CHAP. IX.
He arrived at the Castle without any accident, and was joyfully received by his friend. "I began to complain of you," said the Count; "I am a selfish mortal it is true, for, as I heard from the servant you kindly sent forward, that you were engaged in an affair of distress and sickness, knowing the benevolence and sympathy of your heart, I ought not to have desired to monopolize such a disposition to myself."
"Indeed," replied Ferdinand, "you do me more credit than I deserve: I was merely a spectator of the benevolence of others, without even presuming to offer my mite when I left the unfortunate young woman you have been told of. I left her, indeed, in much better hands, and feeling myself useless, when I understood she was out of danger, I hastened away; though I confess to you that I left hearts so congenial to my own, and I will say, to yours also, that I lamented the distance which seems placed between us."
At the Count's request he related the scenes already described, and mentioned the characters with esteem and respect.—"It is a singular affair," observed the Count, when he had finished his narration, "and a most providential meeting between the D'Alenberg family and Louisa. I have heard often of Count Wolfran before my seclusion from the world, he was then a very young and a very gay man, he can be but little turned of thirty now. I remember I once saw him, and thought him a most elegant figure."
"So much the worse," said Ferdinand, warmly, "since it is beyond a doubt that he is a villain, and would, most probably, but for this fortunate discovery, have ruined the happiness of a most lovely and amiable young Lady. I hope I shall never see him; but come, my dear Count (added he, in a quick tone) tell me in what manner you have been received coming from death to life, and in what way you found all your affairs?"
The Count told him he had found but little difficulty in being acknowledged by his friends, whom he had amused with an account that he had been travelling, under a borrowed name, to avoid trouble, and had resided both in London and Paris as a private man, until he was tired of the frolic."
This story, he said, had gained credit, and, as it was supposed he did not live without a companion, he had been rallied on his English and Parisian Ladies, which he bore tolerably well, and had therefore silenced curiosity by giving way to their own conjectures.
As to his estates, he found them in perfect good order, and was so well satisfied with his good old steward, Mr. Duclos, that he had presented him with a pretty little estate, and made him independent for life. "I have still enough (said he) I trust, to satisfy the demands of gratitude and friendship, and sufficient in my own power to make the man I esteem superior to receiving the narrow bounty of selfish, contracted hearts, who are incapable of doing justice to virtues they know not how to estimate, because no such inhabits their own bosoms.
"The variety of occupations in which I have been engaged," continued he, "since my arrival here, has given a diversity to my thoughts, very favourable towards recovering that tranquillized state of mind I wish for. Happiness is fled like a vision of the brain; but when I remember what I have been, and what I am now, I should be ungrateful to Providence if I was not thankful for the good, and submit to bear the evil with patience and resignation."
Ferdinand was delighted with the rationality of the Count's sentiments, and presaged much future contentment to a mind capable of such proper discrimination. His friend told him, "that having many accounts to settle, and leases to renew, he apprehended it would be at least a week or ten days before he could conveniently leave the country. Mean time (added he) command here as myself, the carriage, horses and servants, are your's. Do not confine yourself, but make a circuit round the environs of the Castle, you will find amusement and information.—Follow my example, engage your ideas in a continual variety that you may get out of yourself, and avoid a train of unpleasant reflections."
Ferdinand followed the Count's advice, and for three or four days, when the other was engaged with his steward and tenants, he was continually on horseback; but, alas! happiness is not dependant on exterior or local circumstances; whilst his eyes wandered over hills and dales, mountains and glens, his mind's eye had other objects in view, and he found it a vain attempt to turn his thoughts on the beauties of nature, whilst the barbed arrow still rankled in his bosom, and the remembrance of past events, of Claudina, his brother, and other recent occurrences, obtruded on his memory. On the contrary, without society, and at liberty to "indulge meditation even to madness," he returned always fatigued in body, and distressed in mind.
The fifth day the weather was bad, and he could not take his accustomed rides; the morning, his friend being busy, he passed in the library, but his temper took its colouring from the weather, and when he entered the dining parlour, the Count was extremely concerned to see his features clouded with melancholy, and all the marks of a deep dejection. "Are you not well," said he, hastily.
"I am certainly not ill," replied Ferdinand; "that is, I have no bodily complaints; but I feel a weight on my spirits which I cannot shake off."
"Ah! my friend," returned the Count, "this inactive life ill agrees with a discontented mind. I am sensible that the present composure of mine is but temporary: I can easily allow for your feelings, and am provoked that my haste to finish all my affairs here, compels me to leave you so much alone. In our present state of mind (added he, with a faint smile) we are not fit to be trusted alone; company and active employments suit us much better than solitude."
Ferdinand was about to reply, when a servant entered with a packet for him; being a stranger to the hand, he opened it hastily, and saw the name of D'Alenberg. "Ah! cried he, here is a large packet from Mr. D'Alenberg; from its bulk I dare say it contains the history of the poor Louisa."
"You will then have something to amuse, or at least to engage your attention (said the Count) and I am glad of it, as I am obliged to meet two persons for an hour or two after dinner." Ferdinand's impatience, and this friend's engagement, caused them to make a hasty meal, which, when finished, the former retired to the library, and perused the following letter:
mr. d'alenberg to mr. ferdinand renaud.
"I do not forget, my young friend, that you seemed to feel an interest in the late occurrences that fell under your eye; and you impressed me with too favourable an opinion of your heart to doubt of your being anxious for an explanation of such circumstances relative to Louisa, as materially concerned the peace of my Theresa and her father. I have full leave to acquaint you with every particular of the villainous treatment the much-injured young woman has experienced from the most abandoned of men: Crimes like his cannot go unpunished, and it shall not be my fault if the world does not brand him as a villain. I bow with reverence to that Being, whose benign hand conducted us to the spot where the late unfortunate Mr. Hautweitzer breathed his last sigh; had it pleased Heaven to have prolonged his existence to this hour, that he might have seen his child under my protection, the last pang of nature had been stripped of half its terrors; but to regret is useless, it is our duty to think all is as it should be. To-morrow we propose to leave this place; our poor invalid thinks she is capable of taking the journey. This morning her worthy father was consigned to the grave; I trust he exists in happier regions.
"The good Dolnitz shall not be forgotten; he and his sister have hearts, and good ones too; it is the duty of those that have power to enable such persons to gratify their generous humane feelings. You know my address; I again repeat my wishes to see you and your friend; if this lays not in the chapter of possibilities at present, I request to hear from you.
"Remember, young man, that you have opened a fresh account; once more I feel an esteem, and place a confidence on a slender knowledge: Old age ought to be wary and circumspect, particularly when deception has so lately wounded an unsuspecting heart; but I have not learned the ungenerous maxims of the world, nor, because I have unfortunately been deceived by a worthless wretch, suspect each man to be a villain.—You, I hope, will justify my candour, and when I tell you that you possess my regards, will, by your subsequent conduct, give me credit with myself for my discernment.
"To see you will give me pleasure. To hear you are well and happy is the next best satisfaction you can convey to me; for well I see, and grieve to see, that you are now unhappy: But if the cause originates from no vice or folly of your own, take comfort, all may yet be well. My respects to your friend, I know him only by name, that speaks in his favour; I should be glad to know more of him. My daughter desires her compliments: Louisa scarcely remembers having seen you, but she is grateful for your attentions. Adieu, my young friend, remember my claims upon you.
This letter was very gratifying to Ferdinand; but he looked it hastily over, being impatient to read the story of Louisa, which was thus prefaced:
"By permission of her friend, and at the request of her father, Miss D'Alenberg sends this transcript of Louisa's misfortunes, in her own words, to Mr. Ferdinand Renaud."
end of vol ii.