The asylum, or, Alonzo and Melissa an American tale, founded on fact |
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| 4. | CHAPTER IV. |
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 | CHAPTER IV. The asylum, or, Alonzo and Melissa |  |
4. CHAPTER IV.
Through distant lands and unknown realms we roam;
By adverse fate, compell'd strange worlds to rove;
All joy, all consolation lost, but love.
Lester.
When I awoke, Driscol, his wife, and
two other persons, were standing near my
bed; I raised myself up, and in an instant
was locked in the arms of Bergher!
“We must fly, Selina,” said he, while my
tears copiously flowed; “we must fly this
moment, languid as I perceive you are, or,
by lingering, we involve not only ourselves,
but this worthy family, in inevitable destruction.”
“Oh, Bergher! by what strange miracle
have you been liberated?” I asked.
“By this generous man and his son,” he replied,
“who have hazarded their lives to save
mine; stop not to inquire farther; you shall
soon know all.” Then taking a large purse
would have prevented him, but he persisted;
“this is but a small compensation for
your goodness,” he said, “would to God I
could bestow on you an empire!”
“See if this be not your box;” said dame
Driscol, presenting me my casket, “it was
found with you on the road last night.”
“It is,” I answered; “how shall we express
our gratitude for all your kindness?”
“Stay not to thank us,” replied William,
“your bounty has already enriched us.”
“Farewel, my valued friends,” said Bergher,
“may blessings ever attend you; and you,
my brave soldier,” he continued, turning to
William, “receive this as your Colonel's final
gift.” It was a captain's commission in the
regiment of Bergher, at his disposal, and
which, by the laws of the realm, could not
be revoked but by the delinquency of the incumbent.
They then attended us to the door;
alternate gripes of hands were the last, sad,
silent, but eloquently affectionate, adieus.
A chaise was waiting; we entered it and
drove off; at that instant we heard the clattering
of horses' hoofs, driving up to the cottage;
“There, said I, are the officers of justice
in search of us.”
“Be not alarmed,” returned Bergher, “as
they will not find us with Driscol, our preservers
will never be injured, and the party know
nothing of our flight.”
We soon gained the high road and quickened
our speed. It was a dark starlight night;
we had not proceeded far before some one, a
few rods in front of us, hailed “who comes
there?” The challenge being disregarded, the
person fired his piece, sprang forward, and
seized the bridles of the horses. This
proved to be a signal, for immediately we
saw a number of armed men with flambeaux
issue from an adjoining house. The moment
was critical—Bergher, though possessed of
arms, had not time to use them; rising and
bending forward, with the stock of his whip
he aimed a blow at the fellow's head; the
stroke was instantaneous and effectual; the
man sunk to the ground, and the horses, freed
from the encumberance, darted forward with
fired; the balls whistled around us. We soon
heard shouting from behind, and horsemen
swiftly pursuing us. Coming to a by-path,
we turned into it, and the party speedily
passed us, keeping on the main road.
“Scouts,” said Bergher, “must have been
far extended, and in every direction, to intercept
us, as Driscol's cottage is at least
eight miles from Vienna; but, thanks to
Heaven, I think we are now safe.”
The path we had taken was uneven and
narrow, which obliged us to advance slowly
and with caution; we knew not whither it
tended; it wound along on the verge of a
woody precipice, descended into a valley
overspread with low shrubbery, then entered
a deep, dark, and apparently an extensive
forest.
I shall never forget, yet never can I describe
my feelings, while traversing this vast
solitude, amidst the darkness and stillness of
night. Recently escaped from so many and
such mighty perils; suddenly restored to the
arms of a beloved husband, whom I supposed
for ever lost, yielded consolations I could neither
yet they were melancholy: the fate of a brother,
dear as the blood which mantled about
my heart, hung with heaviness and deep affliction
upon my soul.
As the carriage rolled leisurely along, I
leaned upon the bosom of now my only earthly
friend and protector, indulging sad reflection,
and listening to the hollow winds as
they sighed amidst the trees, the solemn roar
of distant waters, or to the rapid song of the
solitary night-bird, as it echoed among the
rocky nooks and caverns of the surrounding
wilderness.
Suddenly we were alarmed by the sound of
a French horn, far in our rear; we immediately
conjectured that some of the men in
quest of us had taken the road we were travelling;
nor were we mistaken; they gained
upon us apace; every sound of the horn approached
nearer, and we soon distinguished
the thundering of their horses' feet. “At
length,” said I, “we shall be overtaken when
there is no hope of escape.”
“Providence has hitherto preserved us,”
replied Bergher; “let us not despair; here
is an opening in the wood, thither we can
turn aside until our pursuers have passed.”
He alighted and led the carriage along a
narrow glade until we came to a small thicket,
behind which we concealed ourselves.
The party quickly came up, and halted directly
against us.
“We must search every corner,” said one
them; “here seems to be a path leading into
the forest; see if it can be traced.”
A horseman immediately rushed into the
opening, but soon being entangled with the
brush, “There is no path here,” cried he;
“let us not waste time, but drive on to the
next village; if we do not there overtake
them they must still be behind us.” He then
rejoined his companions, and they galloped
off. Thus were we again providentially relieved
from the most dreadful apprehensions.
Still imminent danger attended us; should
we directly proceed on our journey we must
probably meet the party returning; to remain
us in their rear, they would doubtless
scour the forest in every passable direction;
the latter course, however, could only be
adopted with any prospect of safety.
Day was dawning, and its light soon enabled
us to seek for a place of greater security:
this it was not easy to find; but at length
we discovered a ledge of high rocks standing
at a little distance from each other, thickly
surrounded with low branching trees; thither,
with much difficulty, the carriage was
dragged and crowded in between the rocks,
where we remained concealed, within sight
of the road.
“About noon we saw the troop returning;
they passed us with a slow and silent pace,
probably expecting to meet and surprise us
unawares; soon as they were out of hearing
we repaired to the road and proceeded on our
journey.
Within about half an hour, as we began to
emerge from the forest into a more open and
cultivated country, we saw a hussar advancing
towards us at full gallop; in passing us
with scrutinizing particularity; then turning
his horse, he rode up to the carriage and ordered
us to halt; I trembled exceedingly;
no sooner had we stopped, than advancing to
the side of the chaise—“From whence are
you?” he demanded.
“From Vienna,” was the reply.
“And whither bound?”
“On a journey.”
“You must return with me, Sir.”
“Why return, and by whose orders?”
Bergher asked, sternly.
“By the orders of the Emperor,” replied
the soldier. “Horsemen are out on every
road, with directions to intercept and bring in
all travellers. Of the party on this route I
have the command; my men are a few miles
in advance. The object is to seize a desperate
villain who last night broke from prison,
a deserter, a murderer, who has disgraced
of a soldier—one Bergher.”
Quick as lightning Bergher rose upon his
feet, and snatching a pistol from his side-pocket,
presented it at the breast of the officer—“Behold
the man you seek,” said he;
“surrender yourself his prisoner, or instant
death awaits you.”
There was no room for parley: the officer
delivered his pistols.
“Your sword, Sir,” demanded Bergher.
The sword was yielded up.
As Bergher turned to place them in the
carriage, the officer plunged his spurs into
the horse's sides, and darted off with great
rapidity; in descending a hill his horse
fell, dashing him to the ground with violence;
we hastened to the spot; he lay apparently
lifeless. Bergher raised and laid him
on a bank by the way-side; shortly he began
to breathe convulsively; but though life returned,
reason had fled; he groaned, stared
vacantly, and murmured incoherently. On
examination, a deep contusion appeared on
flowed occasionally from his mouth.
While considering how to dispose of him,
we saw a waggon approaching, in which
were a peasant and a lad. For a small sum
they consented to take charge of the maimed
officer, his horse and accoutrements, and return
with them to the village, from whence
they came, distant, they said, about ten
miles in advance. As they were placing
the hussar in the waggon, Bergher asked the
peasant if there were any soldiers stationed
at his village. “O yes,” said he, “a regiment
or two, and they were all called out this
morning to guard the passes, in order, they
say, to seize an officer who first murdered a
nobleman and then deserted. Who knows
but I have the very fellow in my waggon? a
lucky hit if it should be, as a large reward is
offered for his head, dead or alive.”
“Are there any by-roads between this place
and the village?” Bergher inquired.
“None,” replied the peasant, and immediately
set off at a slow pace with the hussar,
who still remained senseless.
What course now to take we could not
possibly devise. To recede or advance appeared
equally perilous. To escape the vigilance
of our pursuers seemed impossible. One
difficulty was no sooner vanquished, one obstacle
surmounted, than another, superior in
magnitude, arose to obstruct and arrest our
purposes and exertions.
While we stood hesitating whether to advance
or retreat, we saw the lad, who was
mounted on the officer's horse, returning;
“My father,” said he, when he came up,
“forgot to tell you of a road which a few
miles ahead turns off to the right, and runs
over the big mountain; you must not take
that, for it leads a great way from the village
into a wild part of the country.” Rejoiced
at this intelligence, we thanked the lad for
the information, who turned and followed the
waggon.
We passed on, and soon perceiving the
by-road, entered and pursued it; it was stony
and rugged, leading into woody, unfrequented
parts, uninhabited except by the tenants of
a few scattering cottages; at one of these,
which exhibited a more decent appearance
obtain refreshment, which we much needed.
Fruit, eggs and milk were set before us. We
rested about half an hour, then proceeded,
and soon arrived at the foot of the mountain
mentioned by the peasant boy. By a long,
gradual ascent, hedged on each side with impenetrable
shrubbery, we reached the top:
from its craggy summit, which arrested the
course of careering clouds, the eye extended
over an immeasurable space of wilderness
and cultivation, picturesque and romantic in
the extreme. As we passed along our ears
were frequently stunned by the piercing
screeches of the cormorant, as it pounced upon
its prey in an adjoining lake; the harsh
croakings of the raven, winging to his nightly
covert, or the sonorous voice of the solitary
eagle, soaring high above our heads, or hovering
among the loftiest cliffs. Frequently
the defenceless hare bounded across our path,
closely pursued by the rapacious wolverene;
and sometimes our attention was fixed by the
adventurous wild goat, browsing on the extreme
point of some giddy eminence, where
human foot had never imprinted its vestige.
Descending into the plain beneath, we entered
upon a more broad and level road.
Fearing pursuit, we continued our course
through the night, and the next day, as evening
was setting in, we espied a farm-house
off the road, to which we drove and inquired
for an inn. There was none within several
miles.
“Can you direct us where we can find entertainment
for the night?” asked Bergher.
“Not near at hand,” replied the rustic,
“but if you will accept of farmer's fare you
shall be welcome here.”
Joyfully we closed with the invitation, and
after supper retired to rest for the first time
during our journey.
Early the next morning, with many thanks,
we took leave of our host and set forward,
travelling for several days, resting a short
time in the night, until at length we learned
with satisfaction that we were out of the Emperor
of Germany's dominions.
Wearied and exhausted as we were by the
misfortunes and hardships we had encountered,
we concluded to remain a few days at a
neat little town where we arrived, as well to
restore our harrassed and wasted spirits, as to
form some plan for future safety. Hitherto
escape from impending danger had been our
only object; hence no system was arranged,
self-preservation alone being consulted. During
the rapid succession of past events, time
was not admitted to consider what course we
should take; we readily adopted that which
appeared best calculated to favour our flight,
without inquiring or regarding whither it led,
so that it conducted us beyond the reach of
the meditated vengeance of our adversaries.
The money which Bergher had brought
with him amounted to no inconsiderable sum;
I had likewise a plentiful supply, which at different
times had been given me by my father,
my brother, and a legacy left me by my mother:
my casket of jewels, also, was very
valuable; so that we were not apprehensive of
soon being in want; but our treasure would
not always last; our capital, or at least a part
of it, must be so arranged as to be gaining a
percentage, or in time it would waste away,
own exertions we were hereafter to rely, having
now no friends to whom we could ever
make our future situation known.
Some large and populous city, it was considered,
would be the most favourable to our
views, both as it respected concealment and
the chance of some speculation, whereby to
preserve, if not to increase our finances;
Paris was finally fixed on as the most eligible.
The preservation of my casket, on that
dreadful night when I was entrapped by the
wretch Hubert, was a fortunate circumstance:
as I carried it in my hand, I must have
dropped it when in the distress and agony
of my mind I flew from the coach to the
bleeding body of my brother. My trunk,
containing every article of dress I brought
with me, except those I had on, was probably
carried away in the carriage.
Bergher was enabled in some degree to
elucidate the mystery with which preceding
occurrences were enveloped. In consequence
of the altercation I had overheard between
my brother and Hubert, a hostile interview
place when Du Ruyter should have returned
from his proposed journey with us to Saxony.
The friends, or seconds of the parties, were a
Col. Hembold and a brother of Hubert.
The night I left my father's house Du
Ruyter, soon as he perceived the family at
rest, commenced the execution of his plan
by opening the doors and gates for my escape;
he then ordered his coach, and attended by
three servants, called on Bergher at his lodgings
and accompanied him to the place, a few
miles from town, where he was to await our
arrival. Finding it too early to meet me according
to appointment, he said he would
drive out about ten miles from town, and pass
an hour with a friend. Bergher ordered his
servant to attend him. Returning by a circuitous
route, it was merely by chance they fell
upon the road Hubert had taken. What
happened when they met has been already
stated.
Soon as my brother fell, Bergher's man
fled hastily to his master: the account he
gave, though somewhat confused, was sufficiently
alarming: he had heard my cries
the Count and Du Ruyter, but saw only
the latter fall. On receiving this intelligence
Bergher seized his sword and pistols,
armed his servant, and taking a chaise, hurried
to the spot. Day began to appear when
they reached the place; nothing was discovered
but marks of blood; they reasonably
conjectured that my brother's servants had removed
his body, and suspected that I was the
prisoner of Hubert at his country-seat a few
miles distant; thither Bergher directly proceeded,
and arrived there soon after the sun
had arisen. Leaving the carriage in the
court-yard with his man, he knocked for admittance;
a spruce French laquey opened
the door, and obsequiously demanded “vat
his honeur vil please to be vant?”
“Lead me to the Count Hubert,” said
Bergher.
“If your honeur vil please send up your
address, me vil return in von tree minute,”
replied the valet.
“I will present that address myself,” returned
Bergher.
“Monsieur le Count has given le special
ordeur,” rejoined the other, “dat no persone
be admit, unless he be so previously announce.”
Bergher quickly drew his sword—“Lead,
me, this moment,” said he, sternly, “to your
master; and be cautious how you make any
mistake or alarm: if you deviate in the
least from this command, I will immediately
cleave you in twain.”
This argument was too powerful to be resisted;
the servant, cringing and trembling,
led the way along several rooms, up a winding
flight of stairs, and through an extended
suit of apartments, till approaching a chamber,
he pointed to a closed door, “Dat be le
saloon,” said he, in a whisper, “but la door
be bolt, Monsieur.” At that moment, a woman's
voice was heard within. Bergher listened
and distinguished the following words:
“It was not so much the promise of money,
your honour, as in obedience to the
commands of Lady Du Ruyter, and to prevent
my mistress from running away with
her to your honour.”
“You have done right,” replied a voice,
which Bergher knew to be Hubert's, “and
shall be well rewarded, though unfortunately
our scheme has proved”—
Bergher instantly set his foot against the
door and burst it open. The Count was sitting
in an easy chair; a bandage was around
his head; Doria, my woman, was leaning on
a desk which stood near him. Soon as
Bergher appeared, the Count started wildly,
and sprang upon his feet; my maid flew
screaming from the room—
“Villain!” exclaimed Bergher, “restore
the daughter of Baron Du Ruyter to liberty!”
Seizing an unsheathed sword which lay on
the desk—“Villain, back to thy heart,
base-born wretch!” cried Hubert, rushing
furiously upon Bergher.
While parrying each other's thrusts, the
servants suddenly entered, one of whom
aimed at the heart of his antagonist,
but before he could discharge it, received the
sword of the latter in his breast and fell.
Bergher was overpowered, disarmed, and
secured by the Count's people, conveyed to
prison, and thrown into a dungeon; his man
followed him, but was refused admittance.
With astonishment I now perceived, from
what Bergher related, that my woman had
indeed betrayed me. By the intrigues of
Lady Du Ruyter and the Count, she had
doubtless been won over to their interest, and
bribed as a spy upon my actions. She unquestionably
apprised them of my intended
flight with my brother, which they readily
foresaw must have some connexion with
Bergher. Hence they contrived to defeat
our purpose, and to throw me into the power
of Hubert. The note, which my maid pretended
to have received from Du Ruyter's
footman, on the night of my elopement,
signed with my brother's name, changing our
plan of arrangement to an earlier hour than had
been previously agreed upon, was undoubtedly
the forgery of the Count, to gain time and
opportunity for carrying his designs into effect
from Doria the time appointed for the arrival
of my brother's coach, he therefore fixed
one hour earlier, which would leave room
sufficient to execute his purpose unmolested;
but the interruption occasioned by the return
of the Baron's steward, delayed my departure
to within about twenty minutes of the hour
when my brother was to be at the garden gate.
The forged note enjoined my silence, to prevent
a possibility of discovery. Hence,
when I reached the place of destination, I
was, by the Count himself in the disguise of
an attendant, handed, not as I expected and
supposed into my brother's, but, into Hubert's
coach, which taking the same road when
Du Ruyter was then casually returning, produced,
when they met, the events I have
previously related.
Such were the convictions which flashed
upon my mind from the information given by
Bergher. His finding my woman with the
Count, and the conversation he overheard
between them, were convincing evidence of
the facts. To Hubert's unfinished sentence,
when he promised Doria she should be well
rewarded, though unfortunately their “scheme
unsuccessful, had not Bergher interrupted
it by forcing the door. The bandage around
the Count's head was doubtless in consequence
of the wound he received in the conflict
with Du Ruyter. How it happened that
I was left on the place where the rencounter
occurred was still inexplicable; the Driscols
might have been seen approaching with lights;
Hubert, possibly deprived of sensation, was
hurried away by his servants, while the body
of my brother was borne off by his own people.
In so much tumult and sudden confusion,
it could not be surprising that I should
be neglected.
The prison to which Bergher had been
committed was strictly guarded. As some
state criminals of distinguished connexions
were confined therein, the different cells and
apartments were visited every half hour by
the officers of the guard, to see that all was
safe. Frequently, therefore, had the massy
door of his dungeon grated upon its creaking
hinges; at length he heard the bolts withdrawn
more rapidly than usual, the door
quickly flew open, and William Driscol stood
before him. While unrivetting his chains,
They then extinguished the lamp which hung
glimmering in the cell, and departed from
the prison, locking the doors after them. At
the outer gate stood old Driscol, who received
the keys from his son in silence: William
and Bergher passed on until they came to a
by place, where the latter found his man waiting
with the chaise; wishing no farther to involve
his faithful servant in the perilous state
of his affairs, he dismissed him with a liberal
donation; his sword and pistols, which
his man had reclaimed of the Count's people,
were in the carriage. In a few minutes the
elder Driscol rejoined them, and they hastily
set off for the cottage; before they reached the
distance of half a mile from the prison, they
heard the alarm guns fired, which are always
kept ready for the occasion; by this they knew
that the escape was discovered by the visiting
officers, and that swift parties of horse would
be immediately sent out in all directions to
intercept the roads and arrest the fugitive.
When they arrived at the cottage I was asleep,
or rather lost in a delirious stupour. What
succeeded, I have already detailed.
Driscol, it appears, was intimately acquainted
with the soldiers who guarded the
prison; he had been a soldier himself, and
still delighted in their company; he had often
held gala-day with them at their quarters,
frequently visited them at the guard-house;
sometimes he would spell, as he styled it,
the centinel on duty, by standing his tour, or
relieving him (taking his place) until the said
centinel could run and refresh himself, or do
some little jobs of his own. This, however,
was kept concealed from the officers, as it
was against orders; but the soldiers all knew
Driscol, and would as soon trust him as one
of their own party.
William Driscol returned from the army
with Col. Bergher, in whose regiment, as
has been mentioned, he held a subaltern office;
he loved his Colonel, from whom he
had received many favours, and was ever
ready, on a just occasion, to sacrifice even
his life, should that be necessary, in preservation
of Bergher's. When, therefore, he
and his father understood the cause of the
Colonel's imprisonment, and especially when
they discovered that his wife was under their
protection, they determined to attempt his
inn near the prison, where they found Bergher's
man who still remained there with the
chaise, hoping to prevail on the officers to let
him see his master: him they ordered to repair
with the carriage to a certain place, there
to await their farther directions. William
was then stationed within call, and Driscol
approached the centinel at the gate, who he
knew kept the keys of the prison, and accosted
him with—“Long life to the mighty Emperor,
and merry days to his valliant soldiers!”
“Hah, old warrior! is it you?” exclaimed
the centinel.
“What yet remains of me,” replied Driscol,
“though pretty much withered and worn.”
“Thou hast seen hard service, my veteran,”
returned the soldier; “what remains
of thee are still the parts of a hero.”
“I have heard some popping, and seen
some slashing,” rejoined Driscol; “but how
goes the night, comrade?”
“Dark and heavily,” he answered, “here
have I been beating about these three hours,
famished with hunger, parched with thirst,
and no relief for an hour to come.”
“How long since the visiting officers departed?”
“Ten minutes, perhaps; not more.”
“Then hand me thy slicer and blunderbuss,”
said Driscol, “and run thee to thy hut, take
a little rations, and return quickly, for I am
in haste.”
“Blessings on thee,” replied the soldier,
delivering his sword and fusee; “thou shalt
be Chief-Sutler when I am General.
“Leave me thy unbolters,” returned
Driscol, as the other was departing, “for
should the visitors come, I must slouch my
hat over my eyes, you know, and deliver
them in silence.”
“Ay, ay; true enough,” replied the centinel,
turning and handing the keys; “well
thought of: but unless I am ambuscaded, I
the exercise.” He then posted away.
Soon as he was gone, Driscol whistled, (the
sign agreed on,) and William appeared, took
the keys, and with a dark lantern they had
brought with them, entered the prison and
liberated Bergher as has been related. The
soldier returned, thanked Driscol for the service
rendered, and resumed his station. The
circumstances could not be known farther, so
that Driscol would never be called in question,
and probably never suspected. Nor
would the guards be punished or held responsible
for an escape, unless they were proved
negligent, or accomplices. Of these transactions
Bergher was informed by the Driscols,
on their return from the prison to the
cottage.
| CHAPTER IV. The asylum, or, Alonzo and Melissa | |