Chapter III: Part 3

On the entrance of Edwin, he took but little notice, but, on seeing Roseline and her friend advance, he looked up, and attempted to rise, but was not equal to the effort, and instantly sunk down in a state of apparent insensibility. Roseline, more agitated and terrified by the whole of this unaccountable and affecting scene than she would have been at the sight of the ghost she had almost expected to meet, flew to support him. She was assisted by Edwin and Madeline, and their united endeavours soon restored the poor sufferer to life and an imperfect sense of his situation.

Having now no longer any fears, he fixed his large blue eyes on the strangers,--wondered from whence they came,--how all this could happen,--and to what blessed chance it was owing the he saw himself attended and consoled by two celestial beings, for as such he actually considered them; while the pure drops of genuine and the gentlest pity fell softly on his emaciated hand, he raised the precious gems of compassion to his lips, sighed deeply, then, looking earnestly in the face of Roseline, with a smile of doubt and anguish once more sunk down in a state of insensibility, unable to bear the weight of his own agitated and contending feelings.

The attendant, who had strictly observed the whole of this extraordinary scene, now approached to assist in recovering his master. Edwin hastened to his sister's apartment to procure proper restoratives; they were applied with their usual success, and the change they produced gave new life and spirits to all around, particularly Roseline, who concluded they arrived merely to witness his dying moments, and hear him breathe his last sigh.

She was still supporting his languid head on her knee; his hand rested on her arm, his eyes were fixed upon her face, his lips moved, and the words "kind, consoling angel: were all they could understand.

"What can this mean? (said Edwin;) who is your master?--who brought him here? and of what crime has he been guilty that he is sentenced to such a place as this?"--

"I am bound (replied the servant) by the most solemn oath to silence and secresy. By complying with these conditions I obtained leave to attend him. Were I at liberty to speak, I could a tale unfold would tempt you to curse the world, and even detest those claims which bind man to man. You would be ready to forego the ties of nature, and shun society.--Time will, it must develop the whole of this mystery."

"But my father!" said Edwin.

"Your father, sir, like my dear unhappy master, is blameless and innocent: he has been deceived like many others."

"But why (cried Roseline) are you thus shut out from the world, and banished society?--why, if innocent, is not this poor sufferer placed in a situation more likely to restore him to health?--why thus cruelly deprived not only of liberty, light, and air, but of every other necessary comfort?"

"A higher power has willed it should be so," said the stranger, whose unreserved manner, superior language, honest and open countenance, found an instant passport to their hearts, confirmed their belief, and banished every suspicious doubt of his sincerity.

"Are you involved in the crimes of which this gentleman is suspected?" inquired Madeline.

"No, madam; my only crime is my attachment to him. I am here by my own voluntary choice, and were they to convey him a thousand fathoms deeper in the earth, I would not, unless I were compelled, ever leave him till his noble and guiltless soul was summoned to appear before a more just and merciful tribunal than he has found on earth."

"A thousand blessings on you! (cried Roseline, a tear trembling in each expressive eye,) for shewing this care and god-like compassion to one so helpless and oppressed.--Brother, surely we may, without deserving reproach, unite our endeavours with those of this friendly stranger, to soften the pangs of misery and death, be they inflicted by whom they may."

"You ought to do so, (cried the lovely Madeline, whose gentle spirit was awakened into action by the scene before her.)--As fellow-creatures, and the children of the same Almighty Parent, it is our duty to assist each other; but we should do more, not remain coldly indifferent to sufferings which, if we cannot entirely remove, we may in some measure alleviate."

"And we will do so! (cried the generous and animated Edwin.)--You too, my honest fellow, (turning to the servant,) shall share in our kind offices. You deserve the thanks of every good Christian, and to be immortalized for your faithful attachment to one so helpless and unable to reward you.--But how is this?" observing the invalid had sunk into a gentle and quiet sleep; like the peaceful slumber of an infant.

"This has been the case for some weeks. His spirits depressed by the corroding anguish which preys upon his mind, his body has become a victim to the conflict, and the soul of my master will soon, by quitting this earthly tenement, escape the farther persecution of his enemies. Much, much as I love him, I should rejoice at his release."

The words trembled on his tongue, and the tear of manly compassion rolled down his cheek.

"Has he no one to attend him? (said Roseline, looking at him with eyes that beamed with all the heavenly animation which at that moment throbbed around her heart;) has he no advice?"

"Only such as I can give him, madam. Poor and ignorant as I am, he has never been allowed any other physician, or better tutor than myself; but I trust, if the Almighty would again restore him to health, he would now meet with those who would assist in performing a task for which I was never calculated."

"Has he no bed to sleep on?" cried Roseline, gently removing his languid head upon a cushion that laid on a couch, without awakening him.

"There is one in the inner apartment, but this being the most comfortable and airy room, he will not leave it."

"I will fetch some pillows."

She did so; they were instantly placed under his head. Still he slept as if her were never to awake again.

"In the morning, (said Roseline,) at the foot of the stairs, which your will find by turning to the left, at the end of this passage, I will leave some few trifles and comfortable cordials, which I hope will be of service.

"And tomorrow night, at about this time, you may expect us again, (said Edwin.) I hope your master will then have shaken off this death-like slumber, and be able to converse with us."

"Perhaps he may, (replied Albert, the name of this faithful servant;) but he never talks much. I had taught him to read, but they took away our books, and since that time I am afraid he has lost the remembrance of the little knowledge he had of reading. He has lately learned to play a few simple tunes on the lute,--that sometimes amuses him."

"We will bring you some books, (said Roseline,) and surely, Edwin, you and I can assist Albert in the delightful task of restoring by friendship what has been lost by cruelty."

Albert informed them they were regularly served with their meals, but never saw the person who brought them, all intercourse with any one being forbidden, to prevent the possibility of discovery or escape; but, he said, they had better food and more indulgences than had been allowed them in their former prison, which consisted only of one room.

The party now retired with the utmost caution, lest they should disturb the apparently-peaceful slumbers of the prisoner, and deprive him of his only refuge from misery.

Before they parted, Roseline and her brother, actuated by the same generous feelings in behalf of this unfortunate young man, and his equally unfortunate companion, satisfied, should there be found any thing in their conduct to condemn, (which they could not bring themselves to think,) in their present situation there was much to pity, resolved to unite in their endeavours of relieving their miseries, and softening the rigours of a confinement, of which they knew not the cause; but they were told, the object who had most excited their compassion was innocent, and therefore they determined to think him so till his own conduct, or an explanation from any other quarter, proved him otherwise. It is true, they had nothing on which to found their belief but the word of a stranger, and him they found in the humble capacity of a servant; but, though a stranger, he had, by his simple, modest, and unaffected language, given ample proofs in their opinion of his sincerity.

They now left the cells, and retired instantly to bed,--dreamed of the prisoner, and sometimes imagined they could distinguish his groans; in fact, they thought and talked of him, and him only.

Early in the morning, Roseline carried every little nicety she could procure, and left them at the foot of the stairs,--then hurried back to her room, not daring to stop and make inquiries, lest the person who supplied the object of her pity with his daily food should discover and betray her benevolent designs.

Madeline was now making a rapid progress in her recovery, and was every hour in fear of receiving a summons from the abbess to return to the nunnery. Edwin participated in all her fears, and lamented, in the language of tender affection, the cruel necessity which compelled her to leave the castle, protesting neither walls nor vows should long divide them, and swearing to release her from a situation, which, though sanctioned by religion, only bigotry, superstition, and priestcraft, could justify; which he knew would not only destroy all his prospects of happiness, but, as he could not disbelieve the fascinating hopes he had not absolutely been forbidden to cherish, the happiness also of a beloved object, dearer to him than life, without whom fortune, honour, prosperity, and youth, would be robbed of all their value.

The next day, accompanied by Bertrand, Edwin stole by another entrance into the lower recesses of the castle, not mentioning a word of the prisoner, and carefully avoiding that quarter in which he was confined. They first explored the subterraneous passage, leading to the nunnery, and found fewer impediments in their way than they expected. They easily gained an entrance into the chapel, having fixed upon an hour when they knew all the fathers and nuns would be engaged in their cells. They found the opening under the organ, and in that part of the chapel appropriated to the use of the nuns, the door being concealed from observation by a very curious tomb, belonging to the ancient family of De G--.

They entered next the passage leading to Mettingham-castle, and determined to see the whole of it. Here they met with many difficulties: in some places huge stones had fallen from the walls,--in others the arch-way was so low they were almost obliged to crawl,--while toads, snakes, and various kinds of reptiles impeded their progress; when, at length, they reached the end of this wonderful labyrinth, the production of labour and art, they found themselves close to the ballium of Mettingham-castle, and under a strong machiolated and embattled gate.

They now discovered another short passage, which was terminated by a door that opened to the outer ballium, and through which the cavalry could sally in any case of emergency. They ventured cautiously to look around them. Edwin's mind, however, was chiefly occupied by one dear object, and he secretly rejoiced at having found the means of escaping with Madeline, should the obstinacy of her parents, or the ambition of his own, leave him no other resource.

He likewise, in the course of the day, but unaccompanied by any one, opened the door on the stair-case leading to the South tower. He felt a kind of repugnance at taking this step, but determined, as matters were now circumstanced, to go through the whole of this unpleasant business at once, that nothing might be left to conjecture. He also recollected that it would not only put an end to that restless curiosity which had long dwelt upon his mind, but enable him to judge whether it would be possible to remove the dying prisoner into a more airy and convenient room, without the hazard of a discovery.

This wind of the castle he knew was totally unoccupied, as in his boyish days he had frequently, and at all times gone that way to the ramparts to lodge his playthings in a secret apartment in one of the highest towers, and never in his peregrination had met with a human being.

On attempting first to open the door, he was a good deal startled at the noise it occasioned, and was almost buried beneath the heap of cobwebs and dirt which fell and enveloped him in a cloud of dust.--Some birds too, that had here found a sage asylum, flew in terror around him. Not willing to disturb them more than was necessary, he unfastened a narrow casement, to give those opportunity of escaping who wished to obtain their liberty. He then stole softly and cautiously across the room to an opposite door, which opened without any difficulty, and he entered a second apartment, much larger and more commodious than the first. It was hung with ancient tapestry, on which time and moth had made many depredations; but, in some parts of it, the full-length figures remained perfect, and the colours retained some of their beautiful shades. He soon discovered that it represented the most striking and interesting scenes in the well-known history of Hero and Leander, from his first seeing her, in the temple of Venus, at Seftos, in Thrace, till the last closing scene of their unfortunate loves.

The figures of the lovers were fine, and in excellent preservation, and the tapestry was of so superior a kind, that it gave as full force and expression to the faces and drapery as the finest painting could have conveyed. The temple, the palace, the turret, and the Hellespont, upon whose waves the rising and setting sun were alternately reflected, with the downy swan, in snowy dignity, which was seen laving on its bosom were admirably depicted.

The nurse, or attendant of the faithful Hero stood at full length on the edge of the water, which gently undulated near the walls of the palace, pointing to the waves, and as if in the act of telling her fond, impatient mistress her lover was coming, while she, with modest sweetness, seemed fearful of stealing a look at the element which contained a treasure dearer to her soul that the whole of her ambitious father's dominions.

In another part, he saw the lifeless body of Leander, and the despairing Hero in the act of throwing herself into the Hellespont, which had unfortunately proved the grave of her lover.

Edwin stood a long time, silently admiring this pathetic tale: it had an instantaneous effect upon his feelings; it served to remind him of the difficulties he should have to encounter in his attachment to Madeline, and he could have kissed the senseless portrait of the old Egyptian woman for her kind and faithful attentions to the persecuted lovers.

In the middle of the room stood a square table, on which were carelessly spread a number of papers. Four massy silver candlesticks were likewise placed upon it, each of which contained a wax-candle, that had never been lighted, and an old writing, to which was annexed a vast many seals, laid folded up under them.

This he concluded was the mystic bond which held in captivity the restless spirit it was supposed to confine. Edwin opened and attempted to read it. In some parts the writing was defaced, and the whole of the language so unintelligible, he very soon replaced it in its former situation, imagining that, if the ghost was not to regain its liberty till the bond could be read, it would rest in peace for ever, and suffer others to do the same.

In the chimney stood an antique grate, that had once been bright, and still shewed some of its brilliant features through the rust by which it was enveloped. A few chairs were standing here and there, but they were falling to decay. He then opened another door, which led him into a vaulted chamber, in which were placed the tattered remains of a bed, that had been handsome, and could be repaired. A book of devotion was lying upon it. The windows were high and narrow, admitting but little light, notwithstanding which they were secured by iron bars of immense thickness, so strongly, that, had they been lower, it would have been impossible for the arm of the strongest man to remove or shake them.

This led him to conclude it was originally designed for the security of prisoners of rank, its distance from the ground precluding any communication with the people on guard; and he shuddered as he recollected how many, like the poor prisoner in the cells, might have lingered away their wretched existence in this very apartment, in the hopeless expectation of meeting with a release.

He next carefully searched in every part of the room, to discover if there was not a more secret entrance, but found none.--He put the key into his pocket, as he had before done that of the trap-door, and in the morning, unobserved by Bertrand, had the precaution not to lock the door of the subterraneous passage, leaving it well secured by the bolts and bars which were on the inside.

He now hastened to replace all the rest of the keys in the repository from whence he had taken them, and was satisfied those he retained in his own possession would not be missed by his father or any one else.

After this he returned to join the family, and said not a word of what he had seen, nor the plans which floated in his own mind, in consequence of the morning peregrinations he had taken.

CHAP. VI.

In the course of the day, Roseline asked a thousand questions, with apparent indifference, of De Clavering, respecting the nature of consumptive cases, their symptoms, progress, &c. and how people ought to manage themselves in regard to diet, who were confined in damp regions of a dungeon, or immured in the narrow precincts of a prison; to all which she received such plain, direct, and experienced answers, as she cherished hopes would enable her, with the approbation of heaven, to be the humble means of restoring to health, or a more promising degree of convalescence, the interesting object whose secret sufferings hap stimulated her to make these unusual inquiries; and what gave new life and added energy to her benevolent hopes was the arrival of a letter from Sir Philip to Lady de Morney, in which he was reluctantly obliged to inform her that his stay in London was unfortunately prolonged, and he was sorry to find his absence from the castle was likely to be protracted a considerable length of time from the slow progress of the law, and the difficulties thrown in the way by his opponents. This account would have given her paid a few days before; it was now a source of pleasure, which produced the most sanguine expectations of preserving, under Providence, the life of a fellow-creature, or, at least, of rendering its closing scene less hopeless and more comfortable.

A sensibility, like that which was lodged in the bosom of the artless and innocent Roseline, I would wish all my sex to possess. So far from tempting her to run from misery, it led her in search of it, and, when found, it awakened every gentle passion of the mind into immediate and resolute action; while the fictitious feeling, the affected sensibility of a modern miss is confined to kicking, fainting, or squalling at sight of a wretched object, and the little they may really have will evaporate in the trouble of acting their part so as to impose on the minds of others an unjust sense of their own delicate and extreme compassion.

How much might men as well as women add to the dignity of nature by never attempting to destroy her! In the formation of man, God lent his own image; how would it astonish, how would it excite the indignation of the almost unenlightened savage, if he met with any one so foolish as to suppose they could improve that image by the ridiculous distortions and grimaces of affectation! and how would he be diverted, could he see the devoted slaves of fashion so disguise the human form, that the head is frequently increased to twice its original size,--the waist sometimes dwindled to a span, at others entirely lost; then again restored with such protuberances as even to render the character suspected;--and at times our modern beaux and belles are seen so completely in masquerade, that it is a matter of some difficulty to distinguish on sex from the other,--a circumstance that might be attended with ludidicrous, if not dangerous, consequences.

As the spirits of Lady de Morney were much depressed by the receipt of Sir Philip's letter, every one exerted themselves to amuse her. They sung, they danced, and the tale went merrily round. De Willows and De Clavering appeared unusually animated, and Hugh Camelford fared the worse for their exertions. They roused the fiery blood of the brave Cambrian, and then cooled it again by a well-turned compliment. They likewise so powerfully assailed Elwyn to give a dinner he had long promised them, that the following day was fixed for the treat, and his apartments were prepared for the ladies, the gentlemen with one voice agreeing not to go without them. They also entered into a confederacy to drink till they had emptied the miser's last bottle, determining to have one good frolic, as they despaired of ever obtaining a second at his expence.

Madeline received a few line from Agnes de Clifford, to inform her, that, by what she could learn from one of the old nuns, the abbess expected her return to the nunnery the following week, as father Anselm had signified his disapprobation of her longer absence. This gave great concern to the young people, which did not pass unobserved by Lady de Morney, who gently blamed them, adding, as they had been so long indulged with the company of their friend, they ought to submit to the will of the father without repining or reluctance.

After a day which appeared to Roseline the longest she had ever lived, the hour arrived in which they were to revisit the dark abode of misery and oppression. They found Albert impatiently waiting for them in the passage, near the foot of the stairs, almost despairing of their return. Every one carried something for the use and gratification of the prisoner. Edwin was loaded with books; Madeline with sweetmeats, wine, and cakes; Roseline with some white meats and soup. She had likewise prepared a reviving mixture from a recipe of De Clavering's extracted from a variety of healing herbs, admirably calculated to restore health and spirits to the fragile frame of the languid sufferer.

Albert informed them that his master considered the whole of what had passed the preceding evening as a dream;--had repeatedly mentioned the good and consoling angels, who had condescended to visit the couch of a wretch who, almost from his birth, had been an outcast from society; and, notwithstanding he assured him he would see them again, he could obtain no credit to his assertion, not divert his mind from the idea that it was a warning from heaven, merely to prepare him for a summons before its awful tribunal.

"Hasten, my good friend, (said Roseline,) and undeceive him, by letting him know we wait here to convince him, if he will receive us, that we are mere mortals like himself."

Albert did not stop for a second command to execute a commission he eagerly wished. They followed him; the little dog ran out, and greeted their arrival with every testimony of joy it was in its nature to express, and they were requested to walk in the moment they reached the door of the apartment. They were not only surprised, but highly gratified at observing the visible change for the better which a few hours had made in the countenance of their new friend, whose dependence on their good offices, for many of the necessary comforts of life, and total seclusion from the world, made very forcible claims on their hearts.

He arose on their entrance. Edwin flew to embrace him. Madeline held out her hand, which he gently pressed between his; but, observing that Roseline's was likewise extended, he dropped the hand of her friend, and eagerly caught her's, as if he were afraid it should be wrested from him.

"I would fain tell you what I feel at this moment, (said he, faintly and fearfully;) but I do not know a language to make myself understood.--This I know, that yesterday I washed to die, and be forgotten even by Albert; but now I think, if I could have you always with me, (stealing a look at Roseline,) hear you talk, and see you smile, I could be content to live for ever, even in this sad place. If all other women are like you, how charming must be the world, in which Albert says there are a vast many! I have often told him, and he knows why, that I never should like a woman; (here he smiled expressively on Albert.) I thought they were all very cruel and very ugly creatures, therefore I concluded, when I first saw you, that you were angels, or kind and celestial spirits, who came down from heaven to receive my soul, and carry it to a place of rest."

"Indeed, my good sir, (said Roseline,) you were never more mistaken. We are like the generality of our sex, but much inferior to many. We broke in upon you unexpectedly, and you judged merely from feelings too highly raised, which originated from surprise, and were in part confirmed by the effect they had on the susceptibility of your nature and the seclusion of your situation.--I must now entreat you to take a few spoonfuls of a mixture I have brought you. I am afraid it is not very pleasant to the taste, but I hope and trust it will be conducive to your recovery."

She poured some into a tea-cup, and presented it to him; he drank it immediately. They then produced the more grateful treat they had brought with them; he at a little cake, and some sweetmeats, with an avidity and greediness that shocked them,--said they were very fine, and much better than the liquor.

Edwin next gave him some books, which he opened with eagerness, seemed vastly delighted with the prints, but shook his head on finding himself unable to read their contents. He turned over a few of the leaves, and seemed a good deal chagrined. Edwin explained their titles, and gave him a few outlines of the works.

"Albert can read them," said he.

"I hope you will soon be able to read them yourself, (replied Edwin:) we will join with Albert in instructing you."

"Ah! (cried he, shaking his head,) you will soon grow weary of one so ignorant, so dull as I am; (his eye glanced at Roseline.)--I belong to no one,--I have no friend but poor Albert; he will not leave me to die alone in such a place as this."

"My dear sir, (said Albert,) talk not of dying the very first hour you are beginning to live, I yet trust we shall see many happy years."

He looked melancholy, whispered something they could not perfectly understand, and appeared wholly lost in his own painful reflections. Edwin again addressed him.--At hearing his voice he started, and gazed on him with a wild and vacant stare, as if he had never seen him before, looked at his dress, then at his own,--seemed struck by the contrast, and a faint smile came over his features, but it was the smile of internal sadness.

It will not be thought superfluous, perhaps, if we stop a few moments, in order to describe, as well as we are able, the face, person, and dress, of this unfortunate young man. His complexion, from never having been exposed to either air or sun, was whiter and more delicate that that of Madeline: his large blue eyes were shaded by deeply-fringed eye-lashes, and arched with eye-brows which the nicest pencil of the painter could not have improved. His face was oval, his nose aquiline, and his mouth so exquisitely formed, as to give grace and expression to all the other features: he was much thinner, but some inches taller than Edwin; yet the whole of his appearance shewed that confinement and ill health had stolen, in their thievish and destroying progress, many of the natural graces from his face and person: his hair waved in careless ringlet over his forehead, and hung down some length on his shoulders; he was still wrapped in a loose morning gown, wore slippers, and his linen was of the finest texture.

With some difficulty, but not without the assistance of Albert, they drew him by degrees into something like conversation; but he did not appear perfectly to understand all they said; and, when they mentioned the days beginning to lengthen, the increasing and reviving influence of the fun, the beaut of the moon and stars, he sighed,--wished he could see and admire them as other men did, and inquired if they thought any but himself and Albert were denied so many of the blessings which he had been told God had given for the use and benefit of all his creatures. Edwin replied, painful as it was to recollect, he had no doubt but at that moment thousands of the fellow-mortals sustained even greater hardships and deprivations than himself.

"Must you and these sweet creatures ever do the same?"

He hoped not, but fortune was so fickle in the favours she bestowed, and every thing so uncertain, it was impossible to tell what might or might not happen in the course of a few years.

"It is surely very strange, (said the prisoner,) and I think those people, whose hard hearts and hands contrived and made prisons, are the most proper, indeed the only persons who should be forced to inhabit them."

This observation produced a general smile, which they hoped would pass unnoticed, but it did not escape him, and he said, while a faint colour flushed his cheek, he knew he was very ignorant; but he begged they would not despise him for so great a misfortune. After this he only ventured to ask a few questions, but at the moment of doing so seemed to shrink into himself, and to be astonished at his own temerity. This shyness and reserve they trusted would wear off, as he became familiarized to their visits and conversation; they therefore took no notice of his absence or timidity, but endeavoured by every attention to draw him from his own painful and humiliating reflections, and by a few well-timed praises strove to give him self-confidence.

After staying as long as time and the nature of their visit would permit, and giving proper directions to Albert in regard to the medicines and nourishing restoratives they had brought with them, they reluctantly arose to depart. Observing their design, he held his hands before his eyes, to prevent his seeing them go, and exclaimed, "Don't, don't leave me!--I cannot bear it. I never never shall see you again:--you will forget me, you will leave me for ever!"

His extreme agitation alarmed and affected them all. They knew not how to go, and yet to stay longer might risk a discovery.

"Speak, Roseline, (said Edwin,) and if possible quiet these distressing apprehensions."

Roseline, as soon as she could sufficiently command the tone of her voice, took hold of his trembling hand, which was cold as death, and gently intreated him to hear her with composure. He looked at her with passive acquiescence, and she proceeded to assure him that it was their united and determined intention to repeat their visits as often as their own and his situation would permit: but that, for his sake particularly, they were under the necessity of acting with caution, and carefully guarding against the possibility of a discovery.--If he were so much affected when they left him, they must visit him less frequently than they wished.

"Ah! no, no;--do not think of me, or what I may feel: that is of no consequence, only say you will come again and again."

"On my honour we will, and continue to do so while you remain an involuntary resident in this castle."

"I am satisfied, (said he, sighing inwardly as he spoke; then, fixing his eyes on Roseline,)--if you would come every day,--talk to me, and look at me thus gently,--if you would continue to pity my weakness and pardon my ignorance, I should not think this a prison but a paradise, and could be content to end my useless days in this dungeon."

This pathetic address Roseline could not acquire sufficient resolution to answer, and, while her heart felt intolerably oppressed, the silent rears, which stole softly down her cheek, explained the nature of her feelings. Madeline, finding the scene was become too painful, rose, and bade him god night. Roseline gently withdrew the hand which for some moments had been clasped in his, and Edwin, seeing the necessity of immediately retiring, tenderly bade him fare-well.--

Finding they were resolute to depart, he dropped on his knees by the couch, and concealed his face in the pillow. They insisted on Albert's not leaving his master, and hurried back to their own apartment in a state of mind difficult to be described, carrying with them a variety of feelings, which, though new and painful, they wished should be retained in their remembrance.

As it was now two hours beyond their usual time of going to bed, the great clock having struck the aweful hour of twelve, Edwin, without stopping to make any comments on the scene that had so recently occurred, instantly took his leave. Madeline put on her night-clothes, and, after talking a few minutes, sunk into the lethean arms of sleep. Not so her friend; sleep deserted her pillow: in vain she sought and wished for its approach, to obliterate new and uncomfortable sensations. It was extremely odd that the image of the prisoner haunted her imagination with such persevering obstinacy, that, notwithstanding she closed her eyes, she could not exclude him from her mental sight; and, what was still more strange and unaccountable, though she saw he was less polished than those with whom she was accustomed to associate, without education, and entirely ignorant of the world,--a prisoner for she knew not what, yet still she thought, and was extremely angry with herself for so doing, the he was the handsomest man, and had the most prepossessing and elegant form she had ever seen. His manners too!--could any thing be more captivating than the manners of this uninformed son of nature, whom cruelty and injustice had immured in the dungeons of her father's castle!

A few hours sleep might, and she trusted would, restore her to a more just and rational way of thinking; if not, he who caused her judgement to mislead her would perhaps be the means of its returning to its proper function.

We will now therefore leave her to try an experiment, which has often produced as powerful an effect, and, stealing the mind by a temporary oblivion from the objects of its sudden partiality, has likewise stolen, by the dawn of the succeeding morning, all recollection of woes, which, in a moment of unguarded susceptibility, had found a passage to the heart. Whether it had this convenient soporific, and be-numbing property on the mind of Roseline, we are not now at liberty to declare; but, if it should not, we hope some of our readers will make allowance for the unfashionable taste of a young lady, who lived so many ages before themselves; who was unhacknied in the devious paths of life, with a mind unvitiated by pride or the pangs of envy, and who had seen little or nothing of the world beyond the precincts of the castle she inhabited.

CHAP. VII.

The next day every one prepared with high glee for Elwyn's promised treat, and puzzled themselves with various conjectures as to what kind of feast the miser would set before them. Bertha and Hugh Camelford were very busy after something which those who saw them concluded would be productive of mirth or mischief, no two dispositions being more likely to succeed in a cause for which their humorous talents were calculated; while poor Elwyn, in secret but unavailing regret, lamented too late his yielding folly, in having been prevailed on to comply with what he termed a very foolish and unreasonable request, viz. for so many people to dine at his expence: but this he wisely kept to himself, well knowing, if the part understood his sentiments, it would expose him to their whole artillery of wit and ridicule; he therefore made all the preparations for an excellent dinner, but his caution, busy looks, anxiety, and distress, promised a much higher entertainment than his repast could afford.

The company assembled at the proper time, and were seated in due form and order, Lady de Morney at the head, and Elwyn at the bottom of the table; when, having helped most of the party, Camelford requested him to send him a slice of a large raised pie, which made a distinguished figure.

Bertha cried out with well-affected terror, "Don't touch it; I am sure 'tis enchanted; I saw the crust move."

"Child, (cried Lady de Morney,) what do you mean?"

"What I say, madam, for indeed it was lifted up."

"Take care what you are apout, Elwyn, (said Camelford,) or, py Cot, you may cut off the head of a conjurer, who has jumped into the pie in honour of your feast."

"Suppose we let De Clavering dissect him, (said De Willows;) he is undoubtedly the best hand at cutting up his own species."

De Clavering, who suspected some joke, cautiously raised up one side of the crust, when, to the astonishment of the party, out jumped a squirrel. Happy in having regained its liberty, it sprang across the table, and immediately made its way into Edeliza's pocket, where it was accustomed to fun for shelter. She was shocked at the danger from which her favourite had escaped, caressed the little stranger, and rejoiced at seeing it unhurt.

Everyone was surprised and alarmed at the unexpected appearance of poor Pug, while the terror of the master of the ceremonies was somewhat increased, when he saw a dish of blanc mange, which one of the ladies was beginning to help, fall, and a variety of the most beautiful shapes dissolve into water. This produced a general and hearty laugh.

"Fine teceptions these! (said Camelford.)--I suppose we shall find in the rest of the pies life cats and togs, and see little Pertha turned into a pillar of salt." As to Pug, he declared by Cot, Tavy Jones, and the tifel, he never saw a coat run swifter on this belofed Welch mountains, and he would pet fife hundred kineas he would not be peat if put in podily fear.

The dishes were removed, and those originally ordered now brought on to fill their places, which, if not altogether productive of so much mirth, served to gratify a more craving and imporunate sense.--Elwyn however was highly provoked and mortified at the tricks which had been played on him, and swore, if he could discover the perpetrator, he would insist on an apology, or compel him to take a little cold iron.

"That (said De Clavering) would be rendering your hospitality too profuse. It would not only produce matter for conversation, but in all probability furnish me with a job that might puzzle or improve me in the art of surgery; and, as nature had entailed so many diseases on us poor mortals, methinks no reasonable man would wish to increase them."

"But, were it not for the unreasonable, (said De Willows,) you gentlemen of the lancet and gallipot would not find sufficient opportunities to employ your genius, and give such proofs of your chirurgical skill and abilities."

"On my poor poty (said Hugh Camelford) I hope their apilities never will be tried. Petter to eat squirrels, as Elwyn would have tempted us to do, than be cutting up one another for pies and pasties!"

De Huntingfield unfortunately whispered to Roseline that he never saw her so unusually serious, adding, he supposed she was thinking of matrimony, and advised her to begin her attacks against Elwyn, while the generous and hospitable fit was upon him; for, if she permitted it to evaporate, Plutus, in all probability would again render every avenue to his heart inaccessible to the power of love.

This remark brought the roses into her cheeks. She however denied having formed any designs on one whose predominant passion set every other at defiance, and declared herself perfectly guiltless of all such hostile intentions. The hint however was sufficient to put her upon her guard, and she exerted herself to prevent any further observations of the like sort.

Madeline, now satisfied that the heart of Edwin was as much the slave of the tender passion as her own, and beat responsive to her every wish, would have relished the cheerful scene, had she not, in the very moment of enjoyment, recollected it was the last time, for perhaps a long long tiresome period, that she should make one of the happy party.

Edwin, who guessed the nature of her feelings, sympathized too much with her to be more at ease. De Clavering, who observed them both, gave a humorous dissertation on the powers of sympathy, and execrated its effects. The day however passed pleasantly, and the evening concluded with a dance, in which the lively Bertha was permitted to join, and had her favourite Hugh Camelford for a partner.--Edwin withdrew with the ladies at an early hour. The rest of the gentlemen returned with Elwyn to his apartment, much against his inclination, and did not leave him till they had literally fulfilled their agreement of emptying the miser's last bottle; then, consigning him to the care of his servant, with difficulty found their way to their own rooms.

Neither Edwin nor his sister however had forgotten their unfortunate friends. The former had stolen an opportunity of conveying a few nice things to the dungeon, had delivered them to Albert, and spent half an hour with his master, promising to renew his visit in the evening, accompanied by the ladies. This threw a gleam of joy over the countenance of the prisoner, who assured him he would not again distress them by shewing so much reluctance at parting.

Albert was pressed by Edwin to enforce the necessity of his master's endeavouring to recover all that he had lost of his reading, and by that means acquire a proper and useful knowledge of the customs and manners of the world, which would be absolutely essential to the rendering it pleasant, should he ever obtain his freedom, and become an active member of society.

"I shall find but little trouble, sir, (replied this excellent servant,) in doing that which my poor master has himself been so anxious to accomplish ever since he saw you and the sweet ladies, who have made our situation in comparison comfortable. Nature had kindly done much for him, education scarcely any thing. Now I foresee all will be right; he is roused from his lethargy of desponding misery, and laments his own ignorance in language, that shew him truly sensible of it. He has insisted on being better dressed against the evening, and the book has not been five minutes out of his hand since you left him."

"I will give you all the assistance in my power, (said Edwin,) and fortunately at this time my father's absence renders the design less hazardous. I have likewise another plan in my head, which I hope will not only greatly contribute to his comfort, but do much towards the more perfect re-establishment of his health, which I now begin to think is not quite in the hopeless state the alarming situation in which I first saw him led me to imagine."

Edwin next inquired of Albert how his master's wardrobe was furnished. "I recollect (said he) you mentioned his desire of changing his dress. I can supply his with any thing he wants."

"In that respect, sir, my master has no occasion to tax your bounty. Toys and fine clothes were never denied, and for a long time they had their influence, and served to amuse him."

"Good God! (said Edwin,) that this mystery could be explained!"

Albert shook his head, and immediately withdrew.

In the evening, Edwin, his sister, and Madeline, visited the prisoner; but, if they were surprised before at the happy alteration a few hours had produced in his looks, how much more so were they now at observing the still greater progress in the improvement both of his health and spirits.--He was drest in the most fashionable stile of the times, with an elegance and neatness that astonished them: every part of his dress was such as was only worn by persons of the highest rank,--his clothes richly trimmed, his stockings silk, and his shoes fastened with gold clasps.

At the approach of Roseline and her friend, his eyes sparkled with delight. In fact, he appeared like one raised from the grave by a miracle,--new fashioned and created. It was visible to all the party that his chief attention was directed to Roseline. He watched her every look, and the language of his artless soul was easily read in every expressive and animated feature.

They were now tolerably cheerful. His fear, reserve, and timidity, began gradually to wear off. He even ventured to address a question to Madeline, and to gaze with tender earnestness on her friend. Edwin, with an arch smile, reminded them it would be time to retire, when Roseline had given proper directions respecting her patient, from whose rapid recovery he foretold she would reap such honours as would firmly establish her reputation, as the first female physician in the world.

"And as the best, the most gentle of her sex," added the prisoner, blushing deeply as he ventured to express his gratitude.--"I owe her more than life,--more than--"

"A truce with your thanks, my good friend, (cried Roseline, now blushing in her turn.) and prove, you value our endeavours to render you more comfortable by taking the utmost care of yourself, and by not permitting you mind to swell on any circumstance likely to agitate and distress you."

He promised to be directed by his friends, and to follow strictly all their injunctions. Again they could not prevail on themselves to leave him, till the night was pretty far advanced. On receiving a promise from Edwin to visit him again the next morning, and one from the ladies to be with him in the evening, he saw them depart without any violent agitation; yet a visible gloom and reluctance pervaded his features, not to be concealed by one who never had formed an idea that it was either necessary or possible to disguise the feelings, or disavow the sentiments of the heart.

Happy state of unspotted unsuspecting integrity! when no pangs of guilt harass and corrode the mind with unceasing anguish! We can scarcely prevail upon ourselves (when we recollect it incorruptible advantages) to think such an enviable portion of internal peace dearly purchased even with the loss of liberty; for, amidst all his sufferings, out hapless prisoner could not recall on action that hung heavy on his mind, or that awakened the scorpion sting of a reproaching conscience. His life might justly be compared to the spotless pages of a book, whose leaves no blot had yet defiled, but which remained properly prepared to receive the fairest and most lasting impressions.

The expected summons for Madeline's return to the nunnery arrived. However reluctant to obey so unwelcome a mandate, she was obliged to comply. The parting between the lovers was attended with many uncomfortable and unpleasant feelings.--Melancholy presentiments were encouraged, which increased the distresses of the moment. She could not leave the prisoner without shedding many tears. She even envied his situation, and when she compared it with her own, it did not appear so hopeless and solitary. He still retained on faithful friend, and had lately met with others, who, if not so long known, were equally attached to him: He would likewise see Edwin every day, while she, immured in the hor d*val of a nunnery, as inimical to her felicity as those by which he was surrounded had till then proved to his, would be denied even the soothing influence of hope;--that ignis fatuus of the mind had deserted its post, and left it open to the sad encroachments of fruitless and unavailing regret.--Most severely did she now condemn herself for every having quitted the holy asylum, in which, if she had not found happiness, she had never felt such conflicts as those she now endured.

Lady de Morney and Roseline accompanied her to the nunnery, and delivered her up to the maternal care of the abbess, and the protection of father Anselm. They both appeared pleased and satisfied with her ready compliance with their commands, and rejoiced to see her look so well. They had suffered great anxiety on her account, and the father, who had visited her frequently during her indisposition, and had cherished bu few hopes of her recovery, now told her he trusted she would not more wish to forsake their holy sanctuary, as he doubted not her illness was a penance inflicted by Providence for leaving it at a season so particularly appropriated to the sacred duties of the church.

Roseline, before she left the nunnery, accompanied Madeline to her cell, the abbess having granted her this indulgence. Here they unobserved gave way to the sad luxury of tears. They wept on each other's bosom, and the sobbing Madeline, deaf to the soothing consolations of her sympathizing friend, requested her to present Edwin with her grateful acknowledgements for his many kind attentions, and which in the moment of parting she was unable to express. She hoped he would not forget her, and begged his sister to assure him, that, if she were compelled to take the veil, she should retain his image in her heart, though her life were dedicated to the service of her God. She likewise cautioned Roseline to beware, and guard against the fly and dangerous intrusions of love, which brought with them innumerable sorrows, and never to encourage hopes, as she had done, which she feared would end in disappointment and misery.

Roseline knew these hints alluded to the prisoner; the blush which tinged her cheek convinced her friend she was perfectly understood. Indeed, she had before ventured to tell her, that, in her attentions to relieve the miseries she commiserated, she might become too tenderly a sharer in them, and, in freeing the captive from his fetters, might herself be enslaved. Roseline thanked her friend, but denied the caution being necessary, and instantly tool her leave, in order to put an end to a conversation which now became unpleasant, and gave her more pain than she chose to acknowledge.

The evening, as may be supposed, passed slowly and heavily at the castle. Roseline felt unfeigned regret at the departure of her friend, and Edwin found in her absence the deprivation of happiness; yet, as it was unavoidable, he determined as much as possible to conceal his distress from the prying eye of suspicion, and to employ every hour he could command, in the service of the unfortunate prisoner, to whom he felt himself irresistibly and unaccountably attached; but Edwin, amidst his family at the castle, was not less internally wretched than poor Madeline, counting her beads in her silent and solitary cell.

At the usual time Roseline and her brother revisited the interesting object of her compassion. He expressed such rapture at seeing them, and made so many acknowledgements for their friendship, that their minds became insensibly harmonized, and their attention engaged.

Edwin now for the first time proposed removing his friend from the dungeon to the haunted chamber, which no one dared to approach, and which we before mentioned as having an entrance from the South tower. Roseline obtained permission of her mother to keep possession of the apartment into which she had accompanied Madeline; therefore they thought his removal could be easily accomplished without any risk of a discovery. It was agreed that Albert should attend the cells in order to take away the provision regularly carried there. All these matters settled, the following evening was appointed for the accomplishment of their purpose, at the same time Edwin cherished the most sanguine hopes that, with the assistance of Albert, and by means of the subterraneous passage, he might sometimes obtain a stolen interview with Madeline.