. Th^qdor^, the whin^ lug hum of prayer mysf gl\e placf to th 174 COKFESSIOKAL OF VALOMBRJE. son^ a violation to virtue; and Theodore was arraigned and acquitted in the self- s.ime breath. It v/as then (he canker of disease which sapped the vital stream of existence — it v;as a slow consuming fe- ver which threatened his sanity and his life. Such were the conclusions of the brethren, all save father Bctsolin; he had studied the character of his pupil, he had read with horror and dismay that the fe- yer was on the mind. It was long afterTheodore had retired from evening worship^that the monk^asa la^t effort, repaired to his cell, armed with iill the arguments of tenderness, with all the soul-stealing susceptibility of entreaty. The youth, subdued by lassitude, had sunk upon his pallet, where nature, wearied by intense thought, was snatching from sleep a momentary oblivion. The monk, with CONFESSIONAL OP VaLOMBRE. 175 xnth noiseless step^ advanced, reclosed the door, and watched his slumbers. Pal- lid was his cheek ; no varied hue of dappled health blushed o'er his features; yet was his respiration calm, for the la- bouring start of passion betrayed not the torture of imagination. Father Betsolin hung over him ; the days of his inhncj were revised, the hours of his past conii- dence reacted : 'tis true, the monk was dead to the world, but the sensibility of the heart still lingered ; 'tis true, with the cowl he had outwardly embraced the freezing dogmas ofestablished custom; but the cowl, no, nor the cowl's initiators, cannot efface the attributes of nature. Sighs of uncontrouled emotion agitated his bosom, tears of unsuppressed tender- ness streamed from his eyes; they fell upon the cheek of the unconscious The- 1 4 odore; 176 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. odore ; the monk, with cautious hand;, essayed to displace them^ but the attempt roused the sleeper. He started ; he look- ed up ; impulsive was the feeling of af- fectiorij was the glow of sympathy ; he threw his ar'ms around the neck of father Betsolin^ and wept upon his bosom. " My beloved boy!'* faltered the monk, *' valued as would have been the cherish- ed offspring of my sainted Cassima ! Theodore, dear mysterious Theodore, your health declines, yourspiritslanguish: the sallov/ hue of sickness o'erspreads your cheeks: your feet seek ever the melancholy haunts of unfrequented sad- ness; and though no complaint escapes your lips, 'tis evident you pine beneath some secret afiiiction. Am I not your friend? Say, cruel and unkind one, could the fondest counsels, the most endearing efforts CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMERE. 177 efforts of paternal solicitude have sur« passed my anxious, eager interest ? — > could " " Father," interrupted the agitated^, the almost-convulsed Theodore, *^ have- compassion — have mercy." " I would but steal your sorrawr-," re- plied the monk ; '' I would but lighten? the weight of your secret woes. I have been young— I can look back to the days of temptation. Tell me, if imprudence — if guilt — Ah, Theodore ! the passions^ war against the soul ; the passions often, break down the barrier of reason, andt render dissolute the *' '' Oh no, no !" sobbed the youth, and gasping for breath, he buried his fliceirfc kis hands. *' I will soften, I will sooth>" mourn-^ fully resumed father Betsolin, thinkiuf^ 178 CONFESSIONAL OF VALO^rSRE. he had at once traced the long-smothered clue of concealment. *' Unhappy boy, point out the fatal lapse, and to the throne of grace my prayers shall ascend for pardon ! Speak ; in mercy to your- self, in mercy to your soul's eternal peace, reveal this long-preserved secret, this smothered pang, which bends you to an untimely grave, and robs me of life's chief blessing — your confidence and af- fection. No povv'er do I arrogate, no duty do I urge— Boy — Theodore — child « — beloved child ! say, confess what black, vihat deadly crime, shrinks with such seeming horror from a friendly eve?" '* Bitter is the hour of trial V" mur- mured the accused youth, his heart swell- ing in all the native pride of greatness. *•' Yet, father," and deep and solemn was his tone, "' by the meek and hallowed spirits CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBKE. 179 spirits of eternal bliss ! no pang of guilt pervades my soul, or clouds my actions. Forgive the apparent obstinacy of per- severance — oh forgive, acquit, pity a wretched being, who loves — who vene- rates — who knows no peace, no joy on earth, banished your confidence, hurled from your affection!'* For a moment he paused, gazed with aching agitation on the features of the monk^ then conti- nued — '^ My nature scorns suspicion ; yet, father, necessity — compulsion — in- truding recollection '' "Scorns suspicion?'* reiterated the monk, grasping the cold hand of Theo- dore, and looking imploringly in his face; *^ oh ! then explain the mystery, silence intruding doubts, snatch aside the veil of prejudice, and reveal the spring of ac- tion?" iQ "I cannot 180 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBBE. *' I cannot — I dare not/' faltered The- odore — '' Father " " Dare not!" interrupted the monk, in accents of stern severity — '' dare not! what new and sacrilegious tie supersedes the call of duty?" *' Humanity, gratitude/' wildly arti- culated the youth, '' all — all conspire against me. No more — no more — father^ no more. The eye of Heaven reads my secret — sanctions my perseverance." *^ Then you admit a secret?" question- ed father Betsolin, and apprehension gave way to amazement; '^ you admit some deep and hidden cause stagnates the spring of youth, and poisons the current of existence?" " Yes, ves, there is a cause — I must, I do admit it — a cause, holy saints ! how deep ! how imperious ! Urge me no fur- ther— CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 181 ther — I am bound — tied — an oath — " Theodore gasped for breath ; Theodore shuddered, as though in the convulsions of death. '' Father — father, 'tis profa- nation — murder/* The monk raised his clasped hands to Heaven. '' Mother of God, forefend our sanctuary!'* he aspirated — " Profana- tion! Murder!'* '' Yes/' with almost frenzied eager- ness, pursued the youth, " blood marks the violated oath, and damns the per- jured soul. Not prayer or penance, not contrition or reparation, can rouse the sleep of death. Mark me, father, the breath that tells the tale, blasts I'ao. sweet spring of life. Shun me— shun me — 'tis gall — 'tis wormwood — poison." *' Saints of mercy !'* ejaculated the monk, numbering the beads of his rosary, *' calm 182 CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. '^ calm the fell horrors of his maddened brain^ and give him peace and rest !" '' Father, I am not mad/' said Theo- dore, forcing a smile ; '' no fever rava- ges my brain, or desolates my senses. Mem.ory is keen, is accurate ; her pow- ers are hot impaired — I know the debt I owe to Heaven, and, next to Heaven, to you/* " To Heaven be all the praise !" meek- ly observed the father. '^ To Heaven, and Heaven's just ser- vant'/* gratefully concluded Theodore. The monk crossed his bosom, breathed a heavy sigh, and moved towards the door. The youth sprung forward, and seized his hand. "Father," he exclaimed, ''you knew the bent of my nature ere I knew myself; you traced the growth of prin- ciple, CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 133 ciple,ere reason and conviction had gain- ed their bias: say^ then, can your heart acquit me? — can your judgment^ admit- ting me the child of mystery, believe my actions the result of honour?" '' May Heaven speed me/' solemnly replied the monk, '' as my soul disclaims the inroads of suspicion ! Impelled by some unknown influence, I believe rec- titude the incentive even of your silence." It was nearly dark; evening's gloomy shadows veiled the features of Theodore; yet the warm tears which fell upon the hand of father Betsoiin, and the fervent pressure which marked the grateful adieu of his pupilj betrayed his feelings. '' I will go pray for you, my son," faltered the monk, pausing yet a moment longer. "Theodore, at the sacred altar of divine worship, I will petition Heaven to shield you J84 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. you from temptation and sin, to inspire yoii with strength and perseverance for exertion, with patience and endurance, under those evils the lapse of time may unfold* Theodore,"^' and he placed his hand with tender piety on the head of the youth, '' my blessing and my hopes rest on you !** " Amen^," trembled on the lips of Theodore ; and as the last echo of the monk's footsteps died on the solitude of his cell, '' may thy hopes be built upon a rock,'^ he enthusiastically exclaimed;. " a rock, which the surges of the worlds which the breakers of the passions can- not sap, or render desolate !" Convinced that the gloomy abstraction of his young favourite proceeded froni:. some hidden vision, some mockery of the senses, inculcated by his pursuits and his doctrines. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBIiE. 135 tloctrines, father Betsolin, whose mijid had imbibed the infatuation of bigotry and superstition^ whose mind, in a mo- ment, comprised his mysterious entrance into the monastery, the murder of the late abbot, with the disappearance of the stranger, commended his persever- ance, gloried in his zeal of fftith, and hailed the canonization of an hereafter saint. It must be remembered, that father Betsolin lived in an era when the blessed rapture of divine inspiration v»'as admit- ted and believed ; in an era, when the casual coincidence of circumstances awak- ened wonderland the slightest colouring of improbability was magnified into por- tentous omens. Convinced his penetration had disco- vered 183 CONrSSSIONAL OF VALOMBKE. vered the treasured secret^ and trembling lest health should fall the wreck of ima- gined duty, the monk hastened to the cell of the father superior. The broken sentences, the excessive agitation of the youth, was minutely recited, and credu- lity was soon swelled by a new proselyte. '^ It must be so/* said the abbot, devout- ly crossing himself. '' Reserved for some great calling, this youth is given to oar holy care." '' To Heaven be the praise!" mur- mured the monk, '' to us the charge.'* '' True, my son," rejoined the superi- or, " from the baleful sin of arrogated w'isdom, blessed Mary, defend thy ser- vants!" The monk bowed in acquiescence, and the abbot continued — " Shall I, invested by CONfSSSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. IB? by my sacred aiuhority^ absolve the ac- knowledged oath, and claim his '^ouV^ confession ?'' " No, father/' eagerly exclai!r.ed the monk, '' authority and tendernc-;3 com- bined could not wrest the treasured se- cret, else into my ear had it been pour- ed. He loves me, reverend father," and a transient glow passed o'er the sallow cheek of the religieux ; 'with all the energy of his grateful nature loves me, for what he terms the beneficence of charity, what I term the bare impulse of duty. Alas, poor Theodore ! he pos- sesses feelinsis much too stronii" for the trials of the world '* "If he lives/' interrupted the abbot. '' Ah ! there exists my greatest dread," said father Betsolin—" Mother of God ! if Heaven should claim him for its own, every 188 CONFESSIG^'AL OV VALOMBRE. every sorrow of my past life will be re- acted." " We are told," said the superior^ in-. accents of reprehension, " to fix our hearts upon things above." The monk meekjy crossed his hands upon his bosom. " To preach resignation with our lips/' pursued the abbot, " when ov,r hearts are alive to anxiety and apprehension, is mockery to our sacred calling — is an of- fence against the ruling principle of our order. Nature must die ; 'tis the spirit, not the flesh, should actuate the inixiates. of these walls.** Father Betsolin bowed in submission, not in conviction, for he felt that the flesh, often rebelling against the sacred dictates of the spirit, would struggle for pre-eminence, in spite of the mandate cf apathy,. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMC-RE. '189 apathy, in spite of the boasted influence of zeal. " Yet, father in God/' he meek- ly demanded, ^^ surely the lav/s of true holiness forbid not the preservation of the body's health. Theodore, young, and a slave to feelini^, droops under some hidden secret, which the monotony of his life each moment must recall. In change of scene the impression might become fainter, tho ideas might lose their malign force," '' In change of scene," repeated the abbot, for the monk, pausing, looked expectantly towards him; '^ proceed, my son; I would hear the wishes prudence and affection dictates," '* In change of scene," resumed father Betsoliji, 'Mhe energies ofhis mind would become invigorated, his strength restor- ed, his health established; and he might return 190 COKFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE, r&turn to Yalombre, armed against the weakness of imagined evils, and braced for the exertions of an hereafter caU-" ing/^ ^- Change of scene/' 9galn pronoun* oed the abbot. ^^ And would yoU:, my gon;, to escape one evil encounter a thou- sraid ?-^would you expose his inexperjv ^nico to the subtiUy of the world, to th^ grmras of the designing ? Ah ! remem- ber the weakness of humanity-r^r^rnem^ h^r the dreaded Influence of fh^ passioni:^^ l\Qf to proloi^g lifpj risk the salvation of ^f Ilcsnven forffersd !" ?,^ph*a|ed the fj^onlij ?^ I Wonld but seiid him whev?? ilang^rcanopt thrf^^^eii, where teniptjitlon ^^yinqt ent^r. FaUier, the period for.thc^ }fg^,tlpn tQ the most holy mcyther supe« mv Qf l)^m Qi^fU ?ip|>raavhes| what CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBI^E, IBl can threaten the soul's quiet of the pious niissioiiary ?" The abbot mused for a moment, then starting—'^ You think, my son, the health of the youth requires change ?'' ^' I do, holy father/* fearfully repllevi the monk, ^' and unless that change b@ quick, I think it will avail but Ijitle/' ** The Virgin sees the rectitude of oiu' Intentions/' said the abbots crossiijg hi^ bpsoni ; ^- my jion, be it even ^'s yoq wlsh^ Apprise the youth of oiir indulgence i pndwhen our blessed sanctuary no longer infolds him, when alcfue he journeys for the fulfdment of our trust, we wllj oftfcf up the prayers of piety for h|s preserva^ tlon I we will petition fhe feaint'^ and niitfy tyrs to guard hlfn witli thp shield of faith, toveturnhim^ a i^h^^^te^ uncgru^minatpd 192 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRfi. lamb, to the parental guidance of our holy flock." The intelligence of the father superi- or's intentions, the s:icred trust he was nominated to fulfil, at first awakened not a smile in the pensive countenance pf Theodore; he rather shrunk from an of- fice which required exertion and perse- verance—an ofTice which called him from the contemplation of his own peculiar cares, and roused him at once from the listless languor of conventual seclusion. But gradually the diiTiculties lightened as the play of expectation returned. A Fiew world was about to burst upon him, a v;orld oft pictured by the imagery of fancy — a world which\contained the au- thors of his being, and which, from that inference^ became dear. '' Yes, ^ve shall meet/* COKFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 193 meet/' he exclaimed, and the frolic ray of hope, of sanguine expectation, fanned his warm heart, and glowed upon his cheek—'' we shall meet in bliss, in joy, in sympathy; the yearning voice of na- ture will proclaim the blest tie of con- sanguinity, and parental hope and filial duty will arise/* Suddenly the new scenes of anticipated rapture faded; suddenly all alike ga^^ place to the image of the mysterious stranger, which, like an evil genius, mock- ed all his plans, and blighted his expec- tations. Each instant did the bond be- come more galling; each instant did his free-born spirit spurn at a restraint which necessity enjoined. He dared not quit Valombre; he dared not fulfil the ^n:\cd mission of the father abbot, without (ivst consulting, and apprizing the being, who, vol., I, K strengthened 194: CONFESSIONAL OF VAL0MBI5E, Strengthened by the authority of a com- pulsatory oath, awed him by threats, and guided him by credulity. He breathed •not the slightest shadow of perplexity to father Betsolin^ lest he should call forth inquiries he could not resolve; but \yatched the approaching period of com- iBunication with the stranger, with an impatience he could scarcely controul. The s\yelling moon, gradually encyeas- iiig, wanted but one dgy to complete her round and perfect disk ; but one day^ to fulfil the signal for the stranger's remem- brance-^-the signal, when metpory was fanned by threats and adjurations. Theodore, impatient of controul pant- ing for liberty to attend the call of duty, yet dreading to meet some dire obstacle tp his wishes^ deposited beneath the ruin- ed arehway a leaf of his tablet, not ao- liciting CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 195 Uniting permission, not owning autho- rity, but true to his word, simply hinting the approaching legation, which was ©bout to call him from Valombre. His conchmion, that the hand which placed beneath the stone the letter for his in- iipecticn would see and remove his own, was accurate. On the succeeding night, when thq hallow-toncd clock had sounded the hour of midnight, and the eyes of observation were fast closed in sleep, Theodore agaiu: bent his step§ to the garden— again pass- ed bequeath the shadow of the archway*---- ggain started^ although in expectation of the shrill blast of the horn— agrnn struck his hand upon the tablet— again listened :r, vain for the signal of the stranger's ^pproc^ch^ then lifted the ^tonei mu'd J96 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBEE. , the deposited paper, and returned hastily to his cell. *' The hour for action is not yet arri- ved/' ran the contents of the paper — " Theodore^ yon may fulfil the misbion to Bena Copia. The present is the sea- Son for prayer, for fasting, and for pe- nance ; the next, infatuated boy ! will be a calling more glorious/' Theodore smiled incredulous — -''What calling can be more glorious than the office of religion ?" he thought; '' what calling can be more glorious than the sa- cred discharge of gratitude ?'* The stranger and the contents of the paper alike faded from imagination — alilie gave place to the varied scenes of anticipation, which conjuring the al- most shapeless images of an unknown world. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMRRE. 19-7 world, decked it in colonrs so gay and so resplendent, as almost to dazzle the eyes of the sanguine visionary. 'Tis true,, the heart of my hero had once sighed for profession — had once pictured peace, as alone to be found within the walls of Valombre; *tis true, he had pe- titioned to be inaugurated a member of its sacred order; but 'fis also true, that one little hour had convinced him, that reason and conviction are the best guides of our actions. His heart, as I have be- fore expressed, was ever swayed by mo- mentary impulse — his heart possessed a rich store, which time and circumstances alone could awaken into beins:. Thus delineated, surely the most contradictory extremes may be admitted; surely the bewildering struggles of hope and fear, of pain and pleasure, may be said to rage with equal strength. K 3 CHAP. 19S CONFESSIONAt OF VALOnv^M, CHAP. VIII. In admonition warm. Oft did he caution 'Gainst each sin that eusily tesets The heart. Polwhele's Exglisk Oratoh- " Sweet Hospitality ! thy genial ray, L'nleagued with wealth, or leUer'd lore, smiles midst The lovviy haunts of labour's sons, and decks The board of poverty with incense bland, As flows from courtly state." '' Bene vertat Dens!" murmui*ed the ab- bot, placing his spread hand oh the hi^ad of the kneeling Theodore, who, at t"he first early peep of day, ere yet the lag- ging vapours of night had dissipated, re- paired to the cell of the superior, to receive, with the credentials of his em- bassy, the paternal benediction. Glowing in the warm ardour of ex- pectant youth — Enthusiasm painting her softened CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMERK. 199 softened die upon his cheek, and kindling in his sloe-black eyes the renovating fire of hope, he bounded, enriched and grate- ful, to the little dormitory of father Bet- solin. The monk had already risen ; his hard pallet yielded not repose, for fancy, fanning the powers of imagination, had pictured to his bosom's charge the threat of danger. A thousand unknown fears oppressed him, fears, owing birth to the creative brain, yet fears sufficient to mag- nify improbability into certainty. It was not for his honour — ^it was not for his probity that the good man trembled; neither was it for his affection or his gra- titude; those, conviction whispered,, would stand the test of allurements — those were established on too firm a basis to be stag- gered by a casual insight into the world: it was for his inexperience ; it was for K 4 that !800 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. that sensitive emotion of soul, which, as a feather before the wind, constitutes it the slave of every new and propelling iirspiiise. The monk smiled at his own conclu- sions. '"Alas!" he mentally asked, "what of the world can be distinguished, in a Jone pilgrimage from Valombre to the convent of Bena Copia ?" His fears were appeased but for a mo- ment ; his courage, his heart drooped^ when he traced the power of enthusiasm — the new and delightful sensations of nature, in the now- flushed cheek, and animated eye of his pupil. " Alas ! my son," he articulated, " I see you depart, with a mind foreboding woe — a mind full of dark presages — a mind " *' Father," interrupted Theodore, bend- ing o'er the hand of his sage instructor^ '' why eOxN'FESSIOXAL OF VALOMBRE. 201 " why need you fear ? Youth will sur- mount the trials of the journey; and even now, courage smiles at its dangers, and piety lightens on to the pursuit/' " But what will surmount the trials of the heart?" questioned the monk, his thoughts momentarily reverting to his own early years of existing passion. ''Say, what will ward the shafts of sensibility? — what will blunt the feelinsfs of nature ?'* '' Father, Vv^hat mean you ?" asked the astonished Theodore. " Sensibility is that sweet attribute of Heaven, which- binds us to each other ; is that trembling: impulse of soul, which drops on affliction the balmy tear of sympathy: and Na- ture," raising his dark eyes, with ener- getic ardour, to the face of his attentive auditor, " is the noble, the irresistible, the godlike produce of a hand divine !" K 5 The so 9 CONFESSION AL OF VALOMBRE. The monk sighed — '' Often/' he said, nieekly bending his eyes to the earthy * the very gifts of Heaven are, in the blind guidance of unthinking man, the instruments of condemnation; or why do we see the energies of an exalted soul tainted, polluted, debased by the world ? Alas ! my son, unless checked by the rein of reason, unless under the controul of moderation, nature is as a ship without a rudder, the sport of every revolving blast, outstripping the barrier of discre- tion, and plungingher warm votarist into the mazes of error/' *' But Nature," artlessly observed The- odore, *' in our solitude need fear no assailments; she needs no controul, be- cause her attributes are innocent." " In one short hour,*' solemnly re- joined the monk^ *' this solitude will be shut CONFESSIONAL OP 7AL0MBRE. 203 shut from your eyes — in one short hour, wandering beyond the peaceful walls of Valombre, you may be exposed to temp- tation, exposed to artifice, perhaps ex- posed to guilt/' '' And must I wander far to meet the fiend of man ?" demanded Theodore. "Ah, father ! guilt once found entrance even within this holy community/' The monk shuddered ; for a moment he stood irresolute, then exclaimed, '^Yes, dear and cherished orphan, mur- der crimsoned the hallowed limits of Va- Ipmbre's confessional, and blood sprink- led the bleeding form of a newly-found Theodore:' " I — I—" faltered the youth. ^'^ Yes, you, my son. The moment of your entrance within these walls was the moment of fate to Valombre';3 superior!'* K G and 90 i CONFESSIONAL OF VAT OMBRE. and then, in accents of horror and com- miseration, he disclosed the fearful par- ticulars, which nineteen years had not expunged from recollection. The youth was affected to tears. '' Di- vine Ruler of heaven and earth !'* he eja- culated, yielding to the warm fervour of a heart replete with grateful adoration, " I thank thee for snatching me from contagion and vice ! I thank thee for an asylum, which has preserved my youth from temptation, my mind from error ! and oh ! I thank thee, doubly, doubly thank thee," grasping the hand of the monk, '' for this, my instructor — my guide — my father!'' The good man snatched him to his bo- som. '' But t!ie ring, father," engerly inter- rogated Theodore, as gratefully he re- turned CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 205 turned the pressure of affection — " my birth — my parents *' "Are alike unknown," rejoined father Betsolin — ^' are alike involved in mys- tery — ^are alike registered on the inscru- table page of fate. The ring, the dag- ger, and the bloody garments of the mar- tyred St. Theodore, are preserved in the sacristy of our convent ; are preserved for a double purpose — the first, should Heaven will it so, to convict the mur- derer; the last, to elucidate the claims and prospects of the foundling.'* Theodore bowed his head in silence. "Time,'* continued the monk, "and a firm reliance on the interposing mercy of Providence, may yet change the heart of guilt — may yet humble it to repen- tance. Ofifer up your orisons, my son, for the conversion of the sinner, and in the !S06 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. the redemption of a soul, generously forget your own injuries." Theodore approached the door; he turned ; he beheld the eyes of his aged friend surcharged with tears. He paused - — his heart failed him, whilst his own glittered with the sweet dew of sym- pathy. With momentary exertion the monk advanced; fortitude pronounced adieu, but affection retained the hand extended: and when again he pressed him to his bosom, it was with a warmth, with a fer- vour, which mocked the cowl's boasted conquest over feeling. Musing o'er the relation of father Bet- soli n, Theodore passed through the outer gate of the convent. Not the wide extent of country, diversified with a thousand grand and picturesque objects; not CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. 207 not the swiftly-stealing waves of the Ga- ronne, nor the gigantic outline of moun- tain-scenery, which burst in bold per- spective before him, could rouse him from the enanguished revisal of past oc- currences. The bleeding form of the abbot — the mysterious flight of the stran- ger — his own unknown, his own isolated prospects, alternately succeeded, alter- nately crushed the buds of hope, and coloured the spontaneous sigh. His mission to Bena Copia, and the new and sanguine anticipations of youth, arising in a transient enlargement from conven- tual seclusion, became expunged, blasted, not with the mildew of disappointment, but by a refinement of sentiment, which conjured a thousand visions of torture. He started — he shuddered — for the mur- derer, and the author of his being, ap- peared 208 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. peared one. The most dark, the mast corroding images crowded upon memo- ry, and every warm hope, every glowing anticipation closed in despair. He paus- ed on the summit of a jutting rock which commanded the precincts of Valombre, his eyes mechanically resting on the asy- lum of his infancy, upon which th^brig^ht reflection of the sun, sparkling in reful- gence, emblazoned the stained casements with a variegated brightness, which ex- tending o'er the whole mass of building, gave to its gothic pillars, its towers, and its steeples, a rich and dazzling lustre. Alas! how many pleasing — how many painful^ — how many indescribable sensa- tions had gained birth within those walls ! There the gradual swell of reason had ripened into being; there the genial energies of nature had yielded to in- struction CONFESSIONAL OFVaLOMBRE. SO.9 struction and to piety ; there, alas! the compact of secrecy had been closed; and there, to redeem the threatened life of his preceptor, his actions had become amen- able to a mysterious instigator. The knowledge of his slavery — the struggles of pride, of wounded feeling, alike suc- ceeded. " Righteous are my motives,'* he articulated, dashing the truant tear from his eye ; ''sweet saints of mercy, witness for me, that no unhallowed cause impels my conduct \'* He turned from Valombre ; he pursu- ed his route ; and when again he paused ' — when again his eyes wandered in the direction of its towers, he sighed, for dis- tance had closed them from his sight. The rich sketches of scenery which spread in mossy verdure before him,, the inter- spersed windings of the Garonne, the wavy SrO CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMERE. wavy prorusion of variegated foliage, ijaellowiiig the gently sweeping sides of the mountain, but, above all, the pictu- resque dwellings of industry, peering amidst mingled beauties of cultivation and nature, stole his thoughts from their usual bent — his own perplexities, and fixed them in a contemplation more con- genial — the blessings of his fellow-crea- tures. In every cottage, his imagination created an ideal paradise ; fancy pene- trated the mud-built walls, and enthusi- asm gave zest to each character — the husband — the father reigned conspicu- ous: Nature's glow^ing pencil coloured each flight, while Love, sliiy lurking in his bosom, laughed at the usurpation — Love was a power Theodore had dared to brave ; nay, ignorant of the ardour of his own feelings, a novice to the heart's soft CDNrESSIONAL OF ^^ILOMBKE. 5il. soft w^anderings, he fancied judgment and reason could ever stem, could ever siib-= vert a passion, whose very birth, inex- perience pictured to have been the heat» ed exuberance of the poet's brain. He admitted the claims of consanguinity, of social intercoin'se ; all, save the sympa- thy of resistless prepossession; and that, because he had never felt, he almost doubted the possibility of feeling. At n ight, he rested within a hermi t 's soli- tary dwelling, and with the morning's sun^ invigorated, refreshed, guided by tht directions of the devotee, again set for- \vard on his mission. That day, as the one preceding, passed in persevering toil, and silent meditation. More lone, more solitary, more deserted, seldom did his eye m.ark the haunts of man ; seldom did his ear catch the buz of animated nature. The ^12 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. The face of the Coventry wore a more gigantic oiUlinej rocks and barren steeps frowned in awful grandeur, and the agi- tated waves of the Garonne, no longer sparkling amidst vineyards and olive- grounds, rolled, impetuous of restraint, down steep and shelving declivities. The heavens themselves lowered in porten- tous gloom: the sun was obscured; no golden ray penetrated the vapoury clouds which dimmed its splendour ; thick, shapeless, they rolled their dark columm? - overhead, decking day in the sombre li- very of twilight. Theodore in vain look' ed around for shelter : the rain began to fall, and the roar of distant thunder re- verberated in deep and hollow echoes. Still no thatch "gladdened his searchino- eye, and the high branches of the cork- trees promised but partial security. As CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 213 As he Stood deliberating how to act, a iihrill whistle mocked the picture of soli- tary desertion his imagination had sketch- ed ; another succeeded ; and then a peal of thunder deadened every lesser sound. Theodore loudly hallooed, but echo alone responded. He quitted the um^ brageous shadow of the trees, and with difficulty ascended an almost inaccessible steep ; but alas ! the smiling prospect of shelter crowned not his toils ,' a valley spread itself at the base of the mountain,' but that valley held forth no indication of inhabitants. Dispirited, he was descending, when a. third whistle, sounding nearer, conviu'- ced him some human being wandered like himself; perhaps a signal for sue* cour — perhaps a traveller, overtaken by the storm, in these iuhospirable wilds. The gl4 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMERE. The possibility was a goading spur to ex- ertion — Theodore spruag upon the high- est pinnacle of the rock; and in a pause of the storm, in loud hallooings, flung hk voice to the farthest echo— that echo died awav— a still calm succeeded; and then a responsive voice again called forth U^ reverber^tiQns, The hoarse barXiug ©f*a dog marked some retreat of dom^s-, tic intercourse; and n fqv/ niornent^^fte^^ he discovered a hind ddvlng ^amQ gQ^t^ down the gr-een slope of the mountairi, *^ TkQ saints guard lis/* ej^claimed the cottager, ?iS, with ^n agile l^Qund, Thp.a^ dor^ advanced toWf^rds hini:, ^^ what n tempest h thl^ for man tq we^ather ! By the mass ! my heart ached ^ov yon pQQp be;;3t8,' ?,n4 tho^Jgh ipy nipthei' pray eel m0 to 3tay with her, I cc?uld not leav^ iliem ^^pos^dfQ it§^ pollings/' ^^ fvQm CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBBE. 915 ** From a soul so feelingly alive to compassion/* said Theodore^ '"^ surely I shall not in vain crave shelter.'* ^' In vain; no, no^ monsieur; where Providence showers blessings, man should extend them to his fell ow-creaturess. Though our dwelling is small, our hearts are content ; and if v^q labour hard, why our rest is the sweeter.*'' ^' I have found one happy being/^ thought Theodore, vs, with a smiie of complacence, he viewed the sunburnt features of his conductor, '• Father Bet<» solin is right; the world, no doubt, can boast many specimens of felicity" Yet eager to substantiate his own hypothesi^^^ that love was not the ripening ^un of bliss— ''You live alone with your mo- tber?"hedemanded; "you Ir^bour hard fop her 916 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. hex'' maintenance, and yet you are con- tent?" An arch smile marked the countenance ofAntoine; he would have replied, but his goats had straggled from the path ; ^ besides the cottage held forth a shelter. The rain fell with increased violence, and his aged mother awaited him at the door, ^' J have brought you home a stranger^ mother," said Antoine, as the dame eyed our hero, *^ It was a mercy we met I Had I not' gone in search of my goats, he might have died upon the mountain," " It was a mercy to me," observed The« odore, following the dame into the coU t7\ge : and then he would have expressed his grateful sense of Kindness; but An- toine fled to pen up his goats, and the dame silenced him. by saying, *' The heart ^vas ever the best recompencei" and ihcii CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 217 then she questioned him as to the bent of his journey, and listened to the un- varnished tale of his mission, with un- broken attention. '' So young, yet en- trusted with so sacred an office !" she ex- claimed, eyeing him with amazement : '' in truth, monsieur, some miracle niust have been wrought in your favour, or the holj fathers could never have relied on your inexperience. At your age, there are so many temptations and so mafly snares." " What, upon these mountains?" ques- tioned Theodore. ^' No, no," she rejoined, ''in the heart, more than on these mountains." Theodore smiled incredulous. *' The heart, guided by reason, defended by principle," he answered, '' mans, with a shield of adamant, the incursions of evil.*' VOL. J. T, '' Wi'I 218 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. " Will reason, will principle defend it from the incursions of love?" asked the dame. " It will do more/* eagerly rejoined Theodore ; '^ it will subvert, it will defy the frivolous reign of imagined prepos- session — Love is but a self-created pas- sion, an infatuation of the senses, a weak- ness of the brain, which judgment and conviction must condemn." " The saints guard us !'* exclaimed the dame, *'but you argue as coldly as though the cowl had enforced forbearance. Why, monsieur, can man change his nature?** *' Not absolutely his nature,'* replied our young philosopher, '^ but he can check the exuberance of inclination, and curb the wild flights of passion : thesub- limest work of his Creator — man, can maintain the pre-eminence of wisdom." ' You OONTHSSIONAL OK VALOMBKE. 219 '' You must be a saint/' observed the dame. Theodore smiled — butnot with a saint's humility, for exultation and gratified pride were the true incentives of that smile. The thunder and the lightning ceased, but the rain still pelted, and night closed upon our hero, beneath the shel- tering hospitality of the wood-cutter's dwelling. Led by the dame to an inner chamber, he again gave birth to the grate- ful feelings of his heart, and again was checked in the soft effusion. '' You speak," said the dame, '*' as though you had been unaccustomed to kindness; or," smiling, ^' as though kindness was confined to your convent." '^'^ Pardon me, good mother/' replied Theodore, "I would but evince kindness \^ not lavished on an ingrate. Heaven h % knows, 220 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. knows, from the earliest years of exis- tence, I have been indebted, even for the privilege to breathe, to the philanthropy of strangers." The dame was softened ; a tear trem- bled in her eye. " The Virgin guard your slumbers !'* she articulated, as she quitted the chamber. Theodore, left to his own reflections, blessed the fortunate chance which had befriended his meeting Antoine on the mountains, who good-naturedly promis- ed, on the morrow, to be his guide to the convent of Eena Copia,. situated scarce half a league from the valley. Wrapt in the balm of a contented mind, at peace with the world, and thank- ful for his blessings, he stretched his weary limbs upon the humble pallet of repose, and soon sought health and strength CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 221 Strength in the invigorating trance of forsret fulness. CHAP. IX. His ears, his greedy eyes, his thirsty soul, Dranl> gorging in the dear dehcious poison. Smith. The morning sun^ peering through the windows of the cottage, aroused Theo- dore from his downy slumbers. His thoughts were peace, for he had dreamt of the pious inhabitants of Valombre ; he had heard the blessing of father Betsolin ; he had felt the warm pressure of the monk's embrace ; and when he rose from his humble couch, a smile of the sweetest benignity played upon his features. He threw open the little lattice — he gazed L 3 upon 222 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMF.ilE. upon the Aivid picture of creation. What a transition, to when, wet and com- fortless, he had descended into the valley ! It seemed the rich seat of vegetation, sheltered by protecting rocks, watered by a gently-swelling lake : then, rough, defaced ; then, agitated by boisterous elements ; then, reflecting the quick suc- ceeding flash of electric fire : now, undu- lating beneath the freshness of the morn- ing air, balmy with the sweet fragrance of a thousand blossoms sweeping o'er its blue surface, and gently bending the spicy shrubs which fringed its borders. Theodore quitted the cottage ; he as- cended the verdant side of the moun- tain ; he reached the summit; he gazed on the calm and peaceful valley at its base, and saw the curling smoke of the wood-cutter*s dwelling, dissolving amid the CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMERE. 223 the rich tints of embosoming woods. He turned to view the opposite side : the contrast was striking — Nature, as though in sporty was there in her wildest garb delineated, for rock rose above rock, and mountain towered beyond mountain. The path was steep, and aimost inaccessi- ble, yet did the spirit of enterprise guide the light foot of Theodore. Not the loud cataract, '^ tumbling through rocks abrupt, and sounding far," daunted his ardour ; his was the genius of romance, and the threat of danger, and the shadow of fear, were alike unthought of. Often he paused, for chasms, formed by the at- trition of rushing springs, obstructed hi^ passage ; often he stooped to cull the bulbocodium, or to tear from its genial stalk the blossoming orpine. Refreshed, invigorated, he returned to the rustic , L 4 habitation 2!84 CONFESSIONAL OF X^ALOMERC. habitation of the humble Antoine, and at the door, met his host, laden with the spoils of his labour. *' Let me lighten your burthen, my honest friend," said Theodore : '' 'tis a bitter task to groan beneath a weight so heavy/* The wood-cutter smiled — 'Mn truth/' he exclaimed, " m.y task would be much more bitter, were I to come home emp- ty handed. I work hard, but, the Virgin be praised ! I have health and strength to meet the office; aye, and resolution also : and if my days are days of labour, my rights are nights of rest." " Then you are happy,'* said Theo- dore, breathing an involuntary sigh. " Happy," repeated Antoine, '' yes, monsieur, I am happy as a prince ! The good father Baptist absolves my offences, limits CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 225 limits my penances, and commends my piety. Every sabbath, and every holyday, I attend my mother to the chapel of Be- na Copia ; there I repeat my credo and my paternoster : and then I bring my aged mother home; and then, oh ! then, monsieur, my reward begins; for then I fly to yon little cottage, at the further end of the lake/* throwing down his bur- den, and directing the glance of his hear- er. '' Do you see it, monsieur ? looks but a white speck from here, for is almost buried in yon grove of cork- trees.'* '' I cannot distinguish a cottage," re- plied Theodore. " Tis strange,'* resumed Antoine; " I can see the very lattice that opens from Javotte*s chamber; nay, I can see the L 5 pretty f26 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOxMBRE. pretty bower of rose-bushes we planted together." " Fancy sometimes pierces the limits of probability/* observed Theodore : '* but who is Javotte ? and why is yon little cottage the seat of your happi- ness?" '' Javotte," exclaimed Antoine, and his ruddy cheek flushed a deeper tint, " is the prettiest girl in Gascony ; and yon cottage is where she lives w^ith her pa- rents. She is so good, and so gentle, and so kind, and so affectionate ! oh, if you was to hear her sing, you would ne- ver forget it ! Sometimes, for whole hours, she sits at the door, chanting the vesper-hymn, and sometimes warbling little ditties she learns at the convent. Father Baptist says, we should not marry because CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 227 because we are poor ; but industry will give us bread, and love will give us com- fort : besides, the Virgin is good to her votaries, and Javotte and I never miss offering up our prayers.*' '* It seems then,** said Theodore, ''that all your joys centre in devotion and Ja- votte.*' '' Where else should they centre?" <3uestioned Antoine. " Nay,'* rejoined Theodore, smiling, " devotion is a firm security, but love is a subtle one." " Ah ! but not Javotte,** concluded the ardent rustic. " Perhaps not," said Theodore — '' Ja- votte possesses the innocence of unviti- ated nature, and knows not a wish be- yond her cottage-wails." •'There you are wrong, monsieur,** L 6 rejoined 22S CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. rejoined Antoine; " Javotte^s wishes have nothing to do with her cottage-^walls — if you had said they pointed to these walls/* glancing with exulting security to his own little dwelling, '' in truth, you would have been nearer the mark. My cabin is mud-built, monsieur, but it has stood many a winter's blast — I was born in it ; aye, and, the Virgin grant ! shall die in it also.'* *' Pardon me,'* resumed Theodore, *' I meant, that your pretty Javotte, never having wandered from this valley, could form ne pictures of happiness beyond it.*' " Not beyond this valley,** repeated Antoine; *' why, monsieur, scarce a day passes but Javotte visits the convent of Bena Copia, and that is on the other side of yon hill : besides^ she has twice been to CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. 229 to^the fair at Tramesaigne. If you had seen her then, in her little green jacket, and her gipsy-hat, and her rose-coloured ribbons, and her cheeks almost as red, tripping -light as any fairy, you would say Antoine was a happy fellow !'* '' I do say Antoine is a happy fellow '/' exclaimed Theodore. '' No, not happy either," resumed An- toine, and a cloud of momentary thought saddened his features, ^' not happy, mon- sieur, for I want to marry Javotte directly, and her mother, guided by that cross old father Baptist, wont give consent till she is eiiirhteen. 'Tis stran2;e: mv Javotte was born before dame Perria was eigh- teen, and father Baptist himself used to tell us to tread in our parents' steps." *' 'Tis a blessed guide to go by," said Theodore,sighing at hisown orphan state. " So S30 CONPESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. " So I lell my Javotte," replied An- toine, " but she laughs at all my argu- ments^ and vowSj if I was as old as the monk himself, my reasoning would not convince her.'* ^' " Perhaps not/' archly observed Theo- dore. '' In the present case, my honest friend, patience seems the only resource." Antoine replaced the load on his shoulder;, and moved towards ihe cot- tage. The morning's homely meal was no sooner passed, than Theodore requested Antoine to become his guide to Bena Copia. He longed to fulfil the wishes of the superior of Valombre, and to de- posit into the hands of the lady abbess the documents entrusted to his care. " Holy St. Ursula ! 'tis no use to go to-day/' exclaimed Anloine. " I had forgotten. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. ^31 forgotten, the lady abbess can give no time to strangers/* '' Why not to-day ?'' demanded Theo- done. " Because/' replied the cottager^ '' to- day is the profession of a novice, and all the sisters will be engaged : and there will be such crowds in the chapel— I dare swear all the inhabitants of Trainesaigne will be present/* *' I never witnessed the inauguration of a nun," said Theodore, musing; ''I should like to mingle in the crowd.** ''That you may do, monsieur," rejoin^ ed Antoine. '' I will direct you within sight of the convent-gate, but no fur- ther: I never saw but one sacrifice, and, by the mass ! I cried all night. *Tis a me- lancholy sight ! If my Javotte was to become a nun, I do think I should die." -Boy, 632 CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. " BoV:, yon talk like an unbeliever/' exclaimed the dame, who, seated in the chimney-corner, had been a silent hearer of the conversation. ''^ Blessed Mary ! thousands had better become nuns than %vives.** *' I query, mother/' archly observed Antoine, '' if you would have liked to have made one of the thousand.'* " It would have saved me many a tear/' articulated the dame^ unmindful of the remark. "Ah ! but it would have cost you many asi^h/' concluded her son. *' 'Tis a true saying, that in this world there is little else than mourning and woe/' said the dame, devoutly crossing herself. '' When I followed your poor father to the grave " *' Hush, dear mother!" interrupted Antoine, CONFESSIOVAL OF VALOMB^lfi. 233 Antoine^ " you always get upon that theme.** '^ I wonder," concluded the dame, wiping a tear from her cheek, '' what nun ivould have exchanged her veil for my widow's hood/* "Ah, mother!'* said the w^ood-cuttc, and his humid eye marked the force of nature and of sympathy, '^before you became a widow, you would not, to have been the lady abbess of Bena Copia her- self, have given up your cottage and your comforts.** '* No,** eagerly exclaimed the dame, oazins: on him with looks of maternal love, "nor after, must I have given up my cottage and my boy.'* "God of nature/' ejaculated Theo- dore, " wise are thy ordinations ! every state ran boast its blessings. Surely man ought 234 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMEKE. pught to be grateful for the distribu- tion, without envying the limitation of pthers !" " Ah, but man never was!" resumed the dame. " Often and often do I tell my foolish boy, when the husband of Ja- votte^ he will have something to sigh for. You are younger than Antoine, mon- sieur, and yet you reason, and decide, as though gifted with experience/' Theodore smiled — " My experience is gleaned from theory, not practice, good mother,** he replied : '' to the warning counsels of others am I indebt- ed for caution and foresight.** Poor Theodore ! rather hadst thou said, *' Am 1 indebted for the powers of argument/* Alas ! a few flitting moments alone re- ET.ained for thee to boast of cmition and foresight ! CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 235 foresighc! Guided by the charm of no- velty, that never-failing incentive in the voLilhful mind — ea<»:er to behold the ce- remony of the new initiation, Theodore, attended by Antoine, quitted the cottage, and bent his steps to the convent. The lake's pellucid bosom, catching from the azure sky a bright reflection, swelled, with seeming pride, beneath the sparkling splendour of the sunbeams ; and morning's soft zephyr, sighing amid the thick intwining foliage of vivid crea- tion, came laden with rich and delicious odours. Calm was the sight of Javotte's cot- tage ; half-way climbing up a steep, clothed with vines, olives, capers, mul- berries, and chesnuts. A little garden led to the porch, in which the varied ^ blossoms 236 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. blossoms of a thousand flowers flourish- ed in sweet harmony. Theodore paused for a moment; in- dustry and peace seemed there enshrined, and love, in the speaking eyes of the wood-cutter, to haii it paradise. Lingering behind, '' Monsieur," he exclaimed, *' yon path leads ^o the top of the hill ; when you have gained it, the spires of Bena Copialie before you.'* Theodore smiled, and proceeded, for Antoine, opening the little wicket, flew through the garden, and entered the cot- tage. *' This is love," mused the youth- ful missionary ; " this is the boasted pre- rogative of nature ; this is the master- passion, which subdues man's lordly mind, and binds him in the chains of fas- cination. Poor Antoine! ignorance alone be CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 237 be your privilege : yes," with fancied security, '' o'er weak and puerile minds love may tyrannize ; but i\\e force of reason^ the powers of conviction, defy his inroads." On reaching the summit of the hill, Theodore beheld before him the black and time-encrusted walls of the monas-' tery. He gazed on its rocky site w^ith awe and wonder, for, as an eagle's nest, it seemed to hang arnidst crags and broken fissures, beetling o'er the yawning brink of a perpendicular precipice. To the left rolled the deeply-sounding waves of the Garonne; to the right, a dark forest of pines blackened the dreary waste. The rock upon which the monastery bulged looked barren and desolate ; stratas of bituminous earth alone relieved the din- gy sameness of its colour, save, here and there, 238 CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. there, where clumps of sun-scorched heath, thinly diversified by the stunted blossoms of the golden-tinted saffron, rose the fragile emblems of nature's sport. A flight of steps, cut in its solid bosom, led, with winding and difficult ascent, to the gate, which, guarded by two watch- towers, frowned in awful security. Theodore paused involuntarily ; a smile of nameless birth played o'er his features^ as his eyes, for the first time, traced the busy throng of approach- ing numbers. A troop of peasants were descending the sloping side of the mountain; the girls habited in the light fantastic garb of rustic simpliciry, the young men in their holyday suits. He saw the sportive gesture of youthful fro- lic ; be heard the playful echo of youth- ful laughter, unchecked by the freezing etiquette CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 239 etiquette of worldly form; for artless in- nocence marked each incursion of free- dom, as blushing modesty's light carna- tion recorded the transgression. Theodore's heart beat to the throbbing pulse of ecstacy ; his cheeks glowed with animating fervour, as his dark eyes, in the impassioned impulse of his feel- ings, were raised to heaven. '^Mother of God !'* he aspirated, " why from an inter- course so congenial am I for ever exclud- ed?" ' For a moment, the brethren of Valom- bre had ceased to be ; for a momenta every local claim yielded to the propell- ing language of nature— Alas! he forgot that life teems with variegated pictures; he forgot, that to witness the mournful profession of a self-devoted victim, the objects of his envy had assembled, Pressing 240 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. Pressing forward, he reached the gate in time to swell the rustic train, and^ without speaking, proceeded with them into the chapel. The commencement of the ceremony was marked by the soft modulations of the organ, and the concordant har- mony of the nunSj chanting a hymn of praise, suited to the living death of the professed. Every eye was raised in de- votion — every knee was bent in submis- sion—for " Tlie poisonous charms Of baleful superstition, guides the heart or servile numbers." Tears streamed down the cheeks of the missionary — tears of compassion — ^tears of sympathy : he gazed upon the altar, sparkling in all the rich gems of the sa- cristy, and beheld the approach of the novice. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRfi. 241 novice, with sensitive trepidation — '^ Ah, no, no !'* he mentally sighed, " the heart covets bliss in the social circles of com- munication ;'* and then he shuddered at the film which had once clouded his own discernment. Suddenly he beiit forward — suddenly admiration and surprise rivetted his at- tention; he could scarcely breathe : the altar, the profession, the abbess, the nuns, nil— all vanished : ore object alone re- mained ,' one object, which, in the glance of a moment, absorbed his whole being, nr.d filled him with painful melancholvi yet delightful emotions; that object was the aerial form of the novice's attendant — • Jhat object was the youthful model of female loveliness. Her features were shadowed by the flowing drapery of hep vellrbutthQ symmetry of her perfect 242 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBKE. form defied the scrutiny of sculptured exactness. On reaching the step of the altar, that envious veil was thrown back, and the face, revealed, realized the warm anticipations of sanguine youth. Daz- zling as the snow-crowned summit of the mountain was her polished forehead ; dark as the ebon tint of the Ethiopian, her animated eyes; yet might be traced an expression, which softening into lan- guor, spoke its birth in feeling : every feature was alike impressive, was alike jthe master-stamp of nature; and the glowing tint upon her cheek rivalled the roses her ivory hand scattered. Love, jealous of the boasted powers of reason, scoffing at the pretended confi- dence of inexperienced youth, eager to assert the omnipotence of his authority, and to punish the rebel who had dared to CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. 243 to doubt his pre-eminence^ hurled at the devoted heart of the 4Tiissionary the sharpest arrow in his quiver. The poi- son was baleful, but it was pleasing; and Theodore, the slave of impulse, the crea- ture of sentiment, yielded to nature's soft passion, and forged in one short mo- ment the rosy fetters of eternal bondage. He watched the b'ght n?ovements of the maid— he saw her eyes surcharged with tears— he saw her heaving bosom swell with the sigh of commiseration— he saw her kneel on the step of the altar, and pour forth the fervent offerings of piety. Again the arched roof reverberated the iVll choir, and then ihe sernph voice of the stranger breathed the tones of magic r^weetness. Theodore was all ear — all eves, jviis'dul were the visions which flitted o'er bi^ brain I t^nd when the ceremony closed M 2 —'When 1^44 CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMEKE. — \vhen fate had sealed the irrevocable vow of the newly-initiated sister — when the nuns had deserted the chapel, he stood, with folded arms, gazing on the door, through which he had lost sight of the so-late-discovered object of his ado- ration. With what different sensations to what he had entered, did he re-cross the tlireshold ! Then^ guided by curiosity ; then, defying the controul of passion : now, bearing in his heart a thorn, whose rankling gangrene threatened future peace. Ke shuddered as the gate closed after him ; and slow and lagging were the steps with which he descended the rocky steep. :Many a wistful look did he cast towards the monastery ; many and oft times did he pause, and with his eyes measure the high and cheerless walls. At length he reached the summit of the hill, CONFESSIOMAT. OF VAT.OMBRt;. 24 > hill, at whose base stretched the rich val- ley, in which was ihQ peaceful dwelling of the wood-cutter. Scenes of delight, opening to his view, tranced in bliss the light tissue of imagination, as he gazed upon the curling smoke, ascending from the chimney of Javotle's cottage. Plen- ty smiled in the olive-grounds by which it was surrounded ; and Health, the off- spring of Labour — Content^ the daughter of Moderation, seemed there to have fix- ed their abode. To know himself the ow^ner of that cottage — to know his cares lightened by the tender gentleness of participation — to know his griefs, and his anxieties, his ■pains, and his troubles, hushed, solaced by sympathetic affection^, was a new, but an exquisite reverie — a reverie which ab- sorbed his whole soul, which tinged every M 3 impulse ^46 CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. impulse of his nature. Yes, that cotfnge had become the Elysium of ideal beati- tude, and the fascinating being he had seen at Bena Copia its ministering angel. Brushing, with hasty steps, o'er the thymy sward, his cheeks flushed with the liveliest carnation, his eyes swimming in tears, and his hands clasped in rapture, he approached the cottage-garden, without perceiving that Javotte and her lover were stationed at the gate. '' By St. Mary ! I said so," exclaimed Antoine, Theodore started — he looked up — Ja^ votte dropped a curtsey. '' I said,'* pursued the rustic, " 'twas a grievous sight ! I warrant, monsieur, you wouldn't volunteer it a second time." *' A second time," repeated the enthu- siastic Theodore, thinking alone of the lovely CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 247 lovely stranger — '' oh yes^ I would vo- lunteer it for ever !" " For ever. Mother of God !'* ejacu- lated the astonished Javotte- — '' 'tis so — so unnatural — 'tis so — so," and then she paused, blushed, and her dark eyes sought the ground. " And yet you shed tears, monsieur," remarked Antoine ; *' yours is a strange taste, methinks. Give me a life of joy, not sorrow." *' There are tears of joy as well as sor- row," said Theodore. " Surely,'* exclaimed Javotte, '' tears of joy cannot mark the profession of poor sister Monique." *' Do you know the sister ? do you know the inmates of Bena Copia ?" ea- gerly interrogated Theodore. '' Yes, that I do," replied Javotte, M 4 '' from S4S CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBPxE. *' from the lady abbess, to the portress at the gate. 1 was there at sunrise this morning, and helped to gather the roses for the lady Juliette to scatter.'* " The lady Juliette!'' reiterated Theo- dore — '' was the angelic being, who strewed roses in the path of the novice^ the lady Juliette?*' '' Yes," said Javotte, eager to pane- gyrise the virtues of her benefactress ; *' and she is the sweetest, gentlest, best lady in the province ! When my mother was ill, she came herself to our poor cot- tage, and administered, with her own hands, the simples father Baptist prescrib- ed ; she '' *' Sweet angel of compassion !" inter- rupted Theodoro. '•^ But how could she pass the bounds of the monastery ?*' " Oh ! she is only a boarder, monsieur'. Her CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 249 Her father is a great lord, and she is at Bena Copia for education.'* " Then she is not destined to be a nun/' exclaimed Theodore, his eyes sparkling with new-born hope. '' A nun/* repeated Javotte ; " oh no, monsieur, her destiny is far more bril- liant ! I have heard sister Lucille say, when she leaves the convent, she is to be married to a duke/* Theodore's heart died within him ; his cheek turned pale, as fearfully he gazed upon the speaker. " Marry a duke,'* exclaimed Antolne, " and visit your cottage, Javotte. By the mass, she can have no more pride than if she had been born in our valley !" " Pride, oh no ! she knows not what pride is/* replied the artless girl : "she talks to me just as if I were her equal : M 5 nay. 250 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMERE. nay, she promises to be my friend, and has offered to ^ake me to her father's beautiful castle." "And will you go with her?" fear- fully questioned Antoine. " Javotte, will you leave your cottage, your mother, and '* " Your lover," he would have con- cluded, but Javotte, extending her hand, eagerly interrupted him with, '^ No, no, Antoine, not if she would give me the castle. I told her my heart lay in this valley; and then she sweetly smiled, and said the heart should ever be the guide of our actions." Theodore started from abstraction ; hope flushed his cheek, and joy sparkled in his eyes. " Did she — did the lady Ju- liette give to the heart's guidance the reins of action ?" he interrogated, and then CONFESSIONAL OP VALOMBRE. 251 then he paused^ and smiled at his own energy. '' She says the heart is the surest pass- port to bliss/* rejoined Javotte, '' and I am sure she thinks so ; for she looks grievous sad, when she talks of the great duke her father intends her to marry/' " Then this proposed union is not her bosom's choice ?" questioned Theodore. ''Oh no, monsieur!" replied the lo- quacious girl. '' The saints aid her \ she would rather take the veil, and live and die a sister of Bena Copia. I have heard the nuns say, the duke is almost as old as the marquis, her father; how then can it be her bosom's choice ?'* '' Surely, surely,'* exclaimed Theo- dore, " parental authority can never vi- olate the feelings of the heart/' M 6 " The CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. " The marquis is very proud/* said Javotte, '' and pride, monsieur, scoffs at fine feelings/' . ''Ah! but not at a child's prayers/* rejoined our hero. '' I have heard say/' resumed Ja- votte, with a look of importance, *' that the great world values love no more than we do splendour ; and as for sympathy and sentiment, they say 'tis quite ideal.** '' I thought so once," murmured The- odore, with a sigh so deep, that Javotte and her lover started. " Yet you never mixed with the great world, monsieur," said Antoine. *' When the lady Juliette quits Bena Copia," interrogated Theodore, regard- less of the observation, '* tell me whither her father's power will convey her?" . "When CONFESSIONAL OF VAl.OMBRE. 25 S ''When the lady Juliette quits Bena* Copia/' replied Javotte^ '' she is going into Roussilion." '' Does her father reside in Roussil- lon ?" *' Yes, monsieur, near Perpignan." *' And there/* concluded Theodore, in accents of dejection, "there she will be married.*' " Oh no ! she will go first to Paris, and then But hark, my mother calls;" and with a rustic curtsey, she tripped into the cottage. Theodore wandered along the flowery borders of the lake, lost, absorbed. New and delicious visions flitted o'er his brain, colouring every idea of his romantic fan- cy : in one moment, in one transient glance, the boasted powers of reason, the imagined basis of forbearance, were anni- hilated; 254 CONFESSIONAL OF VaLOMBRE. hilated ; the prescribed limits of action, the long-contested groundwork of opi- nion, totally overthrown. He knew himself subdued, yet the sen- sation was entrancing ; he felt himself hurried away by the tide of his feelings, yet not for a moment did he struggle to redeem his peace — Theodore, till now the slave of his own doctrine — till now the arrogant controuler of nature — till now, swayed by the frigid rule of con- ventual austerity, weighing each exube- rant flight of passion in the scale of weak- ness, and condemning indiscriminately the lapse of thought as of action — Theo- dore, the same Theodore, yielded to the omnipotence of prepossession, and sunk a ready, a submissive captive to love. CHAP. CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. 255- CIIAP. X. Oh soft Remembrance ! airy spirit, Tliou iiccond life of bliss and pain; Extiuislte sense ot" keen delight, Who giv'st our feelings back again. Fox. The three succeeding days of our youth- ful missionary's sojournment at the cot- tage^ he visited, with ceaseless ,persever- ance, the grate of Bena Copia ; but not once did his eyes glance out the object of his eager search ; not once did they behold the beauteous vision, on whom fancy so faithfully lingered. He had been admitted into the parlour of the convent — he had conversed with the mother su- perior — he had deposited the documents into her hands, and now could claim no further plea to linger. Yet another day wore away, and still was So 6 CONFESSIONAL OF VALOMBRE. was he indebted to the hospitality of the vrood-cutter ; still did he fearfully pro- tract the hour of his departure. Heretofore his mind had been the seat of harmony — heretofore no discordant passion had arisen : night had brought re- pose ; day had beamed rich with the smil- ing sunshine of content : now he was un- happy — now he was agitated; sighs swel- led his bosom ; and each succeeding mo- ment oave birth to newcorrodin^rthous^ht. If he slept, imagination mocked him with -scenes of bliss — scenes of transporting beatitude — scenes, which to awaken was to dissipate, for then reality confirmed the truth of his enthralment, without portraying one lingering hope of future comfort. The last night — the last visit to Bena Copia arrived— his heart drooped as he traversed C01