 Volume 2, Chapter 2 of Bungie Castle, by Elizabeth Bonhote. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Patty Cunningham. A tale so sad and interesting as that we have recited soon found its way to the inhabitants of the castle, particularly as declivering had been called in to the assistance of the dying Lucy. The melancholy scene he witnessed, as we may imagine, made a lasting and forcible impression upon a heart so tender and susceptible as his, and he did not fail to make such comments upon it as he hoped would have some weight on the minds of those to whom they were addressed. But he did not succeed in his design. For whatever Sir Philip DeMorne might think, he chose and took care to keep to himself. And the Baron, not even condescending to make any observations on the subject in which he did not appear to feel the least interested, and which he considered as being too romantic and childish to merit the attention of a person in his high station. Lady DeMorne and the young people wept for the fate of Narford and Lucy, while the latter wondered any parents could be so cruel as to separate such fond and faithful lovers. Notwithstanding the utmost pains had been taken to conceal the cause of the Baron's sudden indisposition, it had in part transpired, owing, as we may presume, to the irresistible propensity and restless curiosity the Baron's servant felt to know all his master's secrets and his great eagerness to impart them when known. Some words which had dropped from the Baron to his friends Sir Philip, the evening of the alarm, just as Pedro was ordered out of the room, unfortunately caught his ear, which was instantaneously applied to the keyhole of the door to obtain farther intelligence. And though he could not so exactly understand the story as to connect it with accuracy, he picked up enough of it to make him desirous of knowing the whole. And having heard the word ghost uttered more than once with great emphasis, it gave him some suspicion that his master's illness originated from a fright, and the more than usual earnestness with which he asserted the truth of what he had been saying, confirmed Pedro in this opinion. Thus the half-formed tale was whispered under the most solemn promises of secrecy from one to another till every servant in the family had gleaned up something without any one of them knowing what it meant. A few nights after, as Pedro was attending his master, when he was going to bed, he determined to make one more effort to discover the whole story, and try whether he could not prevail on the Baron to entrust him with a secret he would have given some part of his wages to find out. He opened this important business as follows. I shall be heartily glad, my lord, when we get from this castle and return to your own. Why so? inquired his master. My friend Sir Philip is very hospitable, and his family infinitely charming. Yes, yes, I dare say, my lord, in your opinion the young ladies are charming creatures, and I fancy they are not a bit less pleased with your lordship. Do you think so, Pedro? said the Baron, in one of his most harmonious tones, his pride and self-love being gratified by his servant's observation. Why indeed I have never much reason to complain of the lady's coolness. You would certainly be surprising if you had, my lord, a man of your rank, fortune and figure is not very likely to meet with coldness. It is only such a poor ugly dog as I am that must expect to be frowned upon by the women. Oh, then, Pedro, said the Baron, smiling, a disappointment in love makes you wish to quit this place. No, my lord, I complain of nothing in the day. That generally passes off very well. But in the night there are so many cursed ghosts clattering about, with such confounded noises at their heels, both within and without doors, that a man can neither sleep nor move with comfort or security. Shaw, replied the Baron, let me hear of no such idle and improbable tales. I did not suppose you so great a fool or so dastardly a coward as to mind the nonsense of women and children. Ghost to that, said Pedro, netled by the contemptuous manner of the Baron and the epithet of coward. I have as much courage as most men among men, but when I am forced to mix with ghosts and evil spirits, I want a little spice of the courage with which your lordship is so bountifully endowed. I dare say, my lord, you never saw a ghost, and were never frightened either by the living or the dead. What should I be frightened at, cried the Baron impatiently? Let me hear no more of such impertinent nonsense. I hope, muttered Pedro, the next time they come they will pay you another visit. It is an honour due to your dignity, and we servants can very well dispense with their company. But this was said in so low a voice, as he shut the door, that it was impossible to be understood by the imperious master to whom it was addressed. As much a coward as I am, continued he as he went along, I was never frightened into a fit, as some folks have been, with all their boasted courage and great knowledge. Notwithstanding the Baron was so much alarmed by the appearance of his Isabella that he could scarcely shake it from his mind a moment, and remained in a state of anxiety and terror, yet it was impossible he should be any longer blind to the dejection of Rosaline, or insensible to her cold indifference. If she met him with a smile, it was visibly the smile of anguish. She sometimes appeared to avoid him, and more than once had made an effort to leave him at the very instant he was addressing her in one of his fondest and most impassioned speeches. Sir Philip was his friend. On him he had conferred many favours. It was both his interest and inclination to bring about an union between him and his daughter. It was possible he might have deceived him as to the real situation of her heart. The thought was too alarming to his feelings and his pride to be easily got rid of. Rosaline was often absent, and that for several hours together. It looked suspicious. He would no longer trust either the father or the daughter, but with the assistance of his man Pedro, who was a shrewd fellow at finding out a secret, he would endeavour to discover whether he was not right in his conjecture of having a rival. Sir Philip had certainly promised more for his daughter than he supposed him authorised to do, or than the young lady herself was able or willing to ratify. He determined, therefore, to get rid of his doubts as soon as possible, and either obtained the prize he had in view, or withdraw himself forever from the castle. Audrey, who had in the meanwhile picked up a vague, unconnected account of what had happened in respect to the ghost, was eager to tell the wonderful tale to Rosaline, who, though incredulous as she had ever appeared to all the marvellous tales she had imparted to her, ought to be informed of this, she thought, as it was so connected with the history of her intended husband. She luckily met her young lady on the stairs, put her finger on her lips to impose silence, and with much solemnity in her look and manner beckoned her to follow her into the gallery, then stepping into the first room she came to, she thus eagerly began. Well, Miss, it was as I said, the Baron is no better than he should be. I have waited successfully these three days to tell you so, but you are grown so preserved and so shy, a body can seldom catch a moment to speak to you. What is the matter, my good Audrey? Matter enough on my conscience, if one believes all one hears. We think, Miss, of a ghost, that should have been minding its business at the Baron's own castle, having taken the trouble of following him to this, upon some special business it had to communicate. However, travelling three or four hundred miles is nothing to a ghost, that can, as I have heard, go at the rate of a thousand miles in a minute, either by land, sea, or water. It matters not to them, but we could have expensed with such visitors, God help us, for we have no such that go with the castle, and, as said, must do so till the day of judgment. Rosaline, who paid but little attention to Audrey's tales, smiled at this, and gave her a sly look of incredulity, which convinced her of her unbelief. This was a kind of claim upon her to confirm it more strongly. Well, you may think as you please, Miss Rosaline. The Baron was actally scared into a fit of apoplexy at seeing his own wife, all in white, the very moral of herself when alive. And what is more, she held a knife and a lighted candle in her hand, and showed him the wound in her bosom which caged her death. And she sneered at him, shaked her ghostly head, grinned, and as he was found upon the floor, to suppose she knocked him down, and then went away in a skyrocket or a squib or some such thing, as belonged to those sort of animals. For the noise she made it going off was so great an amendus, it broke the drum of Pedro's ear, and left the Baron in a state of sensibility. I would advise you, Audrey, said Rosaline, not to give credit to such improbable tales, and never again to repeat this which you have been telling me. Tis Genovin, Miss, I assure you, I had it from Pedro's own mouth. So if you're determined to marry a man haunted by the ghost of another wife, you must abide by the incision. She was certainly sent out of the world unfairly, or why should she not rest in her grave as quietly as other folks? Rosaline, as much as she disliked the Baron as a lover, had too much respect for her father's friend to permit her servant to speak of him so freely, and to lay so dreadful a crime to his charge, which she concluded, like the story of the ghost, was merely the invention of evil-minded people. She therefore reproved Audrey with a seriousness that alarmed her, and assured her, if she ever again presumed to mention Baron Fitzosborne in terms so disrespectful and degrading, she would instantly request her father to send her from the castle. The Pradding Abigail, finding her young lady really displeased, chose to alter her tone. To be sure she might have been wrong-informed. The world was a wicked place, and some people were sadly entreated in it. The Baron was a gentleman, a powerful fine gentleman, it was successively hard to be belied. No one could expense with that. He was allured into the bargain, not withstanding his methodicalness, and had some good qualities, and for certain, was as fine a piece of tick-witty as any that hung up in the great hall, and looked as antique as the old walls covered with ivory. Rosaline made no answer to this curious eulogium, and Audrey very soon took herself away. The Baron was not long in determining how to proceed. He became resolute to satisfy his doubts respecting his having arrival. It was neither improbable nor unlikely that some of the young officers stationed in her about the castle might have designs inimical to his. The lady herself might have favoured their pretenses unknown to her father, and if so, he should run some risk in making her his wife. The thought was too painful and degrading to be supported, and the critical situation of affairs would not admit of longer deliberation. The month was on the very eve of terminating, at the expiration of which Sir Philip had promised him the hand of his daughter. Yet the young lady was not more conciliating, or less coy and distant in her behaviour to him, than she had been the first day of their meeting. Pedro was summoned, and for some time was closeted with his master. He was promised a liberal reward if he could get into the good graces of the female servants, and make himself master of the young lady's secrets. Only for our heroine she had not made a confidant of any one of them. This Pedro undertook, as he had already begun to make love to Audrey, who in her moments of conceding tenderness had told him all she knew, making some additions of her own, but the whole amounted to bit little more than her young lady was strangely altered. It might be her love for the Baron had produced this change, but for her part she could not think it possible for any one to like such an old frambled figure. The Baron next proposed that Pedro should accompany him in taking a ramble about the castle, after the family had retired to rest, to reconnoiter the premises, and learn if possible from what quarter they were most exposed to danger. He determined to explore all the secret passages, for he could not help cherishing suspicions that lovers might be admitted and intrigues carried on, unknown to the most watchful and careful parent. And to what but the prevailing influence of a favored rival could he impute the uncommon and increasing coldness of Rosaline? It was not to be wondered at that the Baron was alarmed, for the conduct of his daughter had not escaped the eyes of Sir Philip, who chiefly displeased with what he termed her obstinacy and caprice, in order to compel her to his purpose, had notwithstanding he promised to drop the subject for a month, found it necessary to caution her to be more guarded and respectful in her behavior, at the same time assuring her he would not survive the disappointment of his hopes in seeing her united to his friend, adding another horrid threat, that if she betrayed his design, in that moment she would terminate her father's existence. This dreadful sentence at once determined the fate of the unhappy Rosaline, and having no alternative left, she instantly promised to give her hand to the Baron and sacrifice her own happiness to preserve the life of her father, on which she knew that of her mother depended. Her brothers and sisters, too, how could she support the thought of depriving them of a father's protection and become herself a parasite? Her own sufferings would be but short. Others might be continued through a long and weary pilgrimage. Her father, satisfied with her promise, retired, and left her to recover herself. Then it was she recollected her engagement and thought of the prisoner, her resolution faltered, and reason tottered on its throne. The dreadful fate she was preparing for him, the distress her loss and inconstancy would inflict on the interesting object dearer to her than life or ten thousand worlds, tortured her to distraction, and shook her whole frame. The blood of life receded from her heart for a few moments, and she fell to earth. Soon however she recovered to a more perfect sense of her miseries. She wrung her hands. She would see her Walter. She would continue to do so till she became the property of him whom she detested and could never love, and who, she fervently prayed, might be deprived of claiming the rights of a husband by her being snatched from his embraces by the friendly hand of death, a rival which, if he did not fear, he could neither injure nor subdue, and she should have the delightful, the sole consoling satisfaction of descending to the grave a spotless victim to her love of Walter. Her spirit would perhaps be permitted to guard him from danger and watch his footsteps while he remained on earth, and in heaven she could meet and claim him as her own. These thoughts, romantic as they appear in the eye of reason and experience, had a wonderful effect upon her mind, and restored it in some degree to its usual tone and composure. She became more resigned to her fate, and to the above mentioned determinations added another. Namely that, before she became a wife, she would write to her unfortunate lover and explain the motives that had induced her to break her engagement with him, sufficiently to exculpate her from blame, prevent his execrating and hating the name of Rosaline, and, if possible, still preserve his esteem. Edwin should be the messenger she would entrust with her letter. These weighty matters settled in the only manner that could make them confirmable to the present state of her feelings. She resolved silently and without complaining to yield to a sentence from which, however unjust and arbitrary, she knew there could be appeal, no chance of a reprieve. Her determination and unconditional consent were soon made known to the baron by his delighted and exalting friend, who now ventured a few gentle reproaches for the little confidence that had been placed in his word, and the injustice which had been shown to his zeal. The baron received this intelligence with unaffected pleasure, apologized for his lover-like doubts which had originated from the superior merits of the beloved object and the disparity of years, which some ladies might have considered as an objection to an union taking place. Suburb dresses were to be ordered for the bride, new carriages built, and the lawyers set to work with all possible expedition. For, as Rosaline had stipulated for no certain time being allowed her to prepare for the awful change which was to take place in the situation, her father, eager to put it beyond the power of any earthly contingency to disappoint his wishes, availed himself of the emission, and determined to hurry matters as much as possible. In fact, the horror of her father's vow had impressed itself so deeply on the mind of Rosaline, and introduced such a train of distracting images as lessened the apprehension of what might happen to herself. It was now publicly said that the important event was very soon to take place, and the joyous bustle which succeeded plainly showed the report was not without foundation. The surprise and consternation of Edwin are not to be described. He sought and obtained an interview with his sister, who, without absolutely betraying her promise to her father, or explaining how her consent had been extorted, said enough to convince him that compulsion, in some shape or other, had been made use of to force her into measures so entirely repugnant to her feelings, that he feared when involved her in irretrievable wretchedness, and he took his resolutions accordingly. The enamored lover, after hearing such unexpected and pleasant intelligence from his friend, requested an audience with the lovely arbitras of his fate, he was accordingly admitted. Rosaline made no attempt to deny having given her consent to become his wife, but the freezing coldness of her manner and the continued dejection still visible on her artless and expressive countenance served to increase his doubts, and so far was it from exciting his compassion, it awakened his pride, confirmed his suspicions, and roused them into action. But as he had no clue to guide him, and could make no discovery sufficiently conclusive to fix his jealousy on any particular object, he was under the necessity of trusting to chance, and his own unremitting endeavors, to unravel the mystery he suspected. Actuated by a sullen kind of resentment, he determined at all events to avail himself of the power thrown into his hands to obtain his desires, resolving if he ever discovered she loved any man in preference to himself to sacrifice the detested object of her regard to the just vengeance of an injured husband. A few nights after, a favorable opportunity presenting itself, the restless Baron accompanied by his man Pedro, who had undertaken to conduct him about those parts of the castle contrived to defeat the designs of men when they came with any hostile intentions, but which might be favorable to those of an artful lover, began his silent perambulation. After descending from the battlements, which he had cautiously pace over, looking into every place he thought likely to conceal the rival he expected to find, he returned by a different route, and accidentally went down the winding stairs of the south tower. The door leading to the prisoner's apartment, he passed in silence, supposing it as a lodging room below to the guards, or some of the domestics. When, however, he came to the bottom of the stairs, turning to look under a kind of archway that seemed to communicate with some other apartments, he was startled, and his doubts received farther confirmation from seeing a door which led to the dungeon standing open. A circumstance that served to convince the Baron all was not right, as those places were in general kept well secured, not only to guard against danger, but to prevent their being seen, as it often happened the safety of the castle depended entirely upon the secret contrivances for their internal defense being unknown to all but the governor. It happened, unfortunately, that Albert, who after he knew the family were in bed, had descended from his own room in order to fetch something which his master wanted from his former habitation. Not supposing he was in danger of being followed by anyone, he had in cautiously neglected to shut this door after him. The Baron, not doubting but he was on the eve of making some important discovery, ordered his man to guard the door to prevent anyone escaping while he proceeded in his search. Albert luckily hearing someone enter the passage after him, had likewise his suspicions, though of a very different nature. He concluded, no one could come to that place with any good design, and trembled, bless some, discovery had been made respecting the removal of his master, which might expose him to farther persecutions, and bring on a renewal of his former miseries. Whoever it might be, he determined, if possible, to find out their intention. Edwin had acquainted him with every circumstance he knew in regard to the distressing situation of his sister, and they had agreed not to inform the unfortunate Walter of the impending storm which threatened him with the deprivation of a treasure far dearer to him than his own existence, and which they concluded would at one fatal blow rob him not only of every hope that he had so long and fondly cherished, but even of life itself. Albert was soon convinced that the person who had followed him was no other than the haughty, imperious Baron, the rival of his beloved master, and the destroyer of that fabric on which he had rested his security for happiness. He carried a lighted candle in one hand, and a drawn sword in the other, and appeared wondrously curious about something which Albert, not in the humor to put the most favourable construction on his actions, concluded must be mischief. Thus put upon his guard, he cautiously locked the door which led to his master's former apartments, and as he was well acquainted with every avenue, each turning and winding in the curious labyrinths of these cheerless regions, he had no fears for his own safety, knowing that it was easy to allude the search of one who was a stranger to them. But as he did not suppose the Baron, let the business which brought him there be what it might, came attirely unattended, it behoved him to act with the utmost circumspection. In a little time he observed the Baron had entered the damp, unwholesome square that was surrounded by the still more gloomy and unfriendly habitations, contrived to render life a worse punishment than the most cruel death. He looked carefully into every one of them, and coming to that in which stood the coffin before mentioned in this narrative, and seeing the black cloth, by which it had once been covered, now hanging in moldering and tattered fragments around it, a silent memento of that destroying hand which spares neither the dead nor the living, urged as we may suppose, by one of those sudden irresistible impulses which we are often actuated to obey against the dictates of sober reason, he stepped in, and in an attitude of thoughtful meditation, struck with the horrid scenes which till now his eyes had never encountered, unknowing what he did, placed one foot on top of the sad receptacle on which his looks were bent when serious reflection, when awful and dreadful to relate, a deep groan issued from the coffin, and a voice exclaimed, For Bear, you hurt me, you will crush my bones to powder. The Baron started, and flew back so violently that he struck his head against the opposite wall. A moment's reflection, however, served to inspire him with more resolution, and to convince him that this could not be real. It must be the wild effects of his own distempered imagination. The dead were never heard to speak, and why a voice from the grave should be sent to him he could not comprehend. He determined therefore not to be alarmed, not driven from his purpose, when in the next instant the same voice, as if it knew the thoughts which floated in his mind, addressed him a second time in rather a louder and more authoritative tone from another part of the dungeon, and warned him not to interrupt the peaceful slumbers of the dead. Again called upon, it could not be a delusion. Someone, a lover perhaps, was concealed in that coffin from which he was to be frightened like a schoolboy. In an instant, with one violent blow, he crushed the moldering abode of its insensible inhabitant to pieces, and a heap of bones were then presented to his sight which had once belonged to a creature like himself, endowed perhaps with feelings more generous and humane than those which dwelt in the bosom of the man who had thus insulted its humble remains. "'Cause my bones to be decently put in the grave,' said the voice a second time from the coffin, and for me fear nothing, but tremble for yourself. Now rendered desperate by terror, and shocked at the recollection of the scene he had encountered, the Baron eagerly wished to get from a situation so calculated to instill every kind of fear into the mind if unaccompanied by the still-greater horrors which had so wonderfully occurred to increase them. But while knowing if he were discovered in such a situation, it must subject him to various suspicions, among which those of a treasonable nature might probably be numbered. He determined to brave it out and retire without making any alarm. Not doubting, but an explanation would equally expose him to censure and ridicule. As a last effort, however, he mustered courage enough to inquire in a tremulous tone, What is it I hear? If a man let him come forth and declare his wrongs, I will undertake to defend and write them. Can the man, replied his mysterious companion, who now appeared to be close to him, expect being believed when he offers to revenge wrongs of which he never heard complaint, can he who oppresses others and is deaf to the sufferings of innocence think to purchase pardon by the appearance of mercy? Mend your own heart, leave this castle. Then the living and the dead will sleep in peace. The Baron now shook with terror and called for no farther explanation, but as quickly as his trembling legs could carry him began to explore the same way back by which he had gained admittance. Just as he reached the bottom of those stairs which Edwin and his fair companions had so often descended to make their benevolent visits to the prisoner, his ear was again arrested by the same invisible monitor. Robb knot this castle of its treasure. Search to find one more deer whom you may render happy, who has long suffered imprisonment and wrongs. Again he stopped. The words vibrated on his ear and then all was silent. At length he proceeded in his miserable progress and distinguished the distant sound of footsteps which he concluded were the sentinels on guard and was soon afterwards revived by hearing the watch proclaim the hour of night. He now eagerly rushed onwards and found, though Pedro had not deserted his post, he was fast locked in the arms of sleep and snoring as soundly as if his weary limbs had rested on a bed of down. He was awakened by a hearty shake from his master and ordered to lead the way to his chamber. Pedro, glad to be released from an employment for which he had no great relish, rejoiced at hearing the welcome mandate and humbly inquired if he had made any discovery. The answer he received was that all was safe and quiet in the castle and that he believed his fares and suspicions had been hastily formed and had no foundation. The baron, however, was not exactly in that state of serenity and composure of which he endeavored to assume the appearance. That voice, what could it mean? From whom and from what quarter could it come? It might be the echo of someone confined in a cell over his head or beneath his feet. It could not allude to him or it might be a contrivance to alarm him from his purpose. Yet if he mentioned it to his friend he would treat it as the delusion of a distempered fancy. All he could determine upon doing was to hasten his preparations for his marriage. And if Rosaline should be overruled by her father and give him her hand with reluctance, the fault would bring it punishment upon their own heads. But he still hoped that when once she became his wife and saw herself surrounded with splendor her coy heirs would be done away. She would set a proper value on his love and generosity and as barren as Fitz Osborne be the happiest of her sex. With such consoling and fallacious hopes he endeavored to banish his doubts and compose himself to rest. And soon forgetting Isabella and the warning voice of his invisible monitor he sunk into the arms of sleep. End of Chapter 2 Recording by Patty Cunningham Volume 2, Chapter 3 of Bungie Castle by Elizabeth Bonhote This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Not so soon nor so easily did the artless the devoted Rosaline lose the remembrance of her heartfelt sorrows. Every hour every moment as it fled brought with it an increase of anguish to her agitated mind. The most distant idea of a union with the Baron was scarcely to be born as the certainty of it no longer admitted of a doubt she shrunk from her own reflections as she would have done from the stroke of death. To be forever torn from Walter, to see him no more, no more to converse with and soothe the sorrows of that oppressed and solitary sufferer, was by far a more unsupportable trial than that she was doomed to endure in her own mind and person. From the world in its unsatisfactory pleasures she could expect no resource. Friends she had none whose powers could remove her distresses. Her only hope therefore rested on death to release her from persecution, and the reflection most tormenting to the giddy and happy children of prosperity who consider life as their greatest treasure and over whose minds a thought of its termination will throw a gloom in the midst of their gayest moments, proved to our heroine her only consolation. She now considered the shortness and uncertainty of life as its greatest blessing, and feared the time of whom she had often complained for being so rapid and unmarked in its flight would now torture her by moving in a slow and sluggard pace to the close of her days. She continued as usual to make her stolen visits to the prisoner as opportunities presented themselves, but these visits were not longer attended with the pleasure of satisfaction. In her own mind she formed a resolution. Even if the consequence should prove fatal to herself, to attempt obtaining the freedom of the prisoner as soon as she had lost her own. This she considered merely an act of humanity and justice, and would have thought no sacrifice too great could she have restored that piece of which she knew her loss would deprive him. Walter notwithstanding much pains were taken to prevent his making any discovery of what passed in the castle, observed so alarming an alteration in the manners, countenance, and spirits of Rosaline, as led him to puzzle himself with various conjectures respecting the cause. But as he had been often told by Albert, many things occurred in the world to harass and give uneasiness to those who were engaged in its busy scenes, of which he could form no idea being a stranger to their nature. It was impossible for him to judge of their effect. He therefore determined not to enter on a topic which might wound the feelings of Rosaline, and could not fail proportionally to distress himself. And as he would, had it been in his power, have prevented her knowing the slightest pang of sorrow. To her he resolutely remained silent on a subject in which his heart was so much interested, as seldom to allow his thinking on any other. To Albert, indeed, he ventured to make known his tormenting apprehensions. But, as Albert was now guided by the direction of Edwin, he only returned such evasive answers to his questions and complaints, as just served to keep hope from sinking into absolute despondency. Edwin had reposed an unbounded confidence in declivering De Willows and Hugh Camelford in regard to his sister, and without reserve informed them of his own engagements with Madeleine, who had received the positive commands of her father to enter on the year of her novitiate. His situation was now become desperate. The crisis had arrived which admitted of no alternative. He must either give up the connection, or make some effort to secure the prize he had taken such unwirried pains to obtain. His friends promised secrecy and assistance in whatever way he should find it convenient to put their sincerity to the test. He had likewise separately introduced them into the apartment of the prisoner, and if, before they saw him, they found themselves disposed to pity and respect him, they were now actuated by the personal regard they could not help feeling on his behalf, which his manners and understanding failed not to inspire in such liberal minds. Hugh Camelford declared himself ready to tie in his defence, and to encounter a host of Teffels to procure his freedom. Preparations were now began, and the day fixed for the wedding. The marriage ceremony was to be performed in the chapel of the nunnery by Father Ann Selm, and as Rosaline made no effort to stop or postpone the proceedings, none but the party's most intimately concerned had an idea that she felt any reluctance to become a bride. Edeliza and Bertha were half wild with joy. They were to be met at the altar by the abbess Madeline and Agnes Clifford. The two latter attended to officiate as bridesmaids, with the mist of mornies. To describe the various feelings of the parties would fill a volume. Suffice it then to say that Lady de Mornie, far from engaging in the necessary arrangements with pleasure and alacrity, never looked at the dejected countenance of her daughter without feeling a severe reproof from the silent monitor which she, like every other mortal, carried in her bosom. Sir Philip exalted in having managed matter so cleverly as to carry his point. A point to which the necessity of his circumstances reduced him, with less difficulty than he expected. And the Baron, resting satisfied that no woman in her senses could dislike him, or be insensible to the advantage that an union with a man of his rank and character would procure her, determined no longer to encourage either doubts or fears as to her shyness and reluctant compliance. It might, as her father had asserted, proceed from her inexperience, her love for her parents, and her ignorance of the world. In this delusion we must for the present leave him, in order to return to those for whose happiness we confess ourselves more interested. Rosaline, who was obliged to confine her conflicts chiefly to her own bosom, saw the preparations going forward with that settled and silent despair which at the moment in invents her fortitude would have shown to those acquainted with the nature of her feelings that every hope was precluded. Edeliza and Bertha were astonished that their sister could see the rich clothes and all the paraphernalia of her bridal dress with such indifference. The former secretly thought that she should not be able to show so much composure if she were as soon to give her hand to her favourite de Willows. The passion which this young beauty had cherished in her innocent bosom had grown with her growth and strengthened with her strength, and lately encouraged to hope meeting an equal return from the increasing attention of the beloved object, it remained no longer in her power to conceal her partiality. And de Willows, attached and grateful for being so flatteringly distinguished, only waited till the marriage of her sister had taken place to make his own inclinations to Sir Philip, not anxious than his lovely enslaver to have his pretensions authorised by the approbation and consent of her father, but he was not without his fears that the ambition which had of late taken such full possession of the Governor's mind might disapprove his aspiring to unite himself with the descendant of the demornies. The day before the marriage was to take place, Rosaline made several attempts to enter the prisoner's apartment without being able to accomplish her purpose. At length she sent to speak with her brother Edwin in her chamber, and begged him to never forsake the dear the unhappy Walter when she should be far distant. She then gave him a letter to deliver to her unfortunate lover as soon as she had left the castle. Of Madeline she proposed to take leave in person. On her brother's affairs she dared not trust herself to converse, confessing that her own distress rendered her unable to talk or even think of his being as wretched as herself. Edwin in reply said but little, his mind seemed agitated and employed on something he did not appear inclined to communicate. He readily agreed to comply with her request to accompany her for the last time to the apartment of Walter. They found the solitary sufferer more composed and more cheerful than they had seen him for some time. Albert too appeared lively and active. Rosaline was welcomed by her lover in a language far more expressive than words and as perfectly understood. His eyes rested on her palate in death-like countenance with a fond yet chastened delight, which she thought she had never observed in them before. He took her hand, pressed it to his lips, and looked up to her with that kind of adoration which he would have felt in the presence of an angel. He did not seem to notice the dejection which Rosaline every moment expected would have occasioned some tender inquiries. Edwin began to converse on indifferent subjects, but the silent anguish he saw his sister vainly endeavouring to conceal rendered him very unfit for the office he had undertaken. The lovers were nevertheless inclined to talk. The prisoner had taken the hand of Rosaline on her first entrance and retained the willing captive without its making one struggle to regain its freedom till she was startled by a tear that fell upon it. Nature, how powerful, how all subduing is thy simple but prevailing influence. The tenderest speech could not have said half so much as this precious and expressive tear. Till this moment our heroine had reserved the appearance of fortitude, but now the mask fell to the ground and she could no longer keep up the character of heroism she had assumed. By a kind of convulsive pressure of his hand he perceived she noticed his silent agitations and had acted with the rapidity of electricity on feelings which he found could no longer be restrained. My dear Walter, said Rosaline, giving him a look that penetrated to his heart. Why will you thus distress yourself and me? You know not, you can never know how dear you are to the ill-fated Rosaline Demorne, whom ere long you will perhaps execrate and wish you had never seen, but forbear in pity forbear to load me with a curse that would indeed destroy me. Suddenly recollecting herself she added, Walter will not be so unjust. He will pity, pardon and respect her who will not be able to forgive herself if she make him wretched. Wretched exclaimed the agitated lover. Can I ever be wretched while you thus kindly condescend to soothe my sorrows? Thus generously confess that I am dear to you and possessed of your heart. Can it be in the power of fate to make me otherwise than blessed? It was too much. Rosaline sunk on the bosom of her lover, and at that moment secretly wished to breathe her last sigh and yield up her spotless life in those arms which now perhaps for the last time encircled her. The situation of Rosaline caused general alarm. Walter, frantic with terror, clasped her tenderly to his heart and called upon her to speak. It was some time before she recovered, and Edwin, who saw the necessity of putting an end to an interview so dangerous and painful, in a voice between just and earnest exclaimed, Indeed, my good friends, I have no relish for seeing such scenes as these performed, particularly when they do so little credit to the performers. These high-wrought feelings may be very fine, but excuse me for saying they are very silly. Recollect, my dear Walter, that our Rosaline advances but slowly in her progress towards convalescence, therefore in her present state of weakness, an interview like this must prove very prejudicial to her recovery. Take her away, cried Walter, that I may not become a murderer. Only before we part, let me hear my pardon pronounced. He threw himself at the feet of his weeping mistress, who, giving him her hand, said, with a convulsive sob, there could be no doubt of pardon where no offence has been committed. Edwin availed himself of this moment as the most favorable to withdraw. He took the reluctant hand of his sister, and with a gentle compulsion drew her away, saying he would not tax his feelings by staying any longer. Rosaline again, and almost unknowing what she did, grasped the hand of her lover, and in a voice too low to be perfectly understood, murmured some tender admonitions, which we doubt not were intelligible to the ear of love, but to an indifferent person they might as well have been expressed in Arabic. Till the door shut Walter from her sight, her eyes were fixed immovably upon his face, with such a look of anguish as may be easier imagined than described. And when she could see him no longer, she thought the deprivation of life would have been the greatest blessing heaven could bestow on one so hopeless, and had it not been for her father's dreadful threat of destroying himself, she would have thrown herself at the barren's feet, and informed him how little she deserved to be his wife who had bestowed her love upon another. Edwin accompanied his sister to her apartment, but had too much consideration, too much respect for her sorrows, to break in upon moments sad but precious. Happily, however, for this amiable unfortunate, she was not long permitted to indulge her heartbreaking reflections in solitude. Her mother and sisters requested her presence to consult her taste and hear her opinion on some of the preparations going forwards. Sir Philip, from the time he had extorted her unwilling consent, had carefully avoided another private interview, but had taken every opportunity of caressing her in the presence of her friends, frequently making use of various pretenses to get the intended bridegroom out in order to draw off his attention from Rosaline, constantly trembling, lest she should appeal to his generosity or disgust him with her coldness. Prohibited by her father's cruel vow from applying to anyone, she had no alternative but to yield to her destiny and combat her sorrows unconsoled and unsupported, except by her distracted brother, who was unfortunately nearly as hopeless as herself. Thus environed with misery, thus entangled in the subtle toys of cruelty and oppression, she was at times led to think she should be less wretched if her fate were determined, concluding from the torturing sensation of her present feelings, she could not long support them. The bustle hurry in confusion, which pervaded every department of the castle, afforded none of its inhabitants much time for reflection or conversation. Lady Demarney wished to question her daughter, but was afraid of making the attempt. She found it difficult, however, to obey the mandate of her husband, which though unnatural and unreasonable was absolute. Therefore, after some few conflicts with herself, she thought it better not to contend a point of so much consequence. She saw the internal wretchedness of her daughter with a tenderest regret, and shuddered whenever she remarked her cold and freezing manner as soon as the Baron approached to pay her those attentions due from a lover. She took every opportunity of giving her approbation of her conduct, and by a thousand nameless proofs of tenderness showed a commiserating sympathy, which did not pass unobserved by Rosaline, who though she received these marks of affections in silence, determined to avail herself of her mother's tenderness by endeavouring to interest her in favour of the man to whom she had given her heart. The dreaded morning came, but it came enveloped in a gloom which exactly corresponded with the feelings, spirits, and prospects of the morning bride. The sun arose invisible to mortal sight, as if unwilling to witness a deed his brightest rays could not enliven. Dark, lowering clouds threatened to touch the turrets of the castle. The rain descended in torrents. It appeared to the disconsolate Rosaline that the very heavens wept in pity to her sorrows. The thought was romantic, but it was consoling. Melancholy, and even madness itself, are said to have their pleasures, and the most wretched sometimes steal comfort from the delusions of imagination. Happy is it that such resources are found to sweeten the bitter draft so many are compelled to drink. Rosaline submitted to be dressed as the taste of her attendance chose to direct. She was silent and passive, and made no remarks on the elegance of her attire, or the brilliancy of the ornaments with which she was decorated. When summoned to breakfast she attempted no delay, and on her entrance was met by the Baron, who addressed her in a very tender and respectful speech as he gallantly led her to her seat. She would have assumed a smile had she been able to commend her features. She would have said something, but speech was denied. Indeed, none of the company appeared in a humor to converse. Lady de Mourney was sad and sick at heart, and Sir Philip himself, in the very moment he saw the gratification of his wishes in so fair a train, to be realized, felt neither satisfied nor happy. End of Chapter 3 Volume 2 Volume 2 Chapter 4 of Bungie Castle by Elizabeth Bonhote This Libervox recording is in the public domain. A message arrived from Father Anne Selm to say he was ready and waiting their pleasure in the Chapel of the Nunnery. The carriages were instantly ordered to the door. Rosaline, more dead than alive, was handed into the first and followed by her mother and two sisters. The Baron was accompanied by Sir Philip and Edwin in the second. They soon arrived at the chapel and were met there by the Abbas, Madeline, and Agnes to Clifford. Several of the friars and monks also attended. After stopping a few moments to pay and receive the proper compliments, the Baron took the trembling hand of his intended bride and letter to the altar. Father Anne Selm opened his book and began the awful ceremony when the whole party were thrown into the utmost consternation by the door which led from the subterranean passage to the castle, being suddenly burst open, and Walter, with a drawn sword in his hand, his eyes flashing fire, followed by Albert, instantly rushed up to the altar and calling to Father Anne Selm in a tone of frenzy bade him desist or proceeded his peril. The hand of Rosaline he cried as mine and mine only. I come to claim my affianced bride and accursed be the wretch who shall attempt to ruster from me. The Baron sunk down exclaiming, again that dreadful specter, save me, save me from it. The book dropped from the hands of the venerable priest and the terrified and astonished Rosaline fainted in the arms of her mother. While the countenance of everyone assembled was marked with surprise and consternation, but the attitude, the expressive face of Walter as he stood gazing on the party, caught every eye and excited universal admiration. His dress was scarlet, richly laced. In his hat he wore a plume of white feathers fastened by a clasp of diamonds. His tall, elegant form and fine turned limbs presenting a subject for the statuary which few could copy in a style that would have done justice to the original. Rosaline for some minutes remained in a state of total insensibility, but the Baron soon recovered sufficient recollection to look around him. His eyes were again fixed on the prisoner, with a look rather of tenderness than displeasure. Tell me, youth, he cried, once comest thou, to whom dost thou belong? Those features are as familiar to my astonished sight as they were once deeply engraved on my heart. Hadst thou worn any other countenance but that of my once love Isabella, my sword ere now would have taught thee to respect those sacred rites thou hast so rudely interrupted, but that is the shield which still protects thee and by some invisible influence withholds my arm from punishing thy daring intrusion. Then hesitate no longer, my lord, to execute your proposed vengeance, said Walter, gracefully bending one knee to the ground, and bearing his bosom as if to receive the uplifted sword of the Baron. Rosaline is mine, and where their ten thousand swords ready to pierce my bosom, I would thus publicly proclaim my right. How? What is the meaning of all this, said the Baron, looking with indignation at the astonished Sir Philip? Truth appears to dwell on the tongue of this youthful stranger, but why have I been thus grossly deceived? Why brought into this sacred place to be made a fool of by a boy and a girl? You must inquire of that same boy, replied his friend, of whose very honorable pretensions I never heard till this moment. Why do you hesitate, my lord? Why vent your rage on me when it would be more justly and appropriately employed in punishing a madman who has dared to dispute your claim to the hand of my daughter? His countenance still protects him, said the Baron. Order some of your people to take the youth into safe custody till this matter can be investigated. Father Anselm now inquired if he might go on with the ceremony. Not till I have been heard, cried Walter, though you tear me piecemeal shall you proceed. Rosaline had recovered, but she was still surrounded by her female friends. The voice of Walter operated like a charm. She gently raised her eyes to his face and begged he would be patient, then addressing her father, entreated he would not permit anyone to hurt him. I and I alone, said the generous maid, ought to suffer. My dear Walter, cried she, contend no longer for me. Think not of risking a life which is too precious to be so madly thrown away, let every circumstance which led to the painful occurrences of this morning, be openly and candidly explained, and let us rest our cause on the justice and humanity of the baron, Father Anselm, and Sir Philip de Mourney. I wish not to make my appeal before any other tribunal. The baron, who now for the first time discovered Albert among the crowd, for the contest had brought all the inhabitants of the nunnery into the chapel, started as if he had seen a spectre. He became more agitated than before, and requested they might return to the castle, then an investigation of this strange business might instantly take place, for his own heart informed him there was some awful mystery to be explained. Albert approached him. My Lord, said he, till this moment I have supposed you cruel, unjust and unfeeling. My heart reproaches me for my injustice. I begin to see through the cloud, which has too long enveloped me. I suspect we have been equally deceived, alike in the dupes of artifice and guilt. Art thou not, Albert? exclaimed the baron. The confidential servant of the Lady Blanche and the favorite of her brother. I am the same unfortunate person, my Lord, replied Albert, and I am not only ready to account for my being here, but to give you all the intelligence in my power, respecting some very interesting circumstances, with which till this moment I never supposed you unacquainted. My dear Sir, said he, turning to his agitated master, endeavour to be more composed. For the countenance of Walter was too faithful and indexed to his mind to enable him to conceal the conflicting passions which tortured his bosom, and while his attention was divided in observing the baron and Rosaline, he seemed sinking beneath his own agonizing emotions. Father Anselm, the Lady Abbas, and the two Bridemaids were requested to return with the party to the castle. A guard was ordered to take charge of Walter and his servant, but he informed them the order might be countermanded. For being a prisoner, he had requested three gentlemen from the castle to attend him, lest he should subject himself to the suspicion of designing to escape. Declavoring de Willows and Camelford were now summoned from the passage where they had impatiently waited to see how this strange and unaccountable business would terminate. This occasion further surprised to Sir Philip, who restrained his rising displeasure with only desiring them to take charge of the gentlemen they had chosen to escort, and to be ready to appear when called upon. Before Walter left the chapel, he approached the baron and presented him his sword. To you, my lord, said he, I am impelled to yield a weapon which never yet was stained with human blood, and at this moment I feel grateful joy it was not aimed against your life. Most ardently do I desire to prove myself deserving of your friendship and worthy of your esteem. The baron returned his sword and requested him to wear it. You have already obtained your wish, said he smiling, and that I must confess against my inclination. But there is something about you speaks a language I find difficult to explain, and cannot comprehend. Every countenance was brightened up with hope and expectation at this reply of the baron, except that of Sir Philip de Morny. Even the cold and frigid father Anselm, who in his long seclusion from the world had, as it may naturally be supposed, lost many of those generous and tender feelings which a more unrestrained intercourse with his fellow creatures would have helped to cherish, seemed animated and enlivened. It was agreed that Walter and his friends, accompanied by Edwin, should return the same way as they had entered, and the rest of the party be conveyed in the carriages. After proper apologies being made to father Anselm and some of his brethren, for the unnecessary trouble they had so undesignedly occasioned, they returned to the castle. With what different feelings than those they carried with them to the chapel, I must leave my readers to imagine. No sooner were the party assembled in the drawing-room, than the Baron requested that the young man and his servant might be summoned to give some account of themselves, and to explain their motive for their daring and unprecedented proceedings. At the same time, observing in the countenance of Sir Philip de Morney, indignation, resentment, and disappointment, he addressed him in the following words, I should not, Sir Philip, presume to take the liberty I have now done, did I not, from the nature of our intended connection, consider myself as authorized to act in this castle as if I were in my own? I am afraid some very dark transactions have been carried on, which it is necessary should be investigated and be brought to light. A mysterious cloud hangs over us, which I am impatient to disperse. Woe be to that man who has assisted to deceive me! If you doubt my honour in what has passed between us, retorted Sir Philip, you do me injustice, and I shall, at any time and in any place, be ready to meet you upon whatever terms you please. If my daughter has deceived me, if she has dared to encourage the hopes of an adventurer, a maniac, a traitor, let her remember that her crime will not be her only punishment, nor will the sacrifice of her father's life be of sufficient atonement for the disgrace and dishonour she has entailed on the name of Demorne. Rosaline burst into tears, in which she was joined by every one of her female companions who trembled lest some dreadful catastrophe should close the heart-rending scenes of this eventful morning. It may be happy for us both, said the no longer haughty Baron, whose complicated feelings had produced an instantaneous revolution among his contending passions, that at this moment I do not find myself inclined to engage in any farther hostilities, till I am better satisfied the affront and disappointment were intended for me. If I have been meanly and willfully deceived, my sword shall revenge me upon those and those only who are found guilty, and dearly shall they atone for the injustice they have practised. Therefore, till matters are cleared up, I am content to be silent on a subject which, I hesitate not to declare, appears to me inexplicable. Rosaline, who would have given the world to have obtained permission to retire during the awful investigation which was going to take place, dared not make an attempt to withdraw, as she saw by the eyes of her father his rage and indignation were only kept from breaking out by the determined manner and authoritative tone of the Baron, who did not appear in a humour, notwithstanding his language spoke the spirit of peace and candour, to put up with any contradiction. Again he expressed the most restless impatience to be confronted with the parties who had so unaccountably deprived him of his young bride by stopping the marriage ceremony. In a few moments the painful suspense was ended by the eager and intrepid entrance of Walter, the three companions of his enterprise, and his humble friend. They were desired to be seated. Walter and Albert, however, continued standing, requesting that they might be permitted to do so till they should be acquitted or condemned. The Baron instantly called upon Albert to perform his promise, and if he were really the honest man he pretended to be, to step forward and without fear or prevarication before the present party informed them who it was he acknowledged as his master, and proved the justice of those claims which he had made to the hand of his elected bride, and what were his inducements for the preventing of a marriage sanctioned by the Lady's own consent and the unequivocal approbation of her parents. I am happy, my Lord, replied Albert, in a firm, manly, and unembarrassed tone of voice, to be thus generously and publicly called upon. Unpracticed in either guilt or deceit, and having nothing to fear from my own self- reproaches, I hail this moment awful as I own it appears, as by far the happiest of my life. But before we proceed any farther in this important business, I must entreat your Lordship to perform an active tender in atoning justice, for which I trust you will find an approving advocate in your own heart, and require little farther testimony than the receipt carried in accountants which you have already confessed has stamped its validity upon every tender feeling of your soul. My dear, dear sir, continued he, addressing himself to the trembling Walter, throw yourself at the feet of the noble Baron, for as sure as you now live to claim that distinguished honour, you are his son, his only lawful heir, the darling offspring of the Lady Isabella Fitzosborne, who, to give you life, yielded up her own. Walter in an instant was at the feet of the Baron, and in another the interested and astonished party saw them locked in each other's arms. At the same moment the agitated Rosaline sunk into those of her mother. In a little time every one became more composed, and the Baron resolutely struggling to acquire a greater degree of firmness in order to obtain further information, exclaimed in a tone of voice that events the nature of his feelings, you are, you must be my son. Nature, at first sight of you, asserted her just, her powerful claims. Yes, you are that precious gift of my sainted Isabella, the only pledge of a love that was pure and gentle as her own heart and mind. But how, where, by what cruel policy and unfeeling hand have you thus been long concealed from my sight? How prevented from enjoying the advantages of your birthright while I was tortured with the belief that death had robbed me of my son? Of all these matters, my Lord, Albert can fully inform you, said Walter. He is much better to explain them than I can possibly be, who till this hour did not know I should ever be folded in a father's arms. Yet to me Albert has been a father, a friend, and a guardian. For my sake he has voluntarily buried himself for years in the gloomy and narrow confines of a dungeon. For my sake suffered the punishment of the most atrocious offender without being guilty of a single crime. If you therefore condescend to love and acknowledge me for a son, you will feel for him the affection of a brother. To you, my Lord, I am indebted for life. To this, my second father, I owe its preservation. Generous man, cried the enraptured baron, who was charmed at hearing the noble sentiments of his son, come to my arms and command my power to serve you. Albert would have knelt at his feet, but was prevented by a warm embrace from putting his design into execution. Walter was now seated by the side of his happy father, who, observing that his eye wandered in search of something with anxious tenderness, soon guessed the cause, and instantly rising from his chair took his hand and led him to the weeping Rosaline, who, smiling through her tears, instantly proved how warmly she participated in the happiness. Walter, though the acknowledged son of Baron Fitzosborne, was still a son of nature. He sunk at her feet, and in the unadulterated language of rapture and affection exclaimed, for a moment like this, who is there who would not suffer years of anguish? Look down, my gentle friend, my benefactress and protecting angel, my first, my last, and only love, and let me in your smiles find a confirmation of my bliss, let them convince me that all I see and hear is real, for I am almost tempted to think it must be the effects of enchantment, of the delusions of a distempered imagination. Rosaline no longer awed by the presence of her father, no longer able to conceal the joy which reveled in her bosom, gave him her hand, which he instantly conveyed to his lips. Albert, who carefully watched every change in the countenance of his beloved master, trembled for the consequence of such new and high-wrought feelings, lest they should be attended with danger to a mind which had so recently been sunk in a state of the lowest ejection. With the approbation of the party who saw the necessity of the design, he prevailed upon him to retire for a few minutes in order to acquire sufficient fortitude to hear his own story recited with composure. This request being seconded by his father in Rosaline, he immediately complied leaving the company so much charmed with the whole of his behaviour, through the interesting scene we have described, and so captivated with his figure, good sense, and sweetness of manners, that surprise was lost in admiration. As soon as the two friends had withdrawn, for if ever anyone deserved the name of friend, that title belonged to the worthy Albert, Sir Philip de Mourney approached the baron, and with some little embarrassment congratulated him on the wonderful discovery which had so recently and unexpectedly taken place. He then entered on his own defence with the candour and ease of one, who if he had aired, it proceeded from ignorance, that I have undesignedly been made an agent in the diabolical injustice practiced against your son by keeping him confined in this castle. I beg your lordships pardon, and in treat you would use your influence to procure the forgiveness of him whom I have innocently injured. He was brought to this place under a fictitious name, and with the false pretense of being at times deranged in his intellects, I was told he was the illegitimate offspring of a person inimical to the plans of the government, and easily wrought upon by his associates to enter into any schemes which the enemies of his country might throw in his way. At the same time it was asserted that he was particularly disliked by a great person in high office. All that was required of me was to keep him and his servant in close confinement, to suffer no one to see or converse with them, and to convey no letters nor messages beyond the walls of the castle. This request came from one with whom I looked upon as a respectable character. He had previously obtained permission of the noble owner of the castle for the use of its dungeons, but who, as well as myself, must have been led into the practice of so glaring a piece of tyranny by the designs and misrepresentations of those whose interests led them to keep your lordship in ignorance of your sons being alive. In justice I ought to inform you that I was ordered to supply them liberally with every necessary accommodation the nature of their situation would admit, and was not restricted if I found them quiet and submissive from allowing them some occasional indulgences. I take shame to myself when I own that after I had seen them safely lodged in their dungeon and had forbidden anyone attempting to go near or hold conversation with them, I never visited them more than once, concluding they were too dangerous and worthless people who were receiving the reward of their base actions, and contenting myself with only making such inquiries as the duties of my situation imposed. Indeed I thought very little about them, and waited with composure for the farther explanation promised by my friend when we met to settle the accounts for their board, etc. How the youthful prisoner became acquainted with my daughter, or by what means he obtained an introduction to her, I am at this moment totally ignorant. If it can be as well accounted for, said Father Anselm, who for some time had remained silent with surprise, as you have accounted for the part you were prevailed upon to act, I think the most rigid judge will find but little to condemn. I have no fears, replied the baron, but their actions will stand quite as clear. The sparkling eyes of my offiance bride are at this moment telling tales of their own beguiling influence, and testifying by their intelligent language, that I am right in my conjectures. No wonder, as she conquered the father, she should have wounded and rendered the son doubly at captive. But here comes the fortunate culprit. Let us hear his defence before we venture to pronounce whether he is entitled to forgiveness and an honourable acquittal, or merit's condemnation for daring to fall in love while sentenced to languish in a dungeon. Rosaline, having now shaken off that languor and despondency for which so many days had depressed the generous and active feelings of the gentlest of human minds, impelled by justice and the unbounded affection she had long felt for Walter exclaimed, if every virtue merits reward, if every good and engaging quality be entitled to happiness, your son, my lord, will be the happiest of men, for to the long list of virtues he inherits from his noble ancestors, you will find added all the bounteous gifts which nature could bestow on her most distinguished favourite. This artless eulogium was not made without a blush, and the rose which blossomed on her cheek gave to her face an expression which, in the eyes of the barren, exceeded that of the most perfect beauty. Walter, followed by Albert, now returned to the room. Come here, young man, said his father, in a tone of gratified affection. Come and prove yourself worthy of the character I have heard given of you by a very lovely historian. Sit down by me and endeavour to keep your mind free from agitation, and your spirits composed, while our friend Albert gives us the promised narration, which is to establish your claim to my name as firmly as your merits in conduct have already done to my regard. For though you played me a sly and mortifying trick before I had the happiness of knowing you, I find in myself little inclination to resent it. Take notice, however, that perhaps I shall not be quite so favourably inclined to execute any deviations in future, should a certain young lady be in the case. This was spoken in a tone that proved the barren was far from being dissatisfied at having found a rival so long as he had gained a son. General congratulations now took place, and the merry good-humoured Hugh Camelford, after jumping up and cutting a few capers in the true style of Cambrian hilarity, declared he could dance a fandango with his grandmother, or the toctor round the topmost paddlements of punky castle, for he never lifted a happier moment since he was porn. Every eye spoke the same language, and DeClavering said, though he dreaded the oyster-shell devocations of a woman's mind, he had a pretty widow in his eye, whom he should entreat to take care of him for life. Sir Philip with a smile, whispered Lady DeMorney, telling her he thought after all women catered to best for themselves in the choice of their husbands. For prejudice out of the question, the barren son was certainly the finest young man he had ever seen. As all the party were impatient to hear the tale Albert had to communicate, he was requested to begin, which he did in the following manner. End of Chapter 4 Volume 2 Volume 2 Chapter 5 of Bungie Castle by Elizabeth Bonhote This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Patty Cunningham You cannot but recollect, my lord, addressing himself to the barren, that when you married the Lady Blanche, I came into your family. I had been brought up in her father's house, and from a boy was appointed to attend her person, no one being allowed to command or employ me without her permission. When all preliminaries were settled for your marriage with my lady, I was informed that I was still to have the honour of attending her. A favour so great and voluntarily conferred, rendered me not a little vain. You soon after married, and I became a resident in your family. My lady still distinguishing me with her approbation made me grateful and happy, and though I was frequently reproached by my fellow servants, with ill humour and acrimony for being so great a favourite, I endeavoured all in my power to convince them, I wished not to deprive them of any advantages they had enjoyed before I came among them. And this, in a little time, made them more reconciled and obliging. My dear young master was then in his infancy, and my place not being one of the busiest, I had many hours of leisure which I was allowed to dispose of as suited my inclination. These hours I chiefly spent in the nursery, and being remarkably fond of children, I soon became so strongly attached to the young lord that I often regretted the necessity of leaving him, which I was sometimes obliged to do for weeks and months together, either when your lordship took my lady to town, paid visits to your friends, or went to any other of your estates. And once, if you recollect, you were absent a long time when you carried my lady to Montpellier, whose declining health led you to adopt this plan for her recovery, which the physician said would perfectly restore that bloom a slow and nervous fever had stolen from her, and alarmed every friend who saw the ravages sickness had made in a countenance form to captivate. Ah, that unfortunate excursion! I have wished with an aching heart a thousand and a thousand times it had never been made. During our absence, my lady lost her fever and gave birth to a son who very soon engrossed so much of her time and affection that your lordship had just reason to complain of the change it produced. There was another change which you did not so soon discover. During our residence among a parcel of jabbering foreigners, my lady learned to despise the blessed manners and customs of her native country and all those feelings which once made her so charming. We must eat, drink, sleep, dress, and do everything after the French fashion. I was often reproved for retaining more than any of my fellow servants, my clumsy English manners. She frequently expressed her satisfaction that her son first saw the light on the Gallic shore where, if she could have persuaded your lordship, she would have continued to reside. After an absence of eighteen months, which appeared to me the length of as many years, we returned to England and found my young lord just recovered from the smallpox of a very bad sort, which had so much altered him that my lady believed, or rather affected to believe, that your son had been changed during our absence, or that he might have died and some designing artful people had imposed their own offspring upon you to usurp his rights and rob her little darling of his title in estate. The boy she found in your castle could not be the sweet creature she left, he was beautiful and finely formed, this was ugly to a degree, robust, clumsy, and half an idiot. I know not what arts were used to make your lordship give any credit to so fallacious and improbable a tale, but I observed with unfeigned regret from that time your affection was continually decreasing till at last your son was seldom admitted to your presence and never indulged with those fond caresses which, previous to your departure from England, were frequently and tenderly repeated. He was generally dismissed with the epithets of beggarsbrat, foundling, and idiot. I feel deep contrition for yielding belief to such infernal tales, said the Baron, for being so long the dupen tool of a designing malicious woman and neglecting the son of the most amiable and best of wives. Ah, my Isabella, if you are permitted to look down on this lower world, if you are acquainted with the conduct of him to whom you entrusted your virgin heart and made the chosen lord of your destiny, how must you despise and detest the mean, forgetful wretch who deserted the sacred, the precious charge you so tenderly committed to his care? May my future pen and satone for the cruelty of my past conduct, and my sainted Isabella intercede with her Creator for pardon and forgiveness, then may Fitz Osborne, hoperspirit, will in the grave find a place of rest. No wonder my crimes have robbed her even of that asylum. The tears of remorse stole down the Baron's cheeks, and he gave Walter a look of tender regret that said as much as volumes could have done. I know to what your Lordship alludes, said Walter, and I am happy that it is in my power to remove a tormenting delusion from your mind, which all circumstances considered, I cannot be surprised, made so forcible an impression on it. The striking likeness which I bear to my ever-regretted mother had often been remarked to me by Albert, and was undoubtedly designed to be the means of restoring me a father. Everyone being impatient to hear the remainder of the prisoner's story, the explanation was deferred, and Albert went on. Before my young Lord had recovered his former complexion, or as features began to resume some traits of what they had been, till attacked in disguise by that baneful distemper, so often the grave of beauty, the enemy of love, I was one day summoned into my lady's dressing-room. After desiring me to shut the door and take care our conversation was not overheard, she bade me sit down. I obeyed reluctantly, as I never before had been allowed the honour of sitting in her presence. She then inquired, if I were in reality as much attached to her as I had frequently pretended to be, and whether, if she would have occasion to place a confidence in me and require my assistance, she might trust to my fidelity. As to your life, my good Albert, cried her ladyship, rising and putting her purse and picture into my hand, which she compelled me to take, I hope that will long be preserved to do me service. The request I shall make will neither involve you in difficulties nor danger. And if you faithfully perform what would be ask of you, rely upon my word, it will not only free you from labour and servitude, but be a certain means of procuring you a comfortable and independence for the rest of your life. An income that will enable you to marry the woman you love, with whom you may live to see yourself surrounded with numerous offspring. The picture was drawn in the most flattering colours. The background was not quite so pleasing. But you must to obtain my good opinion and secure to yourself these enviable comforts, continued her ladyship. Unconditionally, and without knowing the nature of the service required of you, take a solemn and sacred oath never to betray by thought word or deed the confidence reposed in you. I will give you three days to consider of my proposal, and at the end of that time shall expect your answer. I was now ordered to withdraw, which I immediately did in a state of mind not to be imagined. What could my lady mean? What was the business in which I was to be employed that demanded the solemn prelude of an oath? Oaths were sacred things. They were not to be trifled with, and were thought necessary only on the most important occasions. I next recollected that I had known my lady from a child, she had ever been my friend, had frequently given me good advice, and was religious, generous and charitable. It could not therefore be any wicked or unjust action she wanted me to accomplish. That was contrary to her nature. What then had I to fear from taking an oath which could do no one any harm and might make my fortune? Independence was promised me. I was young, sanguine, and aspiring, yet I had never dared to hope being placed in a situation above that I at present enjoyed. The lure was thrown out by a hand I could not resist, and I was caught by the tempting bait, which I swallowed to the destruction of my own peace. But by your fortunately having done so exclaimed Walter, my life was repeatedly preserved to enjoy the present moment of exquisite happiness and soul-enlivening hope. He fixed his eyes tenderly on the blushing rosaline as he uttered this affecting exclamation. When the appointed time was expired, continued Albert, I was admitted to a second conference with my lady, and without making any terms, being as I thought well assured I might safely rely on her virtue and rectitude as trust to her generosity, I took the oath, which was tended to me by Father Paul, her confessor and domestic chaplain, to obey such orders as were given me with secrecy and fidelity, for which I was to receive in quarterly payments eighty pounds a year, and to have clothes, board, and every other necessary allowed me. Father Paul bore the character of a just and pious man. Therefore, had I retained any reluctance, receiving the oath from so sacred and important a personage, would have rendered any doubts an unpardonable offence against our holy church. In compliance with my earnest request to be informed what was expected to be done by me, and when I was to enter on my task, Father Paul himself, after some hesitation, opened the business. Her ladyship, he said, was convinced, and he was of the same opinion, that the child, meaning my young lord, which passed for the son of the worthy and unsuspicious baron, was in all probability the spurious offspring of some low-born peasant, the fruit of an illicit and illegal amor, imposed upon the noble family for base and artful purposes, by some designing wretch, after the death of the lawful heir, which, by some very wondrous means, has so far been brought to light as to confirm the fact. This child was so totally different from that left in England, it could not possibly be the same. He was beautiful, sensible, lively, and active. This was an ugly brat, dull, and stupid, and as much the child of King Solomon as of the baron. It was become necessary for the honour and comfort of the family to send it away. It was to be removed into some distant and healthy country for a change of air and placed with a countrywoman to be nursed. After he had been absent a few months, I was to withdraw myself from the baron's service, take the boy from his ignorant nurse, and accompany him to whatever place I should be directed. Till he came to a certain age, I was to have the occasional assistance of a female in rearing him up, and was desired to do all I could for the poor stupid creature, who, to be sure, in the eyes of impartial justice, had not yet been guilty of a crime. But to prevent his being so, by monopolising the rights of another, this plan was adopted. I was next commanded, never to presume to give the most distant hint either to himself or anyone else, that he had ever been suspected, or even thought, of consequence, never to mention the name of Fitzhaws born to him, or to say that he or myself had resided in the family. When he arrived at the age of 15, I might, if I were so inclined, give up my task, and should have proper security for receiving my salary during the rest of my life, even if the boy should luckily die before the age fixed upon to release me from my engagements. If I chose the trouble, I might teach him to read and write, but it was a matter of little consequence. The less such people knew the better, ignorance to them was happiness, and knowledge only a burden of which it was better not to be possessed. I had been unwarily drawn into the snare from which I now wanted judgment, courage, resolution to disentangle myself. The influence and unbounded power my lady ever held over me, her consequence and my humble station, arose to my terrified imagination, and I dared not venture to expostulate against a plan sanctioned by the Lady Blanche and approved by Father Paul, with whom it was equally dangerous to contend. Of the identity of the young Lord I never cherished a doubt, and, if I had, the restoration of his sweet features to their former beauty and expression, which was now beginning to take place, would have banished them as soon as they arose. Yet the fear of offending kept me silent. The oath I had taken hung over me with terror. Every struggle I made with conscience was overruled by worldly motives. I would not be perjured, but I consented to be ten times worse. Alas! I little suspected when I took that sacred yet unhallowed oath that I was sentencing myself and a helpless innocent to years of hopeless imprisonment, to a kind of living death, and burdening my conscience with the heavy crime of being the vile agent in assisting to rob the best, the most amiable of all God's creatures, of his title, a noble estate, and even of that freedom which the poorest of his father's vassals enjoyed. Dear Albert, cried Walter, do not abuse yourself so unjustly. Represent not your actions in colors that do not belong to them. If I suffered, you did the same. The barbarous hands which robbed me of liberty, and the all-charing light of heaven, deprived you also of yours. Had it not been for your unremitting and watchful care, your more than parental tenderness, I had long air now been numbered with the dead, and my existence and injuries lost in eternal oblivion. My noble boy, exclaimed the barren, there spoke the soul of your angelic mother, just so would she have shown her grateful sense of benefits received. Go on, my friend, regard not the feelings you excite. They are due to the sufferings of this injured youth and to the virtues of his generous guardian and protector. Albert proceeded, A plan so deeply laid and artfully contrived, supported by such authority and power, succeeded but too well. I was in due time, form and order, dismissed from your lordship's castle, and very soon the precious charge was delivered into the hands of the villain who had been aiding and abetting his ruin. But the degrading, self-reproving feelings, the horrid conflicts I endured in the moment when the innocent victim ran joyfully into the arms of the Judas who had betrayed him, shouting, jumping, and skipping with pleasure to think I was come to live with him and be his nurse, were such as I would not have encountered for ten thousand worlds could I have foretold the scorpion stings with which I found them armed at all points. It was judged necessary that we should speedily remove from the house of the poor ignorant woman to whom my young lord had been entrusted, and under whose fostering and maternal care he had entirely recovered his looks and found more happiness than in the habitation of greatness. I took care she should not go unrewarded for her kindness, and received at the expected time my instructions for our removal. After a long and tiresome journey we arrived at an old, ruinated castle on the borders of the... And there I found a woman who was appointed to assist me in the care of my important charge. We had a small, gloomy, and inconvenient apartment appropriated to our use. Our table was tolerably well supplied. We had plenty of what the country afforded, were never denied any addition I requested should be made to our wardrobe, and at times books and toys were sent unsolicited. My salary was likewise punctually remitted me. Here we lingered away some time and were afterwards removed to two places before we were brought hither, owing, I suppose, to some circumstance that rendered our removal necessary for the better secreting of our persons. Long before the time expired in which my engagement was to end, and I should be authorized to demand my freedom and continued ward, I found myself so strongly attached to my young lord, felt such pity for his situation, and such corroding regret at having lent my assistance to his cruel prosecutors. I could not support the most distant idea of forsaking him, and would have suffered torture rather than have left him in a state so desolate and unprotected. I hinted in my letters that if any attempts were made to separate me from my beloved charge, I should consider the oath which had hitherto kept me faithful to their secret as no longer binding. I heard by chance of the death of Lady Blanche, but never till very lately that she had lost her son. I for some months cherished hopes that her death would procure our liberty and release me from my oath, but I was soon given to understand that to her brother she had discovered the secret, that in future our remittances were to be sent by his order, and we were to be guided by his direction. Finding things thus settled and arranged after we had lived so many years in confinement, I concluded that the whole plan had been contrived and executed with your lordship's consent, and no longer doubted, but it was your wish that the son of the Lady Blanche should inherit your titles and estates. Good God! exclaimed the Baron, how awful and mysterious are the dealings with us airing mortals. I was told, and suppose the tale was true, that my poor boy died suddenly in a few months after he was sent from the castle on the pretense that a change of air was necessary. I gave orders for his internment in our family vault, went into mourning, and knew not till this ever-blessed day that a son of mine existed. Unhappy, mistaken, guilty Blanche. The untimely fate of thy darling boy is now fully and solemnly accounted for. It was doubtless the just judgment of heaven for thy unpardonable crimes in depriving the son of my Isabella first of his father's love, and then of his protection. The agonies of thy dying moments are now explained. They were direful effects of unavailing contrition, for when thou wouldst have relieved thy mind of its heavy burden, speech was denied thee. I hope thy anguish in those moments of terror have in part atoned for thy unheard of cruelty. Father Paul has found a shelter in the grave from my resentment. But the man, I will not call him brother, who must have been tempted to take an active part in this iniquitous business in the hopes of attaining some of my fortune for his children, still lives to feel my anger. What could induce one of his exalted rank to persecute and rob the innocent if from his sufferings and seclusion he had not expected to reap considerable benefit? Perhaps the fear of punishment and exposure might prompt them to continue the deception, said Albert. What occasioned our removal to this castle I could never learn. It was sudden, and conducted with secrecy and caution, for we were guarded as if we had been prisoners of state, owing, I presume, to some attack being made or mediated against the castle we left. But whatever the cause, we had reason to be thankful for the change it produced, as we had more liberty and better accommodation than we had experienced in any other prison. I shall ever reproach myself, said Sir Philip, for having been led into an act of such unpardonable oppression, for which I can never stand excused to my own heart. I trusted too implicitly to the account which was given me, not doubting the honour or veracity of the party's concerned. I must now entreat the worthy narrator would proceed with his story, for I own I am very impatient to know how the son of my friend obtained an introduction to my daughter. I trust my father and indulgent friends will excuse my absence, said Rosaline, during a recital that, in my present agitated state of mind, would be too much for me to support. No, no, no, was echoed from every part of the room. Walter, rising and seating himself by the side of Rosaline, whispered something in her ear that instantly reconciled her to a compliance with the general request of the company. Albert then proceeded and gave an account of their first interesting interview, and of the dangerous state to which long confinement and a slow fever had reduced his master. He dwelt with delight on the tender attentions of the charming Rosaline to the poor, forlorn helpless and dying prisoner, describing her unremitting care, and mentioned with what joy he marked their growing affection, which soon was visible to all the parties but those most interested. The friendship of Edwin was not forgotten, nor were the polite and sisterly attentions of the gentle Madeline passed over in silence. Nothing was emitted in the narrative, but the barons fright in the subterranean passage, and that, for reasons which will hereafter appear, he dared not venture to explain. Your alarm, my lord, continued Albert. On the night the ball was given by Sir Philip de Morny, and which occasioned so much bustle and confusion, originated from a cause more natural than you, misled by terror, could suppose. To explain things in their proper order, we must go back to the day previous to that of the ball. Mr. Morny and her brother had informed my master of what was intended. In consequence of this intelligence, he became more restless and wretched than I had ever seen him, and felt the miseries of his situation so severely that I trembled for the consequence so irritable a state of mind might produce on a constitution sufficiently injured already by the unsparing rigors of oppression and confinement. I, therefore, without giving him a hint of my intention, formed a plan in my own mind to relieve his sufferings, little suspecting the surprising and happy effects of which it would be productive, or once supposing that, in a successful rival, I should see Baron Fitzsosbourne. Never was I so puzzled as in the moment I made that discovery to conceal the feelings by which it was attended from giving any alarm to those which had already harassed and half destroyed my dear master. Without much difficulty, I prevailed on Mr. Demorney to procure me two female dresses, telling him for what purpose they were intended. He was first astonished at the singularity of my request, but finding no ill consequences likely to attend it readily complied, and with the assistance of his sister the matter was easily accomplished. We helped each other in putting on female attire as well as we could, and took as much care as possible to make such an appearance as was not likely to attract attention. At the time appointed, we sallied forth in our female habillaments, slipped through some of the forsaken apartments, and joined without any suspicion a vast number of people who had obtained permission to witness the festival and see the company dance. The eyes of my young lord were feasted by beholding the beloved object who engrossed his every thought and constituted his every wish. Exhibit her elegant person in the mazy windings of the dance, which till now he had never seen. With a kind of saddened delight he was soon convinced that, though her person was engaged, her heart appeared to have no share in the pleasure which was legibly depicted on the countenance of her youthful companions. But on that which his eyes alone delighted to mark, he saw a silent uncomplaining sadness, which, at the time, it wounded, cheered, and revived his soul with the sweet hope that had he been present, had he been her envied partner, no sadness had clouded her brow, no regret found entrance to her bosom. She frequently withdrew her eyes from the company to fix them on the humble crowd in which she concluded her lover was numbered. He likewise felt his spirits relieved by the coldness and indifference with which he saw she received every flattering attention that was paid her. When he had sufficiently satisfied his curiosity, and I observed he was weary of being incommodated by the number of people which continued to increase, I whispered him that I thought it was time to retire while the coast was clear and we could steal away undiscovered. He desired me to go first, saying he would follow me in a few moments. I instantly obeyed. My master, by taking a wrong turn, was passing through your lordship's bed-chamber as you entered it. He saw it was his rival, and in the instantaneous indignation of the moment forgot everything but the resentment which was rankling in his bosom. You perceived him, looked alarmed and trembled. He frowned and shook his head while a face on which you gazed with terror was flushed with passion. On seeing you fall, unable to account for the cause and fearful of being discovered, he hurried out of the room and hastened to inform me of what had happened. Hearing a vast bustle, I instantly disrobed my master of his female attire, having already gotten rid of my own disguise. I was next day informed by Mr. Dimorney that your lordship had been alarmed by something in your own room and was much indisposed. I soon collected sufficient proof as to be assured that it was the appearance of your son which had occasioned this confusion and imparted enough of my sentiments to make myself understood. From that moment having no alternative, no other method to adopt in order to bring about a discovery, we agreed to enter the chapel and these gentlemen at the request of their friend hesitated not to be of the party. To confirm more fully and to remove every doubt from the mind of the baron, Albert produced many of the clothes and trinkets which had been sent by the Lady Blanche. The mark of a bunch of currents on the arm of Walter with which he was born and which had been occasioned by one of nature's strongest freaks was perfectly recollected by the baron and was a fact not to be contributed. So many corroborating and convincing testimonies of his identity would have banished out had any doubt remained but truth and nature were too prevailing to be disputed. The countenance of Walter was unsupported with farther evidence sufficient to prove him the son of the Lady Isabella. This narrative contained so many interesting circumstances cold and unfeeling must have been the heart which could have heard it with disbelief or indifference. No such heart was enshrined in the bosom of the delighted audience. Every eye readily paid the tribute of a tear. The conduct of Rosaline and her brother was generally applauded and admired. All were eager to praise and de-clavering slightly observed that if any young lady should fall in his way who had a mind to study the use of verbs he should conclude she had something more in her head than a wish to learn physic or botany. Perhaps is a sign of love, said Camelford when people began to study botany and that is the reason De Willos thinks so much about it himself. For I heard him in his sleep called out that he must die unless some palm could be discovered to heal the wound in his heart which was as pink as a pardor. De Willos called him an incorrigible miscreant for betraying the secrets he pilfered from his friend and vowed to be revenged in his own way. This little sally gave an enlivening turn to the conversation but it was not possible that a party circumstance as the present should be able to inverse on any subject but that in which every heart was interested. It had even bereaved Father Anselm in the abyss of many tears. Sir Philip de Morny avowed that the gentle and benevolent virtues of his children made him blush at the failure of them in himself. The barons still shed tears but they were tears more calculated to provoke envy than excite compassion. He embraced his son again and again led him to Rosaline and in treated she would make the youth her captive for life and bestow on him the only treasure which could reward him for his long confinement and uncomplaining fortitude. He called upon Sir Philip to accept him for a brother instead of a son saying as he should now certainly never think of marrying again the settlements with a few alterations might stand as they did. This proposal was too agreeable to meet with any opposition. Upon Albert the baron proposed settling an annuity that would enable him to live in a style equal to that of the most respectable country gentleman. But this good man instantly declined accepting the generous offer declaring that if they compelled him to leave his dear young lord and deprived him of the pleasure of attending him life would lose its value and he should pine away the remainder of his days in discontent and misery though he were possessed of the most unbounded affluence. And I said Walter though blessed with my gentle and lovely Rosaline should appear despicable in her eyes and contemptible in my own could I ever consent that my preserver friend and preceptor should live under any roof but mine. I hope and trust he will permit me to repay to his declining age the mighty debt I owe him for his tender care his unceasing attentions to my helpless and persecuted youth. Albert burst into tears and suddenly throwing himself at the feet of Walter found in the eager and cordial embrace with which he raised him an ample reward for his long-tried fidelity. Edeliza Bertha and their youthful companions were no longer able to confine their joy in silence. Bertha crept to the side of Walter and looked at him with an expression of countenance so good humored an arch that he took her on his knee and inquired if she would give him leave to be her brother. That I will said she you are so tall and handsome and by seeing you I have found why my sister Rosaline said so many tears had so many feigning fits and went about without singing the pretty song she used to do. It was allowing to you. Therefore you must be very good and very entertaining to make her love you better than she does Edeliza, brother Edwin or myself. Lady Dimorni, father Anselm, the Abbas, Madeline and Agnes de Clifford were severally introduced. The Abbas as she expressed her approbation of her niece's lover told her sister that she saw in this animated and expressive countenance the likeness of her regretted Henry. Declavoring and the rest were not silent. Never can they be found a happier party than were at that time assembled in Bungie Castle. The gloom which had so long enveloped them disappeared with every threatening cloud and was succeeded by the brightest sunshine. Various reports were in rapid circulation respecting the circumstances which had so wonderfully occurred to promote and secure the happiness of Walter and Rosaline. And while some were pitying others blaming the bride that should have been the parties themselves were congratulating each other on account of that very disappointment which had been productive of joy as great as it was unexpected. Rosaline, eager to disrobe herself of her bridal ornaments which in spite of herself carried her reflections back to the agonizing conflicts she had endured when putting them on, retired with her young friends, and then in the fullness of heart as she embraced them with delight unmixed with self-reproacher doubt, informed them of her long and tender attachment to the poor helpless and unknown prisoner. At Elisa declared he was almost as handsome as de Willows but not half so merry and good humoured as Mr. Camelford said Bertha. But I will try to make him romp with me and then perhaps I shall like him as well. Rosaline smiled with complacency at her sister's artless observations in which she read the sentiments of hearts which had not yet learned the art of concealing what they felt and which already yielded to the influence of the same blind god who had conducted her through such varying scenes of hope despair and misery to the prospect of the most enviable happiness. The whole company were invited to spend the remainder of the day at the castle not withstanding the purpose for which they came had been defeated. Father Anselm who though a very pious and rigid Catholic had no objection to good living very readily accepted the invitation. The doors of the castle were ordered to be thrown open. Everyone that chose was permitted to partake of the hospitality and good cheer and though the company were disappointed of being at a wedding it would have been impossible for an indifferent spectator to imagine any matter of such consequence could have happened as mirth pleasure and satisfaction reveled in every eye and every countenance was dressed in the serene and placid smiles of joy and contentment. Rosaline was closeted half an hour with her mother and aunt. She received their congratulations and caresses with that pure delight which ever attends the heart when duty and affection are united. Lady Demorne could not withhold her praises yet once or twice gently averted to the dangers which might have arisen from the duplicity of her conduct in concealing an attachment of so much importance to her future peace had not the holy virgin condescended to watch and guard her. The Abbas bestowed her most pious benediction on her lovely niece who she pronounced had acted under the influence of her guardian saint and was entitled to the ample reward which appeared to wait her acceptance.