LETTER XLV.

EMILY DOUGLAS TO JULIA SANDFORD.

_Turin._

Oh, my dearest Julia, in what words shall I describe the horror and consternation in which we have been thrown by the awful event mentioned to your aunt in Alfred Stanley’s last letter? A week has passed since the dreadful catastrophe, and I have not slept since, so great is the shock that it produced. The particulars are as I will now endeavour to detail them.

On the evening of this day se’nnight we were returning, a numerous party, from a walk in the direction of Rivoli, when passing by a large house removed at a little distance from the outskirts of this town, and separated from the road by a thick plantation, we were violently startled by the noise of a pistol-shot, followed by a shriek so piercing, that I shall never cease to remember its shrillness. Mr. Otway, Fanny, Charles Falkland, and I, were foremost, and reached the spot whence these affrighting sounds proceeded before the rest came up; and scarcely had we arrived opposite the door, ere a frantic figure rushed from it, and fell down at our feet! Charles and Mr. Otway raised her from the earth, but she was pale as death, and quite insensible. I ran eagerly to a stream which was just by, and filling the crown of my straw hat with water, was hastening back, when I perceived that she was supported by a young and beautiful woman in deep mourning, who was recognized at the first glance by Fanny to be the Madame de Lisle, of whom I told you in a former letter. The object of our anxiety remained motionless, while the gentlemen, who were now joined by Alfred, George, and Frederick, flew into the house, where all was confusion: servants running to and fro; some of whom were employed in placing the body of a young man, who had just blown his brains out, on a bed. It was growing dark, and the shade of the trees rendered it impossible to see any thing clearly; but on Frederick’s return from the house, where some of the people had told him that the lady who had fainted was wife to Monsieur le Marchand, who was a _negociant_ from Bourdeaux, and had destroyed himself in consequence, they supposed of bad news contained in a letter which he had received on that day, he pressed forward to take her in his arms for the purpose of laying her on a mattrass which he had had brought out; and no sooner did the light fall directly on her corpse-like features, than Frederick exclaimed, “Good God! Adelaide Crayton! She is the very image of her portrait in Grosvenor Square!” The agitation produced by this discovery is more easily imagined than described. Adelaide, for she was indeed our unfortunate cousin, was removed; and as she was raised up a locket fell upon the ground, which contained hair, with a coronet and the letter C. in diamonds. This ornament confirmed my brother’s belief; but she was silent, her pulse appeared to cease, and the livid paleness of her countenance, gave reason to imagine that her spirit would not revive. Oh! who amongst us had heart to wish that her eyes should open again on such a scene? Yet open they did, at last, but it was only to utter another shriek, and look wildly round for an instant, after which, half uttering the name of La Tour, she relapsed into the same inanimate state from which she had but just awakened. We had sent for a surgeon, who was now conducted to the mattrass on which Adelaide lay by a young woman, who, on being questioned, I found was La Tour, and _femme de chambre_ to my poor cousin. In reply to my inquiries, she told me, with very little feeling, that Le Marchand was a feigned name, that Lord Crayton, after killing Signior Castelli, was obliged to fly; that his extravagance knew no bounds, and that he played enormously high; that an hour before the fatal act of suicide he saw a person pass the windows of the room in which he sat, whom he recognized as a Milan man to whom he owed a large sum of money; and irritated by finding that he was no longer concealed, he resolved on the desperate deed which was hardly resolved on ere it was perpetrated. His pistols were charged, and in the presence of his wife he put one of them to his mouth, and was dead in an instant! I said something expressive of pity for the survivor, and was not a little shocked by La Tour’s reply, “Ma’amselle, ne vous mettez pas en peine, madame se consolera bientôt.”

I turned from this woman with abhorrence, just as Mr. Otway, who had been employed in examining the servants, came back to the place where we were surrounding Adelaide, and trying every method for her recovery. Madame de Lisle was kneeling at my side, and engaged in rubbing one of poor Adelaide’s hands, when Mr. Otway changed colour as his eyes met her’s. He seemed on the point of speaking, but repressed whatever he was going to say; and I concluded that he had mistaken her for one of us in the confusion of the moment. At length the surgeon succeeded in recalling poor Lady Crayton’s senses, and she was carried to her bed, where Frederick and I resolved to watch by her during the night. George Bentley and Charles Falkland insisted on remaining below stairs, and Mr. Otway took charge of Charlotte and Fanny, whom he hurried home to apprize mamma of the events of the evening. They found her so far prepared for the dreadful intelligence, that she knew through Mr. Stanley, whom we begged to hasten to our hotel, that a gentleman had shot himself, in consequence of which we were delayed, but she had yet to learn the melancholy particulars of the catastrophe, and that we were endeavouring to be of use to our near relations.

Madame de Lisle was like a sister, she and her maid remained with us all night; and there was nothing that sympathy and tenderness could dictate which this lovely young woman did not offer to us in the way of assistance. Mamma thought my uncle too ill to listen to an account of what had happened, and till the morning she did not come to me, as she judged it better that Adelaide should continue in perfect quiet. A sleeping-dose had been administered, and she lay in a sort of stupor, interrupted from time to time by words uttered in delirium: “Where are my jewels?” “Did you see Castelle?” “When will Arthur come?” were the only sentences that Frederick and I could hear distinctly, though she’ talked a great deal, and apparently with anger at intervals. It was determined upon to remove her as quickly as possible from the theatre of such horror, and accordingly apartments were immediately prepared in a house adjoining that in which we live. The body was disposed of, and every arrangement that we could devise carried into effect with the utmost celerity to change the scene for Adelaide.

When I look back upon the last week, the whole appears like a terrific dream! For an hour together I never lose sight of that corse, weltering in its blood; nor cease to think of that spirit, hurried into the presence of its God! The subject is too awful, and the mind will not dwell upon it. I sometimes feel as if I should lose my senses. Adelaide seems quite unconscious of all that has happened, and never mentions her husband. The physician assures us, that she is not in danger unless the fever increase.

After the lapse of many days I find my letter only half written; but anxiety thickens upon us, and my Julia will excuse me. My poor aunt Howard’s situation is so precarious, that we know not what a day may bring forth. My dear uncle declines, alas, too visibly to leave a doubt that the dreaded moment is at hand! and though Lady Crayton is recovering rapidly, she is, to my eye, a more melancholy object than even death itself. La Tour’s words vibrate on my senses: they are a true picture; “_elle se consolera bientôt!_” Yes; _elle se console_, and with so little reference to _decency_, that though at the arrival of every English mail we expect the _last_ accounts of her mother’s existence, and her husband’s bleeding image seems to dwell amongst us, _she_ is able to talk of indifferent matters, and her only solicitude literally appears at present to display itself only in contrivances for rendering her weeds becoming. She wishes for Arthur, _not_ that she may enjoy a brother’s sympathy, but to know the utmost that can be done to make her independent. On hearing from mamma that a considerable sum had been remitted for the payment of Lord Crayton’s debts in Milan, conceive her proposing that Arthur should be written to directly, to desire that he might reserve this money for her use, and leave her husband’s debts unpaid! Oh, Julia, poor Adelaide was not worse than others by nature; and is this the end of a fashionable education?

I am sick at heart, and turn from the contemplation of my cousin’s future career to rest on the pleasing thought of Madame de Lisle, with whom we are delighted. Though evidently bent on seclusion, and desirous of avoiding even a limited society, she would not refuse _us_ the pleasure of calling upon her; and, from her first interview with mamma, she has not required that we should again solicit her acquaintance. I never saw such sympathy between two beings so far separated by different age and country.

I told you that I had remarked a change in Mr. Otway’s colour when he first saw this deeply interesting young woman. Since that time he has been minutely inquiring about the handkerchief which Fanny picked up, and is fully confirmed by the letters marked upon it in the belief that he has known her family in former days, and seen her when a child; but some circumstances, which I am unable to fathom, deter him from putting any question to her that might determine the point. Perhaps she married without the consent of her friends; yet she seems so good that it would take much evidence to convince me that she had ever made her parents unhappy. Again, were she not so perfectly elegant, so modest and refined in her ways of thinking, it might be supposed that she had conformed to the vulgar views of high life, by marrying some mere man of fashion, in whom she had been disappointed, and by whom, perhaps, she may have been left to mourn over conduct, at the remembrance of which she blushes; but Madame de Lisle _cannot_ be a hypocrite, and if not her husband must have been worthy of her. No ignoble motive could have induced this sweet and lovely creature to bestow her hand without her heart. Whatever be the reason, she desires concealment, and we alone, I believe, constitute her attraction to Turin. If Mr. Otway be right in his conjecture, she is the daughter of an English nobleman; but he will not tell us more till he brings the matter to a certainty.

I am this moment informed, that a letter is just received by Frederick from Arthur, announcing his mother’s death. Excellent young man! he rejoices in the idea of having been with her, and enabled, to the last moment, to minister to her comfort. He speaks of her tranquil exit with feelings of the deepest gratitude to heaven; and mentions, that she had from time to time derived the greatest relief from unburthening her heart to an admirable clergyman, who visited her frequently in the latter days of her life.

The letters which informed the family at Selby of all that had taken place here, had not reached England when Arthur wrote. It is his intention to come here as soon as possible, accompanied by my cousin Louisa.

You shall hear regularly from me of all that passes.

Loves _from_, _to_ all.

Ever my dearest Julia’s affectionate,

EMILY DOUGLAS.