Orphan of the Rhine 25

THE ORPHAN OF THE RHINE

PART 25

Chapter 9

 

Better be with the dead.

Whom we, to gain our place, hate sent to peace.

Than on the torture of the mind to lie

In restless agony.

--SHAKESPEARE

Near a week had elapsed since the departure of Enrico and the Conte before any news respecting the success of their embassy arrived. During this painful interval Madame Chamont's mind became a prey to causeless anxiety. Joy arid sorrow had so uniformly succeeded each other in her past life, that she could scarcely forbear dreading the future; for having enjoyed so lately the raptures of unexpected felicity, experience had taught her, that, in the general course of human events, she might probably suffer the reversc. Long schooled in affliction, her disposition, though it remained unsoured by disappointment, had lost much of its sanguineness; and she sometimes doubted if, when at liberty to return to the world, whether she should acquit herself to her satisfaction, whether her weakened spirits could support that elevation of rank to which she must shortly aspire, with the bustle of society, and all those accompaniments of greatness, which in high life are so seldom dispensed with. Respecting the interview between the Marchese and her son, she indulged a variety of vague conjectures. It was their first meeting; and what would be the result of such an event? Anxiety was increased by reflection, and all the tender, the indescribable sensations of the mother were called into action.

From this state of suspense she was, however, relieved by a letter delivered by Anselmo, who, as soon as he had entered the gate, inquired eagerly for Madame Chamont, arid was directed to the convent parlour. Having received it with breathless anxiety, she retired to her apartment, and finding it bore the signature of Enrico, unfolded and perused it in haste. It contained only a few lines; but these were sufficient to quiet her fears concerning the effect of their journey.

'We have at present,' says Enrico, 'met with no material obstacles to retard the success of our undertaking. The priest, who was the principal object of our search, was easily found; and on a strict investigation, we were mutually convinced that he also had been made the dupe of designing villany, and was by no means accessary to the plot, which appears to have been entirely conducted by Paoli.

'The Marchese has already entered into a full confession of his crimes. He seemed, on our introduction, to endure much internal affliction; for never did I behold remorse and acute anguish more forcibly delineated than when his eyes met those of Della Croisse. This self-condemning conduct induced us to proceed in the affair with as much gentleness as possible, though we did not omit the necessary information relative to the legality or his first marriage, and Laurette's providential release from captivity and expected death! This intelligence, as it served to assure him of her safety, seemed to take an oppressive weight from his heart; though the starts of agony, which frequently convulsed his frame when his distracted mind reverted to his past crimes, were altogether more dreadful than the imagination can conceive.

'But I am wandering from my original intention,' continues Enrico, 'which was only to state the policy or your leaving the convent immediately. Anselmio, who is the bearer of this incoherent epistle, will procure you a carriage from the Kaiser, which will convey your charming companion and yourself to the castle of Elfinbach, our present place of residence, and of late the abode of the Marchese: perhaps it may be prudent to add, that it is his request also, who, if we may judge by appearances, is anxious to obtain the forgiveness of those he has injured. I need not entreat you to prepare for an interview which may demand some exertion and fortitude, as I am convinced your own superior understanding will instruct you in what manner to act. I wish it was in my power to add, that the Marchese's sincerity and repentance are likely to be proved by the purity of his future conduct. But, alas I fear it will be otherwise; his constitution seems to have yielded to intense sorrow, and much is to be feared from its baleful influence. I mention this,' resumes Enrico. 'for the purpose of hastening your departure from the convent, as well as to acquaint you with what may happen. Let nothing prevent you from commencing your journey immediately.'

When Madame Chamont had communicated the contents of this letter to Laurette, she gave orders for Anselmo to make every requisite arrangement; and being informed in about an hour that the carriage was in readiness, she took an affectionate leave of the sisterhood, and, attended by her fair charge, pursued her way towards the castle.

After a few days' journey, in which no event happened worthy of attention, they came within view of the mansion, whose rude, deserted appearance brought to the recollection of Madame Chamont the ideas it had first excited; and when they arrived at the great gate leading to the outer court, her tears flowed fast and unrestrainedly, as her memory reverted to the scenes she had wit--nessed since she last quitted it.

The death-like silence, which seemed to prevail throughout the castle as they advanced within a few paces of the portico, aided these uneasy sensations; and already had they reached the door of the great hall, which was thrown open for their reception, without having met with any inmate of the mansion. At last one of the servants belonging to the Marchese crossed the hall with a hurried step; and on being accosted by Laurette, stopped to hear her commands. She inquired for the Chevalier Chamont; and the servant having conducted them into one of the apartments which they had formerly occupied, ran to inform him of their arrival. They had not been many minutes in the room before Enrico entered. His demeanour was mild, but dejected, and his face, 'like to a title-page, foretold the nature of some tragic volume'. Madame Chamont, who, from the hints dropped in the letter, too well guessed the cause, after a fruitless attempt to recompose her feelings, inquired tremulously if they had arrived too late?

'The Marchese is yet alive,' returned Enrico; 'but we must not flatter ourselves with delusive hopes--he is evidently dying. To me and to the Conte he has made a full confession of his enormities, and may Heaven, in consideration of his sincere, though late repentance, pardon his atrocious crimes! A Carthusian Priar, who has been with him more than two hours at confession, is so shocked with what has already been related, that he has twice left the room without giving him absolution, though, as his decease is hourly expected, I hope he will be wrought upon not to postpone it.'

Madame Chamont, who now found it necessary to resist the native softness of her heart with all the fortitude she could command, endeavoured to mitigate the keenness of her sensibility by the most vigorous exertion; whilst Laurette attempted to support the sinking spirits of her friend with an external appearance of firmness, the effect of painful effort. Since it was impossible for them to be introduced to the Marchese during his engagement with the Monk, the party resorted to the saloon, where they were soon joined by the Signora d'Orfo, whose unbounded joy on beholding Laurette could only discover itself in tears. She would have made a thousand inquiries concerning her mysterious departure, and the events that had taken place since that memorable era, could she have sufficiently commanded her voice; but surprise, for she had not been taught to expect her arrival, and the settled melancholy that was depicted upon the countenances of all present, prevented her interrogatories. After about an hour spent in painful reflection, the Conte della Croisse, with the permission of the Marchese, came to conduct Madame Chamont and Laurette into the chamber. Night and solitude combined to assist the pensiveness of their feelings, as they advanced with a slow, unsteady pace through the long winding galleries which led into the apartment; and as Della Croisse laid his hand upon the door to give them admission, Madame Chamont's spirits so entirely forsook her, that she was obliged to lean against one of the pillars of the corridor for support. A look from Enrico at length inspired her with new fortitude, who, taking a hand of each, led them to the side of the bed on which the Marchese was laid.

As soon as he was conscious of their presence, which was not immediately, a deep groan agitated his frame, and an expression of guilt and horror was marked in his wildly-looking eyes, which language can but feebly convey. 'Great Heaven!' thought Laurette, as she surveyed, with mingled pity and astonishment, the emaciated form before her, 'look down with compassion upon this afflicted being suffering in the last hours of existence the agony of an awakened conscience; and Oh soften the rigour of thy justice with the effusions of mercy!'

Madame Chamont's grief was silent, but it was deep; she frequently attempted to articulate, but could not; low sobs prevented her utterance, whilst her soft eyes were directed eloquently towards Heaven with a look that was almost angelic; yet, anxious to convince the Marchese that she came to offer him her forgiveness, and also to assure him that nothing of enmity lurked in her bosom, she extended her hand to grasp his, breathing at the same time a prayer for the repose of his soul. Charmed with the manner in which this favour was bestowed, he pressed it fervently to his heart; his ghastly countenance lost much of its dreadful wildness, whilst his hollow eyes, which before glared with deep and inbred honor, gradually softened till sorrow, deep and immoveable, was the only expression that remained.

As Madame Cliamont and Laurette continijed to kneel, though without addressing him, the Marchese gazed alternately upon each, but was unable to speak. They, indeed, appeared like two ministering angels come to offer consolation to a soul bowed down with the weight of its own irremediable crinies. But the awful distance at which he was thrown from them, sealed his lips in silence. Their countenances were irradiated by innocence, whilst his was depressed by guilt; and now that adversity had brought conviction to his heart, he experienced the weakness, the imbecility of vice when opposed to the innate dignity of virtue.

At length Madame Chamont broke silence, and in language the most simple and pathetic, pronounced her forgiveness; dwelling likewise with energy upon the promises of the Gospel in a stile so unassuming and elegant, that her auditors listened with interest and emotion, whilst the Marchese, at the same time that he found his whole attention irresistibly attracted by the consoling truths she had uttered, felt his hopes insensibly revive; and, after having received the pardon of all present whom he had injured, he became gradually more tranquil; though, when his eyes glanced upon Laurette, something was evidently brought to his recollection, from the influence of which he would gladly have escaped; and when he beheld the gentleness of her demeanour, and saw the anxiety she discovered for his happiness, he observed her with a kind of wrapt astonishment, as if he scarcely believed that a being so injured could bestow compassion upon its persecutor.

The interview was short, but affecting. The Marchese, as soon as his sufferings would allow him command of language, addressed himself to all present witli the most pathetic energy, expressing forcibly the high sense he entertained of their unexampled goodness, who could thus bestow pardon upon a wretch whose crimes had been productive of such accumulated misery. Shortness of respiration, and sorrow at the recollection of the past, prevented the Marchese from proceeding, and being unable longer to support himself, he sunk back upon his pillow; a cadaverous paleness overspread his face, whilst his quivering lips, which were parched by the violence of his disease, appeared to be on the eve of closing for ever. The scene now became insupportably painful, and Enrico perceiving that his mother and Laurette were much affected, would have conducted them from the room; but the Marchese being aware of his design, gently recalled them, and fixing his dim eyes alternately upon his son and Laurette, added, 'You have long loved each other with an affection as pure as it has been lasting: I only have been the means of rendering this attachment unfortunate; and let me, as the only atonement I can offer for my past offences, bestow you on each other.'

Laurette, not expecting such an address, bent her blushing cheek towards the ground, whilst Enrico pressed her unresisting hand to his breast, as he leaned over the bed with an air of melancholy attention listening to the words of his father.

The Marchese paused for a moment, and then proceeded:

'Let him, whose crimes and weaknesses have clouded the days of juvenile affection with premature sorrow, now sanction your future happiness.

'Sanction did I say!' continued the Marchese, interrupting himself; 'have I hitherto sanctioned any thing but vice; and is it not virtue to disobey a wretch like me? But can you not, Laurette, meek-suffering angel! as you contemplate the virtues of the son, forget the vices of the father?--the fiend, who would have been thy murderer, from having consented, after many struggles, to thy death, as well as to-.' Here he stopped--his wandering eyes became fixed in horror--his limbs shook--he struck his hand forcibly upon his forehead, as if a pang had forced it there--and then, apparently exhausted, sunk again upon the bed!

Enrico, finding that quiet and repose were necessary, conducted the ladies from the room, whilst the Conte della Croisse remained with the Marchese, who soon afterwards fell into a short slumber.

When they had descended the stairs, they were met by the Confessor, who, with his cowl over his face, was moving thoughtfully along on his way to the Marchese's chamber.

Enrico first observing the Father, addressed him for a few minutes aside; whilst Laurette, hoping in this holy Friar to behold her early instructor, the lather Benedicta, surveyed him attentively. The subject he had entered upon, seeming to engage all his powers of attention, prevented him from being conscious of the presence of any other than the person to whom he was speaking, till accidentally turning aside his cowl, she perceived, with amazement, the long pale visage of her mysterious visitor. Her presence, in the moment he beheld her, seemed to operate as powerfully upon his feelings; for his cheek reddened, and his whole frame suffered a slight convulsion; yet he remained silent, following her with his eyes till she had reached the door of the saloon, where the Signora was in waiting to receive her.

Had not the mind of Lairrette been entirely occupied by the scene she had just witnessed, this singular incident would have excited her curiosity, arid possibly she might have taken some pains to have unravelled an affair which had long engaged her in deep reflection. But compassion for the fate of the wretched Marchese, whose suffering she had so recently contemplated, was so forcibly impressed upon her memory, that the recollection of past events, as well as of past wrongs, were entirely obliterated from her heart.

As soon as Enrico had ended his conversation with the Monk, he entered the room, and endeavoured, with an assumed composure of address, to bestow comfort and consolation on the rest of the party. The night was passed by all in a state of tender dejection, each retiring to their apartments with a persuasion that the Marchese could not survive the following day, as he every hour betrayed new symptoms of approaching death.

In the morning Enrico and Madame Chamont were summoned into the Marchese's chamber as soon as they were risen; and Laurette, having disengaged herself from the society of the Conte and the Signora d'Orfo, felt an irresistible inclination to take a solitary walk through the avenues, being willing to indulge the luxury of her feelings amid the scenes of her earliest youth--scenes which memory presented with more pathetic interest to her heart, when she compared what had happened when resident there, with the long train of adversities which had followed in the rear of her former felicity.

No sooner had she crossed the lawn, on her way towards the vista, than she observed the mysterious Monk moving slowly beneath the leafless branches of a chesnut in the attitude ofdeep reflection. The hints he had once given her on a subject of so much importance to her happiness, as he had so positively affirmed; the portrait he had delivered with such solemn injunctions, with the various inconsistencies which had hitherto marked his conduct, now crowded upon her mind; and since she had nothing to fear from the persecutions of those who had formerly been her enemies, she resolved, instead of avoiding him as before, to throw herself in his way, that she might demand what motive had instigated him to such a singular mode of proceeding.

This was no sooner determined on than she advanced with a quickened step along the avenue through which the Father had passed beheld him stationed at some distance apparently lost in thought.

The sound of her steps did not rouse him from his reverie till she had arrived within a few paces of the tree under which he was standing, when starting as from a dream, lie seemed to survey her with astonishment and painful emotion, but without speaking. Laurette's newly-acquired courage now forsook her, and anxious as she was to have these mysteries unravelled, she was unable to address him, and slightly courtesying, passed on in silence. She had not proceeded many yards before a sigh, which seemed as if it would rend in sunder the breast that heaved it, again recalled her attention. She turned--it was the Monk, who, without moving from the place in which she had left him, stood gazing upon her with a rapt and earnest regard.

'He has certainly something to relate,' thought Laurette, 'which materially concerns me, and why should I fear to know it? His conduct has hitherto been inexplicable; but that by no means implies that it is always to remain so; besides, he seems to be unhappy, and who knows but I may have it in my power to comfort him?'--Thus released from the dominion of fear, she returned again towards the Monk, who observing her approach, threw his hood back upon his shoulders, and advanced a few steps forwards; then, as if a sudden pang had seized him, he stopped, fixed his tearful eyes upon the gniund, and again drawing his cowl over his face, as if struggling to conceal an excess of tenderness, turned round, and leaned upon his staff.

Compassion, as well as curiosity, now warmed the heart of Laurette; and unable any longer to resist the amiable impulses of her nature, she ventured to intnidc upon the sacredness of his sorrow by asking him why he wept. Her words seemed to have the effect of electricity, and so much of tenderness and pity was mingled with his astonishment, that Laurette felt her bosom throb with new emotion; and anxious, though fcarful, to enter upon a conversation whose prelude appeared to have occasioned extreme distress, she at length besought him to inform her who he was, and why he bent his eyes upon her so piteously without unfolding the cause.

'Oh my daughter! my daughter!' cried the Monk, clasping her wildly to his heart, 'Heaven, who alone is acquainted with my sufferings, knows what I have endured; since, without a possibility of assisting you, I have left you alone to contend with the adversities of your fate.'

Amazed at a conduct she could by no means explain or excuse, Laurette disengaged herself from his embrace, and being terrified at the raptures he had betrayed, for which she could not account, was irresolute whether to remain with him till her curiosity was gratified, or to return to the castle; till the Monk, after having wiped away the tears that had fallen plentifully upon his cheeks, proceeded--

'Dear orphan of her whom I so early lost, caust thou forgive him who ought to have defended thee from the shafts of misfortune for having thus forsaken thee? And wilt thou, by listening patiently to his recital, acquit him of premeditated wrong?'

'Alas! what mean you, holy Father?' replied Laurette, interrupting him; 'how have you wronged me, and what claim have I upon your protection who never knew you?'

'An undoubted claim,' replied the Monk, emphatically--'the claim of a child upon a parent.'

'Upon a parent!' exclaimed Laurette. 'Oh Heavens! are you then my father?'

'I am not thy father,' returned the Monk, mournfully; 'but, as being the last surviving parent of thy beloved, yet unfortunate, mother, am bound to thee by the most sacred ties. From a long residence abroad I was supposed to be dead; and on my return from imprisonment and exile, was marvellously directed to this place.'

Joy and astonishment now animated the features of Laurette. To find a relation of her mother in the mysterious Monk was an unexpected blessing; and the idea of having it in her power to soften the remembrance of the past, to tranquillize the future, and to sooth the infirmities of age with the sweet affections of her nature, was a source of immeasurable delight; and she besought him to inform her of those past events which he had described as replete with misery.

An advancing footstep, which proved to be Enrico's, put an end to the interview; and the Monk, having given her his permission to acquaint her friends with what he had unfolded, immediately on the decease of the Marchese, she retired. As Enrico attended her along the avenues, he perceived that her spirits had been much agitated; but fearing to distress her by an inquiry into the cause, he only rallied her gently on her love of solitude, and her secret confidence with the Father, and then conducted her into the terrace-parlour. Here she found Madame Chamont alone, and in tears; for her last interview with the Marchese had much afflicted her: having witnessed his repentance, she now lamented that death would so shortly prevent him from proving the sincerity of it. He had delivered her a packet with his dying hand, expressly commanding that it should be opened on his decease, as it contained papers conveying particular orders concerning the manner of his interment. This parcel he presented with his blessing, conjuring her at the same time to forget the unhappy wretch whose vices had proved so injurious to her repose, and to endeavour to prolong her life to augment the happiness of her children, who possessing the advantage of her precepts and example, would reach the summit of virtue.

The day now passed silently towards the close. The physician, by whom the Marchese was attended, having declared soon after their arrival that his patient could not survive many days, they were in momentary expectation of his death. The Monk, his Confessor, who had hitherto denied him absolution, was called in towards evening to administer the last Sacrament, and a few hours after midnight the soul of the Marchese, after repeated struggles, took its flight into the regions of eternity.

When this melancholy event was commumeated to the family, they suffered for a time the severest distress; but knowing the necessity of exertion, each assisted in consoling the othcr, till by repeated endeavours they at length became reconciled and resigned, through the not presumptive hope that his repentance, though late, would be finally accepted.

Chapter 10

 

Now let the sacred organ blow

With solemn pause, and sounding slow;

Now let the voice due measures keep.

In strains that sigh, and words that weep.

--MALLET

A few days after the death or the Marchese, Madame Chamont, now Marchesa de Montferrat, mindful of his last injunctiun, opened the packet, so solemnly delivered, in the presence of the Conte, Enrico, and Laurette, to examine the contents. It contained several papers relative to the estates seized upon in the lifetime of their rightful heir, the orphan daughter of the Conte della Caro, the testimony of which was sufficient to prove the legality and justice of her claim, and thereby to reinstate her in her immense possessions, should she refuse to unite her fate with that of Enrico. Other papers were also inclosed, which were penned by Father Paulo, the priest, who attended for the purpose during the illness of the Marchese, in obedience to the will of the Conte della Croisse, acknowledging Julie de Rubine, long known by the name of Madame Chamont, to be the lawful wife of the Marchese de Montferrat; and the youth, hitherto called the Chevalier Chamont, to be his legitimate son and heir to the titles, as well as the estates of his deceased father. Then followed the will, which, after a properarrangement of the landed property, placed Julie, hisacknowledged wife, in undoubted possession of all the personal property, amounting to an astonishing sum, excepting only a few legacies, which were to be paid at the expiration of a month; one to the Conte della Croisse, the rest to a small number of broken dependants, who had hitherto partaken of his bounty. The rest of the writings contained some particular orders relative to his funeral, which he requested might he conducted with as much privacy as possible; and as he had no wish to be conveyed into Italy, for the purpose of being entombed with his ancestors, he desired that his bones might be laid quietly in the conventual church belonging to the Carthusians; that no monument should be erected to perpetuate his memory to futurity, but that every thing should be conducted with as little ceremony as possible.

As soon as all these affairs were properly adjusted, the remains of the Marchese were interred according to his desire in the church of the convent of St Angelo, which was about a quarter of a league from the castle. The new Marchesa, Enrico, Laurette, and the Conte della Croisse, attended as mourners. The service for the occasion was read by Father Benedicta, who delivered it in a stile so moving, that the least affected of the audience could not refrain from tears. When this ceremony was concluded, and the body consigned to the dust, a sermon was presented from the centre of the church, replete with all that simplicity and energy of expression which the solemnity of the subject required, and ornamented with all those peculiar graces of eloquence, for which the accomplished Monk was so deservedly eminent. It spoke of the reward of the just, and the excellence of all unpolluted conscience. The subject was of too affecting a nature to be introduced without exciting emotion Laurette sobbed aloud, whilst the widowed Marchesa drew her veil over her face to conceal her tears from observation, as she leaned upon the arm of her son. The whole congregation, which consisted chiefly of Friars and Lay-brothers belonging to the monastery, and a number of the rustic inhabitants of the adjacent villages, listened with undivided attention as the Father proceeded, who dwelt upon the Divine promises concerning the fate of departed penitents in a manner that seemed to diffuse peace and comfort around. As he continued, the audience crowded still nearer; a saint-like devotion was portrayed on every countenance, and hope, which before had afforded only a pale and tremulous beam, now burst forth with unclouded radiance. The path leading to eternal happiness appeared no longer inaccessible; fear was succeeded by confidence, and sorrow by resignation. This discourse was followed by a deep and solemn strain attuned to the notes of the organ, which was full, harmonious and sublime, such as was calculated to impress deeply upon the mind the important truths which had been uttered.

This being over, the congregation dispersed, and the party returned to the castle in a state of tender melancholy, not altogether unpleasing, each disposed to reflection on the vanity of human desires, and human attainments.

On the following day Laurette availed herself of the Monk's permission, and acquainted her friends of what he had already disclosed relative to his mysterious appearances, and with every other event worthy of notice, displaying at the same time the picture of her mother, the Contessa della Caro, which she had till this period carefully concealed. However highly the fair orphan had been estimated by her amiable preceptress previous to this recital, the circumstance just mentioned, as it discovered that no threats or afilictions, however terrible, possessed suflicient influence to induce her to forfeit the promise thus sacredly delivered to the Father, was a convincing proof that she had early united all the winning delicacies of her sex with a certain dignity of mind not usually connected with youth and inexperience: that her son had made so excellent a choice was not the least of her comforts, and she looked forwards to the consummation of their happiness with a great degree of tranquil delight. Enrico's eyes beamed with every virtuous sensation of which the human mind is susceptible as the Marchesa dwelt upon her praises, and anticipated with impatience that hour which would complete his felicity by bestowing upon him the charming reward of his fidelity.

Father Benedicta did not long delay his visit of congratulation and condolence, but came attended by the Monk, who had acknowledged himself the near relation of Laurette, whom he introduced to the Marchesa and the rest of the family by the name of Father Andrea. From this Friar the pious Carthusian had heard of the many strange occurrences which had lately taken place at the castle, and waited anxiously till he could clasp his dear friend, the unfortunate Della Croisse, to his breast without a breach of propriety. The meeting was joyful, yet affecting; for busy memory recurred with melancholy minuteness to the fatal incidents of their past lives, the follies which had disgraced their earlier years, and thus planted thorns in their future paths. So true is it, that the mind, though escaped from the dominion of vice, dwells with pain upon the recollection of those hours which have been dedicated to licentious pleasures.

In the edifying conversation of these devout Friars the family spent much of their time, and gained from their religious, as well as moral discourses, many solid advantages; Peace was soon established among them, and comfort and joy, the reward of virtuous endurance, came in her train. The Signora, whose affectionate attention to Laurette, though she had been deprived through artifice of the power of assisting her, was remembered with gratitude, and detained not as a domestic, but a friend: and as soon as suitable arrangements were made, agreeable to the will of the deceased, the Marchesa, whose delicacy would not permit this truly-accomplished woman to consider herself as a dependant, presented her with a very considerable sum as a reward for her services to the Marchese, which she desired her to receive not as a bounty but a debt, gently intimating that the Marchese would have been aware of the justice of this measure, had his mind been sufficiently collected to have considered it properly. This piece of generosity was accepted as it merited, with unbounded gratitude; and in such society as she now enjoyed, the Signora felt that heaven had made her ample amends for all the former discomforts of her lot.

Nor was Dorothee, the faithful servant of the Marchese, who had been so injustly discarded, nor Margeritte, nor Lisette forgotten; these had all taken refuge in obscure villages, which they gladly quitted to be again received into the service of their long-lost and much-lamented Lady. Blessed with an ample fortune, the Marchesa could now indulge with impunity the diffusive generosity of her nature; and it was with no common degree of delight that she beheld the same virtuous principles which she had early instilled into the minds of her pupils, now blossoming in maturity, bestowing upon their possessors those undescribable sensations of happiness, which exalted benevolence can alone experience.

After more than a month spent in the castle since the death of its former inhabitant, it was deemed requisite for Enrico to be presented at Court, that he might take possession of the Italian estates annexed to the title those in Germany being the sole property of Laurette, now Contessa della Caro, in right of her mother, the daughter of a Bavarian Noble, an heiress of immense fortune. The Conte della Croisse offered to attend him on this expedition, which, in the present situation of affairs, could not be dispensed with, and as soon as necessary anangements were made, leaving the ladies at the castle till their return, they quitted this ancient mansion, and commenced their journey towards Italy.

Father Andrea, who, in the person of Laurette, recalled the image of her beloved mother, frequuently gazed upon her with tears; and so much acute anguish did her memory cost him, that it was long before he could trust himself again with the subject, or reply to Laurette's anxious request to hear something of his story.

'We will waive it at present, my child,' was his customary answer. 'Perhaps a short time may enable me to be more explicit.'--This was sufficient to repress the inquiries of our heroine, though not to stifle her curiosity, who felt an ardent desire of being acquainted with the destinies of her unknown parents. As Enrico wished her to remain in ignorance of the murder of her father, he did not fail to signify this to the Monk previous to his departure, who strictly promised never to disclose it, since distress, unattended by any advantage, would inevitably be the result of such a declaration. But though averse to gratifying her desires immediately as to any particular events that had befallen him, Father Andrea would oftentimes accompany Laurette through the long galleries in the castle, which were ornamented with the portraits of her family, and inform her for whom they were designed. The painting in the oriel so strikirigly resembled the miniature that she wore in her bosom, he passed by in silence, but did not forget to explain the next which was allegorical, and but for the apparent difference in the age, strongly characterized the equestrian statue erected in the inner court. This magnificent column, he informed her, was placed there in honour of himself by his daughter, the late Contessa della Caro, who having never heard from him since he had been engaged in a battle, which had proved fatal to many, supposed him to have been dead; and by means of an original portrait left at the castle, which was drawn in the early part of his life, to gratify her filial affection had ordered it to be copied agreeable to her own design, giving it, instead of the wrinkles of age, the blooming graces of youth. From this intelligence it was easy for Laurette to account for the attitude of the figure which was the next in succession, since it was evident, from the position of the picture, that it was designed to represent the affectionate Contessa weeping over the tomb of her lamented Father.

'How elegantly is sorrow expressed!' thought Laurette, not allowing herself to introduce so delicate a subject. 'What languor--what softness is in these eyes--how beautiful is the tear that trembles beneath the lid!'

Could the fair orphan have known, whilst she was internally bestowing praises upon the portrait, the near resemblance that it bore to herself; had she been conscious that her form was still more attractive than that on which she gazed, and that her features, if not more exact and regular, were of a more bewitching kind; that her eyes were not less brilliant, and the whole of her figure not less lovely, she might have accused herself of vanity as she lavished these deserved encomiums upon the insensible object of her admiration. But she was the only person who remained ignorant of her external perfections, though, had she known their extent, this conviction would not have detracted from her worth, since she valued not too highly these accidental advantages, either to be elated by the possession of them, or depressed by the revense.

Laurette, having received her education in the castle of Elfinbach, and spent, under the guidance of the present Marchesa, some of the happiest hours of her life in this gloomy mansion, retained for it an affection which she believed it impossible for her to experience for any other residence, however evident its superiority in point of beauty and accommodation. The shades, the groves, and the mountains, had been familiar to her from childhood, and a thousand tender memorials were connected with them all. Nor was the Marchesa de Montferrat less attached to this dreary abode, though a considerable part of it had fallen into ruins since she had quitted it last; and but for its amazing extent, they would have found it difficult to have discovered a sufficient number of rooms for the accommodation of their household.

The rampart-wall had fallen entirely into fragments, and the northern side of the structure was crumbling fast into dust; yet the greatest part of the building, though not uninjured, was able to resist the inclemencies of the weather; and the rooms which they usually occupied, though they might have been presented to the curious as models of antiquity, when animated by the blazing fire and the social board, wore an appearance of more than modern comfort.

To be continued

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