The Greatest Gothic Classics of All Time. Эдгар Аллан По

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СКАЧАТЬ to do so; she is a good woman; we have enough; I do not want a plurality of wives -I am content with her. My mother was an English woman -I imbibe her sentiments. I have not disposed of my vessel; I will take you to Naples, or even to France, if you wish it, under neutral colours, which I can procure. This will be better than engaging your friends to come here. I have no enemy but the Russians to fear, and those I can provide against.' 'You are very kind, Sir,' said she; 'I really am at a loss how to proceed, and will consult Mr Weimar' (she could not reconcile herself to call him uncle). She did so: he approved of the Captain's advice, but thought she had best write her friends of her safety and situation, also of her intention to go to Naples, from whence they might expect to hear her decisive plan; previous to which the Captain could write to some persons, to know if any of her relations were living. This being agreed upon, as the best methods to be taken, Matilda resigned herself to patience 'till answers could be obtained, which must necessarily take up some time.

      We must now return to the Countess and her friends, who arrived at Vienna without meeting any accident.

      Their first step was to deliver the German Minister's letters to the English Ambassador; his Excellency having sent dispatches to his own court of this extraordinary affair.

      The Countess found but little difficulty in being acknowledged, and put in possession of her rights. Her story engrossed the public attention at Vienna, and she received a thousand visits and congratulations from every person of distinction. Though abundantly gratified by their civilities, she was too anxious to see her son for her mind to be at ease. A messenger had been sent to his quarters, by the Marquis, with leave from the Emperor for his return, and preparing him, by degrees, for the agreeable surprise of finding some near and dear relations. The youth had been apprised of his father s death, but not having read the Count's letter, was a stranger to all the circumstances relative to it. He made no difficulty of obeying the order, and set off for his father's seat directly.

      One day, when every heart beat high with expectation, a travelling carriage was seen driving through the park. 'My son, my son!' cried the Countess starting up. The Marquis ran out to meet him. In a moment a tall elegant youth, about sixteen, entered the room, with looks of eager expectation. The Countess flew towards him, threw her arms round him; attempted to speak, but overpowered by tender emotions 'till then a stranger to her breast, she fainted in his arms. The young gentleman, alarmed, and equally agitated, assisted, in silence, to convey her to a seat; and whilst the Marchioness was busy in her endeavours to restore her sister, he kissed her hand eagerly and cried to the Marquis, 'Tell me, Sir, who is this dear lady?' 'It is -' said the other, with a little pause, 'she is your mother, Sir.' 'Mother!' repeated he, dropping on his knees. 'Great God! have I a mother? my own mother!' 'Yes,' replied the Marquis, 'she is indeed your parent, for very many years believed to be dead.' Young Frederic was now in a state very little better than the Countess: surprise, joy, the soft emotions that at once assailed him, rendered him speechless and immoveable.

      It was some time before they were both sufficiently recovered to be sensible of their felicity. The Countess embraced him with tears of expressive tenderness; he, on his knees, kissing her hands with ardour. 'My mother! my dear mother!' was all he could utter for a long time. The Marchioness at length separated them. 'My dear Frederic,' said she, 'you have other duties to pay, besides your present delightful one -I claim you as my nephew; this gentleman is my husband, consequently your uncle.' He flew and embraced both. 'Gracious heaven !' cried he, 'what happiness. A few months ago I supposed myself without family or friends, dependent on the Count's bounty; then I was agreeably surprised with being acknowledged as his son, then suddenly separated, and only ten days since informed of his death -again I was an orphan, and knew not what claims I could or ought to make; but now this unexpected tide of joy and happiness -to find a mother! O, the blessed sound! to find a mother, uncle, aunt, all dear and honoured relations! Great God, I adore thy bounty, make me deserving of thy favours.' He again threw himself at the feet of the Countess, who had hung with rapture on his words, and now embraced him with the highest delight.

      After this tumult of pleasure was a little subsided, he eagerly enquired the particulars of her story; which the Marquis repeated, as had been agreed upon, glossing over the Count's crimes, as much as possibly could be done, to exculpate the Countess. No mention was made of the Chevalier's death; but the youth heard sufficient to comprehend his mother had been cruelly used, and his features bore testimony of his emotions. 'Dearest madam,' cried he, 'how great have been your sufferings! henceforth it shall be the study of my life to make you forget them in your future happiness.'

      Lord Delby, who had been rambling in the park, now entered the room. Young Frederic was introduced to him, and the foregoing scene slightly described by the Marchioness. 'I am glad,' said his Lordship, 'I was not present; for though I adore sensibility, such a meeting would have been too much for me.'

      Growing more rational together, his relations were delighted with the young officer. 'It must be confessed,' said the Marquis, 'the Count paid particular attention to Frederic's education.' 'Yes, my Lord,' answered the youth, 'it would have been my fault, if I had not profited by the instructions I received; but I thought my debt of gratitude so great for such uncommon kindness from a stranger, on whom I had no claims, that I strove to exert my small abilities, and by diligence and application, evince my sense of his favours, as the only return in my power.' 'The deception, as far as related to you,' said the Marchioness, 'proved a happy one; it laid the foundation for virtue, humility, and gratitude, which perhaps happier circumstances and legal claims might never have called forth. Thus sometimes good springs out of evil.'

      The following day, when the happy party was assembled, and projecting pleasurable schemes, the Marquis received the letter which the good Mother Magdalene had found means to send off from Matilda. He started, with an exclamation of surprise. All were eager to know the contents. Prepare yourselves for some regret, on account of your young friend,' said he. 'What! Matilda?' cried both in a breath. 'Yes, I am sorry to tell you she is again in her uncle's power; he has again claimed her as his niece.' He then read the letter, and all were equally grieved at the unfortunate destiny of this deserving young woman.

      Frederic, with the warm enthusiasm of youth, cried out, 'Is there no clue to trace them -I will myself pursue them.' 'Alas! my son, answered the Countess, ' 'tis impossible to say where he may have carried her to; but let us hope, as she found means to send this letter, she will find an opportunity to write again; at all events, she has a protector, to whose care we must trust her, until we can obtain further intelligence.'

      This letter threw a damp on the general joy.

      Her story was repeated to Frederic, whose ardour was again raised to deliver the unhappy girl from her persecutor.

      The Marquis, who was that day writing to the Count the happy event of their journey and meeting with his nephew, could not resist throwing in a postscript. 'My dear Bouville,' added he, 'we are thrown into the greatest consternation, by a letter from Matilda. She is again in the power of that villain, Weimar; who, contrary to his engagements has procured an order from the king, and carried her off, we know not where. We wait with impatience to hear further.'

      This letter from the Marquis found the Count De Bouville at Bath; where he vainly sought amusement, to remove the anguish which preyed upon his mind, arising from the impossibility of ever calling Matilda his. He viewed the gay females of fashion, with birth, beauty, and accomplishments to boast of, with perfect indifference. Ah! thought he, where is the modest retiring sweetness of Matilda? Where those unaffected charms -those natural graces of her deportment? Never shall I meet with a woman that I can admire or love, after knowing that lovely girl, whose very virtues preclude my happiness. He was in one of these reveries when the letter from the Marquis was delivered to him. The happiness of his friends gave him infinite delight; but how changed were his emotions on reading the postscript: his rage exceeded all bounds; he determined to leave Bath instantly. 'I will hunt the villain through the world,' cried he; 'I will find her, if she is on earth, and no power shall ever take her from me again. O, Matilda! too scrupulous girl, СКАЧАТЬ