To Clement's murmurs against Mr. Valmont, succeeded a little species of delirium: for I named you, and no impassioned lover-like epithet was omitted in the recital of your charms.—Whatever, Sibella, may be my own vanity and pretensions I could hear praises of your beauty from a thousand tongues without envy or weariness. Yet, from Clement, a slighter mention would have pleased me better. He is the chosen of your heart; and should prize the mind you possess equal to heaven. An Angel's beauty might be forgotten, when the present and future contemplation of such a mind could be brought in view.
Alas, your lover is no philosopher! He laments the energy which I idolize.—Allow me to indulge the percipient quality I suppose myself to possess, and sketch Montgomery when my messenger, presents him the letter you inclosed to me. No sooner does he behold that writing, than Sibella rises to his view in all her grace and loveliness. Could he give existence to the vision, that moment would be too rich in transport. He trembles with an exquisite unsatisfied delight: and, while the senseless paper receives his eager kisses, he could fight dragons, or rush through fire to obtain you.—At length he reads.—Well: the same Sibella is there—she whom he calls the most perfect and lovely of all God's creatures!—the same Sibella whose enchantments cast a magic illusion around the horror-nodding woods of Valmont!—The same Sibella, but poor and dependent, is now quitting those woods for ever and ever—she leaves behind her even the trace of wealth; and flies an outcast to Clement, who, involved in the same ruin, has neither fortune, fame nor friend!—Delightful expectations vanish. Torture succeeds. And the agony of this prospect to Clement could in no one instance be equalled, except perchance by the knowledge of your being in the possession of a rival and lost to him for ever.
I suspect there are some latent shades in this picture which will displease you: but remember, my ever dear girl, that early, even at the commencement of our intimacy, we reciprocally laid it down as a solemn truth that without full and entire confidence friendship is of no value. I have said that Clement and you love from habit. Nor let it wound you that I say so still; for I am willing to seek conviction, and though I cannot be more candid than now, nor ever more worthy of your affection than while I am offending your heart to inform your judgment, yet if conviction meet me, I shall be more joyful by millions of degrees in owning I had mistaken.
At all events, whether Clement approves or disapproves the intention, your leaving your uncle and his castle now would be decidedly wrong. Your education, constantly in opposition to that which a dependent should have had, unfits you for entering the world without protection. You have so much to learn of the manners of society, that perhaps any plan you might form would turn out the very reverse of your expectations.—Stay, patiently if you can: at any rate, stay, till Clement makes his final determination, and then I'll tell you more of my mind.
Be happy, my sweet my beloved friend! You have it largely in your power; and surely 'tis better to summons fortitude and walk boldly over a few thorns, than creep through miserable paths to avoid them, or sit down idly to bemoan their situation.
CAROLINE ASHBURN
P.S. I have opened my letter, in consequence of a visit from Clement Montgomery. He came to me, Sibella, agitated and trembling. Your letter had conjured up a horrible train of fears and suppositions, and he was scarcely assured the evil he most dreaded had not already arrived. 'Rash, cruel Sibella!' he exclaimed, 'even now, perhaps, your have for ever undone me with Mr. Valmont!' I reminded him that you had said in the concluding lines of your letter to me that you waited, though unwillingly, for Clement's determination. 'O that is true!' cried he—'and 'tis my salvation! Dear Miss Ashburn, conjure her, by your love and my own, to guard our secret faithfully from her uncle. Tell her, she cannot judge of the destruction she would hurl upon my head if she were now to betray me. Tell her, I intreat, I insist, that she make not one attempt to quit the castle.—Will you, dear Miss Ashburn, undertake this kind office? Will you turn the adorable romantic girl from her mad enterprise?'
'Certainly Mr. Montgomery,' I replied, 'I will deliver your own message exactly in your own words. As to my opinion, I have given it to Sibella already: it is against her quitting the castle.'
I should also have told Clement what were my motives for wishing you to remain with your uncle, had not my mother and Mademoiselle Laundy, at that instant, entered the room. Their presence, however, did not prevent Clement from thanking me with great warmth; and, the worst of his fears being now removed, his countenance again brightened into smiles, and he readily acquiesced in my mother's wish of his attending her to convey him to his lodgings to dress, and, as he quitted us, I bade him remember the purpose for which he came to London. Blushes covered his face, and he departed without speaking. Once more, adieu! Forget not the wood-haunter.