Her surprise therefore was great, when she was refused admittance to Elizabeth, with every mark of harshness and indignation.—She returned sorrowing from her fruitless embassy; and she had scarcely regained her own apartment, before a Chamberlain made his appearance there to inform the sisters in the name of the Lord of the Castle, that in consequence of Elizabeth’s sudden indisposition, and of the late confusion (the cause of which was too well known to them to make any explanation on that head necessary) it would be adviseable for them immediately to quit a house, in which certainly no bridal ceremony would be celebrated at present.
In the mean while, Henry on opening his eyes cast his first glances eagerly towards the spot, where he fancied, that the spirits of Tell’s grand-daughters had appeared to him; they were no longer to be seen. He was now confirmed in his visionary notions, and implicitly believed, that he had really seen an apparition.—He inquired for Elizabeth: the answer was, that she had quitted the chapel evidently in displeasure; very little reflection was necessary to make him aware, that the singular part which he had just been playing, made it necessary for him to hasten to his bride without delay, and explain the cause of his mysterious behaviour. While approaching her chamber, he considered with himself, whether it would, or would not, be adviseable to inform her of the vision, which had just appeared to him, and to lay open to her the secret history of his early life! His deliberations, however, were quite superfluous; for he was denied admittance to Elizabeth with no less positiveness and contempt, than had been shown on Constantia’s application.
He felt, that Elizabeth had some reason to think herself insulted; and instead of repaying her scorn with scorn, he lost no time in justifying himself in the eyes of his offended mistress.—A personal interview was denied him; the explanation therefore could only be conveyed in writing; but Henry was not sufficiently an adept in penmanship to permit his finishing so long an apology with as much expedition, as the nature of the case made desirable. He resolved therefore to employ a secretary; and as upon inquiry no ready writer was to be found in the whole Castle except the family Chaplain (whom I have already mentioned as the secret ally of Father Hilarius, and as being entirely in the Count of Torrenburg’s interests) he requested his assistance. He might have chosen from among a thousand, and yet could not have confided his affairs to a more improper instrument. However, Henry dictated, and the Friar wrote as follows.
Henry to Elizabeth.
You are offended, my beloved!—Nay, even to myself it scarcely appears credible, that when I stood with you before the altar, I should have withdrawn my hand from yours; that I should have hesitated to pronounce the words, which would have made you mine for ever; that when you looked upon me with eyes of love, I could have looked on any other than on you.—No; this never could have happened by natural means; the enemies of our love must have employed infernal arts to delude my senses and interrupt my happiness!—What past this evening in the Chapel must certainly have been produced by magic; no otherwise can I account for it!
Elizabeth, my heart was once another’s: my heart would still have been another’s, had not death torn her from me. But my Rosanna has long been an angel in Heaven; the truth which I swore to her, and which (while she had life) I never would have violated, could not surely extend beyond the precincts of the grave. Surely that happy-one, to whom now all things must be known, must also know, in what degree I once loved her, and in what degree I now love Elizabeth: Surely, she cannot envy you, my beloved, the hand of your poor Henry; surely, she would not forsake her own mansions of peace and bliss, to forbid our union and destroy our hopes of happiness?
And yet, Elizabeth...! Mark, my beloved, and conceive my astonishment, my horror!—And yet, Elizabeth, I swear to you most solemnly, that this evening as you stood at the altar, I saw the form of the long-deceased Rosanna Tell approach, and place the myrtle wreath upon your forehead; while by her side stood a second apparition in a religious habit, the exact resemblance of Mary, Rosanna’s sister, who is buried with her in the same tomb!
But strange as this circumstance appears, let it not disturb your tranquillity, my Elizabeth, nor prevent an union, on which I depend for all the happiness of my future life. If the spirit of Rosanna really appeared, she came not to destroy the bliss of the man who adored her, but to give her celestial sanction: but for my own part, I am persuaded, that this appearance was some illusion, some contrivance of those who envy us, some magical appearance produced by monastic arts in the night and secrecy of the Cloister.—
Beloved Elizabeth, admit me to your presence, and every point shall be explained most fully. At present I must break off, for the person (whose pen I employ to trace these lines) has taken offence at an expression which accidentally escaped me, and refuses any longer to render me his services.