The Castle of Wolfenbach, Eliza Parsons [hot novels to read txt] 📗

in the fate of Matilda, and equally desirous of promoting any plan conducive to her safety.’ ‘I am sure of it,’ answered the Count, ‘and therefore hope you will not take it ill, if I leave you tomorrow, for I am resolved to go to Tunis, if a vessel can be hired.’

They saw it was in vain to oppose his resolution, and were therefore silent.

He was delighted with the warmth of the young Count, and praised his spirit in the most lively terms.

He took leave of them the following morning, to pursue his plan, with the earnest good wishes of the whole family.

Meantime every thing succeeded at Tunis, to Matilda’s wishes. Mr Weimar daily grew better. At first his recovery seemed rather a matter of regret to him; but when she assured him of her entire forgiveness, that she never would betray the secret of her father’s death, and that the restitution of her estates would sufficiently prove his penitence for the intended wrong done to her, he grew more reconciled, and by degrees, her sensible and pious observations wrought such a change in him, that he determined, when he got well, the Captain giving him his liberty, he would enter into a monastery for the rest of his days. Matilda encouraged him in the design.

The Captain, who was present at many of their conversations, said, one night, that his dislike to the cruel business he had been engaged in was considerably strengthened by Matilda’s dissertations on virtue and vice; he was resolved never to make another voyage; and, though he could not but think the faith of Mahomet the true faith, yet, for her sake, he would always respect Christians; because the two best women he knew, exclusive of his wife, were both Europeans and Christians.

Matilda impatiently expected an answer from Naples. The Captain at last received one. The good Count Morlini had been dead three years; the Countess, his daughter, was alive, though in a languid state of health, and was gone, with another family to Nice, to stay two or three months.

This intelligence was delightful to Matilda: she was anxious to set off as soon as possible.

Mr Weimar was now well enough to bear the voyage. He made a deed of gift to his niece, of all he possessed; having greatly improved the original fortune, from a fear of exciting too much notice and enquiry if he had lived otherwise; and told her, his intention was to enter into the order of poverty, as the proper retribution for his inordinate desire of wealth, which had induced him to commit such horrid crimes. She would have persuaded him to have chosen an order of less severity; but nothing could alter his resolutions.

The Captain having hastened his preparations, the day was appointed for sailing.

Matilda could not take leave of the Captain’s amiable wife without feeling a very sincere regret; for, though they did not understand each other’s language, yet the expression, of the heart was comprehended by both, and engaged mutual esteem and tenderness. The friend, or rather confidant of Mr Weimar, was sent for from the country, his liberty given him, and Matilda, at her uncle’s request, promised to pay him the sum agreed upon in France, for his assistance to carry her off.

They set sail with a prosperous gale, but with hearts very differently agitated.

Much about the same time the Count De Bouville had taken leave of his friends; and having hired a vessel at the first sea-port, he proceeded on his voyage to Tunis, and, without any accident or interruption, safely arrived there six days after Matilda had left it. He was soon on shore, procured an interpreter, and hastened to the Captain’s house. His heart beat fast with hope, fear, and expectation; but who can describe his emotions when informed of their departure for Nice. He asked a thousand questions could scarcely be persuaded but some sinister design was again practised against her, and it was with much difficulty he at length grew more reconciled and satisfied with the account he received.

He had nothing now to do but to follow her to Nice; but as water and some provisions were wanting for the vessel, he was obliged to bridle in his impatience, and remain there three or four days, which were ages in his calculation.

Matilda, meantime, safely arrived at Nice. Mr Weimar instantly left the place, promising to write his niece, under cover to the Marquis De Melfort, soon as he was settled in a monastery.

The Captain conducted Matilda to a hotel, and they consulted how to act. It must be confessed her situation was a very distressing one; no female companion, no one to introduce her, she might be supposed an impostor, notwithstanding the testimony of Mr Weimar, signed before the Captain. In short, they found themselves at a loss how to proceed. The first step was to know if the Countess Berniti was there; of this they were soon informed she was, accompanied by the Count and Countess Marcellini. After much deliberation the Captain proposed waiting on the Count, telling him a lady just arrived from Tunis, requested the favour of seeing him, to enquire after some very particular friends and relations she had at Naples. This scheme was adopted and put into execution. The Count was surprised at the message, but curiosity carried him immediately to the hotel, and he was introduced to Matilda. He was extremely struck with her figure and appearance. She trembled, and for some moments was incapable of speaking; but endeavouring to collect fortitude from necessity she thus addressed him, ‘The liberty I have taken in requesting the honour of seeing your Lordship here requires many apologies, but I am in a very singular and distressing situation. Will your Lordship permit me to ask you how long you have known the Countess Berniti’ The Count started at the question. Almost from a child, madam; we were brought up in an intimacy from our youth.’ ‘You knew her unfortunate husband then, and his brother,’ said she, and possibly may recollect it was supposed the infant daughter of the Countess died in convulsions?’ ‘Supposed ! ‘ repeated he, ‘good God! What can you mean, madam?’ ‘To recall to your mind, Sir, those circumstances on the developing of which my future happiness depends. Save your surprise, my Lord, and to elucidate my meaning, I must entreat the favour of you to peruse these papers, the confession of a dying man once brother to the late Count Berniti.’ The Count took the papers with the most eager curiosity.

Matilda, affected with hopes, doubts, and fears, could not suppress her tears: on this important moment her fate seemed suspended .

The Count made two or three exclamations, but when he came to the murder of his friend, he smote his breast, ‘Unparalleled wickedness and ingratitude!’ cried he. Hastily proceeding in the narrative, he no sooner came to the exchange of the children, than throwing his eyes on Matilda, ‘My heart, and your striking resemblance to the charming Countess, tell me, you are her child.’

‘I am ! I am !’ replied Matilda, weeping, and strongly agitated, ‘if she will vouchsafe to own me!’ He folded her to his bosom, ‘Own you! O, what transport to recover such a daughter! Compose yourself, my dear young lady; I am little less affected than you are, - but let me finish this interesting confession of a miserable wretch.’ He went through the whole without any further interruption.

At the conclusion, the Captain related the events at Tunis, and the result of their enquiries at Naples, which had brought them to Nice.

‘Doubt not, my dear lady, but all your troubles are over: behold the hand of Providence in every event; had not your wretched uncle taken you from France; had you not fallen into the power, perhaps of the only man who would have treated his captives with honor and compassion, unknown in general to people of his profession, -forgive me, Sir, the observation’ -the Captain bowed - ‘had not the dread of death and everlasting punishments terrified the guilty wretch; had not all these singular events happened, through Divine permission, you might, to this hour, have been ignorant of your birth, and my amiable friend deprived of the joy and transport that await her in your arms.’

The Count again warmly embraced her. He paid a thousand polite compliments to the Captain; and though he regretted leaving them, he was anxious to consult his lady in what manner to convey this delightful intelligence to the Countess.

When he returned to his lady she saw he was greatly agitated, and knowing the message he had received, was very curious to hear the result of his visit. She fortunately happened to be alone; he therefore related the whole story, read the papers, and spoke in raptures of Matilda’s person, and engaging manners. Nothing could equal the astonishment of the Lady Marcellini. She anticipated the joy of her friends, yet was at a loss how to inform her of an event so entirely unexpected. They knew it must recall to her mind the horrid circumstances of her husband’s murder, which neither time nor reason had ever reconciled her to support with any fortitude. ‘Yet,’ said the Count, ‘to recover such a child; to have a hold, a connexion in life so desirable and so unlooked for, must surely greatly overbalance the affliction of a painful remembrance, at least weakened, though not subdued.’

They went to the apartment of the Countess. She was at her toilet. Her woman, being dismissed, ‘Well Count,’ asked she, ‘have you seen the lady from Tunis, -is she a Turkish woman?’ ‘No, madam, she was brought up in Germany; she is a charming young creature, and you may be proud of the compliment,’ added he, smiling, ‘when I assure you she very strongly resembles your ladyship.’ ‘You are very polite, my good friend,’ answered she, in the same tone, ‘but I am neither young nor handsome, and you say this lady is both; but, pray, is she acquainted with any of our friends?’ ‘Yes, but by name only; she has no personal knowledge of any one in Naples; she was very particular in her enquiries after you.’ ‘Of me!’ said the Countess, surprised; ‘how could she know any thing of me?’ You remember the Chevalier N -, who went abroad so many years since?’ ‘Ah!’ said she, with a sigh, I do indeed remember him; is he alive, -does this lady belong to him?’ ‘He is not living,’ answered the Count, for Matilda permitted him to suppose he was dead, without asserting it; ‘this young lady was in some degree related to him, but I think more nearly so to your ladyship.’ ‘Heavens! my dear Count, you surprise me! I know not of any female relation I can possibly have.’ ‘She is certainly a near relation, however,’ replied the Count, ‘and you must prepare yourself for a most agreeable surprise, as I am convinced you will love her dearly.’ ‘Indeed, my good Count,’ exclaimed the Countess, ‘you have given me violent emotions; my heart palpitates, and my whole frame trembles; for God s sake, do not keep me in suspense -who can this lady be?’ ‘Before we answer you, my dear friend,’ said the Count’s Lady, ‘let me persuade you to take a few drops, in water, the agreeable flutter of your spirits will require them.’ ‘All this preparation terrifies me; I will take any thing, but pray be explicit at once.’ ‘Then, my dear lady, bear the joyful recital, I am about to give you with resolution.’

He took up the story, at a French vessel, captured by the Corsair, and a gentleman on board, attempting to destroy himself and a lady, described the subsequent events, and then began the narrative. When in his address to Matilda, he