The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 36

_OR, INTERESTING MEMOIRS OF MIGUEL, DUKE DE CA*I*A._ Unfolding Many Curious Unknown Historical Facts.

_Translated from the German of Tsc.h.i.n.k._

(Continued from page 70.)

She stopped in the second street at a large palace, telling me that we were on the spot. I ordered the servant to tell his lady, the Marchese Albertini would be glad to wait on her Ladys.h.i.+p, and was admitted.

I hastened through the first apartment with a panting heart, and the second door being opened, was very kindly received by an old lady. I was almost petrified by that unexpected sight, like a poor disappointed wretch who, deceived by magic art, expects to rush into the arms of an immortal beauty, suddenly embraces an old toothless beldam. The lady seemed to be equally surprised. I did not know whether it was on account of my person or my astonishment--and I begged her pardon, in a faultering accent, for having committed that mistake, telling her that I had taken the liberty to intrude upon her, in hopes of seeing the Countess de Clairval, when----the door of a third apartment was opened, and a lady beautiful as an angel, dressed in white satin, and of a majestic form, made her appearance. I flew to meet her---and pressed _Amelia_'s hand to my glowing lips.

Her lovely cheeks were covered with a crimson hue, and after a short interval of silent astonishment, she exclaimed: "Is it possible, my Lord! How does it happen that we have the honour of seeing you here?"

"I don't know it myself!" I exclaimed, "my life is an uninterrupted train of wonders, and it was certainly one of the most fortunate that brought me to your Ladys.h.i.+p!"

"You find me in the company of a friend," Amelia said, introducing me to the old lady, "whom I had lost in my earlier youth, but found again four months ago through a most singular accident, which however I think to be one of the most fortunate of my life. You will recollect that when I related to you the history of my youth, I mentioned a white lady who appeared to me in the dusk of evening, in a grotto in my father's garden, and who had directed and cheered me in my juvenile years like a heavenly being---"

"And that white lady---"

"Is the Baroness de Delier, who is now standing before you."

"Is it possible?" I exclaimed.

"Yes, it is really so!" replied the lady archly smiling.

I now began to examine her face more attentively. Her physiognomy was exceeding interesting, bearing strong marks of sensibility, and of former beauty, the traces of which the voracious tooth of time had not been able to destroy.

"My Lady," said I, "the Countess has related to me so much that is n.o.ble and wonderful of you, that my astonishment is as natural as my curiosity will be deemed pardonable by you."

"I dare say," Amelia interrupted me, "it will give you pleasure if I beg the Baroness to be so kind as to explain that wonderful circ.u.mstance to you?"

"Why not," replied Lady Delier, "let us sit down; old age is thought to be talkative; however I shall be brief in my narrative:----A friend of mine who knew Amelia, and was no stranger to the cruel treatment which she received from her unnatural mother, lived in a house which was separated from that of her parents only by two gardens. The description which my friend gave me of the sufferings of the innocent girl, affected me so much the more, as I ever have been uncommonly fond of children.

I resolved to alleviate the hapless fate of the poor child; and with that view designed a plan, which I carried into execution, a.s.sisted by her nurse, whom I bribed with fair words and a sum of money. The gardens of my friend, and Amelia's parents, were separated only by a wall, which had a little gate leading from the garden of the former to the grotto which was in that of the latter. This gate was opened for me by the nurse, who, according to my direction, always retired when I came, and watched at the entrance of the garden to warn me by a signal against sudden surprise. I dare say, my Lord, Amelia will have informed you of my conversations and actions in the grotto."---

"But why did you conceal your name and rank from the Countess?"

I enquired.

"In order to prevent being found out, if the little girl in her childish innocence should have spoken of her meetings with the white lady. When Amelia advanced in years I continued the mystery, because I had observed that it gave to my visits an additional value in her eyes, and rendered my consolations and instructions more effective. However, I did not mean never to disclose my name to her, and I had entrusted the solution of the mystery to the sealed paper which I gave to the daughter of my heart when I took leave of her, and which she afterwards lost."

"If I am not mistaken, you gave the sealed paper to the Countess, with the injunction to open it when she should have found the man whom her heart should choose for a partner in her happiness and affliction!"

"You are not mistaken! it contained some instructions which are very useful to a girl in love."

"You foretold the Countess when you took leave of her, that her unhappy fate would take a fortunate turn after three months, and that prediction has really been accomplished by the aunt of the Countess."

"This was very natural, because the whole matter had been arranged already by the intercession of my friend, who was very intimate with her aunt."

"But why did you not continue your visits till the arrival of her aunt?"

"Because I went abroad with the Baron de Delier."

"And you have never seen the Countess since?"

"No! and we should perhaps never have met again, if important affairs had not called me to **** after the decease of the Baron. I saw the Countess accidentally when I was coming from the cathedral. O! my Lord, what are all worldly pleasures, if compared to the happiness of such a re-union? The emotions of my heart broke out so violently, that we were obliged to get in the carriage, and to drive to Amelia's hermitage, to prevent our being crushed to death by the gaping mult.i.tude."

"Indeed," exclaimed the Countess, shedding tears of sensibility, and pressing the hand of the Baroness to her bosom, "I shall never forget that day while this heart is beating!"

"And yet, would you believe it, my Lord," resumed the Baroness, after an affecting pause, "I could scarcely prevail upon her to leave the castle in the forest, and to remove to mine, where we are leading an happy and contented life. My Amelia indeed was turned a downright hermit."

"I confess, my dear friend," replied the Countess, "I was so charmed with my solitary residence, and the retired and quiet life I led suited the state of my mind so well, that no one but my dear Baroness could have persuaded me to change my situation."

The fleeting hours pa.s.sed rapidly away amid pleasing discourses, and evening was already far advanced before I could resolve to take leave of Amelia and her amiable companion. At length I parted reluctantly, and having been invited to repeat my visit the day following, returned to my lodging in a trance of happiness and joy.

Amelia was the sole object of my thoughts before I fell asleep; Amelia's image sweetened my rest; her name was the first sound that came from my lips when I awoke, and in her presence I spent the greatest part of the day in a trance of unspeakable bliss.

Her cheerfulness declined, however, with every new day; her serene looks began to grow gloomy; her innate frankness and affability gave room to reserve and melancholy, which she endeavoured in vain to conceal.

I surprised her several times fixing her eyes on me in a melancholy manner, and casting down her looks with consternation when she perceived that I observed it--she spoke little, and what she said was incoherent--yet her behaviour was not repelling--her bosom seemed to conceal some secret uneasiness, the cause of which I strove in vain to explore. As often as I began to speak of the _Unknown_, Amelia looked perplexed and timid at Lady Delier, who always turned the conversation to a different object. I was certain that the Irishman had been in the house; they even confessed that he had informed them of my elevation to the ducal dignity; but this was all I could learn. This circ.u.mstance and Amelia's behaviour gave rise to apprehensions which made me suffer the torments of h.e.l.l. I could not endure this situation longer than four days; at the evening of the fourth day I took advantage of an opportunity which I had to speak to Lady Delier in private, and pressed her to unfold that mystery to me. After many fruitless persuasions, I obtained at length the promise to be informed of what I so anxiously wished to know, and was requested to meet her at twelve o'clock the next day in the fir-grove behind the garden of the castle, when she would satisfy my curiosity.

I awaited the noon-tide hour with impatience. At length the wished for hour arrived, and with the last stroke I was going to hasten to the fir-grove, however I met the Irishman on the stair-case. "Come with me, my Lord!" he said, as soon as he saw me!

"Whither?"

"You will be surprised in a most pleasing manner. Make haste, my carriage is waiting for you."

"I cannot accept your invitation before one o'clock. I must finish first a business of great importance, which cannot be postponed."

"My business also cannot be postponed, and is of far greater importance.

I am going to take you to an old acquaintance whom you have ardently wished to see this good while."

"An old acquaintance--whom I have ardently wished to see?---It is not---"

"Your _tutor_ I mean. Come, make haste!"

I embraced the Irishman with a loud exclamation of joy, pressed him vehemently to my heart, and leaped into the carriage.

We drove through the city gate; our horses gallopped at a furious rate, and yet they were too slow for my impatience. "Is he far from hence?"

I exclaimed, "where does he live, is he well, does he know that I am coming?" "All that you shall know presently!" said the Irishman, ordering the coachman to stop.

We got out of the carriage, and the sun was overclouding like the face of the Irishman. He uttered not a word, and made a silent signal to follow him.

The place where we were was a lonely solitary spot in the suburbs. The Irishman stopped at a high wall over which the tops of tall trees were portending. My conductor looked at me with a melancholy air, and then beat with his fist against a large gate. The folding doors burst open with a dreadful noise, and I beheld a burying-place before me. The Irishman entered. "What business have we here?" I exclaimed in a faultering accent. "Come along and be a man!" so saying, he pulled me after him, and the door was shut again by an invisible hand.

(_To be continued._)

BENEVOLENCE.

There is a beautiful story recorded in an ancient Pagan writer, "That the deity who formed the first man out of the ground, reflecting at the same time on the calamities which the unhappy creature was to undergo, wept over his work, and tempered it with tears." By this accident man was endued with a softness of disposition, and the most tender feelings: his descendants inherited these benevolent qualities, that by mutually relieving each other's sufferings, they might in some measure alleviate their own; and that some amends might be made for the natural wants and imperfections of their nature, by the pleasure which they receive from soothing distress, and softening disappointment.