Part 2

"This singular obstinacy inspired my aunt with an idea (which I confess I partly shared) that Rosolia's intention was to leave the babe with her paternal relations; for though she called herself a protestant, she certainly had much inclination towards the ceremonies of the Catholic Church, and, I grieve to say, held all religious principles so lightly, that to distress me and vex my aunt, she was but too capable of placing her child in the hands of Catholics, that it might be bred up in a religion she knew my aunt abhorred, and I had no good opinion of. To counteract this, or any other scheme which might be formed to take the child from me, as well as to ensure its being well taken care of, Lady Juliana insisted that our good Bayfield should accompany us, and made her promise never to let the child be absent from her sight. But these precautions, in the event, proved useless; for the poor babe caught the small-pox soon after we landed at Cadiz, where we remained a short time, and died in my arms, attended with undeviating care by the worthy Bayfield: for, oh, my Ellen, your tender nature will recoil when I tell you its unfeeling mother refused to see it from the time the disorder came to its height, though she herself had had it, because its appearance was too shocking to her delicacy! Every care, however, that could be obtained, was lavished on it, but in vain.

"Poor Edmund grieved sincerely at this event, and shared my lonely and sorrowful hours; for he had been attached to the infant with excessive affection, and always felt for me the sincerest regard, while I considered him as my own brother, and thought no attention too much to serve or please him.

"Soon after the death of the child we proceeded to Seville, and, in the gaiety of that city, the attentions she received from her mother's relations, and the flattering compliments paid to her beauty by the crowds of gentlemen who now surrounded her, Rosolia soon lost whatever traces of sorrow remained for the loss of her infant. She was handsomer than ever, and shone in all the elegance of dress and the blaze of unnumbered jewels, with which my lavish fondness, in the early part of our marriage, and the liberality of her Spanish relations, had profusely supplied her. Her grandfather, the Duke de Castel Nuovo, at whose palace in Seville Edmund was to be placed, happened to be absent, having been suddenly called to Madrid on some important state business, and wrote to beg I would remain a month or two at his palace, when he hoped he should return thither to receive his grandson from my hands, to see his granddaughter, and thank me for the kindness with which I had taken so long a journey. Having nothing immediately to recall me to England, I was not sorry to see more of this interesting country; and hearing of a beautiful villa to be let on the bank of Guadalaxara, I removed thither with my family, preferring it to a residence in the Duke's palace.

"Nothing could exceed the beauty of our little domain, or the rich luxuriance of the country in which it stood. This villa was only two miles from Seville, where at that time several regiments were stationed, and all the officers of rank eagerly sought an introduction to me and the beautiful Rosolia. Amongst them was a man of the name of De Sylva."

At this name Ellen started, for she had heard it from Edmund, in his wild wanderings the night before; though, till that instant, she could not recollect it.

"Why do you start, my love?" said St. Aubyn; "does some intuitive emotion whisper to you that this was the wretch whose villainy involved me in so much misery?"

"It was the name," said Ellen, "which I could not recollect just now; the name I heard from Edmund."

"No doubt," replied St. Aubyn, "it dwelt upon his mind; for but last night I again endeavoured to convince him of that villain's guilt. But to proceed.

"This De Sylva was a young man of a very fine person and elegant manners; one, in short, exactly fitted to win the favour of any woman, who looked more to exterior appearance than intrinsic merit. He was, I afterwards learned, a determined gamester, of broken, if not ruined fortunes, without principles, and stained with many vices; yet this man I too soon perceived the light Rosolia had selected as her chief favourite. If she danced, he was her partner; and often was her lovely person exhibited in the fascinating but immoral dances of her country: an exhibition, oh, how unfit for an English matron!--how hateful to the delicacy of my sentiments. I am perhaps too fastidious; but I again repeat, such a display, even of grace and beauty, in a married woman, is displeasing, but carried to the excess Rosolia did, detestable. How can we wonder at the alarming strides vice has made in this country, when we see even wives and mothers, in the slightest drapery, and with an almost unlimited freedom of manners, courting the notice of men whom they know to be characters which neither honour, nor even the ties of friendship, can restrain from the gratification of their passions.

"Forgive, my Ellen, this digression, by you so little needed; but I linger and dwell on any subject which can a moment detain me from those dreadful scenes I must soon describe. I was speaking of the intimacy which now took place between this De Sylva and Lady St. Aubyn. In dancing, walking, or riding, he was her constant attendant; and in the last exercise she excited the admiration of all who beheld her. Her English side-saddle and riding-dress, and the ease with which she managed her spirited Arabian, drew the most flattering plaudits from the gay military admirers who constantly surrounded her; and most of all from De Sylva, whose manners at last became so particular and presuming, I could not avoid noticing it, and telling Rosolia if he altered not his conduct, I should be under the necessity of forbidding him my house.

"At first she only laughed at my threats, and turned every thing I said into ridicule, but still persisted in the same manner of living, till I perceived, that even in that gay country her conduct was disapproved by all who witnessed it, and who had not lost all sense of decorum; even two or three of the older officers, men of rank and consequence, began to look gravely upon her, and with a sort of displeasure at me, as if they thought me too supine in not more warmly asserting my own honour. I now determined, therefore, to remove her from the place where she had so many opportunities of meeting this young man, which, without an _eclat_ I wished to avoid, I could not prevent, as I believed her innocent though imprudent, and to visit some of the most interesting scenes in that part of the country where we now were, hoping that a tour, which I knew she had never made, would give a new turn to the sentiments of Rosolia: we removed, therefore, with our suite, from the beautiful villa we had lately occupied, and travelled the first day to Cormona, where we visited its castle, of immense extent, but now wholly in ruins; from thence we went by excellent, but very ancient roads, to Cordova, where we also saw every thing worth notice, and spent a few days very agreeably; at least they would have been agreeable, had Rosolia seemed in the least inclined to enjoy the new scenes presented to her, or the civilities of the inhabitants of this ancient town, where our rank and relationship to the Duke de Castel Nuovo ensured us a hospitable reception from all the noble families whose manner of life is cheerful and pleasant.

"After leaving Cordova, we travelled through the delightful vale of the Guadalaxara, which runs between the ridges of hills embellished with hanging woods and olive-yards. Nothing could exceed the beauty of the scene through which we now for two days travelled. No mind, which had not entirely lost all power of enjoying the charms of nature, could have been dead to the enchanting scenes which the banks of the lovely Guadalaxara now presented in ever-varying succession. Extensive plains, beautifully tinted by rows of olive-trees, towers and ancient castles rising at intervals on the side of the stream, afforded a variety of charming and picturesque views, from which Edmund and myself derived the warmest pleasure. Alas! the heart of Rosolia was shut to them all. At length we reached a small but pretty villa at the foot of the Sierra Morena, which I had learned some time before was unoccupied, and had hired, and caused to be prepared for our reception. Edmund's health had appeared to be somewhat shaken by the very warm climate of our abode near Seville, and it was thought the cool air from those mountains would brace and invigorate his drooping frame. Here, then, we rested in this quiet retreat, whence I made occasional excursions, sometimes on foot, sometimes on horseback, in the picturesque environs of our new abode. Sometimes I extended them to the northern side of the Sierra, and visited the romantic country of La Mancha, which Cervantes has immortalized.

"It is impossible to describe the various beauties these mountains present; the clear torrent of the Rio de las Pedras, falling over beds of rocks, through glens of beautiful woods; the wild and unfrequented solitudes, covered with a rich variety of flowering and sweet-scented shrubs, and the interesting new colony of La Corolina, of which I hope, some day, to give you a fuller account; all rendered these excursions delightful to me; the more so, as they occupied my thoughts, and carried me from a woman whose capricious humours and inconsistent conduct rendered my home irksome and distasteful.

"Rosolia, angry at being withdrawn from the society she so much prized, and still more so at being deprived of De Sylva's company, now assumed manners the most aggravating, and caprices the most extraordinary. Sometimes, for a day or two together, the sound of her voice never reached the ear of any human being; but sunk, in affected apathy, she pretended scarcely to see or hear any thing that was passing. Then she would suddenly assume the gayest air, and for hours would scarcely cease speaking; following me incessantly; never allowing me to read or reflect a moment; singing, playing on her harp, or with castenets in her hands, dancing with a gaiety that was as unpleasing as it appeared unnatural, till her forced spirits being quite exhausted, she would fall into violent hysterics, and be conveyed to bed, whence she would not rise again in many days.

"Think only, my dear Ellen, what a life this was for me. With no other companion (for Edmund was still a mere boy), and dreading every hour to what the caprices of the next might lead. At length, all at once, she affected a new humour, and was continually rambling alone, even so late in the evening, that in the neighbourhood of those wild mountains, I feared some evil would befall her; but vain were my representations, vain my entreaties. She told me, she thought it hard to be denied the only pleasure my jealous temper had left her, and that I had better revive the old Spanish customs of lattices and duennas, and lock her up altogether. These, and many such provoking speeches, silenced me; but I saw that our good Bayfield was suffering from some unknown cause. She was frequently in tears, and betrayed, at times, a degree of agitation which astonished me; for in general her composure was remarkable. I conjectured, that, dissatisfied with her lady, as indeed she had but too much reason to be, the worthy woman pined to revisit England; but on my pressing her on this subject, she assured me, that wherever I was, there she was best pleased to be; and only wished she _knew how best to shew her devotion to my interests_.

"These last words seemed spoken with particular meaning, but she evaded any explanation. A new vexation now assailed both her and me: several of Lady St. Aubyn's valuable jewels were from time to time missing, and vainly sought.

"Rosolia affected the most perfect indifference about them, saying, since she had no one to wear them, she cared nothing for jewels: but Bayfield, who was the only person, who, except her lady, had access to the place where the jewels were kept, was excessively disturbed at their frequent losses. At last, a very fine and remarkable ring of mine, composed of an antique cameo, set with brilliants of great value, was also gone. I began to suspect my valet of these repeated thefts, though I had obtained of him the most excellent character; and he had been three or four years in my service without the slightest suspicion of dishonesty in any respect.

"Determined, however, to watch this man, I said nothing of the loss of my ring, thinking if I appeared to have no suspicion I should the easier detect him.

"About a week after this circumstance, being restless, and unable to sleep, I rose from my bed at midnight, and sat for some time at my window, watching the bright moon, which in that clear climate gave a light scarcely inferior to that of day: but judge of my surprize, when I saw the figure of a man emerge slowly from a grove of cork trees, at some little distance; and after looking cautiously around, pass close under my windows, and approach those of Lady St. Aubyn's apartment. We had for some time inhabited separate rooms, as she complained of restless nights, and chose to have her chamber to herself. I fancied that I had now detected the robber, who, by some means, having gained access to those chambers, had, from time to time, stolen the jewels I mentioned; but in a moment I saw Rosolia's window open, and herself appear at it. She spoke a few words to this man, on whom the moonlight falling more clearly, I distinctly perceived the height, figure, and I fancied the features of De Sylva.

"Rosolia instantly threw down a light rope ladder, and the man, whoever he was, began to mount it; but on a sudden she turned from the window, as if disturbed by the entrance of some one to her room; and making a sign to him with a hurried air, he hastily descended: she immediately closed the window, and the man ran to the grove from which he had first appeared.

"All this scene passed so quickly, I had scarcely time to recollect myself, or determine what I ought to do--but hastily seizing my pistols, which lay always loaded in my room, I descended a private staircase leading to the garden, and with quicksteps, followed the man, who lay concealed in the grove. I walked with as little noise as I could, fearing, lest, if he heard me, he might make his escape, and I should be deprived of the satisfaction I expected, so that I was close to him before he perceived me, and seizing him with a powerful grasp, I dragged him into the moonlight, and there saw it was indeed De Sylva."

CHAP. III.

Ou suis-je? O Ciel ou suis je? ou porte je mes voeux? Zayre, Nerestan--couple ingrat, couple affreux, Traitres arracher moi ce jour que je respire, Ce jour souille par vous. ----Ah que vois-je? Ah ma soeur Zayre!... Elle n'est plus.--Ah monstre ah jour horrible!

ZAYRE PAR VOLTAIRE.

"Rage almost choked me as I exclaimed:--'Villain! you here, and lurking under my windows at this hour!' He shook with cowardly apprehension, and attempted some excuse, which, however, his terror rendered inarticulate: still the momentary pause gave me time for recollection, and disdaining to assault an unarmed man, I threw him one of my pistols, and bade him defend himself: again in faltering tones he murmured some assurances that he merely came to see Lady St. Aubyn's favourite servant, a Spanish girl named Theresa; but this hacknied excuse was too shallow to obtain a moment's credit, and I still pressed him to an instant decision of this affair. He now, somewhat more firmly, requested me to recollect, that if we fought, and he fell, what would be the appearance of a man found in my grounds murdered, as it would seem; and on the other hand he appealed to my generosity, what would be his situation should I be killed, and above all, what a slur would be cast on the reputation of Lady St. Aubyn by such a business. Calmed by these representations, which certainly had some justice in them, I finally consented to wait till the next evening: the time between, he told me, he should pass at a little Posada in the neighbourhood, where, he said, he had a friend waiting for him, who would come with him to a spot I mentioned near the mountains; and during the same space I said I would ride to Almana (the next small town), where a gentleman resided with whom I had some acquaintance, and on whom I would prevail to be my second in this affair: then bidding him retain the pistol, and bring it prepared, as I should do its fellow, to the place of meeting, I sternly told him, that should I see him again lurking beneath my walls, I would not wait the event of the next evening, but treat him as a midnight robber deserved to be treated. I then left him and returned to the house: a faint light yet gleamed from the windows of Rosolia's room, but the rope ladder was withdrawn, and the curtains closed, so that I concluded she had given up all expectation of seeing De Sylva again that night. I watched, however, till morning, but all was still, and I then threw myself on my bed to obtain one hour's repose; after which I rose, and spent some time in settling my affairs, and writing some letters, to be delivered in case I should fall in the duel with De Sylva.

"After this I went to Lady St. Aubyn's room: at the door I met Bayfield, who, pale, and with her eyes swollen with weeping, looked as if she had, like myself, watched all night.

"My good Bayfield,' said I, 'where is your Lady, and why do you look thus alarmed and haggard?'

"She answered me, but with some confusion, that her Lady was just dressed, and that she had been induced to watch in the chamber next Lady St. Aubyn's almost all night, having heard some noises which had induced her to _rise at midnight_, and go to her Lady's apartment, whom she found also much agitated, and therefore had remained there till morning. I made no doubt, and I afterwards found this conjecture was just, that my faithful old servant's suspicions having been excited, she had gone to her room, and by interrupting her, had caused the sudden dismissal of De Sylva, and had since passed the night in bewailing Rosolia's evil propensities. Without staying for any explanation, however, I left her, and passed into the Countess's apartment: she started at the sight of me, for of late we had seldom met but at meals, and her guilty conscience taught her to consider my visit as extraordinary. I told her sternly to be seated and hear me, and I then related to her the events of the preceding night: at first she trembled and turned pale, but soon recovering her effrontery, she attempted, as usual, to make a jest of what she affected to term my ridiculous jealousy.

"Mark me, Rosolia!" cried I rising, and eagerly grasping her arm, for, with affected scorn, she attempted to rush past me. 'Mark me! I am no longer thus to be deceived. _This evening, this evening shall revenge my too long endured injuries_--the _wretch_ who has so deeply wronged me, _this arm shall punish_.'

"At that moment, while my angry looks were fixed upon her countenance, where rage and disdain contended with shame and fear, Edmund entered the room, and must, I knew, have heard the threats I uttered: he started and looked amazed, for frequent as were our altercations, they had never before risen to a height so alarming.

"I left them together, and taking my horse, rode to Almana, where, most unfortunately, I did not find my friend at home; and after waiting his return till I feared I should not arrive at my villa in time enough to keep my appointment, I left the place alone, and merely going into the house to take my pistol, I hastened to the appointed spot. There I waited, vainly waited, for nearly two hours: no De Sylva arrived; and concluding that he then meant not to keep his appointment, and some vague fears pressing on my mind that possibly Rosolia might be the partner of his flight, I hurried back to the villa. It was almost dark when I arrived, and just as I entered the hall, heated, disordered, not having changed my dress since the night before, and in the confusion of my thoughts not even concealing the pistol I had carried in my hand, I met Edmund, who eagerly asked me where his sister was.

"I know not,' said I; but a thousand suspicions darted into my bosom, and gave to my countenance and manner an agitation which must have appeared to him extraordinary. 'Is she not in her own apartment? I have been out all day and have not seen her since I left her with you this morning.'

"Nor I,' said Edmund, 'since half an hour before I saw you return on horseback; she then complained of a violent head-ache, and said she would try if the evening air would remove it: I offered to walk with her, but she said she would rather be alone, for she had enough to occupy her thoughts: she kissed me too,' added Edmund, 'and bade me farewell, sighing bitterly, and saying her heart was heavy and full of terror: why then,' said I, 'will you go alone, sister? why not let me walk with you? I really think there _is_ danger in being out late so near the mountains.' She forced a smile, and replied, she feared nothing from the mountains: all her misery and terrors arose at home.'

"Ungrateful Rosolia,' I replied, as Edmund told me this; to which he answered:--

"Ah, my Lord, it grieves me to see you both so unhappy; I hope my grandfather's return will soon restore in some degree your domestic comfort; he will persuade Rosolia to be more accommodating to your wishes.'

"I sighed, and asked him which way his sister had gone.

"Through the cork grove,' he replied, 'and towards the Hermitage, which is I know her favourite retreat.'

"'Surely,' said I, 'she would not remain in that lonely place till this late hour; yet, so strange for sometime has been her conduct, I know not what to suppose: call the servants, my dear Edmund, to bring lights, for in that gloomy retreat it will be quite dark, and let us go in search of her.'

"We set out accordingly, attended by two men servants and my good Bayfield, who, fearing, as she said, her Lady might be ill, insisted on accompanying us. The place to which we directed our steps was a quarter of a mile from the villa, and, as I had said, by the time we had reached it the darkness of night had come on.

"This gloomy cell stood at the foot of a rock deep embowered in thick groves: a mountain stream fell from a considerable height near it, and the dash of its waters alone broke the silence of this secluded retreat, which was called the Hermitage, from the peculiar style in which it was fitted up. For some time before we reached it we made the surrounding thickets resound with Rosolia's name: but all was silent, save the murmuring breeze and the dashing of the waterfall. I concluded that my wife was gone off with the infamous De Sylva, and my whole frame shook with rage and agitation.

"Why do you tremble so, my Lord?' said the affrighted Edmund, who hung upon my arm: 'do you think any harm has happened to my sister?'

"I know not,' I replied, 'but I fear it, greatly fear it!'