Xr^r^c Cj i^ff^y-cd U \i T E D AT THE FOR A. K. NEWMAN AND Ca, (Successors to Lofte, Neu-man, 8f Co.J I.EAS£NUALL-STR££T. 1811. Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive- in 2010 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/mysterioushandor01cran 8^^ V. :k TO HEU ROYAL HIGHNESS, THE PRINCESS MARY, With much of the anxiety of an author, and all the attachment of a subject, I dedicate to 3'ou these ?, vohmies. They are your's, Princess, as a tribute to real excellence, from admiration the most sincere. ]:>lcsscd with seclusion and tran- luillit}', I court not, I desire not po- . )ularit3\ My ambition aspires to a ^^iiobler prize, and your acceptance of \'my lalx)urs is the great and onlj^ ob- ' lect of my wishes. VOL. T. B As iil PREFACE. As the Dnu filter of our beloved Sovereign, my loyallv to you is an obligation ; and as the model of my heroine, this dedication is, perhaps, a duty. But the resemblance of the good and gentie Juha is not that of per- son. There are charms which her's does not possess. May I call this production mine? Did you not inspire it? and, without your approbation, must it not perish i I shall, therefore, dare to hope that it will be rescued from oblivion. The laurel that emerges out of darkness and the earth, from tlie sun receives its being, and by the sun it is pre- served. THE AUTHOR. November J 1810. \ TKE MYSTERIOUS MAN3]), ^^>?99o< CHAP. I. Non era I'andar suo cosa mortale ; Ma d'angelica forma} e le parole Sonavaa' altro, che pur voce umana. E pur tante bellezze, e si pregiatc Altro non sono, che un' opaco velo. Con cui deir Alma la beltu vektc. -When she speaks. The air, a chartered libertine, is still ; And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, To steal her sweet and honied sentences. iVxR. Bolton was a widower, and Julia was his only child. These pages shall re- late their story. Never was there a wor- thier man than Mr. Bolton. Nature had B 2 bestowed 4 THE MYSTERIOUS IL\ND. bestowed on him a sound head and a feel- ing heart, and foiiuiie, not less liberal, had gifted him with a large estate. His nge was fifty-two; goodness beamed in his countenance, mildness attended his every motion, and equanimity marked his every look. Envied by the worldly, esteemed by the virtuous^ loved by his friends and blessed by the poor, Mr. Bolton was, nevertheless, unhappy. The loss of his wife, who had died about a year before the period when this history com- mences, left an impression of sadness on his mind that no fortitude could assuage, no time remove. In addition to which, his darling, the delight of his heart and th« pride of his age, his beloved Julia, had, in consequence of her mother's death, been attacked by a nervous complaint, that threatened to decline into a consumption. This THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 5 This was the opinion o? the most eminent physicians in London. Shocked to the very soul by the alarm- ing information, he hastily prepared, un- der their advice, to seek a southern climate, and court continual diversion for her by an incessant change of scene. Julia, melancholy and depressed, pre- pared for her travels with little of the ardour of a youthful mind, and few of the brilliant expectations of a sanguine dispo- sition. Plappily, her dejection was not constitutional. Arrived in France, the novelty of her situation, and the rapidity of her joui-ney, gave a new current to her thoughts, and speedily arrested the pro- gress of her disease. Miss Bolton's education had led to the useful rather than the ornamental. She was well-bred, but she was far from being B 3 all- 6 TttF. BHSTEklCUS IIAKD. all-accompiishecL She had still much to learn, and she hnd yer, as a young lady should have, to take fiom him whom her heart and her father should select, that im- pression of character, those manners and those habits, which were to perfect her as a woman. Alive lo every p;enlle impulse, the docile Julia had been instructed from her infancy to obey a)id to oblige. She v.as too thin to be pert'eciiy beautiful, but being feminine almost to timidity, and grareful even to elegance, with elasticity I:. '>er step, and chearfulness in her coun- tc^i'jucc, it was not possible to see her with indifference, or to know her without ad- miring her. She possessed playfulness of wit and ductility of temper, quickness of perception and solidity of understanding : no vanity deformed her innocence, and no affectation disguised her simplicity. Her articulation THE MYSrKKIOCS HAND. 7 articniation was distinct, her delivery was correct, and her voice, to say that it v,'as .sweet, woukl not express its excellence ; it was that varied and perfect melody which proceeds from clearne-s of soLind^ delicacy of accent^ and tenderness of in- tonati(rii, united in the !>unian organ, and breathing truth, eloquence and animation. Like the strains of fairy musick, fancied by some poets, it engagxd the ear with a gentleness so winning, v^'ith a harmony so unusual, that to hear this interesting girl was to experience a pleasure not less rare than it was refined. Such were the father and his daughter. They travelled through France in a man- ner suitable to their fortune and their ha- bits, displaying no ostentation, but pre- senting unequivocal marks of wealth and respectability. Every where ,they were B 4 received S THE MYSTEi'vIOUS HA^D. received with distinction, and treated with iiattering attentions^ but no where did they remain longer than three or four days. Mr. Bolton willingly sacrificed his love of rest and quiet to ]: re mote the health of his daughter^ and she^ with juvenile vola- tility, readily consented to be whirled with rapidity, and without intermission, from one town to another. In the latter end of May they arrived at Bourdeaux. Here they purposed to re- main for a few weeks. It was manifest that Julia's health was restored. Her fa- ther saw that there no longer existed a ne- cessity for velocity of movement, and he gladly availed himself of this opportunity to indulge in repose. In truth, he had not, since his wife's death, been less unhappy than he was at present. She on whom he doted, she on v.hose welfare his existence depended, .THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. '9 depended, was now out of danger. Now he could look at her with satisfaction. The hue of health overspread her cheek; the smile of content played upon her coun- tenance. .^v^ CHAP. 10 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND, CHAP. 11. Fortune, dont la main couronne Les forfaits les plus inouis, Du faux eclat qui t'cnvironne Sftrons nous toujours eblouis ? Trovasi ancor chi per sottrarsi a' numi Forma un nume del caso, e vuol, ch' il mondo Da una mente immortal retto non sia : Cecita teracraria I empia follia ! "Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile. And cry content to that which grieves my heart j And frame my face to all occasions r I'll play the orator as well as Nestor ; Deceive more slily than Ulysses cou'd ; And, like a Simon, take another Troy ; 1 can add colours even to the cameleon ; Change shapes with Proteus, for advantages ; And set th' aspiring Catiline to school. Truth shall govern my pen, simplicity shall guide my narration. No tale of impossi- bility shall stain my veracity^ and never shall I be convicted of falsehood. If^ I write a book that may amuse, I intend that THE MYSTErvIOUS HAND. 11 that it shall likewise instruct. If any of the characters I describe shall appear un- common, the incidents incredible, or the situations romantick, let not me be blamed. I deserve no reproach. Nature in the in- numerable movements of her admirable mechanism, in the perpetual revolutions of her immense empire, occasionally pro- duces events that are unaccountable^ and beings that are monstrous. The Count EgTryd at this period lived in Bourdeaux, where he possessed a mag- nificent hotel. The Count had attained his thirtieth year. His figure was well proportioned^ his face was sensible and re- gular, and in his whole appearance there was a-striking air of dignity. His ances- tors had been for ages noble, and his fo-r- tune was of princely extent. Impene- trable dissimulation, and a serenity that no B G accident 1^ TUB MYSTERIOUS HAND. accident could disturb,, were peculiarly his. He was deep in design, vitious in his propensities, bold in the execution of plots, inventive in resources, persevering and indefatigable. With an assumed frank- ness that might deceive even the eve of penetration, a mildness that never deserted him, and a chearfulness that was constitu- tional, he possessed the polished graces of a refined courtier, and the intellectual ad- vantages of an excellent education. His speech was fluent and his style elegant. The subtlety of his mind, aided by early habits of metaphysical disquisition, gave him a decided advantage in the art of per- suading : V^ut he seldom argued. His ha- bits were voluptuous and dissipated, and the gratification of his revenge was .with him an important consideration. His in- dulgences often partook of cruelty, and his THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 13 his pleasures not unfrequenlly led Uiin into the perpetration of crimes. But to him cruelty and crime were indifferent. He was an atheist. He had already otTend- ed against the most an'ful of the coni- mandments of his 3'akcr, and against the most solemn of th^ laws of :.ociety. He never felt remorse, and he was incapable of fear. To gratify a trifling wisii he ^vould not have hesitated to commit any atrocity, provided he could comniit it with security ; and of two pleasures equally grateful to him, one simple and innoxious, the other attainable only by vice, he would have preferred the latter. What I have drawn is but a faint sketch of the diabo- lical Egfryd ; but in the courie of these pages, enough will be narrated to convey with accuracy his detestable delineation. He was married, and he had one child. An 14 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. An acquaintance that soon ripened into intimacy was formed between our English travellers and this family. Julia was charm- ed with the easy address and insinuatirig manners of the Count. He appeared to her the moit accomplished man she had ever seen, tlve most ingenuous, the most noble. She observed with surprise, that the serenity of his manner, and the gentle- ness of his tones, had the power of banish- ino^ all aoitation from the m.inds of those with whom he conversed : that every com- motion of the passions instantly subsided at his ap: roach, and th it it was impossible to feel constraint in his presence. In her estimation he was the true model of a per- fect gentleman ; nor, could his depravity Jiave been subtracted, was she much mis- taken. He^ demon-like, saw the impression (hat he THE MYSTERIOUS HAyO. 15 he made on a female, essentially different from all those ^vhom he had seen before, and incomparably superior to every other whom he had known. Already he plotted her ruin ; already he indulged a deadly passion, that had for its object her total and irremediable destruction. Mr. Bol- ton thought of his new acquaintance with little less respect and admiration than his daughter. His unsuspecting and guileless nature yielded iiivoluntarily to this liber- tine's dangerous attentions, and in his so- ciety the good man experienced and sub- mitted to the fascination of grace united to gaiety, unstudied politeness^ modest eloquence, and knowledge that seemed little short of inexhaustible, and forgot the existence of his grief. The Count had a castle on one of his estates in the nciglibourhood of Bour- deaux; •16 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. deaux : it was calied the Chateau (le St. UMrich, and il afforded the happiest spe- cimens of that species of architecture which is denominated Gothick. It was in truth a beautiful aiid magnificent fabrick. Thirher he and the Comiesse invited x\\q father and d-Mjghter, who consented to re- main there for a month. Having arrived at the clmlean, Julia em- ploved two whole days in traversing the galleries and the apartments^ in adipiring the numerous decorations of the building, and interrogating the Count and her fa- ther upor> the more prominent objects of lier curiosity. In another chapter I shall give a description of the chateau, by which it will appear, that her admiration was net the wonder of infancy or ignorance^ but a just tribute to real excellence. Julia, however, had lime and inclina- tion THE MYSTEr.IOaS HAND. 17 tion to devote the third evening after her arrival to the duties of friendship. The followinc: letter to the earliest of her ac- quaintances, which, by accident, came lately into my possessiion, will serve fo shew the state of her mind at this time. " MY DEAR ELIZA, '' At length I hnve an hour to myself — th?.t hour sliall be vour's. You will expect, in the first place, I know, to hear something nb^ut my health. Know then that I am quite well. Such rattling, such flying as I have had ! I thought I should liireeab!e man, however, I nc\er met. But ciion^*;!? of Mr. Dalbcrt. No, one word more — he lias, mv dear Lliza, witiiout ex- ception, the finest black eyes, the whitest teeth, and the prettiest hands J ever saw. The epithet that best applies to him, I tliinkj is interesting. Xoboay can be more free from that lively gesticulat'on which Frenchmen generally possess than he. He is, as they say, saniifa^un He is uncommonly tall; I am sure he is above six. feet; and, to complete liis picture, i^e is very brown, and very thin ; he is, be- sides, perfectly well made. Poor fellow. 23 THE MYSTERIOUS IIAKD. he has for years supported his mother and himself entirely by the labours of his pen. I understand his mother is at present in the country. My father thinks him one of the best writers of the present day ; and cer- tainly that dramatick piece we saw was admirable. I should tell you there is a calmness about him, mingled with a slight portion of melancholy, that would please you infinitely. But shall I never have done with this man ? c '*■ We have met with another charmlnST man, the Count d'Egfryd. But he is mar- ried. He and the Co?ntessc are excessive- ly attentive to us. I don't know how we shall be able to repay all their civilities. The Count is one of the most amiable men in the world — but the Comtcsse, between you and me, I don't admire with enthu- • ... siasm. Her manners and disposition are diametrically 3 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 23 diametrically opposite to niine, and there- fore we shall never be called the insepa- rables. However, nothing can exceed her politeness or attention. We are now at their castle, about ten miles from Bour- deaiix. It is a Gothick building, but such a building ! No, never did you see any thing half so handsome. Eut it is very late, and I am getting sleepy. Good night, and believe me your sincere friend, Chateau dc St. UldrkiJ' Theodore Dalbert, after the departure of Mr. Bolton and Julia from Bourd^auv, was melancholy and uneasy. He ^e\t depres- sed without knov/ing why, and thought of his English friends at one time with allec- tion, at another time with regret. His studies 24 TJIK MYSTEUIOUS HAND. Studies no longer amused him. His literary projects no Jonger occupied him. lie could not sit at home. He could not re- main al^road. In this mood he ^vas entering the nar- row street in which was his humble habi- tation^ on the second day after the depar- ture of his friends^ when, as he passed by a dark passage, a m.an, mufxled in a large coat, sucdcnly darted on him v/ith a stiletto, and ainied a blow at his brca'^.t. Theodore, most fortunatelv, had a book within his coat, through the leaves of which the in- strum.ent pierced even to his skin. But for this the blow must have been mortal. It was intended to be so. The assassin had not time to repeat his attack. Swift as lightning, his intended victim caught and disarmed the murder- ous hand, and with his parapluit warded off THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 25 off a similar blow from a second rufiian. who now advanced. The first, Theodore, though alarmed, rushed on with irresistible vigour, and pierced with the stiletto that had been a moment before directed against himself* The wretch dropped with a groan, pour- ing out his heart's blood. The contest now vas more equal ; it was between two men, each armed alike. Theodore, nc- customaCd to fencing from his infancv, immediately saw the mode of fight he should adopt; this was to retreat, and to defend himself till his advei-sary shonld give him an opening ; accordingly he did so, and in less than a minute his foe, wounded, prostrate, and disarmed, lay be- fore him. Curious to know the motive for such an outrage, he conducted the miscreant to his apartment, dressed his VOL. I. c woimd, ?(5 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. wound, and having made him sit down, considered with attention his countenance and person. A figure more uncouth, or a face less human^ can hardly be conceived. The former heavy, shapeless, and gigantick ; the latter black, lowering, and malignant. His eyes alone would have rendered him diabolical ; small, dark, and unsteady, their squint was never to be caught ; sheltered by jaw-bones of brutal projection, and brows of preternatural and gloomy ex- uberance, they shot their felon glances with ominous obliquity. His lips, which were never closed, displayed a cavern not to be surveyed without disgust, and were extended in swolen masses from one ear to the other. His nose was broad, flat, and rough. His ears, raw and discoloured, seemed monstrous excrescences of flesh, rather THIS MYSTERlftL'S IIANO. 9? rather hanging from than growing to Jhc head, with a weight that sunk them to the shoulders. His cheeks displayed nun'.e- rous eruptive marks of gross intemperance, and his forehead was wrinkled into a thou- sand folds, and every fold contained a frown. His skin was foul and sallow. His hair was black and crispy. He had the stutter of habitual and designing false- hood, and his voice was deep^ hoarse, and savao^e. To look at the monster without horror was impossible ; to meet him in a lonely place without feeling alarm, was to be superior to the weakness of fear. Such was the person to whom Theo- dore, with a composed countenance and with mild accents, addressed himself. And here, as well as on future occasions, I shall take the liberty granted to all historians, of rendering into the language which I em- c 2 P^oyi "^8 THE MYSTKRIOUS IIANft. ploy, what was orii^inally uttered in ano- ther tongne — '' What has happened this night," said Theodore, '' or any thing I iTjav now say, the thoiioht of your com- panion lying dead, or the recollection of my clemency,- will have no effect on you. I will not prosecute you, because my prin- ciples fot-bid my becoming an accessory in taking awav the life of anv one ; and if you were to be tried you would be executed. My principles I shall not explain to you. It is probable you would not understancJ me. All I require of you is to tell me what induced you to attempt my assassina- tion. What injury has any one to accuse me of? Who employed you ? W^ho and what was your companion ? W'ho are you? and what benefit were you to reap from my death ? Speak with confidence and candour. By my honour I will never reveal THE MYSTERIOUS HAND". 29 reveal what you shall communicate to me this nightj \vithout your permission." The man, at language so unexpected, looked surprised and incredulous. A mo- mentary expression, resembling the sneer ofcontempt, passed across his brutal vis- age. He coughed, hemmed, raised his shoulders, scratched his nasty head with one iiand, the other he drew across his nostrils, elevated his frightful eyebrows, awkwardly endeavoured to give to his feeling of security some appearance of gratitude, and shook the apartment by the vulgar motion of his enormous feet, which, as he sat, danced with livclv action on the floor. — " Sir," said he, *' I know not of any harm you have done, nor any enemy of your's. All that I know is that I was to get a thousand livres*, and my c 3 companion » About ^50 Sterling. so THE M\STF.RIOVS HA^D. companion as much more, if we despatched )ou.*' — ** From whom ?'* — " I know not^ Sir." — *' Who employed you ?" — " I don't I y J know. Sir/' — " Don't know \*'-^'' Why, Sir, the story I have to tell you is a queer one. I will tell you, because it is impossible not to trust you ; and be- cause I can invent no tale at present that would impose on you. My employer is unknown to me. I can't even guess who he is. He gives me my orders in such a way that I never can discover him, and he pays me so well that I never disobey him. Besides if I did, I should never be employ- ed again, and it's not improbable but that I should be murdered for my pains." *•' In such a way that you can't discover him \ explain yourself." — '' Oh ! if I knew him, it would be the best day to me I ever saw. By threatening to-peach I could have anv THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. SI any sum of money^ for I'm sure he's woundy rich. I was a smuggler, please your honour, at Toulon, and I had got some little reputation, I believe, thougli I say it, for my spirit. But that's neither here nor there, I had been more than once in priion, but I need not lose time in telling you about that. It is now about fourteen months since I got a letter in an odd sort of hand ; I believe I have it about me; I will show it to you. Let me look for it. It will explain all this here busi- ness. Aye, here it is." Saying this he produced from an old pocket-book a dirty piece of paper^ which with some difliculty Theodore read. It was to the following effect — ^' Caspar -Pontgebre, I have seen you, and I know your character. You are poor. Become my agent, and you shall never want for c 4 money. ^2 THE MYSTERIOUS HAN»i money. Inquire every Friday at the posN office of St. Marc for any letter directed to you. Whatever you shall be enjoined to do in the letters you will there receive, execute with promptitude and precision. I now enclose you four hundred livres* as an earnest of my generosity. Indiscre- tion or disobedience will cost you your life. You shall never be employed with- out receiving a gratuity. Some of my commands will require the agency of two persons. On Sunday next at two you will meet Conrad D'Aufrine at the cabaret with the green door, near the convent of Do- minicans, Faiixhourg clu Plendcy. He is an Italian, and a bravo by profession. He will wear a red waistcoat. I shall instruct him how to know you. Accost him, and ask to see my letter to him. Show him this. • About £2Q Sterling. THE MYSTERIOUS HA^'D. 3S this. Do what r shall in that point out, and on the Iriday after you shall have performed those orders^ vou will find a ktter for you in the office with five hun- dred livres*." " Dark and horrible scheme ! Did you meet this Conrad ?" — " I did,. Sir. He it is who now lies dead in» the street. We did many a job for our unknown emp]oyer3 and were always handsomely paid. The Fast required of us vou will read in this ]«tter, which I received yesterday." He now produced a letter, which was in tl^e hand-writing of the unknown. It ran thus — " Caspar Ponto^ebre, a young man, named Theodore Dalbcrt, lives on the first" floor of the house No. ^3, B'Ue St. Siilpicx, in Bourdeaux. He is an author. He ivears black, is twenty-five years of age/. c 5 sixs * About £'2i Sterling. ^^ THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. six feet high, brown and thin, with dark hair, black eyes, and straight nose. He is handsome. His deportment is grave and dignified, and his countenance mild and engaging. I hate him. Watch him, know him, murder him. I enclose two hundred livres*. Yoa shall have two thousand f more, to be divided between you and Conrad, on the Friday after I shall have learned your success. Be particularly at- tentive to this^ order. No command you ever received was half so important to me^ Dare to disobey. Dare to tamper with him. Dare even^ta whisper your employ- ment, and inevitable destruction shali overwhelm you. I shall pursue, I shall find, I shall strike ; no power shall pro- tect, no flight preserve you. Know, mis- creants, that with respect to you I am om- nipotent. * About £10 Sterling. f About £\Q0 Sieiling, THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 35 nipotent. But know, likewise, that if you obey me but a little while longer^ a happy independence shall certainly await you." Theodore shuddered as he read this infernal scroll, of which the writing was evidently disguised. ^' You see, Sir," said the assassin, " what danger I run in showing you these lettei*s, but as for his threats, I don't care that for them,'' snapping his fingers. *' He thinks to frighten me into silence, but I can tell him, that but for his presents this would have little effect. Conrad and I were thinking, no later than yesterday, of pub- lishing something about his commissions, in order if possible to discover, by means of any attack that should be made upon us, some clue by which to find him out. But Conrad thought we played a surer c 6 gam« 36 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. game in holding our tongues^ and Conrad was a clever fellow.** '' Well/* said Theodore, " I thank yon, friend, for your information. I told you I should never reveal voiir secret without your permission. I never will ; but I ani- jiot without hopes that you will give me leave. Humble as 1 am, I undertake ta procure for you a decent maintenance, and to ensure your safety. It behoves every man to unfold if possible an atro- tious mystery of this kind, and you more than all others, having been the instru- ment employed. It is a reparation yoit owe to society. I would willingly ab- stain from another argument. I know it is ungenerous to allude to favours be- stowed ; but on this singular occasion per- mit me to remind you of the debt of gra- titude THE MYSTFrilOUS HAND. 37 titiicle you owe to me. Pay this debt. Bind me to your interests for ever. Con- fer a favour on me. Absolve me from my promise, a-nd sufiTer me to keep these letters.'' " As to the matter of this, do you mind me/' replied the murderer, '' I don't well understand what you be about, not 1. I believe you are what thev call a mighty good kind of gentleman, and ail that; and only I am not in the habit of liking people, I should perhaps approve of you hugely; but you are somehow softish, I observe, v^ith submission, and I must thank vou for my letters, and to hold vour tongue if you please, as you promised. If vou was to go for to talk about this, it would be after bringing an old house about mv ears, and therefore I must wish you gcod n-ight." He 58 THE MYSTERTOUS HAN». He folded op his letters and was going, — " There is one question I would ask you," said Theodore, *' before you go. Has your emplo\er communicated to you any mode by which you may convey in- formation to him r" — " Convey informa- tion to him ? aye, that he has. The second letter I ever got from him told me how I was to send any message to him I might have to communicate, and, sure enough, it is a comical method. You have heard of the Place de Sable, Sir?"— ^' That de- serted place among the marshes. I know it." — '' It is commanded by all the back win- dows in the market-place, you know, per- haps."—'' It is."—" V/ell, Sir, when I have any thing to say, I go to the Place de Sable, where being knee deep in mud, I am sure to meet nobody. With a long white pole in each hand^ and standing on a spot de- scribed THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 3^ scribed to me, I give my message by cer- tain signals pointed out in a letter of in- structions I received for that purpose. I am sure that, provided I do this on Sun- day, at twelve o'clock, my employer is looking at me — reading me, I might say. But as there are a thousand windows,^ through any one of which he may look,, and a thousand bills about, on any one of vhich he may be placed, it is impossible to guess where he actually is. Besides, when I have any thing to communicate, I must, the night before, shoot three rockets- from my house ; one at ten, one at eleven, and one at twelve o'clock." — '* Merciful Heaven V exclaimed Theodore, srnking into a chair, '* such a contrivance!'* — " Good night. Sir," said the ruffian abruptly, who now retired as fast as his Kound and its attendant pain and weak- ness THE MYSTEniOUS HAND. cemetery, in which the humbled observer was struck with awe and astonishment at the view ofan immense pile of human bones, the accumulated spoil of ages, and the awful reproach of worldly vanity. The monument contained a mutilated inscrip- tion, by which it appeared that it had been erected to preserve the memory of the Sire Urien d'Egfrijd, who died in 1249. The last three lines were still legible. They were in barbarous French, and they ran thus : ** Preei pur li en Ion manere, Ke Jesu pur sa pauun De phccez li done pardun.'* The meaning of which was, that the pas- senger should pray earnestly that Jesus, on account of his passion, might pardon the sins of the deceased. The demain was, throughout, replete with picturesque efTect, and admirably and most THE MYSTKRIOUS HAND. 47 most judiciously adapted to the Gothick architecture of the chateau that it sur- rounded^ and the inarfificial grandeur of the circumjacent districts. Here was no edginess of bank, no white- ness of ijcater unrelieved by trees, no in- sipid straightness of walk, no tasteless re- gularity of disposition. Here were no mechanical clumps, no velvet slopes, no mathematical quincunx ; but on every side nature in her most beautiful attire. Here the gardener and the florist had exhausted their industry and their invention. la one place the fairy scenes of juvenile and innocent delight, in another the wild nnd fantastic pictures of Arabian romance; here the peaceful occupations of simple swains, and there the terrifick and alarming appearances of tremendoirs precipices and impetuous cataracts, alternully enchanted and ]|8 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. and astonished, delighted and confounded the senses and the iiiiagination.j Water was sometimes heard to pour its rapid waves in passages under ground, and at other times a gentle stream, within fiowery borders, was seen to flow in silver currents with a thousand little circuits through diversified and delicious meadows. A hermitage not encumbered nor per- plexed by false ornaments, the collection of which would appear artificial, though each might be natural, such as diciplines> sculls, beads, and hour-glasses, invited the romantick rambler with its severe yet cap- tivating simplicity, to renounce the tumult of a treacherous world, and to taste hap- piness, unadulterated . by no excess, and distributed by no intrusion, within its pea( elul recess. In another quarter, along the craggy edge THE MYSTERIOUS HANtJ. 49 edge of a rocky mountain, inhabited by goats and deer, a rude paling had been erected to prevent the unwary peasant from tumbling down the precipice. Be- tween this edge and a neighbouring cliff, a long and narrow rustick bridge, of one arch, offered to the terrified beholder a passage frightfully high and alarmingly slight. Under the bridge a torrent rushed with irresistible violence, and on the top of the cliff a grotesque cottage had been constructed, which seemed to totter on the verge of destruction. Nor were there wanted to complete the scenick beauty of a landscape so varied, the rich and mag- nificent efi^ects of statues, fountains, marble basons, and balustrades; together with jet^ (Veaiij a large collection of exotick plants and aqimals, blocks of ancient ruins, and various remains of sculpture, VOL. I. D The 50 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. The chateau itself had been built bv Albert d'Egfryd, a native of St. Maurice in Switzerland, and an ancestor of the present Conie. The prospects from it 'were grand and extensive. There was much of wildness, and a little of rudeness in some of the views. There were tracts of naked rock. There were abrupt hills, ar.d there were uncultivated heaths. But there was likew^ise much wood, much water, and an infinite diversity of surface. The waters of the Garonne were to be seen at a distance, apparently motionless. Boats of pleasure and vessels of trade floated on its surface. Villas and planta- tions adorned its banks, and into its silver bosom the humble Dordogne might be ob- served topour wilhoutcessation itstributary stream. On another side the city of Bour- deaux THE MVSTEHIOUS HAND. 51 deaux and the sea of Gascony were discern- ible. Distant mountains closed the scene. The chateau had been built according to the principles which distinguish what is often called the latter Gothick, an order of building that even the partisans of Greek simplicity must think well adapted to the picturesque scenery^ and moun- tainous wildness of the surrounding coun- try. This, whether well or ill-founded, was the opinion of the present Count d'Egfryd, who thought that the various sculptures indicative of ancient supersti- tion^ which were dispersed through the several parts of the edifice, and the innu- merable rclicks of feudal independence, and the trophies of victory, both in the field and chace, which his ancestors had honourably obtained, and which were pro- fusely scattered through the apartments, D 2 were. ::s-- 52 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. were, if not ornamental, at least allowable?. The mind was, unavoidably, led to associ- ate with them atchievements of chivalry, feats of courage, habits of virtue, and the observance of religious duties. Nor did he apprehend a charge of an application of false ornament, in combining with the antique and arabesque decorations of ruder times, what Grecian elegance has taught us in the fine arts, what modern science can supply to increase and heighten cur comforts, and what Parisian luxury has devised to please the eye, indulge the touch, or promote voluptuousness. After passing through an ancient arch- way, the remains of a tbrtified watch-tower, and in which might still be perceived the loop-holes, out of which the besieged shot their weapons, and the apertures, known in architecture by the term machicolations, throuoh THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 53 tliroiigh which they poured boiling water and scalding pitch on the besiegers, a long, broad and winding, avenue appeared. This avenue conducted through a thick wood of loft V trees to the front of the chaie-iu, which was in an extensive and rocky plain, though partly concealed from xV,^ view of those appVoachin;^, bv several widely- spreading oaks, that had now resisted the rage of three hundred winters. The front, still retaining a few speci* meiiS of barbarous fcrtiPiCation, and pre- senting to the view nuinerous ornaments of Kuni(k invention, was giaiid, and per- haps sublime. Huge balusters, an em- battled top, with deep mouldings, gro- tesque vases on the pilasters, some pin- nacles nobly emerging, straight piirapets, and cupolas m-ich resembling Ottoman rainarets, all tended to give it the appear- D 3 ^ ance 54 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. ance of extreme age, massy strength and venerable solemnity. A ^vhimsical but not iinpleasing application of some politer de- corations, such as Roman eagles, Persian statues, and cariatides, which appeared in several parts of the structure, served at once to gratify the eye and amuse the mind. The chateau was built of a reddish free- stone, which contributed no small portioi* of romance to its character ; and it was of a height to excite wonder, if not to in- jure proportion. A noble flight of white marble steps conducted to the principal door of this baronial palace, and under the fronton was the motto, not less haughty than independent, " Scion mon vouloir ct franc arhitre/' in golden and Gothick cha^ racters. The door, which was twelve feet in height, and proportionably broad, was placed THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. bO placed in a magnificent porch, that gradu- ally diminished as it receded, and of which the sides were adorned with slender columns^ (of exquisite delicacy and admirable work- manship) forming various arches over head. The porch led to the grand hall, which was lofty and spacious even to grandeur, and of which the windows were formed of stained glass of every colour, producing an inexpressibly rich effect. The clusters of little shafts, and the intervening mould- ings, not less regular than complicated, that supported the glass, gave to the whole an appearance of peculiar lightness and elegance. Around the hall, the floor of which was one superb mosaick, and of which the fur- niture was composed of cedar and crimson velvet, there was a number of slender columns surmounted by arches, filled up D 4 from •^6 THE MYSTERIOUS IIAND. from the spring to the summit with beau- tiful tracery work. In the windows the stained glass presented several pictures ciiieiiy clio^en hem the Pentateuch. In one place was seen Moses in the rushes^ sa\ ed by Pharaoh's daughter. In another the mur- der of Abel ; and in a third place the at- tempted seduction of Joseph by Potiphar's wife. There were some subjects of these paintings founded on the traditions of the Swiss. Among the rest was the famous story of William Tell, and a delineation of the victory gained in 1315 at Morgarton, over Leopold, Archduke of Austria, by the inhabitants of the three forest towns, head- ed by Hugo, surnamed the Haughty, the first Count of the house of Egfryd. Here Hugo appeared, compared with those about him, of gigantick size, moun- ted on a fierv char^er^ and with his two- handed THE MYSTEPJOL'S HAND. 57 handed sabre cutting off the head of Ru- pert of Gascoigne Hugo's horse was com- pletely enclosed with steel armour^ which protected even his ears. Thousands of plates seemed rivetted together to form the impenetrable covering. Hugo himself carried an iron helmet sur- mounted by a plume of black feathers. H^s equipment was complete. At his left were a javelin and battle-axe, and at his right a hatchet and a Innce. These were so artificially disposed, that neither his nor his horse's movements seemed in the least degree impeded by them. His legs and feet were defended by greaves, his face by a beaver, his thighiby cuisses, his hands by gauntlets, his arms by brassets, his back by a guard due reine, and his l^re >st by a gor- get, and over a4 those he wore a surcoat of cloth of gokl^ embroidered with armo- u 5 rial 58 TTfE MYSTERIOUS RAND. rial bearings. From the front of his saddle was suspended that sort of shield termed a rondache, and to his greaves were attached enamelled spurs^ the rowels of which were several inches in diameter, and formed of large spikes. Rupert, whose head he was cutting off, was equipped with ^liaubergeon or shirt of mail, which, though steel, avail- ed not against the mighty force of Hugo's arm. These pictures could not be touched ; approach to them was denied by the height of the windows, and therefore, minute criticism being impossible, it was probable that they appeared to have more merit than perhaps they really possessed. Be this as it might, their effect was striking in the extreme. The sides of the hall, and the columns that surrounded it, were adorned with sculp- tures. THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 59 tures, in the Saracenick style, of various military engines : and here might be seen^ in marble, every kind of armour and every instrument of war, known to our ancestors, and, among the rest, in proper arrange- ment., and copied with infinite exactness, the ancient war-chariot, armed with hooks and sithes, mangonels, tripgets, and war- wolves, all engines for throwing stones, scaling-ladders, moving castles, and batter- ing boats. Here likewise were to be seen bows, slings, standards, casques, spears, pikes and targets ; and with these w^ere in- terspersed, in capacious disorder, some grotesque figures playing on different in- struments of music. The fire-place in this great hall was an immense hearth, on which nothing but wood was burned, and round which the inhabitants of the chateau frequently sat in D Q winter. 60 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. winter. It was decorated with a variety of sculptures^ and several pieces of mosaick, representing the tools of masonry known in the fourteenth century, and the sacred implements used in the Romish church. Here were trowels, hammers, rules and plummets; and here were likewise fonts, bells, sprinklers, mitres, canopies and or- gans. Over the fire-place was a painting on copper of an immense size, by the ce- lebrated Francesco Alhano, of a prospect in Switzerland. In this painting the master had, with adn\irable skill, introduced nearly all the scenery of the Pays de Vaud, from the Lake of Geneva to those of Yverdun and Morat. Mont- Jura, which separates it from Franclie-Comte, was to be seen at a distance, and even a portion of the de- solate and sterile Le Chahlais was intro- duced, to contrast with the rich plantations and THE 'mysterious HAND. Cl and exuberant ve2:etation of the fore- ground. To match this picture, one of equal size, at the opposite side of the hall, represented the grand tournament held by Philip the August on the pains of Pic- ardy. The hall that I have been describing, %vas lighted at night by sundry lamps, held in the hands of bronze statues, and it led to a noble banquetting-room, the windows of which were lancet-shaped, and of which the floor was a chef cVanrcre o^ twX. It was a mosaick pavement of a '.quare shape, with a deep border of the richest pattern. Mouldings of different colours surrounded the border, within which v/as described a purple circle. In the four angles formed between the circle and the border, were represented a ship, a horse, an eagle, and a stag. Within the circle was a represen- 5 tation <52 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. tation of Attila, king of the Huns, attend- ed by Walamir the Ostrogoth, and an army of Scythians, consecrating the sword of Mars. Pagan superstition had given a divine origin to this famous sword, which was here seen on the top of an immense altar, or rather pile of faggots, round which the blood of numberless victims taken in battle, formed a broad and dismal current. The sides and columns of the banquet- tinsf-room, which was furnished in blue and gold, were still more si perbly orna- mented with sculpture than tho^e of the hall. Its roof was composed of the seg- ments of six several spheres, the whole forming a steady support to the super- structure. On each of these segments was painted a chosen classical piece. On one was re- presented the story of Vertumnus and Po- mona, THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 63 mona, ^vith four boys playing around them, being allegorical representations of the seasons. On another were the three Graces sacrificing to Hymen, and Cupids presenting different emblems of love. On the third was Venus introducing Helen to Paris, and around them were various sym- bols of joy, happiness, and constancy. Oa the fourth was Andromache, attended by the Trojan matrons, invoking Minerva for the safety of Troy. On the fifth was Me- dea delivering the soporiferous herbs to Jason, by means of' which he was to over- come the Dragon, v;ith allegorical repre- sentations of Fame, Victory, Peace and Plenty. And on the sixth were Minerva and Apollo entreating Jupiter to send back Justice to the world, that she mio-ht restore the golden age, and Jupiter's re- fusal. It 64 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. It was scarcely possible to resist the sen- timents of enthusiasin that thisbanquetting- room excited. Recollections of chivalry and romance were inseparably associated with it. Here, thought Jnlia as she entered it, have knis^hts and ladies often assembled. Here the young warrior, cased in steel, and vowing eternal fidelity, knelt to his mis- tress, who, placing a ribbon or a bracelet round his neck, bade him acquire glory and deserve her. How often, said she, have these walls resounded with the haughty tones of independent barons ! How often have they echoed the amorous and the heroick strains of feudal minstrelsy ! How often reverberated the direful clangor of opposing arms ! Between the hall and the banquetting- room was the grand staircase, on which no less art had been bestowed than was con- spicuous THE MYSTKRIOUS HAND. 65 splcuoLis in the rest of the building. The oak that had been employed in its con- struction was now almost black with age. Kverv other part of the chateau was in an cc[nal style of splendour, and beautified with ornaments in nowise inferiour to those that have been described. The chapel, which la\ in a retired part of the building, was, like most other Go- thick places of worship, formed in imita- tion of a grove of trees. In this intention the architect had perfectly succeeded. Its floor was a tessellated pavement of black and violet-coloured marble. Over the altar was a monumental shrine, enriched with a multiplicity of delicate decorations, and a prodigality of florid spire-work. The choir, the screen behind the altar, the oratory-, the episcopal throne and the tabernacle. C6 THE M\STERICR»S IIAKD. tabernacle^, \vere in the same laboured atid complicated style. The canopy of the last %vas of massy silver. The great .eas-tern and western \vindovvs spread their marble ramifications in pro- fuse variety, and were embellished with pictures of St. Jiule with a club, St. James the Less v^ith a fuller's pole, St. Simon with a saw, St. Paul with a sword, St. Thomas with a lance ; and various subjects from the Apocalypse. To produce the illusion of a grove, the columns of the chapel (that were thickly planted along the nave and aisles), though small, were split into delicate flusters of slight marble rods, which rising in pointed arches, twined, and doubled, and convol- ved, with endless intricacy and apparent fragility ; and at length terminating among spindling THE MYSTERIOL'S HAND, 67 spindling pinnacles and innumerable branches^ were finally lost in the nice lace- work of the lofty and variegated roof. About the centre of the chapel were some larger columns, having ribs and bosses on their sides, and faced with a cir- cular series of zig-zag indentations. Round the smaller ones a spiral groove passed from the bottom to the top, while a deli- cate net seemed to overspread the whole. The sides of the chapel were adorned with what architects term the embattled frette, with various escutcheons of arms, with foliage and animals, and here and there with a mezzo-relievo of some devout ceremonv. The little li^ht that entered was coloured by the stained glass through which it passed, and a sacred and myste- rious gloom hung on every object witliin this consecrated place. The fi8 THE MYSTERIOUS llA^SD. The whole was regular, beautiful and solemn, and never, perhaps, since the davs of Druid devotion, was there a spot better calcidated for the offices of religion, which more happily accorded with sentiments of piety, or which more pov,'erfulIy excited holy awe and enthusiastick veneration. The chateau, in all its other parts, was abundantly e\ten:sive, perfectly commo- dious, minutely elegant, and em.incntly grand. As when a prince described in some fairy tale, after waridering lor many days in quest of adventure.-, throuoh sterile and uninhabited tracts, discovers, on a sudden, a magnificent palace and delicious gardens, created for his si'atification by the mauick power of his tutelary necromancer; so with little less surprise, and with nearly as much 2)kaoure, our travellers first vie^ved the THfi MYSTERIOUS HAND. 69 the chateau and its demain. They felt an indescribable 'emotion of wonder, admira- tion and delight ; to which, in the mind of the innocent Julia, was added a mingled feeling of enthusiasm and tenderness, for Julia was young, pious and sentimental. CHAP, 70 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. CHAP. IV. La tendre hypocrisie aux yeux pleins de douceur : Le cicl est dans ses yeux, Tenfer est dans son cocur. A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind, A lover's ears will hear the lowest gound. When the suspicious head of theft is stopt. Love's feeling is more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockled snails. And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes Heaven drowsy with the harmony. Benedetto sia M giorno, e'l mese, e'l anno, E la stagione, e'l tempo, e'l ora, e'l punto, E"l bel paese, e'l loco, ov' io fui giunto Da duo begli occhi, che legato m' hanno. E benedetto il primo dolce afFanno, Ch' i' ebbi ad esser con Amor congiunto ; E'l arco, e le saette, end' i" fui punto ; E le piaghe, ch' infin' al cor mi vanno. I FEAR I have been tedious in the foregoing descriptions, but I live retired from the %vorld;, and know little of the publick taste. Judging of others feeling by my own, I have THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 71 have indulged in a minuteness, which, were I younger, I should not probably have hazarded. Oiu age is prone to verbosity; but let me not be charged with a wi^^h to enlarge my history by useless digression. In this re.>5pect I shall never err intention- ally. My book, without any extraneous matter, will be, perhaps, too bulky to be terminated by me; '' My soul," in the words of the Scripture, " draweth nigh to the grave." The finger of death beckons to me, and the awful summons must be obeyed; but if allowed to breathe for a few months longer, I shall, I hope, be able to complete my task. I have now lived threescore years and twelve. Ah I within this period what vicissitudes have I not experienced, what pains have I not felt, what sorrows borne, what miseries endured ! And how few have been my pleasures, how short 7 2 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. short my comforts ! The retrospect pre- scnts a black and melancholy picture of hopes disappointed^ misfortunes unmerit- edj kindness ill requited, and labours un- rewarded. And shall I now be accused of that meanest of offences — book-making ? At the base thought my ancient blood pours in rapid currents to these furrowed cheeks, and my feeble limbs tremble with indignant agitation. No, I write from a principle of duty, from a feeling of justice, and from a hope of being useful. Never, never could I lend my name or my pen to cheat or to deceive society, under the promise of amusement or instruction. It may be necessary to explain the mo- tives that induced the Count to invite Theodore to the chateau. It seems Mr. Bolton had benevolently projected a plan for the authosH . advancement in life, which. THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 75 %vhich, to be carried into effect, required an interview with him. The plan was to take Theodore with him to England, where his appearance, joined to Mr. Bolton's ex- postulations, might soften, if not remove the resentment of the grandfather, General Dalbert. In order to prevent any objec- tion that pride, or a spirit of independence miicht start a":ainst accepting: favours from a stranger, Mr. Dalbert was to be invited to finish the education of Julia, and to become her father's secretarv at two hundred pounds a-venr. On these terms it was hoped he would not object to enter into their family. So intent was the worthy man to execute this project, that he determined to revisit Bourdeaux on the fourth day after his departure from it. There was no possi- bility of diverting him from his purpose, nor of frustrating it. Mr. Bolton must VOL. I. i: sec 74 THE MYSTEniOUS HAND. see Theodore, and Julia must accompany her father. Their crafty ho3t, sensible of this, and apprehensive lest some accident might de- lay their return to the chateau, undertook, with a})parent good humour, to eflisct the desired meeting, without rendering a de- parture from St. Uldrich necessary. What was more easy } It was only to bring Theodore thither, which, the Count pro- tested, nothing but forgctfulness had pre- vented him from attempting before. To .. this he added, with seriousness and an air of self-conviction, that a man endowed with more estimable qualities than Mon- sieur Dalbert he had never known. Some other expressions of kindness and esteem followed, that left not a doubt on the minds of his auditors of his regard for their fcivourite. The TilR MYSTEJirOUS flAND. 75 The Count had met Theodore at Mr. Bolton's in Bourdeaux, and had with a jea- lous eye observed Julia's partiality to hirn. In Egfryd's malignant heart this were sufficient to excite animosity; but another and more irritating motive existed, one that touched him in the tendcrest point ; one that wounded both his weakness and his pride. This was a severe criliqiie written and published by Mr. Dalbert, on a collection of the Count's poems that had appeared anonymously. The criliqiie, though just, possessed little mercy. It convicted the author of temerity and phlegm, and proved him to be utterly destitute of poetical ge- nius. Theodore, who wrote for subsist- ence, neither inquired nor cared whose work he reviewed, and by writing what he knew to be true, he hoped that he had vio- E 2 lated 76 THE MYSTFfRIOUR HAND. lated no duty. But the Count, feelin^ all the rage of an unsuccessful and insulted author, vowed vengeance against the cri- tick, and had actually identified Dalbert as his castigator when he met him at Mr. Bolton's. Hating him with more than ordinary rancour, he had treated him with more than ordinary attentioii, and Theodore, won by the manner, and flattered by the kindness of the treacherous Egfryd, la- mented the critique as the most unfor- tunate act of his life, secretly hoped he was not suspected to be the author of it, and solemnly resolved never to write an- other. The failure of the attempt to assassinate had now aggravated the hatred of the Count to a degree nothing short of abo- mination. What ! was he the employer cf THE MYSTERIOUS "7IAKD. t7 of those assassins ? Ah ! who but he con id have planned, with such precaution and in'as cowardly and villainous in the extreme, but the other exhausted the epithets of reprobation to express his horrour of the practice. He then, with a seemingly un- intentional transition, mentioned the cir- cumstance of a body having been found mortally wounded in the city. He de- scribed the wound, and the man, and the place where he had been found, and with a glance saw enough to convince him of the THE MVSTEKIOUS K.AND. 79 the hand that had directed the blow; but \^'ith all his art he could not satisfy his curiosity further. He soon afterwards expatiated with earnestness and eloquence on the charms of Miss Bolton. Ey this he hoped to ob- tain from his artless and unsuspicious com- panion some unguarded declaration. lie was not mistaken. Th.e name of Julia called forth all the attention and awaken- ed all the animation of Mr. Dalbert, who spoke of her with the softened tone, with the faltering accents^ with the decisive ad- miration of vehement passion. Never was woman so fair, never creature so feminine as Julia. His looks betrayed the feeling, his language the exaggeration of love. " These/' said he, '' are the sentiments of my reason. I speak of her in the cool- ness of my judgment. To her extraordi- E 4 nary 80 THE MYSTERIOUS liAJ^D. Jiary endowments, and not my partiality, is to be attributed the warmth of my lan- guage. Love for her I ought not and I do not feel/' — '' And why not ?'* interrupted the insidious Count. '' What inequality exists between you but that of property ? I hate and desoise the narrow and selfish principle, which inculcates a respect for wealth. I say it without flattery, I think you, Jyjondeur Dalbert, in every respect qualified to deserve her." — *' Ah !" uttered Theodore with a lengthened sigh, and the carriage stopped. It would be curious to pursue the Count's reflections during this conversa- tion. The honest unstudied words of his companion were doubtless in his sophisti- cated mind translated into the brutish language of the cold and sensual material- ist. Every human action, every humaa sentiment. THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 8 I sentiment, considered through the clouded prism of atheistical perversion, loses its brightness and its beauty, and presents only the indistinct and dusky outline of selfishness. Mr. Bolton received Theodore with the affectionate cordiality of a parent, Julia saw him and blushed. He, suspicious of his own sentiments, and doubtful of his resolution, determined to assume a dis- tance and coldness of manner towards her, which, when they now mef, he practised for the first time. She, unconscious of the motives that operated on his mind, and hurt by what she considered marks of indifference, was silent and unhappy. She endeavoured to call to her recollection any thing she had said or done, that might have occasioned this change in the only man she had ever seen whose friendship F. 5 she 8(8 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. she desired. But her endeavours were vain. At limes she would catch his eye ftxed on her with an expression of earnest admiration, and on these occasions, inex- perienced as she was, she felt and thought that she was not hated by him. This con- sciousness frequently tinged her cheek 'svith an unbidden rose. At other times, \vhen she spoke, so fixed and undivided was his attention, that he seemed as it were to suspend his respiration, lest even his breath should rob him of any portion of the sound. To reconcile these observa- tions with his formality and reserve when he chanced to speak to her, and with his apparent unwillingness to speak to her at all, baffled the powers of her sagacity. Now she feared he disliked her ; but this supposition, though afflicting while k continued, never disturbed her long. Again THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 83 Again she hoped he loved her, and while this opinion predominated, she was the happiest of human beings. Julia, innocent as she was susceptible, never for an instant entertained a suspi- cion that she was herself in love; and though she was sensible of lassitude and restlessness in the absence of Theodore, and of tranquillity and content in his presence, yet it never occurred to her to investigate the actual situation of her heart; nor, if she had, would she perhaps have ascertained the truth. But an ac- cident occurred shortly after his arri\a}, which fixed the sentiments of each UU'- alterably, and so strongly, that it was im- possible for either to doubt any longer the existence of a mutual attachment. He had entered the Dorick librarv, where, listless and absent, he sauntered E 6 about. 84 THE MY^TEHIOUS HAND. about, casting his eye over the maps and at the titles of the books, but it was an eye of vacancy. He was thinking of Julia. Suddenly a cry of distress reaches him. It is hers, and near to him. It proceeds from an open gallery close to where he stands. The eagle soaring over her nest, and seeing her callow young in danger, darts not with greater velocity for their defence, than Theodore now to pre- serve Miss Bolton. She had wished to read a book on an upper shelf, and one of the library ladders being already raised to it, she had mounted. She was employ- ed in reading this book, as she stood on the ladder, when Theodore entered, but by some accident it had slipped and fallen, and she with it. She was frightened and stunned, but not hurt. Theodore took her up. His counte- nance THK MYSTERIOUS HAND. 85 nance expressed an undissembled and af- fectionate kindness of inquiry, and iiis action was dexterously rapid. There was no seat near them, and she was pale and speechless. He placed her at a window. He supported her agitated frame with one handj with the other he took hold of hers. — '^ You are not much hurt, I hope ?'* said he softly and tremulously. '' My God^ how you tremble ! Ah ! be com- posed. But 1 feel no less alarm than yourself. Dearest Miss Bolton, let me have the pleasure of recalling your scat- tered spirits, of hearing from you that you are not injured/* Unconscious of what he did, he at the same time pressed her hand to his lips. A fiame unknown to him before darted through his bosom. The tremour of timid love shook his frame. His dark intelli- gent 8G THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. gent eyes gazed with unutterable tender- ness on her svlph-like form. Her face was overspread with a blush of the deepest red. Tier heart beat impetuously ; she tried to speak, but her accents, mild as the evening breath of infant zephyrs, expired in their own sweetness on her balmy lips. With a motion, compared with which the finger of a doting mother passed along the dimpled cheek of her sleeping infant is harsh and sudden, she attempted to with- draw her hand. A timorous and inquir- ing glance, not less quick than a sun- beam shot through the etherial void, in- formed her of the ardour and the pertur- bation that prevailed in the manly coun- tenance which was still fixed on hers. Love and happiness, timidity and respect", 'vave to it a character that caught her rma- gination and touched her sensibility. Their situation. THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 87 situation was new to each^ and interesting to both. '' Mr. Dalbert, pray/' murmured she in a voice scarcely audible, and the at- tempt to ren^ove her hand was renewed — '' I — ." He, urged by hope, led by pas- sion, or influenced by fear at an action, the grace and delicacy of which were such, that to the coarseness of common feeling it would not have communicated the in- tention to remove her hand, threw him- self on one knee. His was not common feeling : the touch of love is a mvsterious conveyance of soul : the sphere of sensa- tion improves as it expands from brute per- ception even to the confines of intellect : the grossness of the material root, of the physical centre, becomes gradually less base and more subtile, as the circle of re- finement enlarges towards the empire of mind. 83 THE MVSTERIOUS HAND. mind, until at length it volatilizes into ab- solute spirit and perfection. At this action, if action it may be called, that was rather the sensitive hesitation of a disordered temperament, Theodore, no longer master of his conduct, threw himself on one knee. — '' Have I had the misfortune to offend you, adorable Julia ?" said he. *' You see before you the most enraptured, the most miserable of mortals. From that fatal moment when I first saw you, I have felt a passion till then a stranger to me. In vain I ha\e since struggled to suppress a sentiment that I knew would embitter my existence, but each succeeding day has strengthened my attachment and confirmed my mij^ery. Yes, loveliest of women, I confess, and I am proud to confess, that I feel for } ou a sentiment, more pure, more exalted, than any that man has hitherto ever known ; THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 89 known ; a sentiment of inextinguishable and unexampled love. Banish me from your presence. Kill nie with a frown ; but I must love you." His manner pre- cluded the possibility of doubting his sin- cerity, and he again dared to press his lips upon her hand, and to squeeze it within h'3. At the same moment a tear of ten- derness, distilled by the alchemy of love, from ardent and unsophisticated passion, dropped on it with a heat that penetrated to her soul, a moisture that softened her to the heart. If she had been before disturbed, her agitation now became excessive. She had lately felt hesitation, she at this instant trembled with apprehension. By edu- cation and by habit led to the rigid tliat rejects, rather than the liberal tl^.at allows a slight personal familiarity, her prejudices all 90 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. all whispered to her to affect scorn or in- dignation, but her incipient attachment, her complexional sensibility^ her artless- ncss and her inexperience;, were antago^ nists too potent against prudery and pride, against the stupid formalities of ceremony, and the doubtful dictates of decorum, which with feeble eiTort stru^j^gled in her mind. — " Mr. Daibert, it seems to me," said she with a graceful confusion, '' that is, I — I think we are both very foolish. Will you permit me to consider whether or not I have been hurt ? I am really so confounded with the ladder and you, that I hardly know what I am doing or saying.'* Her blush which had, at first, overspread her whole countenance, and which was as much a confusion of the senses as a mo- tion of the blood, was now confined to her cheeks. The blueness of her eyes was THE MYSTER.OUS flAND. 91 Avas less concealed by their jealous lids, and a^^'^-in she stood self-collected, smiling; Avirh the s^veetnc^:•s of youthrul Ilebe. Theodore had relinquished her hand and was about to answer, wlien the entrance of the Abbe Le Flos, the librarian, terminated their conversation. CHAP. 92 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. CHAP. V. •My conscience, sick, No quiet knows. Crimes he^p'd on crimesj present A horrid group. E vede V hoste, e tutta la famiglia, E chi a finestre, e chi fuor ne la via, Tener levari al ciel gli occhi, e le ciglia, Gome r Eclisse, 6 la Cometa sia. Un carro apparecchiossi, ch' era ad use D' andar scortendo, per quei cieli intorno. Ech* aguzzar conviengli arabe le ciglia S' indi la terra, e*l mar, ch' intorno spande, Discerner vuol. The European, travelling, indolently se- cure, through Hindostan or Bengal, look- ing with delight at the spreading beauties- of the rising sun, and inhaling the odorous freshness of an eastern morning, while a fierce and famished tiger, couched within a neighbouring thicket, glares a baleful look and prepares unseen to spring upon hiiHv- THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. $3 hiiYij is as little apprehensive of his fate, as Theodore was of the danger that now awaited him. A deep and deadly hate filled the breast of the hvpocritiral and ferocious Count. His thoughtless victim lay defenceless within his grasp. The poisoned bowl, the murderous stiletto, the thousand horrid shapes in which in- ventive violence can picture the ghastly image of death, passed in Cjuick succession and perpetual recurrence through his cruel mind. But his w^as not ordinary re- venge, and as much as he exceeded com- mon villains in atrocity, so much the closer resemblance was his vengeance to assume to demoniacal malignity. To inflict death were mercy, to rack with corporeal suffer- ing were lenient compared with the tor- lure that was conceived in the hellish ima- gination 94 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. gination of the sj)ecioiis smiling Count Egfryd. The powers of his mind great and com- prehensive, the resources of his fortune princely and almost inexhaustible, his cau- tion and his courage, his ingenuity and his craft, were all to be employed on this bar- barous conception. lie had suggested to his victim the possibility of an alliance with Miss Bolton, and he endeavoured, with unceasing and dexterous insinuation, not only to excite in his breast the passion of love, but to inspire him with the hope of a union with her. Wiien this passion should be fixed, which it now was, and this hope encouraged into confidence, then was he to snatch the unsuspicious Theodore from all his joys, to place him in sad and solitary captivity, to taunt him with the degraded THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 95 degraded situation and criminal submission of the partner of his soul, to display the triumph of seduction in the debasement of the virtuois Julia, and to leave him in hopeless mi^xry, the \vretched inhabitant for life, and a protracted life, of a loath- some dungeon. To effect this the Count already posses- sed such means as never before v>ere had by man — such means as efrectuallv barred the remotest possibility of detection — and such as, were the supernatural power of Satan his, could not be rendered more efficient. The animosity of the Count tov.ards Theodore was not such as malice or injury produces among the generality of man- kind. It was a loathing, an antipathy, that rankled in his heart, inflamed his impa- tience, and gave to his mind the raging and 96 THE MYSTERIOL'S HAND. and restless fever of the damned ; not un- mixed, however^ with ebullitions of dia- bolical joy as his projected vengeance ripened towards execution. He envied him for his success as an author. He dis- pised him for his poverty. He abhorred his virtues, and he dreaded the effect of his person and manners on Julia. To be criticised, to have the edifice of his lite- rary labours dismantled and demolished, were cause enough for his inextinguishable hatred, but to this to add the intolerable presumption of becoming his rival and preventing his most poignant pleasure, was to incur the thunders of his utmost wrath. Denying and not believing the existence of his imm.ortal soul; despising the blessed doctrine of a future state; he saw in death only the natural and necessary termination of animal functions^ and in life THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. OT life he sought for nothing but what con- tributed to his personal gratification. Utterly indifferent to him was the fate of all the rest of his species; their happi- ness gave him no satisfaction, their misery excited no commiseration, their death produced no concern, no remorse. Self- ishness alone governed his conduct. To this might be ascribed all the actions of his life. He affected amiable manners, because the respect and affection of his acquaintances and relations were necessary to his happiness. He laboured in literarv composition, because this was the basis on which he strove to ere^t the structure of his posthumous fame; and fame besought, because his vanity was indulged by hoping that his name would be handed down to the latest posteritv. He was led to intriorue VOL. I. F by 98 TflE MYSTERIOUS HAND. by irresistible temperament ; but every object of his passion bad been invariably destroyed by him. Their ruin seemed as necessary to his depravity, as their favours to his propensities. The gratification of his revenge was with him a principle of inOexible severity. No injury, no slight, had he ever received, that he did not remember, and that he did not punish; no submission could soften, no contrition appease his vindictive temper ; and even in the course of his soft and se- dulous attentions to the unhappy victims of his lubricity, every mortification, every invective, every frown, delays, disappoint- ments and oppositions, were all treasured in his deep and retentive memory, though he should smile with seeming inattention, or soothe with apparent humility, and were THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 9^ were all followed by an inevitable and dreadful retribution. He carried on a secret warfare against mankind. No moral tie bound him, no kindred relations influ- enced him; he lived for himself alone; but he knew that the open indulgence of his appetites was incompatible with the re- gulations of society, and that therefore it would not be allowed. For this reason he hated social order and all its members^ for who could have a community of feeling or interest with him, with an atheist, a be- i ng who would have sacrificed half his fellow- men to ensure a pleasure or obtain security ? Ilis opinions, his faith, his wishes, being all proscribed, he was necessarily a crea- ture of imposture and mystery. Pie was virtually an outlaw^ and every human be- ing whom he saw, lie considered as a minister of justice or a foe, whose duty or F 2 whose 100 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. "whose interest it was to expose his machi- nations and to punish his misdeeds. Alas ! what is man ! this unhappy being, from perverseness of constitution, from profligacy of habit, and from duplicity and fraud long practised, seemed to have en- tirely lost the character of our nature, and was a rare and horrible example of the effect of passions indulged, and depravity unrestrained. To such an enormity of vice had his lust of pleasure, his indulgence in unsanctioned gratification, his detestation of m.oral re- straint, all joined to an acute sensibility of shame, carried him, that he now no longer considered any woman w^orth the con- quest, any object worth the fruition, where the one was not separated from him by propriety, law or honour, and the other inhibited by nature, justice or humanity. His THE MYSTERIOUS KAND. 101 Tlis native pride^ the stubbornness of his character, the freedom of his education, all revolted against restriction, all prompted to an infraction of commandment. The Ir.-ws of God he derided, those of man he despised, and his turbulent disposition, his active mind, found employment and indul- gence only in vitious, inhuman and abo- minable pursuits. People of virtue, sons of benevolence, daughters of purity, respectable matrons, and constant husbands, frown not with disapprobation, look not with incredulity — such is the history of delinquency ; and be assured that in the progress of criminal pursuits, a ]o\e of wickedne-s is invariably acquired, and that the concluding service of vitious repletion requires the horrible seasoning of impending infamy and dan- ger. It is thus with needy villains, with F 3 irresolute^ 102 THE MYS'i'EKIOUS HAND. irresolute, and shallow^ and silly repro- bates; but what must be the accumulated horrours of moral perversity joined to con- summate deceit^ matchless intrepidity, su- periour talent and untarnished reputation ! Count Eg fry d was in truth the most dan- gerous of mankind. It may rank among the phenomena of ethick philosophy, that great mental en- dowments should be found conjoined with extreme flagitiousness, but I am a narrator of facts^ and trouble myself little about the surprise or disbelief of others. Count Egfryd was such as I have described him. Though a married man, he indulged for Julia a passion, compared with which every other attachment he had felt before was "weak and transient. He burned, he ex- pired for her. He determined that she should fallj and that Theodore should perish ; THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 103 perish; but the fate of the latter was de- layed for a short time by a slight indispo- sition which confined him to his chamber: meanwhile, the innocence of the former '^va3 to be exposed to a new and dangerous experiment. Plain people think only of simple means to effect theiv purposes. It is for the bold, and greatj and wicked, to hazard extrava- gant enterprizes, and exhibit the resources of daring novelty. The Count above all other men possessed eccentricity of pro- ject, and fancifulness of speculation. They well agreed with the darkness of his cha- racter. Neither in his motive:, his actions nor his ends, was he to be read ; a»^d in pro- portion as his plans were extraordinary and incredible, he considered them well laid. That which his active mind projected F 4 against i04f THE MYSTERIOUS HAKD. against Miss Bolton will support this as- sertion. In the whole circle of scientifick enter- prize, there is no victory over ignorance and inertness so admirable or so curious as that of aeronautick navigation. It is an invention beyond the ordinary compass of the human intellect. The experiments of Montgolfier were at this period the subject of universal wonder and inquiry. The Count was among the first who improved upon the original idea by filling a silken globe, not with smoke, but with a gas as elastick as common air, yet considerably less heavy. The consequence of employ- ing a globe so filled is, that being speci- fically lighter than the same bulk of the atmosphere which surrounds us, it rises in it until it arrives at that region where the air TflE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 105 air about it is nearly of the same degree of rarity with the gas. If the globe be mad-e very large, it is clear that it will be able to lift to a great height a weight at- tached to it. The Count's experiments proved a con- stant source of interest and amusement to the visitors at the chateau. He^ always original, and always wicked, determined to convert his last improved balloon into an instrument for the seduction of Miss Bolton. However whimsical or absurd this may appear to the unsophisticated mind, such, nevertheless, was his intention. Herein he was prompted chiefly by the difficulty he experienced in finding op- portunities to speak to her alone. Besides this young lady, her father, and Mr. Dalbert, there was other company at St. Uldrich. The Marquise de Sagon^, F J and 106 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. and her daughter; the Vicomtedu Gressy; the Chevalier Le Paing ; Madame la Ba- ronne Monesier and her daughter, and the old Bishop of Autun. There were the Count's three unmarried sisters, Le Che- valier D'Arpens, the Abbe Le Flos, and * four officers of the French dragoons from Bourdeaux. A more polished or agree- able society was nowhere to be found. Julia, to whom French manners were little known, and French gaiety was always wel- come, entered into their amusements with unqualified delight. She insensibly caught the vivacity of her new associates, and was in a short time the very soul of their union. She projected parties of pleasure, and from every such party she banished, by the vinaffected chearfulness of her temper, and the playful effusions of her wit, all possible approaches of languor or insipidity. She prattled THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 107 prattled in French with a foreign, graceful incorrectness, that charmed her auditors; and she often laughed herself at the blun- ders she committed. The Comfesse D'Egfryd, like many other women of family in France, had never left the convent in which she had been edu- cated, until her marriage. She was then eighteen, and in accepting the hand of the Count, she had been prompted not so much by partiality to hiin, as by her im- patience ofmonastick restraint. It might be said that nature had intended her for a coquette, and r.o education could have rendered her either amiable or constant. A flow of spirits that seemed inexhaustible, and a love of pleasure that was not to be satiated, joined to readiness o^ wit and fluency of language, rendered her soon the chief favourite of the fashionable and y G frivolous. 103 ^THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. frivolous. Vanity appeared to be her chief foible, but intrigue was, in reality, her ruling passion,, and intrigue alone em- ployed all her serious moments. At once volatile and ardent, her attach- ments were many and criminal ; but she had art equal to her depravation, and she had sufficient address to conceal both. From the world she concealed them, but her husband was not to be deceived. He had read her disposition before their marriage, and her subsequent conduct, which con- firmed his opinion of her, neither surprised nor disLHibed him. He was indifferent to her person, and while she continued to occupy the station of a woman of distinc- tion, and to preserve the character of a woman of fashion, he cared little if she forfeited the reputation of a woman of virtue. She THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 109 She was small but well made, and she had the prettiest legs and feet in the world. Her face, though not handsome, was so playful and so intelligent, that without being able to discover a single beauty in it, every one was pleased with its expres- sion. Her manners had little of that ele- gance which expresses dignity and grace, but they had much of that ease and pro- priety which an early and a continued as- sociation with the French noblesse always teaches= With all her chearfulncss and all her pleasantry, the Comtes&e D'Egfryd had never been loved. Her gallants had been men of the highest rank, w'lom her vanity had prompted her to enroll in her train, and who from complaisance, or mere tesoin (VagiVj had appeared about her for a season ; or handsome vacant and dissi- pated men, whom she herself had dismissed in- 110 TPIE MYSTERIOUS HAND. in a few weeks; but the Chevalier D'Ar- pens, the friend of her husband, was the only individual among all her admirers, who wished to be retained, and whom she wished to retain. He was almost as pro- fligate as the Count, but he wanted his talents and his courage. He was neither so ^asrreeable nor so danorerous. The Che- yalier found in the Comtesse a mistress to his mind, and from pure indolence he dreaded the trouble of obtaining another. The Comtesse saw in the Chevalier a lover, less insipid than any of those she had dis- missed, a lover whose attentions to her were pleasing, and whose personal and mental ac- complishments were deserving of her ad- miration. His age was thirty-five, his person was tall and graceful, and his face regular and handsome. The animation of his black 5 eyes THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. Ill eyes contrasted strangely, but not unbe- comingly^ with a listlessness in his man- ner and a languor, that sometimes sug- gested to those who observed him the ideas of collapse and debility. He spoke but seldom, and he rarely let his eves meet the looks of those with whom he convers- ed. He never laughed, and his smile was a grimace practised for the sake of fashion. His words were slow^ and without appear- ing to be studied, were invariablv arransfed with logical correctness and laconick pre- cision. He spoke just loud enough to be heard by every person with whom he hap- pened to be in company, but no louder; apparently he dreaded the exertion of even uttering a breath unnecessarily. His voice was full and clear. His attitude was seldom varied. Stillness was his charac- teristick. In his looks, his motions, and his 1 I 2 THE MYSTERIOUS WAND. his accents, the gentleman was unequivo- cally expressed, together with absolute traiiquillity ; and though silentand languid, he never appeared sullen, dull, or gloomy ; and unknown to him was every species of affectation. He could be eloquent when he chose ; his mud was enriched with va- ried and copious information ; and more than one v^oman ha 1 thought him fasci- nating. But his pr.jpensities, like tliose of the Count, v/ere vitious and perverse. His passions were violent; he was malig- nant; he was false; he was vindictive; and, like the Count, the indolent D'Arpens was an atheist. Every hour increased Julia's intimacy vf'ith the Count, her respect fov his talents, her admiration of his accomplish- ments, her regard for his seeming virtues. There was a charm in his tone and man- ners^ THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 113 ners, an unstudied eloquence in i-kis lan- guage^ an unction in his address, a softness in his looks, that she could not resist, and which she yielded to with pleasure. He, irritated at the difficulties that op- posed all his attempts to obtain a tete-d" iete with her, had recourse, at length, as I have said, to the air-balloon. The giddy Mademoiselle De Sagonij and the intrepid Mademoiselle Monesier had, each of them, already ventured to ascend with him in it to a height of fifty feet. A strong rope that was fastened to it, pre- vented the possibility of its rising higher. They exoatiated with habitual exaggera- tion, and affected raptures, on the plea- sures they had experienced, the sweet sinlslni^ of the heart during the ascent. the enchantii^g prospect from the great height, and the voluptuous softness of the airy 114 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. airy motion as they hung suspended. They even assumed some glory to themselves, for an achievement that marked the strength of their minds and the ardour of their curiosity. To other women they left the errours of an illiberal education, and the follies of unfounded fear. The gentle- men, on their part, were prodigal of their praises to the fair aeronauts. At some moments of emulation, or whim, or volatility, it passed through Julia's brain that she would likewise go into the air-balloon, but the thought al- ways brought with it a shuddering which she could not conquer. — '' Ah, Sir \" said she to Mr. Bolton, '' if I could but once have it to say that I had mounted in a bal- loon, how hap'^y I should be !" — '' My dearest girl, your ambition, I fear, is too soaring. Nature never intended you for situations THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 1 15 situations that require courage ; and though there may be no danger here, yet there is something in an attempt of this kind that might terrify even a man. " — " But, Sir/' observed the Count, *' might we not gratify Miss Bolton without the possibility of alarming her fears? The balloon can be brought as near to the ground as we please, and I can't see why she should not indulge herself, particu- larly as you would stand at the wheel- work which governs the rope, and would order it to be lengthened or shortened as she should direct." — '' It's very true. Count, and if Julia wishes it I have no objection." — '' My dear papa, let us go look at it; I wiil only ^tay in it an instant, and it shan't be higher than three or four {eet from the ground. I wish poor Mr. Dalbert was well enough to look at me." This ] 16 THE ?vI\STERIOUS HAND. This last expression did not escape the Conn I. He heard it with a smile, but he treasured it in the black register of his mind. The balloon was filled with gas, and the "boat was only two feet from the ground, when Julia, with a pallid countenance and palpitating heart, stepped into it with the Count. In a few minutes she lost all her fears, and requested she might be allowed to rise a few feet. Her father consented. The happiness of his Julia was ever the first of his wishes. By degrees she rose to twenty feet, then to twenty-five, to thirty, to thirty five, to forty, and even to fifty feet, v/hich was as high as either of the other two young ladies had vennired to ascend. What a triumph was Julians ! What joy filled her little heart ! She no longer had any apprehensions^ she came down THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 117 down in safety, and it was ngreed that she should ascend again, the next morning, before all the world. The Count, during the remainder of the day, stnii:>;gled to appear happy and con- tented. But his turbulent and vitious soul could not endure, much less enjoy, any scene of domestick felicity or virtuous re- pose. Julia was the divinity that he adored, but his adoration, as inconsistent as it was profane, tended only to her destruction. Her ruin was the object of his wishes, and the employment of his thoughts. His passion for her was equally criminal and uncontrollable. How dififerent from that which animates the bosom of the virtuous lover, who, in all things, studies the hap- piness and the honour of his mistress ? The peace and tranquillity of the gentle Julia were now in danger from a married man. 118 THE MYSTERIOUS Hand. man, a wicked seducer, who, not more sensual than cruel, sought to subdue her honour and betray her repose, and who preferred the external and inferiour at- tractions of her person to the more ex- quisite perfections of her mind. Ah ! innocent and too lovely Julia, the justness of your taste, which induced you to cultivate his acquaintance into inti- macy, the goodness of your heart, the can- dour and the purity of your mind^ the sensitive delicacy of your manners, all are but feeble, all, perhaps, insufficient, to guard you from the corrupt designs of a monster, whose riches give him an almost unlimited command over every physical energy of man, and over each of the king- doms of nature ; whose knowledge of the sciences affords all the means possible to human genius to effect his purposes; whose THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 119 whose deep and comprehensive under- standing contains a mine of invention ; whose tumulti^ous passions are row con- centered in one burning wish^ that of tri- umphing- over your virtue ; who knows no fear of God or man ; whose atheistical and atrocious principles prevent the pos- sibility of remorse or he .'"ration ; whose prudence never bleeps, whose arts are iu- scrutablcj and whose character is deemed good and amiable. Mny the pov/er that watches over unsuspecting innocence, and guards the chastity of your sex, shield you from the impending danger, anc' coruluct your steps from the abyss which now threatens to devour you 1 The Count had endeavoured, with se- dulous concern, to render the chateau at this period the centre of all the refined and elegant pleasures. He lavished his riches 120 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. riches and strained his invention to pro- cure attractions and create variety. There was nothing left for delicacy to seek, or voluptuousness to wish, nor was there any thing admitted which the most fastidious refinement could have rejected. Every sense was gratified with as much pleasure as it was capable of receiving, while the mind, excited by curiosity that was never allowed to slumber, was indulged and astonished with the most beautiful speci- mens of art, the noblest productions of genius, and the richest charms of nature. But what appeared most worthy of his magnificence, and most strikingly cha- racteristick of his grandeur and originality, was the air-balloon that I have mentioned. It had been constructed under his own directions. It was of immense size, and made entirely of silk. It was painted with the THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. ]'2 \ the richest colours. A net of purple silk' tfirough the air with extreme rapidity, and- not to be sensible of the motion ! How grand to float in silent majesty over the lofty habitations of the proud, which ap^ pear to our eyes, rendered philosophical: by our elevation; as humble as the lowly eottages of the poor ! How sublime to take in, at one view, mountains, rivers> plains and cities, and to have our horizon- extended far beyond the visual reach of G 5 zih 130 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. all other mortals ! How voluptuous to recline on velvet cushions in mid air, while ve are warmed by a summer sun, and fanned by zephyrs of true etherial origin ! Let me/' continued he, "prevail on you to banish your apprehensions, believe me they are quite unfounded." *' Oh !" exclaimed she, " let us descend immediately ! I am nearly dead with ap- prehension/' — " You will observe,*' said he, '' with what an easy motion we are ap- proaching to the plain ; in fifteen minutes we shall be on the ground. But I am really vexed to think that your unrea- sonable fears should deprive us of the most rational enjoyment in nature." — ** You speak like a courageous man/' re- plied she, dreading his contempt, *' and make no allowance for female timidity : but, in truth, I believe you are right. I am THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 151 am siire we are safe, and you may, if you please, descend more slowly. I have that reliance on your skill that I am persuaded there is no danger, but — " — '' With your permission, then,'' said he, " I will descend less rai^idi) ; and be assured that if I did not know a little delay would contribute to your gratification, which I prize above all other considerations, I should not pre- sume to indulge myself by delaying our debarkation for an instant." As he uttered these words, he took one of her hands in his, and, gently pressing it, he looked at her with tenderness. A blush of modesty immediate- ly suffused her expressive countenance. His words, his looks, and the pleasure that she always felt when sitting near him, joined to the intellectual luxury which her situation actually afforded, and on which he had eloquently expatiated, tend- G G ' ed 132 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. ed in a great degree to compose her mlnd^ and to enable her to speak with colkcted thoughts of the accident that had occurred. Such was her confidence in the judgment and activity of the Count, and such her dread of being despised by him, that she forced herself to appear pleased with her situation, and it was not long till she thought of the circumstance which had given her to the sky, without much ten- rour, and looked forward to the moment that was to restore her to the earth, with- out much impatience. The stillness of the air increased every moment, but still a gentle current wafted .them, almost imperceptibly, towards the Garonne—'' Now,'* said the Count, '' we have an opportunity of visiting that ro- •mantick little island in the river, which you have heard so often described as the sweetest THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 153 sweetest spot in France. If you permit me, I will navigate you to the very centre of it, and as there are innumerable boats traversing the water this fine dav, we can suffer no distress for an opportunity of returning. I undertake to supply you with a collation on the island, and we shall be able, with ease, to revisit the chateau before supper. This will add infinitely to the eclat of vour voyage, and will prove that if, at first, you had any fears, you possessed good sense enough to conquer them. I recommend this to you,'* con- tinued he, '' in the full persuasion that it can be effected with perfect security; and, I assure you, upon my honour, that yoti cannot possibly oblige me more than by giving your assent." If there were no other motive, this last assurance of the Count would, alone, have been 134 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. been sufficient to induce her to acquiesce. Accordinp^Iy it was determined that they should steer for the island. The wind was favourable, and with the assistance of the oars which the Count made use of, and the rudder which Julia bv his instructions governed, they proceeded in a direct and gentle course towards the place of their destination. The strangeness of her situation, the hurry of her thoughts, and her exertions to appear composed, had deprived Miss Bolton in a great measure of the faculty of reflection. Nevertheless she regretted her entrance into the balloon more than any other act of her life, and she thought of her father's distress with a feeling of agony ; but such was her facility of dis- position, such her fear of disobliging, such the gentle pliability of her manners, and such THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 135 such her desire to bestow contentment, (hat she could not summon courage enough to insist on an instantaneous de- scent. Besides, her curiosity and her am- bition were both artfully played upon by her insidious enemy. Every moment she appeared more re- conciled to her situation^ yet still she spoke of the uneasiness which her father would feel during her absence, with con- cern and alarm ; but her companion ridi- culed her distress with so much volubility and so much wit, that she was, at length, forced to admit that Mr. Bolton's meeting her at night unhurt, would more than compensate for any anxiety he might suffer until then. The current of air that had lately wafted them with gentle motion towards the river 136 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. river had now subsided. A youthful writer would say^ that the aerial deities seemed to have produced a universal calm, as if anxious to retain an invention that did honour to their empire, and desirous to * prolong the stay of their two illustrious visitors by a perfect and heavenly repose: and, perhaps, he w^ould add that the zephyrs, forbid to play upon the bosom and cheeks of the lovely Julia, now slum- bered among these charms. She, with a mind now harmonized to the magnificence of the scene, expected with calm submis- sion the moment when the Count should propose to her their descent. Relinquish^ ing his silken oai-s, and looking with air air of entreaty at his amiable friend, he asked her, and smiled as he spoke, if they should take their collation where they were ? THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 137 were? She nodded a doubtful, hesitating assent; when, with the rapidity of magick — but here I must pause. Can I, without repugnance, submit to the painful necessity of describing what my reason contemns, what my integrity detests? Alas! it is my peculiar lot to find my duty and my principles irrecon- cileably opposed. Who, with more im- patience, abhors a deed of darkness than I ? Who, with less pleasure, relates a tale of surprise or an incident of puerility ? But I must follow the dark obliquities of this monster. I have sworn to paint his infamy in the colours of truth, and I will perform my task. Whether he tries to delude with frivolity or frolick;, or to soar beyond suspicion in the flights of romance, 1 will pursue his wanderings, and detect his machinations. The display of his little and 138 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. and laborious arts, which now follows, will serve as a memorable proof that apparent absurdity of detail, may, by the accom- plished libertine, be employed at once to conceal and to promote extreme flagiti- onsness of design. Having, as I have said, seduced Miss Bolton into a tacit approbation of an aerial repast, with the rapidity of magick a little table, not visible before, appeared. This table, made of tortoiseshell and ivory, and embellished with imitations of ame- thyst and topar, was soon covered with delicious wines and sweetmeats from both the Indies, which with iced creams and lemonade, completed a collation, that from its richness and elegance, the small size, accurate proportion, and comprehensive variety of the service, the neatness of the ornaments, and the convenience and in- genuity THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 139 JTcnuity of the distribution, mi^ht be thought %vorthy of fairy hospitality. In the meantime a dew of perfumed water (which was contained in a gilt receiver under the balloon, and which could be discharged by pulling a silken string with- in the boat) sunk in imperceptible drops about the vehicle, while a small organ, concealed beneath the circular sopha, played several of Julia's favourite airs, whose countenance expressed unutterable astonishment and admiration. She tried to eat, and the Count protested that all was much improved in flavour by the voy- age to so pure a region. He even de- clared with vivacity that she looked like the goddess of Love, sipping nectar in the skyey mansions, and tasting the divine ambrosia. The repast finished, he removed all that had 140 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. had composed it, except some hermitage and ajar of water — '' It would be vain io deny," said he, after pressing her to take some wine, '' that this aerial excursion of ours was premeditated on my part. I have ravished you from the earth, which is un- worthy of you, to transport myself tc hea- ven in your society. I confess myself guilty of a fraud, but it was a fraud dicta- ted by a power that will be obeyed. You see before you a criminal, but a criminal that shall never again offend. If vou think him not entirely unworthy of forgiveness, say so before w^e descend, which will be immediately, and you will make him the happiest of mortals; but if you hearken to your justice rather than your clemency, then, indeed, shall I be for ever miserable. Yes, fairest and most amiable of women, I confess myself the guiltiest of men, if it be- THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 141 be a crime to adore you, and I appear be- fore you the most miserable of wretches if you must condemn me. You know the sincerity, the honesty of my disposition, you know how long I have combated the most ungovernable of passions under the veil of friendship and respect, but you do not know the flames that for some time past have consumed me, the disorder that now preys upon my constitution. Day after day I pass in anxious solicitude, or in society still more intolerable. The bosom of darkness receives my sighs, my pillow is the depository of my tears.'* Here sighing and shedding a few tears upon the hand of Julia, which he at the same time offered to press to his lips, the dissimulating Count Egfryd appeared in an agony of conflicting passions. Julia, at language so unexpected and so alarming. 14^ TIIR MVSTKRIOUS HAfiD. alarming, stared with amazement. Her eyes, at once repellent and inquiring, were fixed upon him. Pride, surprise, and trepidation, deprived her for a mo- ment of utterance. She had never before been insulted, she had never before wished to possess the language of reproach, or lamented her feebleness of invective. In her indignation she forgot the adventures of the morning, and even the existence of the balloon. She felt that her situation required decision. She withdrew her hand with instinctive promptitude, and in a tone of dignitv and firmness forbade a re- petition of the oficnce. She would have been eloquent, but her thoughts were too tumultuous and too rapid to be expressed with much order. '* Sir, Count Egfryd, is this your friend- ship r Is your attachment to my father to be THE MYSTERIOUS HAKD. 145 he shown by your contempt for me ? Is your sincerity to be marked by treachery ? Your kindness by outrage ? You are a married man, the Comiesse is my friend, and I am alone; never did I give you cause to suspect my honour or my deli- cacy, and this, Sir, 1 must consider a base advantage of brutality over weakness. Politeness may condemn my words, but virtue abhors your action, and though I should even violate good-breeding, stili will I assert your turpitude. My God ! my God ! is it possible you could inten- tionally have torn me from my father, in order to expose me to this affront ! Sir, I hate your purpose, despise your means, and now loathe your presence; and .** — '' Miss Bolton, Mademoiselle Julia, your pardon for a moment. Be a little less warm. Do not increase our misunderstanding by unnecessary Hi THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. unnecessary vehemence. It is true I am a married man. It is certain I love you. It is demonstrable that I have encountered trouble and peril to have an opportunity of telling you so. In all this am I to blame? If you are fair beyond the wishes of female vanity; if you are gentle^ deli- cate and attractive, beyond the belief of all who do not know vou ; if a charm hangs on your lips and attends on your stepsj that bewitches every ear and every eye ; if a wondrous irresistible fascination encompasses you, and you alone, of all human beings, am I to blame? If I loved you, and were silent and mysterious, I should be pardoned. Loving you, as I do, with unparalleled impetuosity, and with unexampled sincerity, shall I be con- demned ? For what? For my honesty in declaring the real sentiments of my heart ! THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 145 heart ! Away with such injustice ! You possess too much ingenuousness.'' — " Sir, I possess too much pride to listen any longer to such language. I insist on being instantly released from this terrible ma- chine, and on your silence." The Count, who clearly saw in her manner the annihilation of all his hopes, drew back his head slowly and contemp- tuously. His eyes, now almost closed, scarcely deigned to regard the object of his scorn, A half-su|rpressed yawn de- cided the haughtiness of his manner. The insolence of his nature, upon this occa- sion, overcame his systematick and arti- ficial tranquillity. — " Why, Madam, I con- t'ess it is very fine, and very interesting, to act the vestal in this heroical strain, but, in truth, I am not accustomed to the harshness of your insular phraseolo^^y ; VOL. I. H and 146 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. and you ^vill excuse me if I do not per- fectly understand it. You have a great deal still to learn, I fear^ Miss Bolton, and there is one most important accomplish' mentyou seem entirely unacquainted with, that of a graceful submission" to inevitable necessity. I saw you an amiable but un- polished English girl. You differed ma- terially from the other females of my ac- quaintance, and I determined to possess you. Don't frown — I determined to pos- sess you ; and my determinations I always accomplish. Consider the man who speaks to you. Look attentively upon him. Re- flect on his resources, and acknowledge that resistance were absolutely useless." '' Monster !** cried the terrified Julia. ^' Let us instantly descend, or my instan- taneous precipitation to the earth shall convince you of my courage and ray ab- horrence." THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 147 horrence.** With these words the ago- nized girl made an effort to lean over the side of the boat. In her look despair and determination were powerfully expressed. The Countj unmoved by her distress, but apprehensive of the effects of her resolu- tion, immediately changed his mode of procedure. Persuasion, he saw, would be fruitless, and sophism unavailing. To entreat were to exasperate her, and to threaten were only to fortify her opposi- tion. Her death would rob his licenti- ousness of a victim, and leave his venge- ance unsatisfied. And her death, it was manifest, would be the immediate effect of any repetition of insult, of any vio- lence. Any violence ! yes, capable of every crime, the horrible libertine dared at that moment to meditate the grossest of injuries. u 2 '' Well, 148 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. " Well, well/* said he, with well-affected gaiety, and placing himself so as to pre- vent the threatened effects of her despera- tion, " I perceive our French gallantries are not entirely to your taste. I there- fore, from this moment, relinquish and abjure them ; and to convince you. Miss Bolton, of my sincerity and contrition, you shall be instantly gratified in your desire to descend." He then caused a rapid discharge of the gas, and threw out an anchor. The machine quickly de- scended, and the anchor caught a low rock. The gas still continuing to escape, the boat touched the ground, and the silken globe above, now nearly flaccid^ became troublesome to their heads. The Count having helped Julia to land, fol- lowed himself; and placing some heavy stones in the boat, he left the balloon to THE ?*IYSTERI0US RAND. 149 {o empty itself gradually and sink upon (he earth. Thus were all his intentions defeated. No advantage had he been able to take of her terrour and surprise. No current of air had enabled him to bear her off to a remote provincCj which was an exploit he had basely projected ; and her former good opinion of him was utterly and for ever destroyed. To trace the course of his thoughts, since her declaration of suicide, would be to follow a villain in the unfeel- ing adherence to profligate principles, and the cool conception of habitual vice. He spared her only to reserve her for miseries, compared with which death would have been a blessing; and irritated by disap- pointment and defeat, he now swore to himself never to relinquish his hellish en- terprize against this unhappy girl, till he H 3 had ]50 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. had accumulated on her innocent head the united horrours of shame, contempt, and infamy ; till he had poured into her guileless heart the poisons of remorse, destruction, and despair. Malignant liber- tine ! but for thee, the flower of virgin in- nocence v^ould have still blown in tran- quil security, defended from every storm, and secure against every blast. It now flourishes in the bloom and pride of youth, and health, and beauty, an object of esteem, respect and love ; and shalt thou, ruthless barbarian ! pluck it from its stalk, and expose it to wither, faded and de- spised, without support and destitute of beauty ? Shalt thou cause it to droop, a thing of indifference, and soon, perhaps, to perish, deserted and degraded, avoided and abhorred. When the alarm was given of the rope that THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 151 that secured the machine havinoj aiven way, several men and horses ^vere sent, Nvith all possible expedition, ia the direc- tion that the balloon was seen to take ; and immediately on its descent, three ser- vants with as many horses arrived at the spot where it landed. One of the horses was supplied with a side-saddle: this Julia mounted. The Count took another, and they proceeded to the chateau, attend- ed by a servant. On their way home she preserved a mournful and a dignified silence. She felt humiliated, and, though released fronn apparent danger, she felt alarmed. To Remain any longer in the chateau would be horrible. To quit it instantaneously might be impossible. To acquaint her fath.er with what had happened were to risk his safety, h would be to involve II 4 him. 152 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. him, perhaps, in an affair of honour with the desperate and merciless Count. To deceive him by any false information, or to withhold from him a considerable part of what she should profess to disclose, was what her pride and her honour equally forbade. To make a confidant of Theo- dore, and employ hitn as an agents were indiscreet in the extreme, if not indelicate, and might even produce a quarrel be- tween him and their formidable enemy. To urge a request to her father that they should quit St. Uldrich, without assigning a reason for their doing so, would pro- bably receive little attention from him. In whatever manner she considered the subject, insurmountable or fatal difficulties presented themselves. The Count, who had an uncommon share of penetration, read the nature of her distress^ and dis- covered THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 153 covered her several emotions in the vari- ous changes of her expressive countenance. — " We shall soon arrive at the chateau. Miss Bolton/' said he. '' How will you act ? Will you exclaim, openly and loud- ly, against what you think my treachery and dishonour, and thus force me into desperation to justify or support an inno- cent artifice ? Or will you, with magna- nimity and good sense^ forget an indis- cretion which my sober reason abhors^ and which nothing but the volatility proceeding from an extraordinary and whimsical situa- tion could produce r I fear neither you nor your father, but I respect you both. 'I acknowledge the impropriety of my conduct, and I entreat your forgiveness for it. Drive me not to extremities. I feel and I acknowledge, with heartfelt shame, the indignity that my thoughiless- H 5 ness 154 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. ness offered yoii;, and I now supplicate your pardon. Grant me this favour, and never while I live shall I forget your goodness, nor ever again violate towards you the duties of delicacy and decorum. Ah ! are the gates of mercy to be closed against me ? or may I enter the temple \vith a fearless heart, and bless the good- ness that vouchsafes to accept my confes- sion and repentance ?" To this Julia made no answer. She knew not what to reply. But her silence, and the undecided expression of her fea- tures, sufficiently conveyed to her artful companion that he had nothing to appre- hend. Supper had been just served when they arrived. Great was the exultation, and loud were the congratulations at their escape. Our female aeronaut threw her- self THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 155 s'felf upon the bosom of her father, and, as he kissed her with rapture, wept bitterly in his arms. He, good man, attributed her tears to her agitation and to her late tcrrour. Excessive was the curiosity, and innu- merable were the inquiries about their adventures. The Count endeavoured to satisfy the former, and to answer the lat- ter ; but Julia requested permission to retire to rest, which, after such an excur- sion as she had taken, was readily granted. He then proceeded to relate what had happened, and only omitted two circum- stances ; one was his detaching the rope that had secured the balloon, and the other his base and ungenerous conduct towards Julia. Never was an extraordinary story nar- H 6 rated 156' THE "MYSTEKIOUS HAND. rated with more propriety or more grace ; and never was the Count more instructive or entertalnin, she answered his questions about her aero- nautick flight. His embarrassment was not less. He feaa*ed to trust his words, lest they should betray his emotions; his looks, lest they should convey his admiration ; his tones, lest their softness should indicate his disorder. All he loved was before him, but stern honour prohibited the in- dulgence of any hope. He w^as distressed> and for a moment irresolute. Roused, at length, by an effort of pride, he said — '' Miss Bolton, we shall soon part, per- haps for ever. To-morrow I shall quit the chateau, and as I may not see you again alone, you will excuse me for declaring now that never while I live shall your image be absent from my thoughts; never, never, shall I cease to pray for your hap- piness. rS2 THE MYSTERIOUS nAKD. piness. It were ." — ''Part for ever! Quit the chateau! Mr. Dalbert, you do not mean to leave us so suddenly?" — " Indeed, I must.*' — " That is unfortunate. I wished to consult you on an affair of some consequence — perhaps I wanted your assistance, but ." Here Julia checked herself. She already repented having said so much. She had intended to keep from Theodore's knowledge the Count's mis* conduct, but unused to concealment, and betrayed, in part by her confusion, and in part by her apprehensions, into an indis- cretion, she believed that she ought not now to withhold any part of her commu- nication. — '' But you fear to employ me," said Theodore, continuing her speech. — '* No, but I fear to give you trouble, and I fear the effects of your warmth.'* Having assured her that no affair that concerned THE MVSTFRTOUS HAND. 183^ concerned her would be considered trouble* some by bim^ and protested that nothing like anger or resentment should appear on his part, let the cause of excitement be what it might, she made a disclos^ire ta him of all that had passed between her and the Count. As she spoke a tear of out- raged virtue stole gently down her crim- soned cheek, while the high spirit and in- genuous disposition of Theodore broke forth, now in exclamations of horrour, and then in the apostrophizing accents of in- dignation, or appeared in his looks of sympathizing concern, or spoke in the sighs oi tenderness that issued from his commiserating breast. What was to be done ? Julia must quit the chateau, but Mr. Bolton must not be informed of her motives. There was dif- ficulty in this, and perhaps address and stratagem 184 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. Stratagem were requisite. They consider- ed the subject in every point of view, and at length it was determined that, for her greater security, Theodore should remain at St. Uldrich till her departure, and that they both should use every possible per- suasion with her father to continue his tour without delay into Italy. They went to seek him that moment, and Miss Bolton, in the language of im- portunity and impatience, urged her suit so strongly, that he consented to. depart in^ a few days ; at the same time he hoped, he^ said, that Theodore would accompany thenv till their return into England; upon the terms which I have elsewhere mentionedi. This was presenting to a starving man a plenteous repast. It was a helping arm extended to a drowning wretch. It was* a rich prize in the lottery to a ruined, mer- chant. ^HE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 185 chant. It was a limpid well to the tliirsty traveller of the desert. But Theodore he- sitated. He had been solicited before by this good man to do so, but he durst not trust hiKiself near Julia ; he durst not ex- pose himself to the influence of her charms, and he dreaded the baseness of a clandes- tine attachment. He shook his head, stammered out his acknowledgments and his gratitude, and 'svas preparing to utter an unwilling nega- tive, the conclusive and irrevocable no, when casting a look at Miss Bolton's coun- tenance, he there caught a glance, oh I such a glance ! What reproach, appre- hension and entreaty did it not convey ? With what earnestness did it liot supplicate, with what softness did it not upbraid ! Every fibre in his frame received and con- fessed the eloquence of its magical e\- pressioiu 186 THE WYSTERIOUS HAND. pression. His blood rushed in impetuous currents through his veins, and his heart throbbed with violence and transport. His organs of speech acknowledged the won- drous potency of the charm, and he pro- imised all that Mr. Bolron required. In this he acted weakly, perhaps ignobly. I attempt not to excuse him. But I will say that there are few who, in his situation^ could have acted otherwise. What important consequences may be- deduced from trivial causes! How curious to follow trifling occurrences to their final effects, sometimes fatal, at oth^r times be- neficial ! How often does poverty or riches, misery or happiness, death or life, depend on a circumstance apparently un- important as the flight of a feather ! Julia was fond of birds, and she had, on her arrival. at Bourdeau:.., purchased two. goldi- THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 187 ♦ oldfinches, of that variety called chevercl ; they were male and female, were quite iamCj would answer when called, (he jManon, and she Manette) and even fly upon the finger. They had a nest, formed of fine moss, silk and camel's hair, in the centre of a little glass house, and were, v.hen Julia purchased them, hatching five eggs. In a state of domesticity, ihe pe- riod of incubation is often delayed beyond the natural season. She became so fond of these intelligent, beautiful little crea- tures, that when she went to St. Uldrich^ she took their house and them with her in the carriage ; but the male met with an accident there, the second day after their arrival, that frightened her exceedingly. He had gone out of his house, which was always open, and was standing- at Julia's window, when a hawk, that the servants kept 188 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. kept about the chateau, darted on it, and though its mistress flew immediately to its' rescue, one of lis legs was broken. Her grief on the occasion was extreme, and she brought the little sufTerer with tears in her eyes to Theodore. He looked at the wound and undertook its cure. Her reliance on his humanity and skill was such that she left her favourite with him. And truly the tenderness and attention he bestowed on it justified her good opinion, and far exceeded whatever imperial wealth or despotick power has been able to pur- chase or extort from venal physicians or tremblins: attendants. He first restored the fractured bone to its proper situation, and then applied a bandage to keep it straight. To prevent the creature from injuring itself by any exertion, he put it: into a cage barely large enough to eon- taiui THE mysti-r:ous hand. 18§ tain \t, and this he would soiretimes carry in his bosom, in order to communicate to the poor bird the advantage of kindly- warmth. Manon was not insensible of his cares. It would greet his visiting looks with its sweetest notes, and even embrace his finger with the grateful pressure of its bill. In a few hours after the conversation, in which Mr. Bolton, Julia and he, had, as I have related, agreed on a speedv depar- ture from the chateau, vl person, not known to Theodore, accosted him, and said that he was sent by Madame Dalbert, his mo- ther, who wished to see him at the village of Du Quesnev, on the borders of the ter- ritory of St. Uldrich, where she was wait- ing to communicate to him some aflair of importance. Supposing that she had de- clined approaching the chateau from mo- trvcs 190 THE MYSTERIOUS ftAND. tives of delicacy, ao she was acquainted %\'ith neither the Count nor the Comtesse, and knowing that she had a journey to perform whix:h would bring her through Du Qucsney, he immediately departed, on foot, with the messenger, who was a young man of simple appearance, and who remained behind at a respectful distance as they walked towards the village. Theodore would have taken one of the Count's horses, as he was still weak, but he disdained to be indebted to him for ^ny accommodation. He had entered a village which was shaded by a thick plan- tation of larch and chesnut trees, when, suspecting no 6ar)gcv, he received from behind a sudden stroke of a loaded stick. The violence of the blow stunned and threw him. It had been given by his treacherous attendant, by whom and Gas- par THE MYSTERIOUS RAND. 1^ I par Pontgebre, who now rushed forward from a thicket where he had lain concealed, the unhappy youth was in an instant bound and rendered incapable of resistance. In sonrie moments he recovered, in part, the powers of reflection, and was sensible of his extreme dan'j^er. He dreaded everv evil that human nature may endure, and -every outrage that brutal violence may- inflict. The perturbation of his thoughts ^vas encreased by the mystery that attended this proceeding, and by the linguaggio grosscilano, or ruffian dialect of Naples, in which the two miscreants conversed. With the presence of Caspar he associated the haps listening to what we say, would cer- tainly nrvurder us ; his precautions arc^ wonderful » and the devil himself has not more ingen^uity : for my part, I dread hin^ more than I do the devil." — '' I believe you are right," replied the other, '' so we may as well be going. Good evening. Monsieur. Good evening,. Sir." — '' Oh, cruel men 1 Surely, surely, you will not, cannot, desert me in this forlorn and savage place ? The night already advances, and promises to be inclement. I have been lately ill, and shall I be exposed to the hor- rours of such a situation, to the imminent and dreadful danger of being devoured alive by wild beasts? Do not, oh I do not^ Caspar, forget the time when I saved your life." — " Good evening, JMojisieur, good evening," returned that ungrateful monster vdlh asneer,and he departed with the other. . K 4 The 200 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. The ^vinds began to whistle. Darkness soon covered the face of nature. The sable car of night passed with frightful velocity across the canopy of heaven. The ancient tree shook forth abrupt and alarm- ing sounds as it yielded to the hurried blasts. The raging of the sea against the cliflf spread over the rocks and mountains the desolating accents of the grave. The bowlings of distant wolves, caught by the growing storm, strike upon the terrified ear of Theodore. The black clouds dis- charge their torrents on his unprotected head. The storm every moment increases; the tempest rages ; the thunder peals ; the lightning strikes. — " God of nature ! what duty have I neglected, what crime com- mitted, to deserve this misery ? Feeble and exhausted, am I to groan through hours of suffering, incapable of motion, till my murderer THE MYSTERIOUS HANiy. gQl murderer comes to plunge me^ mayhap^ into greater torment ? Am I to stand, tied to this stake, till the starved, ferocious animals of the desert scent out their prey, and tear me piecemeal ? Almighty Pro* vidence ! pity my ravings, punish not wy presumption. Thy justice is supreme. Thy wisdom is unspeakable." The un- happy youth bent his head, shut his eyes, thought on Julia, and prepared to die. An hour of torture passed. The incle- mency of the weather became yet more violent, and the moon had risen, rendering now to the organ of sight; what had before been only heard or felt. Though the lightnings appeared less vivid, the clouds vere more black, and their furious encoun- ters more terribly distinct. Hah! what fearful crash is that ? The bolt of heaven strikes the lofty elm. It yields. It splits. n^ The 202 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND, The quickness of the stroke, its violence, and a strong sulphureous smell, at once rouse and appal the prisoner. His head and back suffer severe contusions. He ^vould kneel, but his cords forbid the at- tempt. He offers a pious ejaculation. Terrour has entered his very heart. — " Gracious, incomprehensible, Almighty Being ! Thou ." He would have pro- ceeded, but a rude hand suddenly grasped his throat. '' Villain, at length in my power, never shall you escape my hold. Do you know me, creature ?" — '' Count Egfryd, I ex- pected this.*' — " Did yau so ? 'tis well. But did yoii expect what you are to meet ? Know% imbecile, mischievous, pernicious animal, that this is the happiest moment of my life. I have you in my power, and that power is unlimited and to be equalled only THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 20S only by my vengeance. Never did man hate man as I hate you ; and this hate I can indulge, can satiate, with absolute security/* — " Hate me ! Ah ! what have I done to deserve vour hate I" — " Done f more than your worst sufTerings can repay,. Much more than murder could requite. But wy joy produces delay. We must fro rat this. Come, my critical amorous adven- turer, we shall try your fortitude.'' — With these words the Count placed a board to his breast, and slipped another between: the tree and his back. Having tied botit together, and secured his arms effectually, he released him from the sJiattered elm. In the back board was a hook,, and to this a rope being fastened, the ferocious Count pulled tiie object of his vengeance forward to the precipice. Arrived there, he fasten- ed the cod of the rope to the iron ring, K (5 Tiiid^ 204 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. and placed the miserable sufferer upon his feet. The moon shone brightly^ but the tem- pest raged, the thunders rattled, and the blue lightnings still shot their fiery darts across the firmament. The sea, inflamed and foaming, boiled in mountains, and rocked the foundations of the continent. All was visible, but all was aggravated by night. What during the day would have been obscure was now deadly, what had been deep became profound, what suspi- cious was terrible, what alarming, direful. Each cloud had the blackness of revenge^ each wave a shade of death. — " Seest thou this cliff, fool ?" said the nefarious Count in a triumphant voice. " Thou knowest it well ; thou hast visited it from curiosity, now occupy it from necessity. Exhausted, powerless, thou now shalt be precipitated 4 into THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. g05 into the abyss, thence never, never, never, to rise again. Hah, hah, hah, hah \'* The fiend at this moment felt the transport of Satan when he ruined our first parents. His laugh made night more dismal, and gave even to the grave new horrour. " Count Egfryd, hear me for one, only one moment. I have already endured more than ordinary torments, I merit not your wrath, nay I deserve your pity. If I cast myself on my knees before you, as I now do, upon this flint, if I prostrate myself at your feet, you may despise me, but you, surely, will not deny me your compassion. A widowed mother depends upon my exertions for her support. Upon my life your happiness depends. Yes^ tremendous man, rob me of life, and the canker of remorse will never grant you a moment*s ease. The hell you sought and deserved ^5 THE MYSTERIOtJS HAND-, deserved will follow you eternally. My murdered spirit will pursue your steps, and nightly hover over your sleepless couch. You will live wretched and ab- horred, and will die unlamented, cursed, and for what ? to revenge an imaginary injury. Imaoinarv it is. I never wron2;ed you. I have esteemed, but I never despised, I have loved^ but I never hated you. I criticised your work, it is true, but, upon my honour, and by all that man holds sacred, I knew not when I wrote whose work it was. I love Miss Bolton, I con- fess, but for that am I to blame ? could J have supposed that tjou were my rival ? Ah ! let me conjure you, in this suppliant attitude, as you tender your peace, as you value your safety, as you regard your im- mortal soul, as you dread the Almighty justice^ grant me my life; so may Heaven shovver THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 207 shower its blessings on your head, and may I sink into everlasting perdition, if ever I whisper to mortal ear a syllable of this transaction ! Enjoy, then, the luxury of doing good, and bind me to your service by ties of eternal gratitude.'* The cliff, against which the ocean was now vainly expending its fury, was not more cold nor more unmoved than the inexorable Count. — '•' This last humilia- tion was necessary to my triumph. Know, changeling, that I defy remorse and hell^ that I laugh at your canting about con- science, and tliat in nature there does not breathe a thing so loathsome to my sight, so offensive to my thought as you. Your promisesand your threatslalikederide. You believe in the existence, and rely on the power of your Providence ; then why be terrified at the prospect of this precipice ? Your 208 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. Your terroiirs give your words the He. Cease your sneaking supplications. Look at that fathomless abyss. Look \" The malefactor about to be launched from the tree of justice into eternity ; the wretch on the brink of the sulphurous chasm occasioned by an earthquake, and who expects to be swallowed alive at its next convulsion, feels serenity compared with what Theodore now suffered. It was a prospect to petrify the boldest. — '' Look into that fathomless abyss, to that thou art condemned for ever. Into it. Away !" — " Oh ! oh 1 oh I mcrey 1 mercy I may God have mercy **' shrieked the agonized victim of cruelty and crime. His shuddering frame, incapable of re- sistance, pushed impetuously into the horrid deep, lost the sensations of life before the visitation of death, but lost thera only for a moment. Arrived to the length of the rope THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. 209 rope that connected him with the world, a frightful distance of one hundred feet, his rapid descent received a check so vio- lent, so shocking, that animation returned from the very poignancy of his pain, from the intenseness of his torture. Every bone felt as if it had been broken, every fibre as if 'twere cracked, every muscle as if torn. The blood experienced a sudden revulsion, that took from the springs of life their natural current. His breath failed. The spasms of expiring nature shook his limbs, a sanguine stream poured from his mouth. In this situation, intole- rable, unparalleled and indescribable, lash- ed every minute by the angry waves, and driven by the winds through the infernal vaults of this interminable sepulchre, he remained not long. The evil spirit of the grave, the fearless, ihe inhuman Eg fry d, with ;^10 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. with active intrepidity and devilish exitlta- tioii, descended to the cavern. The ligcr drew his prey into the den^ and having re- moved him to the closest recess of the subterranean abode, chained him to a rock, and removed from his breast and back the boards that confined him. He still ap- peared dead, but animation- was only suspended. After some time he heaved a. deep sigh, opened his eyes with a vacant stare, and moved his limbs. The pains which death had terminated^ returned with returning life. Red hot irons applied to the flesh, boiling oil> lashes, pincers, flames, give not greater anguish than that which he endured. It was every where at once, and yet seemed to fly from limb to limb,, from joint to joint, from organ to organ, from vein to vein, with a quickness and severity ex- ceeding THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. "211 ceeding the experience of all human sul- fering. He groaned, he writhed, he shriek- ed. — " He will be very well presently^'' cried his abominable persecutor. " I must now return to prevent suspicion. With you, JMaclame, (to Marie de Solase) I shall leave the wretch till my next visit, whea I will make my final arrangements." He the;i ascended, and with him took the rope which was mentioned in the last chapter under the name of the second rope, lest Theodore recovering and breaking his chains, should attempt to escape by it; needless precaution ! for who but Egfryd could have dared to use it ? Marie de Solase had for some time en- tertained jealousies of the merciless Count, and suspected him of an intention to trifle with her. The pardon he had promised to obtain for her, she despaired of pro- curing, f 13 THE MYSTEKIOUS HAND. curing, and all hct* entreaties to have her escape to another couiitry effected, he evaded with evident disingr Piousness, She looked on him as her oppresser, she conceived for him a rooted aversion, but her existence depended on his protection, and she was compelled to affect gentle- ness^ gratitude and attachment. The ar- rival of Theodore was a new era in her captivity. Theirs was a common cause, and the profligate mutability of her na- ture already marked him as an object of her unworthy passion. She made for him a comfortable bed. She poured cordials into his mouth. She removed his wet clothes. She dried his hair, and she bathed his feet in wanii water. The fatigue he had undergone, the agitation he had suffer-* ed, and the pains he had endured, had ex- hausted his strength, and brought on a crisis which THE >fYSTERIOUS HAND. 213 which in a short time, maiigre his pangs of mind and body, terminated in sleep. It was the last eflbrt of nature to preserve vitality. Marie de Solase meanwhile prepared a nutritious jelly for him when he should awake, corrected the disorders of her dress, heightened the attractions of her person, dried his clothes before a large fire, burned some perfumed pastiles, and hung poor Manon at a suffi' ient distance from the monkey. It is strange how it survived the rudeness of the treatment its master had received, but the wire of its little iron cage was strong, and had not yielded much to the pressure of the board, and Theodore's coat had protected it in some measure from the waves. The creature, however, was nearly dead with wet and fright, when its new mistress placed it in a warm situa- tion. She gave it water in her thimble, and ^li THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. and some thistle seed which dropped from its master's pocket, and which is so well known to be their favourite food, that from chardon or thistle, comes chardonneret, the French term, for a goldfinch. Escaped from his danger, Manon was not long till he rewarded her for her care with one of his sweetest chirps. '^Ah!" cries the incredulous critick, *' silly author, what hast thou undertaken ? Thy romantick pen having first lifted thee in a preposterous balloon, from which with the utmost difficulty thou escapedest, has now led thee into a cavern more hor- rible than that of the Cyclops. Thy he- roine is in a castle exposed to the out- rages of a villain, to whose arts and vio- knee she must' succumb : and thy hero is, at the commenceraeht of thy work, placed in a situation from which no human ex- ertion 1HE MYSTERIOUS HAND. '215 «rtion can rescue him. Unity ^vill be in- jured, probablity outraged, and poetick justice violated. Where is thy judgment ? AVhere is thy taste ? I pity thy attempt, hut it is ^vretched and will be despised. Thou wilt be forced to close thy tale be- fore it is finished, or thou must be guilty of the absurdity of throwing down the cliff by an earthquake, or of saving Theo- dore by a miracle. This, or the clumsy resource of placing the Count on his un- timely deathbed, where he is to confess all, and to prove the author a miserable dunce." Criticks, criticks, cease your insulting insinuations. 1 have, according to the Psalmist, '^chosen the way of truth." I describe nothing but what has happened. As I live I tell no falsehood. Faith-worthy v.'itnesses can corroborate my facts. I am past ^16 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. past the age of invention ; *' on my eye- lids/* as on Job's^ *' is the shadow of death," and my character is above the reach of aspersion. A moral principle demands this sacrifice of my repose. My abhorrence of vice and my love of virtue require this narration. For once, throw away your rules and your balances. Learn to esti- mate works not by calculation and mea- surement, but by genius, invention and utility. On the last I rely. My person- ao-es are uncommon, I know, and the inci- dents I relate extraordinary. But do I mention any thing that is beyond belief, any thing that is impossible ? I said, and I repeat it, that it is ray peculiar lot to be the historian of romantick realities, the narrator of seeming fiction. My children, to you I consign the task of vindicating my fame. To you I bequeath the happi- ness THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. !217 ness of reapinf^ the re^vard of my honest labours, of hearing my authority pro- nounced unquestionable^ and of finding my book placed among thQ authentick records of morality. But as I must draw scenes of novelty, surprise and horrour, gift me, oh Godwin ! with thy magick pencil. As I must con- vey the emotions of virtuous hearts in situations of extreme difficulty and danger, and the tempests that rage in the bosoms of the impious and abandoned, teach me, master as thou art, to acquire thy rich and flowing s*tyle, and thy matchless powers of description. Who but thou has the talent of embodying fancy, and pursuing moral sensibility through all the intricacies of the human heart ? Who but thou can create n new being, invest him with new capa- cities, and endow him with a refinement VOL, I. L and 218 THE MYSTERIOUS HAND. and flight of soul that exceed our imitation, and almost demand our worship ? Painter of nature! Man of eloquence ! grant me a spark of thy genius, a breath of thy ex- pression ; so may my cautious finger copy the delicate shading of thy Falkland, and my fervid words convey a portion of thy St. Leon ! »ND OP VOL. I, Lane, Darling, and Co. Leadenhall-strett. WORKS UBiinuti St tlje ^inftba IPtC00> fi^ith the Reiiewers* Opinion^ FALCONBRIDGE ABBEY, A DEVONSHIRE STORY, BY MRS. HANWAY. 5 vols. £l 7s. 6d. " The fair Author of this work tells us in a Preface, which is written with peculiar energy, that, after a long lapfe of time, fhe triifts her third Work for public perufal, written under many interruptions from ill health, which would certainly have been a pka for any defe6\s that might have appeared, hnd the fire and spirit of her talents, already well known and duly ap- preciated by the PuV)Iic, by her former valuable productions ot *' EUinor" and *' Andrew Stuart," been found to have evaporated. But our judgment is decidedly given in favour of a diicfl contrary pofiiion j for we are of opinion, that if «* Faiconbfidge Abbey" does not surpafs, it is certainly in no degree inferior, in the great points of either amufement or inftrutStion, to either of her former public exertions. *< The execution does jullice to the dejign pommy td ; the cha- raflers are, in general, very ftrongly marked, and with many high touches of the pencil. Lady Falconbridge, although a rigid moralift and a ftri«5l difciplinarian, both in mind and manners, has all the humanizing virtues of the heart, which the various Q::currences of the hillory finely draw forth. The whole of the ElJeiton family, which is powerfully delineated, exhibit in- ftances of the temporary succefs of almoft every fpecies of in- famy to attain the objects of their ambition ; which, though gratified, ultimately terminates to their confufion, and indeed complete deftruflion 5 and that in a manner alike favourable to morality and probability, which fltould never be violated in any imitation of hiliory, for fuch m^y be dencmiinaied a well- written novel. Sir Henry Falconbridge is a compound of imbecility and goodncfs of heart, his beft-direH o o Ck C/3 C O > • • *5 ^ ^ C/3 • o4 ^ ^ O nd o (W us 15 C/3 H • »-« C/3 5 V-i Ot > T 8 § }-• I O s bJO T ^ ^ 2 O •'"! o c r^ ^ 1-1 .2 .2 c-> 3 '+-> O 5-^ .5 g rt ■4-) C/3 C/3 u u o I? b p; ^ o p4 oo c/) U.2 g bX) 'o iS o o ^ ^ (A O < < U O U .2 .S g a; s o t