UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. She revived at this assurance, and, with deepened tenderness, he resumed. " Meanwhile, as we hope to be blessed hereafter in an union as indisso- luble as our love; forbear to disclose what has now passed between us, to any of your own family. They would com- municate it to my father ; and the con- sequence I seek to avert, must then in- evitably follow : an eternal separation." The arguments of love, and the plead- ings of despair, at last prevailed upon her to make this promise also. Her head was in a whirl of distracting thought. She had never known such distress as overwhelmed her, when, in making this second vow, she felt as if she had at once relinquished her claims on the affection of her nearest relations ; and saw the being, for whose sake she had made this boundless sacrifice, on the point of leav- ing her for an unlimited time, perhaps for ever ! Ferdinand beheld the agony of her THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 235 soul, and too well guessed her apprehen- sions. Now he felt the mischief he had wrought; now he saw the ruin he had begun in that so lately happy bosom. He had not only awakened a passion there, to feed upon her heart; but he had introduced the scorpions of an ac- cusing conscience, where only a few moments before all was innocence and peace. " Wretch that I am !" cried he to himself; " to repay the blessing of thy tenderness with all this evil !" But striving to sooth and to cheer her, he vowed to see her at all events early in the spring ; and at the feet of her mother and her uncle, implore their pardon, and consent to an eternal union. When she became a little composed, he besought a ringlet of her hair to console him in his lonely absence ; and having pressed the trembling hand that be- stowed it, to his heart and his lips, he allowed her to break from the clinging arms that vainly tried to withhold her. 230 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. She rushed through the garden into the house ; and locking herself within her own room, gave way to the anguish of her soul. Ferdinand turned towards a remote winding of the cliffs, fuller of self-arraign- ment than of satisfaction ; yet though he detested the selfishness of his recent con- duct, the headlong impulse he had yielded to his passion was too strong to allow him to make the only restitution now in his power : — to release her from both her vows. At noon the boat was announced that was to bear the travellers to the carriage on the mainland, which was to convey them to the place of embarkation for Spain. In the hurrying moments of de- parture, the absence of Alice was re- marked by none but the heart of Fer- dinand ; and it yearned towards the sen- sibility which prevented her sharing these last adieus. He touched the cheeks of her mother and sister with an emotion THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 237 they did not expect. He hastily em- braced Louis ; and putting the hand of the Pastor reverentially to his lips, hurried down the rocks to the beach. The Marquis's farewell was more com- posed; but as he crossed the sands to the boat, he stopped, and gathering up a few of the entrochi, (he had heard called Saint Cuthbert's beads,) he bent his head to the grey towers of the mo- nastery, and turning towards Mr. Athel- stone, said with a smile, " these shall be my rosary, in grateful remembrance of this holy isle !" The venerable Pastor answered him with a benediction. He saw the father and son embark ; and stood with his sil- vered head bare to the wind, as he waived his handkerchief to the diminishing ves- sel ; and breathed a prayer for the safety of its freight, in every movement of his uplifted hands. If Louis ever felt a touch of envy, it was at the moment when the distant sail 238 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. disappeared from the horizon ; and as he slowly followed the homeward step of his uncle, he sighed to himself; " they will soon see my father! — They will understand all his glorious plans for the service of his restored country ! — They will witness his honours ! — While I down, my rebellious, my ungrateful spirit!" ( 239 ) CHAP. IX, The remainder of the autumn was passed in Lindisfarne by the different members of the Pastor's family, with no change in the tranquil routine of their occupa- tions, and little apparent alteration in themselves. Sir Anthony had made ample apologies to his nephew, and concessions to his uncle, to justify a renewed reconciliation. He pleaded surprise and infatuation ; and as the eccentric planet, whose in- fluence created both, had some time reached its perihelium j it was hoped the attraction would be too powerful to allow of its return. Mr. Athelstone, therefore, permitted his nephew to visit as usual at the castle, till the closing in of winter rendered the shores dangerous, 240 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. and commanded the emigration of his family to the more sheltered regions of Morewick-hall. Louis's elastic mind, like the principle of life shooting into every faculty of vigorous manhood, recovered all its spring ; and allowing himself to think no more of his father nor of Duke Whar- ton, than what was sufficient to keep his emulation in active career to attain the patriotic talents of the one, and the dis- interested enthusiam of the other ; he devoted himself, heart and soul, to the perfect acquirement of every branch of study which could possibly promote the great ends of his ambition. Accustomed to labour, the buoyancy of his spirit never admitted the touch of fatigue. Bodily exertion could not weary his prac- tised limbs ; nor diversity of mental pur- suits, distract nor overstrain his faculties. In the full power of health, and of a mind which care had never traversed, all things were easy to him. One hour he was THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 241 absorbed in mathematics, history, or lan- guages ; and the next saw him in the chace, with his gun on the moor, or bounding along the icicled heights of Morewick, by the side of Cornelia. Alice alone had exhibited a change in her person and manners since the visit of the noble Spaniards. She, who used to be the most constant companion of her cousin, now hardly ever joined him in his rambles ; and always refused to be his partner in the evening dances, which usually diversified the amusements of the hall, when any of the neighbour- ing families made a part of its winter fire-side. Her spirits and her bloom were gone ; and Mrs. Coningsby at length be- came so alarmed, that she seriously talked with the Pastor about taking her in the spring to some milder climate. Louis was not insensible to the alteration in his cousin. But those anxious attentions which, in any former indisposition, she had always received from him with grate- vol. i. m 242 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. ful affection, were now, not merely avoided, but repelled with evident dis- like. At first he attributed this strange conduct, to some unintentional offence on his part ; and he tenderly asked her if it were so. She burst into tears as she hurryingly replied in the negative, and left the room. On mentioning the circumstance to Mrs. Coningsby, it only confirmed her opinion of her daughter's illness being a latent consumption ; and that her present distaste to what before gave her pleasure, was a symptom of that fatal disorder. Such was the state of the family ; when about four o'clock, one dreadfully severe day in Pecember, a person of a middle age and a gloomy aspect, alighted from a chaise at the door of More wick- hall ; and almost speechless with cold, was ushered into the presence of Mr. Athel- stone. The Pastor was alone in his li- brary : and the stranger in brief and broken English, announced himself as THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 243 the Senor Castanos, confidential secretary to the Baron de Ripperda, and a mes- senger to the guardian of his son. While he spoke, he presented two packets ; one from the Baron, the other from the Mar- quis Santa Cruz. With his accustomed hospitality, Mr. Athelstone bade his guest welcome ; and was enquiring after the health of the Baron and the Marquis, when Louis entered the room. In pas- sing through the hall, the porter told him that Peter had just shewn an outlandish gentleman in to his uncle ; and impatient to know whether he came from Spain, Louis hastened to the library. " My child," said the Pastor, " I believe you are near the goal of your wishes. — This gentleman comes from your father." The secretary bowed to the son of his patron. And Louis, looking first at him, and then at his uncle, exclaimed — " my father ! — and does he — ?" He hesitated, m 2 244 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. he stopped ; the eagerness of his hopes interrupted his articulation. " We will open this packet, and see," returned the Pastor, taking that from the Baron into his hand. But glancing at the shivering figure of his guest, who had drawn near the fire, he did not break the seal, but desiring Louis to ring the bell, requested the Senor to permit the servant who attended, to shew him to an apartment where he should have a change of warm garments, and proper refreshment after so inclement a journey. As soon as the Spaniard had with- drawn, Mr. Athelstone opened the pac- ket. It presented one for himself and another for his nephew. Never before had Louis received a letter directed to him- self, from his father. Though he always persevered in the duty of addressing his only parent, yet, until this moment, the answers were never more than acknow- ledging messages through his guardian. It was, therefore, with a peculiar feeling THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 245 ■of recognition ; a conviction of being now owned by his father's heart as his son ; that Louis opened the first letter he had ever received from his hand. — Its contents were these : " My dear Son, " I hear from the Marquis Santa Cruz, that you are worthy the name you bear. — That your acquirements do cre- dit to the liberality of your education ; and that you are not deficient in ambition to bring these implements to the test. I offer you an opportunity. Accompany the bearer of this, to the continent. — He is my secretary : — and has my com- mands to present you to a person there, who will put your talents to the trial. Should the result be to your honour, you shall not be long withheld from the em- brace of your father, William Baron de Ripperda. " Madrid, « November, 1725." Louis pressed these welcome com- m 3 246 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. mauds to his lips : then turning, to com- municate their happy tidings to Mr. Ath- elstone, he saw the eyes of the venerable man still bent on the other packet ; while the spectacles, which he held in his hand, bore tearful proofs how little was his sym- pathy with the joy that beat in the heart of his nephew. Louis took that trembling hand, and kissed it without speaking. " I know, my child, that you are go- ing to leave me. — I know that you are glad to go ; — and it is natural, but an old man's tears are natural too." Louis grieved for the grief of his uncle : and anticipated his own pangs in the mo- ment of separation from so paternal a friend j from an aunt and cousins so be- loved : but he did not feel the most dis- tant wish to escape these pangs an hour, by delaying the journey that was to draw him nearer to his father, and to the in- distinct, but, he hoped, sure objects of his ambition. He was indeed drawn by two attractions : the one tender and per- THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 24<7 suading ; the other, powerful and imper- ative ; and his soul leaped to the latter, as to its congenial element. In a few minutes Mr. Athelstone re- covered his wonted serenity. " The time is now come," said he, " when I must put forth from my bosom the sacred deposit I have so fondly cherished. — Yes, Louis ; your spirit, more than your years, demands its active destination; and I will not murmur that the moment for which I have educated your mind and your body, is at last arrived !" He then read aloud, and with composure, the let- ter which the Baron had addressed to him ; but it was not more explanatory than the other, of the circumstances in which he meant to place his son. The secretary soon after re-entered. On Mr. Athelstone putting some civil questions to him respecting his present fatigue, and his late long journey ; he abruptly answered, " That as his arrival had been delayed by contrary winds at m 4 248 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. sea ; and the severity of the season did not promise a more propitious voyage, in return in g ; it would be necessarv for him and Mr. de Montemar to take leave of Morewick-hall the following morning." The Baron's letter to Mr. Athelstone, told him that Louis must yield implicit deference to the arrangem eats of Castanos. And in reply to some remonstrance from the Pastor, lor a less hasty departure, the Senor coldly observed — "That at Ostend, he and his charge were to meet instruc- tions for proceeding: and should they ar- rive there a day later than the one fixed by the Baron, the consequence might be fatal to their safety. Indeed, that no appendage should encumber their pro- gress, his Lord had commanded him to deny to Mr. de Montemar the indulgence of taking a servant from England." Mr. Athelstone made many enquiries, to gather something of the object of so peremptory a summons ; but he received no satisfaction from the secretary, who, THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 249 with even morose brevity, continued to affirm his total ignorance of what was to follow the introduction of his charge to his new guardian. His own office went no further than to conduct Mr. de Mon- temar by a particular day to the conti- nent : but who he was to meet there, or how he was to be employed, future events must explain. The frank-hearted Pastor, became uneasy at this mystery. And the more so, as from the secretary's hint, (which he appeared vext at having drop- ped) it seemed connected with danger. " Yet it is his father, who summons him in- to such circumstances !" said he to him- self; " and surely I may trust a father's watchfulness over his only son !" Louis's imagination had taken fire at what chilled the heart of his uncle. That there was a demand on his courage, in the proposed trial, swelled his youthful breast with exultation. He thought, as yet he had only tried his strength like a boy j in exercise, or in pastime. ■ He 250 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SID& wanted to grapple with danger, with the heart and the arm of a man ; and for a cause that would sanctify the hazard of his life. " And to something like this," cried he mentally, " my father calls me ! He calls me, as becomes the son of his race, to share the labours, the perils, of his glorious career ! I am now to prove my claim to so noble a birth-right. — And I will prove it ! O gracious Heaven, give me but to deserve honour of my father ; and I ask no other blessing on this side of eternity I" Mr. Athelstone saw that strong emo- tions were agitating the occupied mind of his nephew, and reading their import, in the lofty expressions of his counte- nance, he did not check their impulse, by recalling his attention to present ob- jects ; but proceeded in silence to open the packet from Santa Cruz : hoping that its contents might cast a light upon the destiny of Louis. The letter was short : chiefly thanking THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 251 the Pastor and his family, for their kind ness to himself and his son during their visit at Lindisfarne. Writing of Ferdi- nand, he added that his health was ma- terially improved, though his spirits were yet very unequal. To remedy these re- mains of his indisposition, he meant to engage himself in the expected hostilities between Austria and Spain, who were likely to quarrel on a question of maritime and commercial prerogative. The Mar- quis concluded his letter by saying, that he enclosed three packets from Don Fer- dinand, as offerings of respect to the ladies of Lindisfarne. Mr. Athelstone believed he had found a clew to the affair of danger, to which Louis was to be introduced. He did not doubt but that the Baron also meant to engage his son in the anticipated war- fare between their Catholic and Caesarian majesties. The halting at Ostend seemed to corroborate this surmise, as its new commercial company was the very dis- w 6 252 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. pute between the rival Powers. But still, the immediate peril which threatened any delay in arriving there remained as unexplained as before. When Louis perused the Marquis's letter, he also supposed he was called to a military life ; and as that was the point to which he had most wistfully di- rected his glory-attracted eye, the inti- mation at once fixed his vague antici- pations ; and rising from his seat, while his thoughts glanced on Wharton's gay demand to write man upon his brow, he smiled on his uncle and said, " this is the Toga virilis that has ever been the object of my vows!" «* God grant," cried the Pastor, mourn- fully returning his playful smile, " that it may not be steeped in blood !" " And if found in the bed of honour," replied Louis, " I should not rest the worse for it!" " You sport, my child, with these gloomy suggestions ; and may you ever have THE PASTOR'S FIRESIDE. £5$ the same cause for smiling at the advance of death ! I ; know the passion of your soul is to be always in the path of duty ; and that in such pursuit, the rugged and the smooth, the safe or dangerous, are to you alike. Nourish this principle as that of your part in the covenant of your sal- vation. But keep a clear eye in dis- cerning between duty and inclination. Remember, that no enterprize is great that is not morally good: that war is mur- der, when it commences in aggression ; and that policy is villainy, when it seeks to aggrandize by injustice. In short, in whatever you do, consider the aim of your action, and your motive in under- taking its accomplishment. Be single- minded in all things, having the principle of the divine laws, delivered by the Son of God himself, as the living spring of every action throughout your life. Then, my Louis, you may smile in life and in death ! You will be above the breath of man, be- yond his power to disappoint you in your 254 THE PASTORS FIRE-SIDE. reward ; for it will abide with you in the consciousness of virtue, and a sure faith in an eternal glory." While the Pastor was yet speaking, Mrs. Coningsby and her daughters en- tered from a Christmas visit they had been paying in the neighbouring town of Wark worth. They started at sight of a stranger dozing in the great chair by the fire. Overcome with fatigue, Castanos had fallen asleep almost immediately after he had given his last unsatisfactory re- ply. The entrance of the ladies roused him, and he got up heavily from his seat, when Mr. Athelstone presented him to his niece, and briefly told his errand. Surprize at the suddenness of the sum- mons, and dismay at parting with a com- panion so dear, overcame Mrs. Conings- by, and she sunk fainting into a chair. Tears stole down the cheeks of Cor- nelia, and Alice stood motionless, pale, and silent. After the emotions of the shock of THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 955 such intelligence had a little subsided ; anxious to divert their thoughts, Mr. Athelstone presented his niece and her daughters with Don Ferdinand's three packets ; and repeating the young Spani- ard's request that each lady would in- spect her present alone, he added his own wish, that they would indulge the donor now. The hint was immediately adopted, for Mrs. Coningsby understood its purport. Divining her uncle's tender- ness for the sensibility of his nieces, she left him to discuss with Louis the many arrangements necessary to a separation, that might be final to most of the party. The remainder of the day was hardly long enough, for the preparation of the various comforts each inmate of the hall was solicitous to produce, to render the journey and voyage of their beloved Louis as free of privations as possible. In the consequent bustle, no time was allowed for dwelling on its occasion, or giving way to the regrets which often 1 &56 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. turned the heart faint in the midst of the body's exertions. " To-morrow, in the hour of parting, we will indulge our sor- row. We will then shew our Louis our love, and our grief at the separation !" With these thoughts, Mrs. Coningsby and Cornelia stilled their often-rising emotions; while Mr. Athelstone, reading in the feverish activity of their services what was passing in their minds, meditated how to spare them and his nephew the agitating hour they anticipated. When the family parted for the night, it was settled that Louis and his foreign conductor should not leave the hall the next morning until after breakfast ; and therefore they should all meet again round that dear domestic table, and there ex- change the dreaded word farewell. Mrs. Coningsby observed, that before she slept she was going to write a few lines to Don Ferdinand, to thank him for the fine Moorish shawls his gratitude had pre- sented to herself and daughters, and she THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 257 would give the letter to Louis in the morning. Then, as was the custom in this affectionate family, on retiring to their rooms, he touched the cheek of his aunt with his lips, and shook hands with his cousins when he bade God bless them ! With a body unwearied, and a mind too excited, to admit of any sleep this night, he was passing to his apartment, when his uncle opened the door of his own chamber, and beckoned him in. The venerable man, there informed him, that he alone of all the family, would bid him farewell the next morning. That he feared the fortitude of Mrs. Coningsby and his nieces in so severe a. trial ; and had therefore made arrange- ments to prevent it. Louis listened with gratitude, though with brimming eyes, to the good old man's account of his having ordered the travelling-chaise to the lodge-gate at day-break ; and that he had prepared Senor Castanos to be 258 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. ready at so unexpected an hour, and to permit his charge to see his maternal uncle. In the usual routine of his move- ments, Sir Anthony had been some time at Athelstone-manor, where he always opened his Christmas hospitalities. As that mansion was on the banks of the Tyne, not far from Newcastle, where the travellers w 7 ere to embark, his nephew would have an opportunity of paying his parting duty to him, without impeding his journey by going out of the way. Louis left his kind guardian, with a promise of attending to the first tap at his door next morning ; and in a more pensive mood proceeded to his dressing- room. On opening the door, he saw Alice seated by his table. Her lamp stood beside her ; and its faint light gleamed upon her pallid features. He started with astonishment ; for she had so long estranged herself from his slightest attentions, that Alice was the last per- son he could have expected to find at fHE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 25$ Such a moment in his apartment. How- ever, he approached her tenderly. On seeing him, she covered her face with her hand, and evidently wept, though silently > for as he spoke and soothed her, (though vaguely, as he could not guess the reason of this solitary visit,) he felt the tears trickle through her fingers on his hand. At last she was able to command her speech, though she still concealed her face ; and when she did find utterance, it was some time before she dared touch upon the secret that preyed upon her peace and life. She told him that she was miserable ; that her health was consuming under a sense of her deception to the best of mothers, sisters, and of guardians ; and that unless she did seize this, her last opportunity of unburthening her soul to the only friend to whom she could do so, without breaking a fatal vow; she felt that she must die, she could not exist much £60 THE PASTORS FIRE-SIDE. longer under the tortures of her con- Science, and the miseries of her heart. Amazed, and alarmed, Louis listened to her, tried to calm her, and encouraged her to repose a full confidence in him. At length, amidst paxoxysms of tears, and agonies of shame, she narrated all that had passed between herself and Don Ferdinand; and that since she had so rashly made him the vow of concealing their attachment from those who ought to know all her thoughts, she had never known a moment's happiness. Louis was struck dumb with this re- cital. The brevity of her acquaintance with Don Ferdinand, might yet be long enough to allow his accomplished man- ners and interesting state, to make an impression on so young and sympathiz- ing a heart ; she therefore found a ready excuse with her cousin. But what was he to think of Don Ferdinand ? Of the advantage he had taken of her tender THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 261 and guileless nature, to betray her into a confession and a vow, so sure to sacri- fice her peace ; and which could bring no gratification to him, but the disgrace- ful consciousness of a triumph to his vanity ! Louis's fixed silence, while occupied in these thoughts, struck Alice like the voice of condemnation. She gazed dis* tractedly in his face, and exclaimed in despair, " You think I am unpardon- able. — You think I deserve to die, miserable and unforgiven ! Oh, wretched, guilty Alice, — break, break your heart, for there is none to pity you !" As she uttered this, in a hardly articulate voice, she threw herself back into her chair, sobbing and wringing her hands in bitter anguish. The violence of her emotions recalled Louis to recollection, and sooth- ing her excessive remorse with every palliative that affection could suggest, he at last succeeded in restoring her to gome degree of composure, 262 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. She told him, that her purpose in re- vealing her wretched story to him at this time, was not merely to unburthen her loaded soul; but to prevail on him to convey a letter to Ferdinand, in which she implored him to release her from her guilty vow of concealment. " I have warned him," continued she, " that if he hold me to this impious pledge, it will not be for long ; for 1 cannot live in my present self-abhorring condition. But, should my life be lengthened under these circumstances, to be my punishment, I will never consent to see his face again, till he has released me from so sinful an engagement." Louis warmly applauded her resolu- tion. " Do not praise me," cried she, " do not call it resolution. I am unworthy of approbation for any thing. I do not resolve ; I only feel that I can know no happiness, endure no person, but con- tinue to detest myself, till this guilt THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 263 is taken from my mind, by a full con- fession, and prayer for my mother's pardon." She shewed a letter, which had come in the packet directed to her by Fer- dinand, and which he had secured her receiving free from observation, by his apparently whimsical request that each lady would inspect her present alone. The letter contained protestations of in- violable attachment, petitions for her constancy j and exhortations to keep their secret, till the success of the plan he had in view, brought him again to her feet. He had inclosed a miniature of himself in the shawl which was his ostensible present to her. " I will never look on it a second time," said she, " till he re- moves from himself the guilt of holding me in this wicked undutifulness to my family." Louis engaged, should he not meet him at Madrid, to forward her letter to Don Ferdinand, and to inclose it in one 2G4 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. from himself, enforcing her entreaties with his arguments ; and giving his thoughts on the subject, as became his relationship to her, and fraternal regard for her happiness. He assured her, he would do it with a scrupulous attention not to irritate the feelings which had excited her lover to deprive him of her sisterly affection. Aware that her self- accusing state of mind, could not bear up against the representation he would fain have made of Ferdinand's entire selfishness in thus binding her, Louis contented himself with advising Alice, as a restitution she owed to her family for all the misery her melancholy and illness had made them suffer, to dismiss as much as possible all painful retrospec- tions ; and to console herself with the conviction that she was now re-treading her steps to the path of duty. " Cheer yourself with this thought," said he, " till the tidings shall arrive which will take the seal from your lips. Then you THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 265 maj confess all, and reconciled, by par- don, to your family and yourself, you will again become the happy Alice." She wept as he spoke. But it was no more the stormy grief of despair ; she shed the balmy tears of penitence and hope. It was the genial shower upon the thirsty ground. " You have spoken comfort to me, Louis. I have not been so happy, since the dawn of the fatal morning, when my impious adjuration called down these months of misery upon my wretched head. — Oh, if Ferdinand could have guessed this, would he have denied me such a comforter I" Louis gently reminded her, that as he was going, she must seek a comforter in a Superior Being ; and in the exertions of her own mind : " you have ever, my Alice," said he, " been the idol of your family ; and even to this day, been sup- ported with a watchfulness, as if you were still in infancy : yet, you see, how inadequate has been all this anxiety to VOL. I. n 266 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. preserve you from error, and its con- sequent sorrows ! By experience, you must now feel, that the care of the ten- derest relations can be of no permanent effect, unless you assist it with your own circumspection and strength. Look not for comfort from one side or another, till you have found its principle in your own bosom ; that is to say, till you resolve to act according to your duty. And this is, not merely to grieve over your fault, and yearn to confess it and be forgiven ; but to lay a restraint upon your sensi- bility, and the violence of your regrets ; and from this hour to devote the whole of your mind to the re-establishment of happiness in your family. — Return to your former occupations. — Meditate less upon Don Ferdinand and yourself; and think more of your mother, your sister, and your guardian. — For their sakes, try to be cheerful, and you will be so. — In one word, my dearest Alice, remem- ber, that to perform our duty in this THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 267 world, we must sustain our own virtue, and not habituate ourselves to the un- certain support of others." " Why, my dear Louis, have I never heard these sentiments before? With such forewarning, I should never have erred." " You might have heard them often ; for my uncle has frequently talked to me in this way in your presence. But, my sweet Alice was not then awak- ened to such subjects. You regarded them as grave discourses, in which you could be as little interested as in the map of a country you never intended to visit." " And I went astray in that very country !" cried she, " simpleton that I was; always to turn away from every thing but the pursuits of a child !" She was anxious to engage Louis to correspond with her ; but as he could not write any thing to her that would n 2 268 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. not pass under the eye of the whole fa- mily, he told her she had best rest sa- tisfied with his exertions for her release ; and when he had obtained it from Don Ferdinand, he would then write openly, and tell her all his thoughts on an affair so momentous to her present and future happiness. The hall clock struck one. Alice rose: she put his hand to her lips, and smiled through her tears : — " I cannot be at this morning's break* fast. — But now — dear, dear, Louis, — best of friends — farewell!" — Her head dropped upon his shoulder, where she struggled with two or three convulsive sobs. He pressed her to his heart, and in vain tried to repel the tears which started to his eyes : they flowed over her face as he supported her trembling steps to the door of her apartment. When he had brought her to the threshold, she uttered a breath- THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 269 less God bless you! and breaking from his arms, threw herself into the room. The door was closed: — he heard her sob : — but tearing himself away, he re- turned with a heavy load at his heart to his own chamber. K S < *7° ) CHAP. X. The silver gleams of a winter morning streaked the horizon, as the chaise which conveyed Louis de Montemar from the friends of his youth, mounted the heights of Wark worth, and gave him a last glimpse of Morewick-hall, lying in its shroud of mist at the bottom of the val- ley. The smoke of his uncle's chimney, beside which he had just received that venerable man's parting embrace and blessing, was mingling its dark volumes with the ascending vapours. A bleak and gusty wind tossed their white billows around the ancient pinnacles of the build- ing ; but no smoke arose from any other chimney ! — : There was no opened win- dow-shutter ; no sign of any other of the dear inhabitants being awake. The THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE* 271 good old man was then weeping alone, and mingling with his tears, the earnest prayer of solicitude for the preservation of his beloved nephew ! " And the prayer of the righteous availeth much !" said Louis to himself, fixing his eye on the golden disk just peeping above the distant rim of the ocean : " lovers have preserved their constancy, by a promise that each would remember the other when the sun set or rose ! Why shall I not preserve my con- stancy to a better love than that of wo- man, whenever I look on yon rising or setting orb, and remember, that at those hours my venerable uncle s on his knees to Heaven for the conservation of my soul?" As the turning of his carriage down an abrupt declivity snatched the whole of the vale of Coquet from his view, Louis thought of his aunt and Cornelia ; how, in another hour, they would be looking in vain for his entrance into the breakfast n 4 Tt c l THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. parlour : and, what would be the burst of their grief, when they should be told that he was gone ; that he had found the heart to leave them without one affectionate farewell ! He almost regretted that he had spared himself and them a pang, which, he began to think, would have been more tolerable than the idea they might entertain, that a passion for no- velty had rendered him, neglectful of their parting tenderness. The wan counte- nance, and piteous accents of Alice, next presented themselves to his imagination ; and, painful as were many of his thoughts connected with her recent disclosure, he could not but rejoice that her timely re- morse, and as critical a resolution, had afforded him an opportunity to make his last act in the home of his youth, one that would eventually repay his vast debt of gratitude to her mother. These reflections accompanied him over many a heathy track, caverned with coal-mines j and at night, the gleaming THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. #73 fires on their bituminous surface, with their wandering vapoury lights, lit him along moor and fell, till the sulphurous cloud which usually canopies the city of Newcastle, received his vehicle as it whirled down the steep northern hill in- to the town. At Athelstone-manor, a few miles south of the city, he met his uncle Sir Anthony ; and, as he expected, had to listen to many a rough remonstrance against obedience to so abrupt a summons. Louis did not use much argument in re- plies, the reasoning of which, good or bad, he knew would be equally disregarded ; but with assurances that neither distance nor time should lessen his affection for the friends he left behind, he sought to dissipate his uncle's thoughts from the subject of debate ; and so far succeeded, as to pass the remainder of the day with him in tolerable cheerfulness. But when the captain of the vessel that was to con- vey the travellers to Ostend, appeared at n 5 «7* THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. the manor, to announce that the wind served and the ship was ready to sail ; the newly-restored good-humour of the baronet was put to the proof: and it did not stand the trial. He burst into invec- tives against the Baron, for reclaiming his son ; against the Pastor, for admitting his authority ; and poured forth a torrent of reproaches on his nephew, for so rea- dily consenting to quit relations who loved and honoured him, to become dependant on the caprices of a father who seemed to consider himself rather the patron than the parent of his son. Louis saw it would be vain to reason with this violence ; and that all he could do, was to take a grateful and steady leave of his uncle. Sir Anthony clung to him, mingling entreaties for his stay, with up- braidings for his departure. And amidst vows of entailing all on him, if he would remain ; and oaths, to cut him off with a shilling, if he persisted to go, Louis tore himself away •, leaving his uncle in an THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. %1(5 agony of grief and exasperation in the arms of his servants. Distressed by the outrageous emotions of Sir Anthony ; so different from the chastised feelings of the Pastor, whose profound affections smoothed by their fulness the rising sorrow of the parting moment ; Louis found a refuge, though a dreary one, in the solitude of his cabin. He sat for some hours, alone and silent, in the encreasing gloom. The evening- gun fired from the fort at the mouth of the harbour ; and in a few minutes Cas- tanos appeared with a lamp. He set it on the table, and silently threw himself into the birth appropriated to his use. Louis was not in a mood to desire com- panionship ; and with little more than a gracious word or two of thanks to the civilities of the captain and his mate, as they stepped in at intervals to enquire how he fared, he passed the remainder of the night. Next morning at dawn, when he pressed n 6 #76 THE PASTOR'S FTRE-SIDE. his repeater and counted the hour, he calculated that if the breeze had con- tinued, his vessel must now be far from the coast ; and fearing to lose a last look of the shore where he first remembered consciousness of being, and where he had imbibed, from friends dear to his heart, all the valued impulses of his soul ; he sprang from the cot on which he lay, and stepped upon deck. The lonely helmsman was at his post, gazing at the stars, and steering, slowly to leeward. — To windward, stretched darkly along the horizon, lay the embattled cliffs of North- umberland. " Majestic England !" said he, as he turned towards them; " How do thy lofty rocks declare thy noble nature! There, liberty has stationed her throne ; there, virtue builds her altar ; and there peace has planted her groves ! I leave thee, to prove myself worthy of being thy adopted son. I go far away, to send a good re- port to the dear friends slumbering be- THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 277 hind thy promontories. England, be- loved, honoured ! Where shall I find a country like thee ? Will gorgeous Spain be to me what thy simple glades have been?" He smiled at his own soli- loquy. " I go not to luxurious groves, and gorgeous indolence," cried he, " my er- rand is to the arena of populous cities j to win, or lose myself, in the Olympian struggles of man with man." Louis forgot the receding shores of his country and its beloved inhabitants, in the ideas these images suggested ; and forgetful alike of the wintery blast, he only drew his thick cloak closer around him ; and cradled in the coiled rope of the anchor, with his eyes half-closed, he continued to muse on his future de- stiny : dreaming of martial atchieve- ments, and a succession of visionary tri- umphs, till the bright phantoms were lost in the chaos of sound sleep. ( 278 ) CHAP. XL A prosperous voyage brought the travel- lers safely to Ostend. — Castanos found the instructions he expected from the Baron de Ripperda; and he informed his charge, their commands were that they must proceed immediately to the metro- polis of Germany, for there he was to meet his father's friend. Surprised, but not displeased at this extraordinary route, Louis cheerfully set forward ; and did not permit the curiosity natural to his thirst for knowledge, to detain him a moment in any of the countries through which he travelled. On a dark evening in January he and his guide arrived at Vienna. The streets were in so profound a gloom, he could not have guessed he was now in one of THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 2J9 the most magnificent capitals of the world, had he not received some inti- mation of its greatness, by the extent of pavement he went over from the point of the town at which he entered to that which was to be his destination. As he drove along, he perceived some other proofs that he was indeed in the modern Caesarean metropolis. He passed noble houses, whose open gates shewed they were superbly illuminated, and whence proceeded strains of gay music that gave sign of life and festivity within. Castanos remarked, that these were palaces of the nobility. Exhilarated by the splendour of the lights, Louis en- quired whether the house he was going to, promised as much consolation after a tedious journey. " But I flatter myself it will," added he, " from what I under- stand of the general rank of my father's friends." " As the Baron de Ripperda is a nobleman of an universal acquaintance," 12 280 TIIE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. replied Castanos, " he has friends of every rank, in every country." In this instance, as in others, Louis saw he could get nothing satisfactory from his companion, and aware that a little patience must explain whither he was going, and what was to be his errand, he asked no more questions. As his carriage passed out of the brilliant halo which surrounded the immediate vicinity of these palaces, it seemed to enter the regions of tenfold night ; so severe was the contrast from gay illumination to ray- less darkness. After an intricate drive of another half hour, the wheels no longer rattled on pavement, but turning abruptly down a narrow avenue, the leafless branches brushed across the carriage windows, as it jolted onward over a very rough road. A speck of light appeared in the extreme distance. As the heavy vehicle rumbled forward, the light seemed to en- crease in size, and Louis soon after per- THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 281 ceived it to be a flambeau held in the hand of a man. When the carriage ap- proached him, he opened a pair of large iron gates under a high archway, through which the travellers immediately passed. All around was dark, vast, and dreary, as no lamp chased the deep shadows from a court-yard of immense extent. The man mounted the steps of a huge black building, sufficiently capacious for a palace, but gloomy enough to be a pri- son. Louis followed his conductor and the flambeau-bearer across a large cold hall, up a wide-painted stair-case, mil- dewed and crazy, and through a long echoing gallery into a saloon whose dis- tant extremities, like the outer court, were lost in deep shadow. A pair of wax lights, flaring in the wind, stood upon a great claw-table whose once gilded surface was browned by time and neglect. Little more furniture was visible than a couple of chairs of similar fabrick, two or three gigantic pier-glasses, reflecting the 282 THE PASTOR'S FIRESIDE. persons in the apartment in ghost-like obscurity, and a brasier of newly-kindled fuel, sluggishly glimmering on the hearth. Louis started at so dismal a reception, so different from the cordial comforts of Morewick-hall j so different from the social welcome of Athelstone manor ; so widely different from the anticipated mag- nificence of a palace at Vienna, and the hospitable greeting of his father's friend ! He paused at the threshold, then smiling at the effeminancy of his disgust, entered light of foot and of heart, saying to him- self, " Do I shrink at so poor a trial of my spirit? My father has guessed the sin of my breeding j and thus disciplines the spoiled boy 1" Louis might have been wearied, body and mind. He had travelled since the moment of his landing without other sleep than that he had caught by snatches in his indefatigable vehicle. He might have been hungry, for he had tasted no- thing since the break of day. But he felt none of these wants of nature, in his THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 283 eagerness to meet, if not his father, his father's representative, and to receive from him that father's commands. When Louis entered the saloon, and so far took possession of its dismal hos- pitality, as to lay his hat and sword upon the table ; Castanos called to the attend- ant by the name of Gerard, and whisper- ing to him they withdrew together. Louis sat for some time, expecting the re-en- trance of the Spaniard, but no one ap- peared. He looked at his watch : it was near ten o'clock. From the hour, he sup- posed the taciturn secretary was staying away in his usual care of manufactur- ing his supper ; and that he would pre- sently return with his wine and omelet. Louis sat composedly ten minutes after ten minutes, but at last his impatience to know why he was brought to so deserted an abode, and who he was to see, got the better of his determination to quietly await events, and he rose to ring the bell. He took one of the candles to seek for 284 THE PASTOR'S JTRE-S1DE\ this indispensible piece of furniture, but in no corner of the grim-yisaged tapestry could he find even its remains. He opened the door, and called Castanos. No voice made answer, but the dull vibration of his own from the numerous vacant apart* ments. With the candle in his hand he retraced his way to the great hall, still calling on Castanos, and then on Gerard, and with as little success. Determined to find somebody, he turned down a paved passage to the quar- ter that seemed to lead to the offices. Not a living creature presented itself, and all doors which appeared likely to open to the air were padlocked, and therefore resisted his attempts to force them. He returned to the hall to ex- amine the great door, and found it un- bolted, but locked, and the key taken away. He now comprehended that Castanos, and the only apparent in- mate of the house, had left the place, that he was alone, and fastened in ; but THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 285 for what purpose he was thus betrayed into solitary confinement, time only could shew. To quell the vague alarm that rose in his breast, he had again to recol- lect he was brought into these circum- stances by his father's orders. " But at any rate," thought he, " whe- ther I am to meet friend or foe, there is no harm in keeping my sword at my side. It is just possible Castanos may not be honest. He may not hold the rank in my father's establishment, to which he pretends, he may not be the very Cas- tanos ; should he be a menial domestic, instead of a confidential secretary, (and from his avoiding my presence at all op- portunities, and being so unwilling to converse, when obliged to be with me, it does not appear very doubtful !) then I may, indeed, be in the hands of a vil- lain. He knows the generosity of my two uncles, has made me a no contempti- ble object for plunder, and — in short, I do not like appearances I" 9 286 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. With these ideas he hastily re-ascended the stairs to the saloon. He found his sword safe, and lost no time in returning it to his belt. " What," cried he, " would be the reproaches of Sir Anthony, could he guess my present situation ? What the distress at dear Morewick, did they know that their Louis, for the first time in his life, now feels the touch of fear ?" Murder in this loneliness ! To die under the hands of ruffians, and be no more heard of by the beings he loved best, haunted his imagination while he walked to and fro, examining again and again the locks of his pistols. He had one in his hand, when he heard the rumbling of wheels in the court-yard. Shortly after, the steps of a man sounded in the gallery, and the saloon door being open, Louis saw Castanos approaching with his * usual slowness. He entered the apart- ment, and laid a letter on the table. " For me?" said Louis, " from whom ?" THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 287 " Its contents will tell you, Senor." When Louis glanced on the super- scription, he saw it was the hand-writing of his father. While he broke the seal, Castanos disappeared again. The letter was as follows : " Louis ! — It was the dying injunc- tion of your mother to your grandfather Athelstone, that you should be brought up to honour me with a double duty. You can never forget the contents of the letter which she wrote to her infant son from her death-bed, and which your uncle Richard was to open to you on your twelfth birth-day. It told you to love your father as she had done, and to commit yourself in all things to his guidance. " You are now called upon to act by this sacred exhortation. To be obedient in love and in fear, to a parent who re- ceived her legacy of tenderness for you, in his own bosom, and who will hereafter pay it with interest from his heart. 288 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. " Now that she is gone, you are the only creature existing with whom I can identify my own being, that is, com- municate my thoughts and my actions without reserve. Your interest is my interest: and till time and experience have given you judgement to guide your own proceedings, my judgement must be yours. You are yet a boy in years j though a manly person, and, I understand, a mind of no common capacity, give you at twenty the appearance of maturity. But remember, it is appearance only. Talents and good dispositions are the implements of wisdom, not wisdom's self, she is born of time and experience, and shews her proof in hard probation. The scenes in which you have hitherto been an actor, amongst the simple inhabitants of a remote province in England, are child's play to the parts you may now be called to perform. I am about to pre- sent you to the world, to aspiring, subtle, treacherous mankind ! — r You must be THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 289 instructed in every movement ; prompt- ed, and supported. I have provided means to these ends ; and all you have to do, is to resign yourself with docility to the masters I set over you. Should impertinent curiosity, or refractory wil- fulness, or any other perversity in your conduct, traverse my present trial of your character, we never meet! You shall return whence you came ; and only as one dead, hold a place in the me- mory of your father. The child of my spotless wife shall not be denied an ample provision ; but I will never cherish as my son, one who is an alien to my spirit. " On the night of your arrival at Vi- enna, my secretary Castanos has my com- mands to introduce you to a person, who will give proof of coming from me, by shewing you a duplicate of that picture of your mother, which your grandfather bequeathed to me. — Being so assured, you must revere and obey that person in word and deed, as you would revere and vol. i. a 290 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. obey me ; and ever hope to behold the face of your father, William, " Madrid. " Baron de Ripperda." There were family references in this letter, which affected the heart of a son ; — and though the style was generally se- vere, yet there was also a promise of such full future confidence, that Louis could not but press it to his lips as the earnest of a fellowship with his father he was determined to deserve. The first sight of the letter had removed all suspicion of his guide from his mind ; and having read it with a beating heart, he walked up and down the room, impatiently await- ing the introduction of his father's friend. Again he heard the approach of steps ; but it was now of two persons. Pie stopped in the middle of the floor, his eyes rivetted to the door, which, in a few minutes was thrown open by Cas- tanos; and a man of a commanding 4. THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 291 stature, wrapped in a cloak, and with a large hat flapped over his brows, entered alone into the chamber. The door was immediately closed. He stepped a few paces forward ; and putting up the pro- jecting brim of his hat, over which hung a heavy black plume, that still threw a deeper shade over his eyes, their piercing glance shot at once through the soul of Louis. The stranger stood; and, without speaking, continued to look steadfastly on his future charge. With a progres- sive movement of his powerful eye, he perused the lineaments of Louis's face and figure from head to foot. Louis gazed on him in turn ; and wondered at the awe he felt of an unknown being, whose haughty port and unceremonious investigation, rather announced the fu- ture tyrant, than guardian of his conduct. Hitherto his independent spirit had been wont to start like fire from the flint, at any touch of oppression ; and he could o 2 292 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. not but marvel within himself, why he should both fear and respect the stern aspect of this extraordinary man. The loftiness of his mien was well adapted to the countenance which the raised brim of the hat disclosed. Dark mustachios and a pointed beard marked his lip and chin ; while the marble hue of his commanding features seemed to turn even luridly pale, as the brightness of his deeply-set eyes flashed from under their shadowy brows, upon his immovable companion. Louis could not withdraw his riveted eye from the searching gaze of the stranger ; and he said to himself, " I am thus struck, because it is the representative of my fa- ther that stands before me : it is he, who that father has commanded me to reve- rence as himself!" — As he ended this short soliloquy, he unconsciously obeyed the sentiment of his mind, and respect- fully bowed his head. This action seemed to recall the stranger from the abstraction with which THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 2<)3 he was scanning his future pupil j and approaching him with a step which ming- led a prince's dignity with the firmness of a soldier, he took Louis's hand, grasp- ed, and wrung it, as if with some sudden sting of mental anguish ; and then ab- ruptly relinquishing it, threw himself into a chair, and pulling the beaver of his hat over his face, sat for some time leatN ing his head upon his hand, and preserv- ing the silence which had not yet been broken. Louis stood opposite to him, contem- plating with interest and expectation, the further developement of this friend of his father. At last the stranger spoke. — " Louis de Montemar," said he. At the sound of his name, ejaculated by one who had continued so porten- tously silent, Louis started ; and his heart laboured in his breast. He was now going to be told the secret of his destiny ! — What it was his father de- manded of his strength of mind, or bo- o 3 294. THE PASTOR'S FIRE.SIDL, dily exertion ; and how he was to prove himself worthy to be received as his son. The stranger had paused, on uttering his first address. — But it was only for a moment. Again the lightning of his eyes flashed upon the face of his auditor, and he resumed ; but what he said was in the French language. " Louis de Montemar, you have read the letter which I conveyed to you, from your father the Baron de Ripperda ?" " I have." Again the stranger bent his head on his hand. The long plumes covered his face from observation ; but Louis perceived that his whole frame trembled. After another, and a longer pause, he spoke again. — " And you are prepared to obey your father's injunctions, contained in that letter ?" «« I am. For I believe my father would not so entirely commit the temporal, and therefore eternal, welfare of his son, to THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 295 any man who is not worthy of the charge." The stranger rose from his seat. — " I am the man to whom your father has con- fided this awful trust ; and I accept your obedience. Know me as the Sieur Igna- tius : and whatever else I may seem here- after, it is not your interest to pry into. Your duty is to know of me no more than what I tell you j and to obey me, as if you knew me without reserve. To-morrow, at noon, your task shall be appointed.-— Meanwhile, stir not hence. Refresh yourself from the fatigues of your jour- ney ; and rest confident in me and your father. There is my pledge." Before Louis could find words in a fo- reign language, to answer, satisfactorily to himself so extraordinary a speech, the Sieur Ignatius laid the promised minia- ture of the late Baroness upon the table, and disappeared from the room. o 4 i m ) CHAP. XII. Having partaken of a slight refresh- ment, which the solitary domestic of the mansion set before him, Louis desired to be conducted to his bed-chamber. The man opened a door at the further ex- tremity of the saloon, and the weary tra- veller followed into an apartment even more desolate than the one he had left. The dull cold light of a winter moon, shrouded in snow-clouds, gleamed through the mouldering remnants of what had once been damask curtains. These per- ishing relics of departed grandeur were all of furniture that presented itself to the eye of Louis, as he looked around for a place of rest. At last, in a distant recess deep in darkness, the candle he held in his hand shewed a mass of something THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 297 heaped together. He approached, and found his own travelling palliasse on the floor, and his baggage so disposed, as to supply the place of chair and table. In recognizing even these poor neces- saries to the repose he needed, Louis cast not a thought on the comforts he did not see, but thanking God for the good pro- vided, stretched himself upon his hard bed, and soon was wrapped in balmy slumber. After a night of profound sleep, the bright smile of the awakened sun played on his eye-lids, and starting from his pal- let, with his usual morning-spring of joy he hailed the brilliancy of the opened day. In an apartment close to his chamber he found that luxury of the continent (which even this deserted mansion retained), a bath, and having enjoyed its refreshment, with spirits ready for whatever task might be assigned him, he prepared to meet again his mysterious visitor. On re-entering the saloon, the gloomi- o 5 298 THE PASTORS FIRE-SIDE. ness which had appalled him the preced- ing evening was no longer there ; it had disappeared before the chaser of shadows, and he advanced to a window to see what evidence of neighbourhood would present itself without. A view, as novel as it was gay and pic» turesque, burst upon his sight. Under the windows stretched a high balustraded terrace, with broad stone-steps leading down to a garden intersected with par- terres and long vistas foliagcd with glit- tering icicles. The ground was white with snow, which had been falling all night, and nothing having tracked the deserted walks, it lay in shining smooth- ness as iar as the low wall which bounded the garden. Beyond the parapet, trees of loftier growth stretched their ample arms over a plain that banked the mighty waters of the Danube, now arrested by the mightier hand of winter into a vast substantial causeway. At this early hour in the morning, and THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 299 on that long line of ice, whose limits were lost in the horizon, all Vienna and its sur- rounding country seemed assembled. Carriages of various forms and colours elevated on sledges, and filled by their owners of as various quality and habits, swept along in every direction. Men and women mounted on scates, darted past each other with the velocity of light; some with baskets of merchandize on their heads, and others, simply wrapped in their bear-skins, speeded forward on er- rands of business or of pleasure. Many of the sledged carriages took the di- rection of a beautiful island in the midst of the river. It was crowned with ce- dars, and every tree of perpetual green ; they parted their verdant ranks to give place to a sloping glade, on whose smooth bosom stood a splendid but fantastic mansion. A thousand strains of music pierced the distant air, while the gay traineaux advanced in succession before its gilded colon ades. o 6 300 THE PASTOR'S FI HE-SIDE. Louis gazed and listened. How dif- ferent was this unexpected, this glittering scene, from the sombre-suited winters of Northumberland ! There, the black and sterile rocks frowned horrible over the frozen stream, which lay in death-like stillness under their gloomy shade. But yet that awful pause of nature was dear to his contemplative and happy mind. It filled him with recollections of the graci- ous voice, which had spoken the world into existence from the sterner solitude of chaos ! And then, when his mood for loneliness changed, he had only to quit his meditations amongst these caverns of cold and silence, to emerge at once into the warm, social circle of endearing kindred, and animating friends ! While, with a fixed eye, he was thus musing on the present and the past, Gerard entered the room, and placed a tray with breakfast on the table. Louis enquired for Senor Castanos. The man answered, he was engaged. THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 301 " With whom ?" " I do not know." " Then I am not to expect him at breakfast?" " He went out at sun-rise." Louis asked no more questions, seeing that all around him were under the same law of la Trappe. His lonely meal was soon dispatched ; and as he found it impossible to fasten his attention to a book, or even to writing to the friends he loved, until he knew when he was to be removed from his strange situation ; he left the table, and returned to his contemplations at the window. He was standing with folded arms, his eyes rambling over the ever- varying scene on the river, and some- times wishing to be one in the animated groupe ; when, hearing a step on the floor, he turned round, and beheld his ex- pected visitor. He wore the same enveloping dress as before, and, as before, shook aside the 302 THE PASTORS FIRE-SIDE. overhanging plumes of his hat as he ad- vanced into the room. Louis was re- covered from the amazement into which the mystery of his new guardian's address had thrown him on their first interview ; but he did not attempt to dispel the awe impressed by his deportment, and his re- lation as the Baron de Ripperda's friend ; and, therefore, he greeted his re-appear- ance with a collected, but a profoundly respectful demeanor. The Sieur Ignatius approached him. " I need not enquire of your health this morning: you look well and cheerful ; and these are signs of a constitution in- dispensable to the fulfilment of your future duties." . Louis answered with a grateful smile, that he had to thank Heaven ibr a vi- gorous frame, and for a destiny which, hitherto had not afforded him an excuse for being otherwise than cheerful. " The cheerfulness of a life passed in retirement," observed Ignatius, " being THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 303 the effect of active amusements rather than of active duties, is habit and not principle ; and must be re-moulded with stouter materials, to stand the buffets of the world. Louis, you are called from the happiness of self-enjoyment to that of self-neglect. You are called upon to toil for mankind." " Point but the way, Sir !" cried Louis, in a subdued but earnest voice 5 " and I trust, you shall not find me turn from it." " It is in all respects different from the one you have Jeft. Fond old age, and female partiality, have hitherto smoothed your path. In the midst of this effemi- nacy, I know you have meditated on a manly life, on the career of fame, its triumphs, and its crown. But between the starting point and the goal, there is a wide abyss. The imagination of vi- sionary youth overleaps it : but, in fact, it must be trod with strong unwearied feet ; with wariness, privation, and dan- ger." • S04 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. The eyes of Louis, flashing the brave ardours of his heart, (and which he be- lieved were now to be summoned into licenced exercise,) gave the only answer to the Sieur's remarks, but it was elo- quent of the high expectations he had jaised. " Young man," continued his austere monitor, " I come to lay open this mo- mentous pass to you ; and, once entered, you are no longer your own. You belong to mankind: you are devoted to labour for them : — And, above ail, to sacrifice the daintiness of a pampered body ; the passions of your soul; the affections of your heart ; to the service of the country, which was that of your ancestors, and to which your father is now restored. ,, " I am ready, Sir," exclaimed Louis, «' to take my post, be it where it may, and I trust that I shall maintain it as becomes my father's son." " At present," replied the Sieur, " it is within these walls." THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 305 Louis looked aghast. The animation of hope springing forward to military distinction, faded from his countenance. • — " Within these walls ! — How ? — What can be done here ? — I believed — I thought the army — " This incoherent reply was suddenly arrested by the steady fixture of Igna- tius's eyes. A pause ensued, doubly painful to Louis, on account of the shock his expectations had received, and be- cause he had so weakly betrayed it. With the tint of shame displacing the paleness of disappointment, he stood before his father's friend, looking on the ground j at last the Sieur spoke. " What army do you speak of?" With encreased embarrassment, Louis replied : " the Spanish army ; that which the Marquis Santa Cruz gave my uncle to understand was soon to march against Austria, to compel the Emperor to fulfil his broken treaties." "And to meet that army in the heart 506 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. of the Austrian capital," said Ignatius, " you thought was the object of your present summons ?" Unable to speak, from a humiliating consciousness of absurdity, Louis coloured a deeper scarlet, and again cast his eyes to the ground. " No," continued the Sieur, " there are ways of forcing sovereigns to do their duties, besides that which the sword com- mands. If it will sooth your disappoint- ment, to think that you labour in one of these, believe what you wish, and rest satisfied." " I am satisfied," returned Louis, " and ready to be confined within these walls, at whatever employment, and for what- ever time, my father may chuse to dictate." " Follow me." As Ignatius pronounced this command, he opened the saloon door, and crossing the gallery, stopped before another door at its extremity. He unlocked it ; and THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 307 Louis, who had obeyed his peremptory summons, followed him into a room fur- nished with an escritoire, and a large table covered with implements for writ- ing. " This, Louis de Montemar, is your post," cried the Sieur, closing the door and bolting it. " Here you must labour for Spain and your own destiny •> and here," added he, in a decisive voice ; " you must take an oath of inviolable secrecy, that neither bribery of wealth, honours, nor beauty ; nor threats of ruin, torments, nor of death ; shall ever induce you to betray what may be confided to you in this chamber." Appalled at this demand, Louis did not answer. The Sieur examined his changing countenance. " You cannot hesitate to give me this pledge of honour !" " Honour does not need such a pledge," replied Louis, turning on him the as- sured look of conscious worth ; " trust 308 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. me, and you shall find, that in no case where honour enjoins silence, death itself can compel me to speak." Ignatius shook his head. — " This will not do, in an affair like the present. When the interests of millions may hang upon a yea or nay ; he, who has it in his power to pronounce either, must be bound on the perdition of his soul to utter that only which ensures the general safety." He paused for an answer. But Louis remaining silent, as if still unconvinced, his stern monitor resumed with augmen- ted asperity. " I do not like this mincing nicety. It savours more of effeminate dreaming, than of manly intention to observe and to act. At a word, take the oath 1 prof- fer you ; or, prepare to set out this night on your return to England ; and to the absurd people who have taught you to pant for glory, and to start from its sha- dow." THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 309 The Sieur turned haughtily away. — The reasoning faculties of his pupil be- came confused. Was he doing right or wrong in resisting this demand? It called on him to stake his salvation on the preservation of secrets, of the nature of which he was entirely ignorant. It seemed to him more than just, that a stranger, however sanctioned, should, at so early a stage of acquaintance, expect that perfect reliance on his virtue, as would warrant a man in so awful a ven- ture as that of vowing to adopt all that stranger might propose. But the autho- rity with which he pronounced the sen- tence which should follow persisted refu- sal, struck Louis with astonishment. Who was he, that durst so fearlessly take on himself the responsibility of banishing, without appeal, and with disgrace, the son of the Baron de Ripperda? As Louis looked up, with something of this question in his eyes, he met the searching glance, of Ignatius. 12 310 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. " Young man," said he, "you think your honour insulted, by the mention of an oath. Your honour, which is yet un- tried ! Which has passed through no or- deal, but those presented by phantastic imagination ! What must the Baron de Ripperda think, when he hears of a son who so insults his father's approved ho- nour, as to doubt whether he ought to pledge his faith on that father's virtue ? And, after all," added he, " what more is demanded of you, than the surety that is offered every hour by the rest of mankind, on the slightest requisition, and on the commonest occasions ?" " What is slightly assumed," returned Louis, " would be as slightly relinquished. And I trust that my father will not con- demn, and that his friend will not con- tinue to misjudge, a hesitation which springs from the inexpressible awe in which I hold the nature of an oath. By that most solemn of appeals, I have never yet called upon the presence of my THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 311 Creator ; and therefore I tremble to do it now." But, " added he," as it is the will of my father ; who, through your agency, demands it of me ; on the pro- bity of his soul, I commit mine, and am ready to swear." " Then," cried the Sieur, " subscribe that paper with your name." Louis took it, and read a form of words in the Spanish language, which claimed his allegiance to Spain j by the privileges and pledges of his long line of ancestors born in that realm, by the re- union of his father to that realm ; and by the restitution which the King and council had made to him of the Rip- perda territories in Andalusia and Gra- nada, forfeited to the crown in the year 1673, by the rebellious conduct of Don Juan de Montemar Duke de Ripperda. In just return for this grace from the land of his ancestors, William, the pre- sent Baron de Ripperda, had taken an oath of fealty to Philip and to Spain. 312 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. And Louis de Montemar, his only son, and heir to all his possessions, honours, and civic duties, was called upon, by the same solemn rite to devote himself to Spain, as his country ; and to Philip as his liege-lord. At the end of this of- ficial document, a postcript was written in the Baron's own hand, demanding of his son, to add to the signature required, on oath to perform all that might be appointed him by his father directly, or indirectly through the Sieur Ignatius, for the service of the King ; and to hold all secrets confided to him for that purpose, inviolable as his Christian faith. Louis saw nothing in bonds which his father's hand-writing had sanctified, to suggest further hesitation ; and, without reluctance, he set his name to the paper, and pressed to his lips the sacred volume presented by the Sieur. " Now Louis" said he, " your task is easy. Will, is a conquering sword !" — as he spoke, a smile played for a moment THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 313 on his stern lip ; but like a sun-beam on a dark cloud, it suddenly disappeared, and all was gloom again. He opened the escritoire, and took from the shelves two thick scrolls in strange characters. Louis continued to gaze on the face of this mysterious man, as he arranged the sheets on the table. The smile, which had just lit up those lurid features with the nameless splendors of mental beauty, was passed away; but the impression remained on his pupil's heart. Louis congratulated himself on the assurance that it gave him, and said inwardly, " I shall never forget that magic smile, so eloquent of every ineffable grace of mind •and spirit ! It is a pledge to me, that I may love, as well as reverence its pos- sessor." Ignatius placed the papers before his attentive pupil, telling him, they com- prised his duty for the day ; that he must copy them stroke by stroke, for the in- accuracy of a single curve, might pro- vol. i. p 314 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. duce consequences to burthen his soul for ever. The Sieur then sat down to give minute instruction respecting the execution of these momentous docu- ments. The task was complicated, and of a nature totally different from any thing Louis had ever practised, or could possibly have anticipated. However, he cheerfully engaged in its performance ; and his employer, having seen the pre- cision of his commencement, rose to withdraw. Before he quitted the room, he turned and said, that he supposed it was hardly necessary to enjoin the pro- priety of always keeping that chamber locked, both when it was occupied and when it was vacant. On Louis's bowing to the implied command, he added, that Gerard would strike on the door, when dinner was served in the saloon ; and that at midnight, he would himself re- turn to the chateau, to inspect the papers, and affix his seal to their contents. Louis continued from noon, till the THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 315 gloom of twilight, at his laborious pen- manship. He knew nothing of the par- ticular purport of any one of the nume- rous sheets he was transcribing. The characters were unknown to him ; but he was assured by Ignatius, all were directed to the service of Spain ; and with ala- crity and exactness he had completed half his task before the duskiness of the hour, and the promised stroke of Gerard, gave him a short respite. Solitude was again at his temperate meal. He had heard enough from the Sieur, to warn him against the impru- dence of putting unnecessary questions ; and determined to allow all unimportant circumstances, at least, to pass by him unnoticed by oral remark ; he said nothing to his taciturn attendant about the continued absence of Castanos. His dinner was dispatched in a few minutes, and taking the candles in his hands, he returned to the locked chamber to finish his work. p 2 316 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE At the appointed hour, Ignatius re- appeared. The several heaps of papers were ar- ranged for his inspection, and, with a nod of approbation he examined them one by one. He approved what was done, and turning to the escritoire, sealed them, and affixed to each packet its ap- propriate address. What were the names on these superscriptions, Louis had no guess, though he ,did not doubt they were all to be consigned to the Baron de Ripperda ; and, (as he observed by the proceedings of the Sieur, they were ready to be put into their last envelope,) he ventured to ask whether lie might not add one packet more to his father. Ig- natius remained silent. Though Louis saw no encouragement on his con- tracting brow, he would not be so re- pulsed, but steadily repeated his re- quest, adding, that he was particularly anxious to dispatch this letter, as it was not only to assure his father of his de- THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 317 Totedness to his commands, but to beg him to forward one on most urgent busi- ness, which he had inclosed for Don Fer- dinand d'Osorio. " Your father will have sufficient assu- rance of your obedience, in the execution of these papers," returned the Sieur, " and as to promoting a correspondence with Don Ferdinand d'Osorio ; — in your situation, that is out of the ques- tion. Your residence here is unknown to any one, and must continue so, till the affair that commands your service, is made or marred. Burn your packet, therefore ; it cannot go." During this speech, he opened the leathern-bag that was to be the travelling case of the dispatches. Louis sighed convulsively as he put his letter back into his bosom. Ignatius took no notice of this heart-struck sign of disappointment, but calmly continued packing the papers. Louis thought of .the unhappy Alice ; of the tears she p 3 318 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. shed on his neck at parting ; of his vow to restore to her, her peace of mind ; and he could not endure his own cowardice in having been over-awed to the appear- ance of giving up her cause, even for a moment. He resumed in a firmer voice. " I seek no correspondence with Don Ferdinand, Sir, I never desire to hear from him in return for the letter I am so anxious he should receive. It is only to demand of him an act of justice to a lovely woman whose happiness he has destroyed. And to do ^ this, I have solemnly engaged myself to her and to my own heart." " Louis de Montemar," replied the Sieur, " you are entered on a course of life that will not admit of romantic trifling. There is but one direction for all your faculties : — the public good. — Private concerns must take care of themselves." He closed the leathern-case over the dispatches, and covering its padlock with wax, stampt it with his seal. THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 319 tf 1 repeat, Sir," cried Louis impetu- ously," I have pledged my honour, to the forwarding this letter to Don Ferdi- nand ; and the public good will not deem it necessary to make me a private de- ceiver !" Ignatius turned on him a look of haughty reproof. " Young man, you know little of your duty towards the public good, if you can put its smallest tittle into competition with the adjustment of an amour between a weak girl and a profligate youth. Her folly must be her punishment." The indignation of insulted virtue burnt upon the cheek of Louis. " You mistake me, Sir ! She for whom I am interested, is as pure from unchaste weakness, as my father's honour from stain. It is her soul that is enthralled, by a vow extorted from her by this un- generous Spaniard ; and to release her from the wretched load, is the sole pur- port of my letter to him." 3 320 THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. " You love the girl yourself," said the inflexible Ignatius, taking no visible notice of the encreasing agitation of his pupil. " I do love her," returned he, " but not in the way your observation would imply. I love her, as becomes the son of the Baroness de Ripperda to love the daughter of her sister ; that sister, who has been to him in the place of the mother heaven took from him at his birth ! Alice Coningsby is the person to whom I have bound myself to release her conscience from the bonds of an art- ful man. And, after this explanation, I cannot believe that the friend of my father will longer withhold my letter !" The Sieur listened with his eyes berit to the ground. He looked up when Louis ceased speaking ; and saw, by his proud indignant air, that he rather ex- pected occasion for further braving a refusal, than to receive the permission he affected to think could no longer be denied. THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 321 *' Louis," said he, " I see what is passing in your mind ; but I will not be rigid to your present feelings. Your let- ter shall go to Don Ferdinand. But you must expunge from it all reference to where you are, and tell him, to send the acquittal of your imprudent cousin, direct to herself. ,, Surprised and thankful, Louis readily undertook to re-write the letter accord- ing to these injunctions ; a few minutes put it into the form required, and in- closing the irresistible appeal of Alice herself, to her ungenerous lover, he sealed the packet, and delivered it to the Sieur. The dispatches being fastened up, it was to be committed to the particular charge of Castanos, who was to carry the bag to Madrid. Louis's grateful heart was again going to pour itself out, but Ig- natius checked the ingenuous effusion, by turning severely round, as he moved to the door. " This time," said he, " I have yielded S22 . THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. to your request, in consideration of its pious motive. But you must fully un- derstand me ; and then you will not pre- sume more on this indulgence, than the spirit of your recent oath will sanction. Here not only ends your correspondence with Don Ferdinand," but closes your communication with every person with- out these walls, until our affair is termi- nated. Not even the inhabitants of Lin- disfarne must know of your being at Vienna. ,, " I lament my ignorance of the neces- sity for such precaution," replied Louis, " but the interdicted intimation is now beyond my recall. I wrote to both my uncles from Ostend ; and twice during my journey to Vienna." " Such an accident was provided against," answered Ignatius ; " Castanos had the Baron de Ripperda's orders to destroy all such letters in their way to the post ; so be at rest on that head. Your father himself will take care to let THE PASTOR'S FIRE-SIDE. 323 Mr. Athelstone and Sir Anthony know that you are well, and conducting your- self to his satisfaction. " " I am in his hands, and in your's," said Louis, bowing his head ; while struck by so strange an act of precaution, he had not power to utter a word more. The Sieur drew his cloak over the dispatches, and without further observations, left the apartment. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. Printed by A. Strahan, Ncw-Street-Square, London. University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. SIC'D UMJ31 JUN261997 ^ CL OCT 0-fi 109? I trmVERSTTV of CALIFORK « 3 1158 00668 5118 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A A 000 078 981 -8 fiT* , VSV