Ah! my dear brother, were Montfort a Torrenburg and Ida an Amalberga, how easy would it be for me to take such a step! But the ill opinion which I entertain both of Henry and his mistress, and my still lively sense of the perfidy and injustice with which they repaid my affection, will perhaps make me yet longer hesitate to act, as would best become me, and to follow the glorious example of self-denial, set forth in Helen’s conduct.—Farewell, dear Oswald; my heart is sad, but loves you tenderly.
Elizabeth of Torrenburg to Count Oswald.
I have confided my secret history to the Abbess. In whom can I more properly confide, than in her who will soon stand before the Almighty’s throne, and before whose eyes all concealed things will soon be made manifest? To whom can I better apply for advice, than to a soul so near the boundaries of earthly being, that a ray of celestial light already illumines it, and enables her mental vision to see the things of this world in their proper likeness?
She is now informed of every thing; and I must acknowledge, I was frequently embarrassed by some questions, with which she every now and then interrupted my narrative.
—“Then you are certain, quite certain of having been the first object of Montfort’s affection?”—
—“I am to understand then, that the attachment between you was equally strong, and that his whole soul was as much devoted to you, as yours was to him?”—
“What? and could he really be so base as to desert you at the very foot of the altar, merely because at that moment he happened to be struck by the charms of one of your bridemaids? This seems to me very strange, my daughter; and me-thinks, it does not well harmonize with the acknowledged probity of Montfort’s former conduct.—If he had not loved you, to be sure he would not have persuaded you to fly with him from your brother’s Castle—and yet, if I recollect right, you mentioned, that his carrying you off prevented your being compelled to espouse the aged Count of Torrenburg, who was then as much the object of your aversion, as (when his virtues became, known to you) he was afterwards the object of your esteem?—You were young, amiable, in distress, partial to Montfort ... it is very possible, that love induced him to advise your flight; but then again it is also possible, that mere sympathy and compassion might have led him to give the very same counsel, and to take the very same step.”—
Such was the vexatious mode of arguing and of seeing things adopted by the Abbess. I recapitulated the strong reasons which I had to believe, that in offering me his hand Montfort was prompted by affection.——The Abbess acknowledged their force; but she added—“that it was very easy for that, which was at first nothing more than compassionate interest for the beautiful Elizabeth, to be in time converted into love.”—
This compliment so ill-timed put me more out of patience, than her humiliating questions and remarks. It was with difficulty, that I concealed my ill-humour, and hastily endeavoured to change the subject of our discourse.