60 Gothic Classics. Эдгар Аллан По

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

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

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

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

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

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

      This letter threw a damp on the general joy.

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

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

      This letter from the Marquis found the Count De Bouville at Bath; where he vainly sought amusement, to remove the anguish which preyed upon his mind, arising from the impossibility of ever calling Matilda his. He viewed the gay females of fashion, with birth, beauty, and accomplishments to boast of, with perfect indifference. Ah! thought he, where is the modest retiring sweetness of Matilda? Where those unaffected charms -those natural graces of her deportment? Never shall I meet with a woman that I can admire or love, after knowing that lovely girl, whose very virtues preclude my happiness. He was in one of these reveries when the letter from the Marquis was delivered to him. The happiness of his friends gave him infinite delight; but how changed were his emotions on reading the postscript: his rage exceeded all bounds; he determined to leave Bath instantly. 'I will hunt the villain through the world,' cried he; 'I will find her, if she is on earth, and no power shall ever take her from me again. O, Matilda! too scrupulous girl, you have undone us both, and ruined my peace for ever.' He called his servants, and ordered the necessary arrangements for leaving Bath that night. He went out to call on some friends he had formed an engagement with, and to whom he thought more than a card was due. Crossing the parade, he saw, coming towards him, Madame Le Brune, Mademoiselle De Fontelle, and Mrs Courtney, who had arrived from Tunbridge together the preceding evening. Nothing could have happened more unfortunate than this meeting. His temper irritated before, at the sight of the two ladies together, both of whom he considered as enemies to Matilda, his passion increased beyond the bounds of politeness to restrain. I congratulate you, ladies, on an intimacy, minds like yours naturally create. For you, madam' - turning to Mademoiselle De Fontelle, who was pale with fear, observing his violence -'you were never an object of my esteem, and long since of my aversion and contempt: your diabolical falsehoods have deprived me of happiness for ever; but vengeance will one day overtake you -I promise you it shall,' said he, in a voice that made her tremble and unable to go on. 'For you, madam,' turning to Mrs Courtney -'I have still some respect: you have many good qualities; but your malice and dislike of an unoffending and excellent young woman, is inexcusable, and very evidently pursued, by attaching yourself to one you know all your and her friends despise; malice only is the cement of your intimacy. Take my advice, madam, -break it off, and entitle yourself to the respect and esteem of those who are the friends of yourself and Lord Delby.'

      He was going to leave them, but Mrs Courtney, struck by his manner and words, still partial to him, cried out, 'Stop, my Lord, - tell me how long you remain in Bath?' 'This night I leave it,' said he, 'and a day or two hence I shall quit England.' 'For heaven's sake !' cried she, 'let me see you for five minutes, an hour hence; -do not deny me, 'tis the last favour I will ever ask.' Seeing he hesitated, 'At No. 11, on the South Parade -I will expect you.'

      She hastily followed her companions, who had gladly removed a few paces from them, and left the Count irresolute, whether he should oblige her or not: but recollecting the civilities he had received at her house and Lord Delby's, he thought gratitude and honour required his obedience.

      He called on his friends, and at the appointed hour attended Mrs Courtney. When introduced, she was alone, and very melancholy, but rose to receive him with evident pleasure. 'I thank you for this visit,' said she, 'which I scarcely dared flatter myself with receiving, from your abrupt behaviour to me this morning.' 'You saw me, madam, very much ruffled; and the company I saw you in was not calculated to put me in better humour. You will pardon me, if I behaved any way rudely; but I really have too much respect for Mrs Courtney, to whose hospitality and kindness I am under so many obligations, to see her in company with a dissolute woman, whose want of chastity is perhaps her least crime; she is unprincipled, in every respect, with a base and malignant heart.' 'Good God! Count, cried Mrs Courtney 'I did not know Mademoiselle De Fontelle, was charged with any other faults than a dislike to Matilda.' 'That of itself,' replied he, 'would to me be a sufficient proof of a bad mind; for only those who dislike virtue and goodness can be enemies to her: but independent of that, Fontelle is a profligate young woman, and by no means a fit companion for a lady of your respectability, though, being unknown, she may be received into company. I hope, madam you will deem this an apology for my abrupt behaviour; and now favour me with your commands.' 'Commands!' repeated