The Earl looked somewhat doubtful. At length he suffered me to take the letter.
Now, Walter, read this letter, with attention.
TO THE EARL OF ELSINGS
My Lord,
As I took you to be a man of honour, I fully relied on your word, and never for an instant supposed you could depart from the strict performance of the promise you gave with so much readiness and solemnity of concealing from all the world the real situation of Miss Valmont's circumstances till the time when I, her uncle, guardian, and her only surviving relation, should no longer deem such a concealment necessary.
You knew, my Lord, I could have no sinister design in teaching Miss Valmont to believe herself dependent upon me. My well-known integrity forbids the possibility of such a surmise: and, my Lord, at once, in compliance alone with my own opinion of its propriety did I resign to you the entire care of her estate, reserving to myself the guardianship of her person and the direction of her education, to which cares the brother of her father had the most undoubted claim.
To the period when Miss Valmont should have attained the age of twenty, I limited your secresy, my Lord; and this adds another proof, if another could be necessary, to the goodness of my intentions. By her father's will, she becomes independent of her guardians at twenty-one. At twenty, I intended that herself and her possessions should be given to the husband for whom I have purposely educated her; and from whom, for the security of their future happiness, I would carefully have hidden the knowledge of her fortune till that period.
My precautions were taken with such order and contrivance, that I have reason to believe it has not even been suspected by any creature that Miss Valmont is an heiress.
Do not slumber, dear Walter; read that line again—Miss Valmont is an heiress.
Yet now, my Lord, my niece herself is apprized of it; and has with more zeal than either judgment or duty demanded an explanation of my motives for treating her as my dependent. It is you only who can have conveyed this intelligence to her: you, my Lord, who, I am sorry to say, since you formed the design of uniting Miss Valmont to your son have forgotten honour and integrity.
I believe your son has found entrance into my castle by means a gentleman should scorn to use; but, neither in his own nor in his feigned name, shall he gain another admission. My vigilance is awakened; and, in his behalf, it shall not slumber a second time.
My Lord, I have returned the accounts you sent for my inspection, together with the necessary acquittals; and I request we may not meet any more, as the business till Miss Valmont is of age may be transacted by any agent you choose to appoint.
I remain, my Lord, henceforth a stranger to you and your's
GEORGE VALMONT
'Is there not,' said I, and in truth, Walter, I did not very well know what to say, so dizzy had I become in reading Mr. Valmont's incontrovertible acknowledgement of his niece's fortune, together with the unlooked for charge against me of having stolen into his castle—'Is there not,' said I, 'something like a challenge implied here, my Lord?'
'No indeed,' replied my father with sufficient eagerness. 'Don't you see he desires we may not meet again.—But I am rather in doubt, Filmar, whether we ought or ought not to send Mr. Valmont a challenge?'
'So am I, my Lord; but if your will allow me an hour to consider the case I will settle it if possible.'
'Do—do!' said the Earl. 'But what can he mean about you and the castle?'
'No one, Sir, but himself can decide that matter, I believe.'
The problem I had now to solve, consisted, Walter, of three parts. First, how Miss Valmont could have arrived at the knowledge of her fortune?—Secondly, how Mr. Valmont could know I had been in the castle?—Lastly, and of most importance, whether all circumstances duly considered it would be proper that I or my father should challenge Mr. Valmont?
My researches on the first part of my problem showed me that it is highly probable I shall never know how Miss Valmont came by her information till she herself shall be in my power to tell me; and further that her knowledge of the affair will greatly tend to forward my projects, for no longer a dependent but a prisoner she will be rejoiced to free herself at any hazard from her uncle's galling tyranny.—Do you not perceive, Walter, how much my prospects are amended by this disaster? On the second part, I discovered that Mr. Valmont can have but an obscure and imperfect idea of my being in the castle, from his mention of a feigned name. I bore no name at all. Certainly my agents would not betray me. And Valmont must have spoken at random as to the means.