The asylum, or, Alonzo and Melissa an American tale, founded on fact |
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| 3. | CHAPTER III. |
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 | CHAPTER III. The asylum, or, Alonzo and Melissa |  |
3. CHAPTER III.
And suns, gay rising, set in mournful shade.
Dwight.
It was not until the afternoon of the succeeding
day, that I had an opportunity of
discoursing with my brother; we then retired
to the alcove in the garden, as previously
agreed on, when he related the circumstances
of his conversation with my father,
as follows:
“I have had a conference with the Baron,”
said he, “and am now prepared to apprise
you of his sentiments; his principal objection
to Bergher arises from family pride; his preference
of Hubert from another cause; by
the imprudence of Lady Du Ruyter, he has
become seriously involved in debt; to liquidate
which, he has borrowed considerable
sums of the Count, who engages to cancel
them all, on the consummation of his marriage
with you. I pointed out to our father,
in as forcible language as I was capable of
convinced him that it was in my power to relieve
him from his present embarrassments;
told him that I had, recently, purchased large
estates in Saxony, on which I could, at any
time, raise money sufficient to meet his exigencies;
to this he listened with attention. I
then expatiated upon the honourable and unsullied
character of Bergher, whose only fault
being a want of property, I had determined
it should not operate to the unhappiness of
my sister, while I possessed an income so
much superior to my expenditures; and I
pressed for his consent to your union with the
man of your choice. He said he could not
hastily decide, but would take the matter into
consideration; I could perceive he was
moved, and have the most sanguine hopes
that he will, yet, act as becomes a tender
and indulgent parent.”
My brother's words gave me some consolation;
still I was not without fears, on account
of the malevolent disposition of my
stepmother, and the ascendance I knew she
held over the mind of my father.
I had never acquired the art of disguising
my feelings; Hubert readily saw the preference
I gave to his rival; but he was a true
courtier, and affected not to perceive it. He
increased his assiduities and attentions, so
that, unless in his presence, Bergher now
saw me but seldom.
As I was one morning descending to the
breakfast parlour, I distinguished the voices
of my brother and the Count, in an adjoining
apartment; as they seemed in altercation, I
paused to listen, and overheard the following
laconic conversation:
“Permit me, therefore,” said Du Ruyter,
“to advise you to abandon a pursuit which
can but distress its object, while you gain nothing
thereby, except disappointment.”
“And did your comrade delegate to your
trust this important mission?” replied Hubert.
“The mission is my own, Sir,” answered
my brother, “and not executed without a
view to your benefit.”
“And what mighty boon does my benefactor
propose, in case I submit to his terms?”
rejoined the Count.
“The estimation, or, at least, not the detestation,
of a respectable family, and the reputation
of acting discreetly,” returned my
brother.
“Why now this is something,” said the
other; “it is something, indeed; but then I
humbly intreat permission to dispense with
your liberality, as a connexion or disconnexion
with the family of Du Ruyter is not
of stupendous consequence to the house of
Hubert.”
“Why then persist in those attentions
which, you cannot but perceive, must have
become not only displeasing, but oppressive?”
said Du Ruyter.
“To please my particular fancy, Sir.”
“Then, though it should displease that
peculiar fancy, I again advise you to desist.”
“No one, the Baron excepted, can justly
assume the privilege of imposing such advice.”
“But suppose,” continued my brother, “I
choose to assume that privilege, and therewith
take the liberty of offering my opinion
that the course you are pursuing is not honourable?”
“Then would I treat that opinion with contempt,”
retorted Hubert; “but considering it
shielded by the brother of Selina, might extend
severity no farther.”
“Neither Selina, nor her brother,” returned
Du Ruyter, “will claim lenity from the
gallantry or the bravery of the mighty Hubert,
nor will they grant him an additional
privilege for the display of those rare qualities.”
“Who, then, but a soldier,” exclaimed
the Count, haughtily, “could be at a loss in
determining the nice point your question embraces?”
“This house,” my brother, spiritedly, replied,
“has ever been a protection to all the
guests of the Baron Du Ruyter.”
“It is, indeed, a protection,” rejoined Hubert,
quickly, “and therefore I exchange it
for my lodgings at the Hotel du Val.”
Perceiving him advancing, I glided away,
tremblingly apprehensive that the consequence
of what I had heard could be nothing less
than a hostile interview. My brother appeared
at breakfast, nor did he seem, in the
least degree, agitated. Lady Du Ruyter inquired
why the Count was not present; the
Baron said he had excused himself on account
of previous engagements.
Business now called my father abroad for
some days, and Du Ruyter attended him;
during their absence, Hubert was almost
our constant visitor; but I had the pleasure
of observing that he attended more to the
Baron's lady than to me; I was rejoiced to
escape his addresses, by any means, for since
the altercation I had overheard between him
and my brother, he was more odious to me
than ever.
One morning, after I had engaged to ride
out with Bergher, the Count invited me to
take an airing in his chariot: I informed him
that I was previously engaged.
“Would it be improper,” he asked, “to
inquire into the disposition of those engagements?”
“By no means,” I answered: “a party of
pleasure, Sir.”
“Is it a civil or a military party?” he,
sneeringly, inquired.
“Civil, I trust, Sir,” I tartly replied, “unless
some impertinent coxcomb should intrude
himself among us.”
With all his confidence, he coloured deeply
at this retort. Recovering from his confusion—
“You have an undoubted right to select
your own parties, Madam,” he rejoined.
“On that point, I require neither information
nor instruction, Sir,” I returned.
He stood a few moments as indecisive
whether to prolong the conversation; then,
with the forced smile of mortified pride,
“My presence, I perceive, is unwelcome,”
said he; “I will therefore retire.”
As I made no reply, he withdrew, and for
a season I suffered no farther persecution
from his attentions; I could, however, perceive
that my movements were strictly observed
by himself and the Lady Du Ruyter.
Returning, one evening, from a visit, I was
informed, by the servant in waiting, that my
father had arrived that afternoon. Bergher,
who escorted me home, inquired for Du Ruyter;
the servant said he had stopped at the
seat of a neighbouring gentleman, and would
be in town the next day. The Baron having
retired to rest, I did not see him that night.
Nor did he appear at breakfast the next
morning; it was said he had rode out to his
villa, about six miles from Vienna.
About noon he returned, and immediately
summoned me to a private audience; I found
shut the door, and began as follows:
“I find, Selina,” said he, “that you have,
not only, disregarded my counsel and advice,
but have, also, disobeyed my strict injunctions,
and most positive commands, by discarding
the Count Hubert, and receiving, as
your addresser, a man without property,
fame, or character, except the slender appendages
attached to the name and profession of
a soldier; thus hazarding, by a single act of
imprudence, not only your future peace and
felicity, but the honour and reputation of
your family; a family, dignified by an ennobled
genealogy, to remotest ancestry.”
“From a conversation with my brother,” I
replied, taking the advantage of a pause, “I
thought I had reason to expect that my father
had relaxed in”—
“Hear me out,” he sternly interrupted;
“your brother, thoughtlessly fascinated by
the semblance of honour, and blindly devoted
to improper attachments, formed in the camp,
is little better calculated to make correct distinctions
than yourself; think not, therefore,
could I yield to your sacrificing your own
happiness and respectability, I would never
consent to receive, as my son-in-law, a man
of Bergher's pretensions. Attend, then, my
final decision—You must either abandon
Bergher, and marry the Count, or your father
will abandon you.”
Sinking on my knees and bursting into tears,
I besought him to retract so harsh a decree.
“Grant me, my father,” said I, “but one request;
permit me to remain single, and I
solemnly promise to obey you in all things:
I will engage not to see the face of a single
person without your express approbation.
But I cannot—O my only parent!—it is
utterly impossible—I can never—never
consent to marry Count Hubert.”
“Obstinate and perverse girl,” he passionately
exclaimed, “hear then the doom that
awaits you; I shall prescribe your walks to
narrow limits, nor will you be permitted
even to go out without suitable attendance;
know, also, that the unworthy object of your
affections is forbidden, ever hereafter, to set
me to retire, without reply.
With feelings not to be described I withdrew
to my room, where I passed the day in
the most excruciating anguish of mind. I
was now convinced that my brother's prospects
of reconciling the Baron to reason had
failed; I must consent to become the wife of
a man I despised, or forfeit the tenderness of
my only remaining parent, for ever; by either
of which my future days would be rendered
miserable.
In the afternoon Du Ruyter came to my
chamber: “I find you distressed, my sister,”
said he, as he entered, “and I well know
the occasion. I have been made acquainted
with every circumstance. Our father's will,
when correctly ascertained, we ought, if reasonable,
to obey; in the present instance he
does not act of himself, but by the advice,
and under the immediate influence of his lady;
to her authority we are not bound to
submit, especially when it tends to destroy
our peace, as in the case we now experience.
Your situation has become critical and interesting;
Bergher's visits here are interdicted;
prisoner; unless you consent to marry the
Count you will be still more oppressed, and
most rigourously persecuted. I have learnt,
since my return, that, to keep you completely
in restraint, and out of the reach of
Bergher, you are soon to be sent, secretly,
to the Baron's villa in the country, where no
one is to have access to you except Hubert,
and the attendants, your guards; the Baron
has been there this morning to give orders
for an apartment to be fitted up for your reception.
In this dilemma, what course are
we to pursue?”
“Advise me,” I exclaimed, “advise me,
O my brother! I must rely on your counsel,
for I know not what to do, and have no one
else to consult; but death itself is preferable
to a union with Hubert.”
“You shall never be united to him,” he
returned, “if I have power to prevent it,
and for that purpose I have a proposition to
make, which demands your attentive consideration.”
“What is it?” I eagerly asked.
“To marry Bergher,” he replied.
I gazed at him with astonishment.
“Be not surprised,” said he, “at the proposal
of a secret marriage; your have no other
way of escape; you must be Bergher's or
Hubert's; the only alternative is wretchedness
and a prison. My plan is, that after your
union you retire, privately, with your husband,
to Saxony, where you can reside on
my estates until I have made your peace
with the Baron, which I am confident I can
do, when he experiences the effects of your
absence, reflects on his own conduct, and perceives
farther perseverance therein useless
and vain. Trust me, Selina, I know the temper
of our father; of the impropriety of Lady
Du Ruyter's advice and behaviour he must
shortly be convinced. His affection for his
children is powerful, and will soon return;
a reconciliation will then be effected, your
pardon granted, and with your consort you
will be honourably restored to favour and to
felicity.”
To paint the agitation of my mind, various
and fluctuating, would be impossible.
to a speedy decision; and on what could I
decide but the course my brother had advised?
To be deserted by my only parent
perhaps I might have borne; but to be given
up the prisoner of the man I detested was
horror; was worse, far worse, than immediate
death. It is needless for me to detail—
The succeeding night, after the family were
all at rest, I was united to Bergher in my
own apartment. No one was present except
Du Ruyter and his chaplain, who married
us; not even my woman was entrusted with
the secret.
As it was necessary to make arrangements
for my departure, which Du Ruyter informed
me must soon take place, I was the next
morning preparing to go out to purchase a
few articles I wanted, when an order came
from the Baron forbidding my leaving the
house, and directing me to hold myself in
readiness to proceed, on the morrow, into
the country; I shuddered at the mandate,
and instantly sent for my brother. Soon as he
understood the matter, “Be not alarmed,”
said he, “we have only to use a little more
despatch; our project must be carried into effect
maid?”
“I believe her to be honest, and firmly attached
to me,” I answered.
“Ply her liberally with this,” said he, presenting
me with a purse; “see if she can be
trusted, and if you find her faithful, let her
into your secret; I will be with you again in
an hour.” He then departed.
I called up my maid, and told her she
must go out and purchase a few articles at
the shops; “and here is money,” I continued,
“to buy yourself a new dress; or
what else you choose.”
“Thank you, Ma'amselle,” said she, curtseying,
“you are always so good.”
“So long as you are a good girl I shall do
well by you,” said I.
“You always have, Ma'am; I hope I may
never be so unlucky as to displease you,” she
returned.
“I think you love me, do you not, Doria?”
I said, carelessly.
“La! Ma'amselle,” she replied, “how
can you ask such a dreadful queer question?
Love you, Ma'am! If I thought you doubted
it I should die of vexation.”
“I do not doubt it, but I am in distress,
Doria,” I rejoined.
“I know it, Ma'amselle,” she answered, “I
know all about it; there's Catreen, my Lady's
maid, told me the other day, says she,
`don't you think,' says she, `now there's
Ma'amselle Selina refuses the Count, and
wishes to marry the Colonel, though the latter
isn't worth a stiver.' And so would I,
says I, for the Count is old and ugly, says I,
but the Colonel is young and handsome,
but”—
“Well, Doria,”—
“Well, Ma'am, to day the Count's valley
de sham, said to me, says he, `So, Doria,
your mistress,' meaning you, Ma'amselle,
`doesn't like the cut of my master's face, I
to see it oftener, and will then, perhaps, esteem
it better,' and”—
“Did the Count's man tell you so, Doria?”
“Indeed, he did, Ma'am, and I told him
to hold his impertinent tongue, and go about
his business, and”—
“Doria,” said I, “you must assist me. I
can no longer stay under this roof; my father,
or rather his lady, is determined I shall
marry the Count, and they intend I shall be
removed tomorrow to some place of confinement,
until I consent to their wishes; this
night, therefore, I am to depart, with my
brother, to some safe place, where we are to
remain until matters can be reconciled. If
you will attend me you shall be richly rewarded,
and provided for during life.”
“Attend you, Ma'amselle,” she replied,
“that I will, through the world, if you'll permit
me; and really I shall be greatly rejoiced
to get away from this troublesome house, for
my lady has grown so testy and captious,
that, at best, she leads us a miserable life.”
“You may now go, Doria,” said I, “and
do as I have told you, but be cautious that
not a suspicious word escapes you; I shall be
for ever ruined and wretched if our scheme
should be discovered.”
“Never fear me, Ma'amselle,” said she,
as she went out, “I defy them to get any
thing from me.”
Du Ruyter soon returned, when our affairs
were thus arranged: He was to retire to rest
at the usual family hour, which, as it was Saturday,
would be early; after all were asleep,
he was to arise and open a passage for me
into the garden, by leaving the doors unbarred.
One hour after midnight he would
meet me with his coach at the garden gate,
from whence I could make my escape.
Bergher was to join us at some little distance
on the road, when we were to proceed, with
all possible despatch, to Saxony.
My preparations were rapid, and soon completed.
My best apparel was put up in a
small trunk; my money and jewels were deposited
in a casket. I then waited impatiently
for the appointed hour. Night came on,
o'clock, my maid, who had been below, returned
and handed me a note, which she
said she had received from my brother's
footman; I broke the seal, and read as follows:
“Circumstances, my dear sister, render it
necessary to change the order of our arrangements;
I will explain them to you when we
meet. Be at the garden gate at twelve, instead
of one o'clock, where you will find the
coach, with proper attendants, ready to receive
you. Let not your voice be heard by those who
escort you. Fear nothing; I will join you a
few miles from town.
“T. DU RUYTER.”
This note excited my liveliest apprehensions;
I feared our plan was discovered, or at
least suspected. With increased impatience
I waited till within a quarter of an hour of
twelve; at that moment a loud knocking was
heard at the gate; a universal tremour seized
me; the knocking continued with violence;
at length the porter was aroused; I heard
him unlock the door and go out; he soon
after returned with some person in his company;
door was locked. No one ascending the
stairs, I ordered my maid to go and make
observations; she shortly came back and informed
me that it was only the steward, who
had been out on business; I entertained not
the least doubt but that he had been making
preparations for my confinement at the villa,
and at that moment I felt as if released
from chains and a dungeon.
But it was at least three quarters of an
hour before the house became silent; we
then ventured down, my woman carrying the
trunk, and I the casket. We passed silently
along the apartments, through the outer door,
and soon reached the appointed place; the
coach was waiting, into which I was handed
by an attendant, who seated himself beside
me; my maid followed, the doors were
closed, and we were driven rapidly away, the
servants following on horseback, as outriders.
The night was gloomy and dark; heavy
folding clouds rolled along the horizon; lightning
flashed through the atmosphere, and
thunder roared at no great distance. My
feelings were in unison with nature; my
spread itself over my soul.
I soon began to grow uneasy on account of
Du Ruyter's not joining us; but as his note
had directed me to be silent, not a word was
spoken.
We had now proceeded far from the city;
my anxiety increased; I could preserve silence
no longer. Turning towards the man
who sat near me, in a low voice I asked,
“Where is my brother?” Receiving no answer,
I more audibly repeated the question;
a broad and bright flash of lightning, at that
instant, gave me a full view of the features of
the person I addressed; heavens! what
were my sensations when I perceived it to be
the Count Hubert! “My God!” I exclaimed,
“I am betrayed!” and sprang towards
the door of the coach. “You are saved,”
cried he, seizing hold of me, “from the seductions
of an impostor.” I shrieked, and
struggled with all my might; as I broke from
his grasp, I heard the rattling of a carriage
advancing towards us; I burst one of the
doors, and cried out, “For God's sake, rescue
the daughter of Baron Du Ruyter from
directly before us; by the light of the coach-lanterns,
I saw a person leap out, and knock
our postillion from his seat.—“Base miscreant!”
exclaimed a voice, “release my sister,
or you instantly die!” It was the voice of
Du Ruyter! “We meet sooner than I expected,”
returned Hubert, rushing from the
chariot, “but not too soon for vengeance.”
They both fired, and both fell! I flew to the
spot, sank, and fainted upon the body of my
brother.
How long I continued in that situation I
knew not; when I revived, or, at least, when
correct sensation returned, I found myself on
a sort of couch, surrounded by a number of
peasant-looking people of both sexes. The
room was small, and the furniture of the
coarsest materials. I stared wildly around,
unable at first to assemble ideas sufficient to
conjecture where I was, or remember what
had been my situation; but recollection soon
came, and with it all the horrors of the
past night, for I now perceived, by the light
of a small, solitary window, that it was day.
Raising myself up, “Oh! my murdered
brother!” I involuntarily murmured; they
an elderly female, who advised me to lie
down and compose myself. I leaned back,
and she seated herself by my bed. The door
communicating with the other room was
open, so that I could distinctly hear the conversation
which passed.
“Was the lady's brother murdered?” asked
some one, in a low voice.
“All I can tell you of the matter,” replied
another, “is this; my wife, who can never
sleep during a thunder storm, awaked me in
the night; I got up, lighted a lamp, and
stepped out to look at the weather; while I
stood there, I heard a loud screaming, and
then the report of fire-arms; I called up my
son William, we armed ourselves with bludgeons,
and taking each of us a lantern, hastened
to the great road, from whence, as we
judged, the noise proceeded; reaching it,
we paused and looked around, but nothing
was to be seen, and we were about to
return, when we heard a faint groan; on
searching farther, we discovered the lady,
lying near the road, dead, as we thought, or
dying, for there was a good deal of blood on
as also a small box we found in the road,
which probably belonged to some of the company.
I suppose the party were attacked by
highway robbers; but what became of the
rest, whether they escaped, were taken, or
killed and carried off, I know not.”
From this short narration I could learn nothing.
My thoughts ranged through a wilderness
of conjecture. What had become of
my brother's body? what of my maid? how
happened it that I was left on the field? how
came I in the power of Hubert? Inexplicable
mystery involved the whole transaction.
The small box the peasant had mentioned, I
supposed to be my casket, which probably
dropped from my hand when I left the coach.
The voice which had been speaking seemed
familiar to my ear; nor was I mistaken; for
when the speaker again entered my room, I
discovered him to be a person I had frequently
seen in the city, selling fruit and garden
sauce, by which he supported his family;
his name was Driscol. I heard him whisper
the woman who sat by me, and who was his
wife—“I am going out,” said he; “take
senses, find out who she is, that her friends
may be informed of her situation.” I had
probably raved on recovering from my swoon,
and they supposed me still delirious.
Fancying me asleep, his wife quit my bed-side
as Driscol went out; the people, doubtless
the neighbouring cottagers, who had collected
on the alarm, departed also.
Left alone, uninterrupted reflection poured
upon me; alas! how poignant and severe!
What fate next awaited me? What had become
of Bergher? He knew not where to seek
me. What could I do—what course adopt? Return
to the city? Impossible, after the scenes
which had passed; to remain where I was,
equally impracticable. Should I confide to
Driscol and his wife my situation? What
could they do for me? Perhaps betray me to
my father and to Hubert.
Agitated, irresolute, my mind distracted
by a thousand contending emotions, I lay in
extreme anguish, when Driscol re-entered the
adjoining apartment.—“Sad work, wife,”
said he, “among the great folks.”
“Aye,” returned she, “that is often the
case. But what work do you mean, husband?”
“Why it seems,” answered Driscol, “that
Col. Bergher and Count Hubert both wanted
to marry the daughter of Baron Du Ruyter.
She and her brother were in favour of
the former; the Baron and his lady of the
latter; last night the Colonel—no—the
Count, attempted to carry her off; her brother,
in endeavouring to prevent it, was shot
dead by the Count, who was also wounded
in the fray, and in the end paid dear enough
too for the scrape; for this morning the Colonel
and he met; they fought, and the Count
was run through the heart; but the worst of
all is to come; the Colonel was taken and
carried to prison, and will certainly be hung
or beheaded; there can be no hopes of pardon,
you know, for a person who kills one of
the royal blood, and the Count was nearly related
to the Emperor. Zounds! had William
been there the Colonel would not have
been very easily taken; William, you know,
was a Sergeant in his regiment at the battle
of — I forget the name of the place; but
William would spill the last drop of his blood
best men in the universe.”
“But what became of the lady?” asked
his wife.
“Oh, that I had like to forgot,” he replied;
“the lady cannot be found, though they have
hunted for her every where, and are hunting
yet; I saw one of the men who was in pursuit
of her.”
“And who knows,” said the woman, “but
that she is now under our roof?”
“The same thing popp'd into my head,” returned
Driscol, “so I wouldn't tell the man
any thing about what had happened, though
he made strict inquiry”—
I heard no more.—This intelligence only
was wanting to complete my wretchedness. I
groaned in agony—stupefaction seized my
senses; it was but of short duration; by so rapid
a succession of distressing events, the powers
of my soul were rendered too elastic to remainlong
in one position. I awoke to the calmness
of despair; Driscol and his wife were
daughter of Baron Du Ruyter, let us know
it; perhaps we can assist you.” “I am,”
said I, “and also the wife of Bergher; but
you cannot help me; no mortal power can
give me aid.” “I can try, however,” he returned,
and went hastily out, calling for
William.
I arose, and walked to the window. I recollected
it was the Sabbath, a day I had ever
venerated, and strictly solemnized. The sun
was setting, and cast his expiring, yellow
rays, on the green prospect around; I viewed
it without emotion; no throb agitated my
bosom; no pang tortured my heart. I felt
as if treading in air. The good woman of
the house urged me to take some refreshment;
I complied, and sat down with her at the table;
I was thirsty, and drank plentifully of
tea; I ate freely, but of what, to this moment
I know not. We were both silent, for
to speak I do not believe was in my power.
I returned to my room, and to the window;
darkness gradually came on, shade deepening
into shade, till every object was veiled in total
for some time; exhausted at length, I flung
myself on the couch, and soon sunk into a
profound sleep.
| CHAPTER III. The asylum, or, Alonzo and Melissa | |