Life's Progress Through the Passions; Or, The Adventures of Natura

by Eliza Fowler Haywood

Be that as it may, Elgidia suffered herself to be won by his perswasions; and being so, the present opportunity was not to be lost. — He had horses at the gate, could conduct her, he said, where she might be concealed till they got quite out of the reach of her kindred, and failed not to remonstrate, that if she delayed, but even till the next morning, not only the jealousy of the abbess, but a thousand other accidents, might separate them for ever.

As the lovers past their time in this manner, the distracted abbess was prosecuting her journey, in quest of him she had left behind: as the way she had to go was so short, there was no great danger of any mischief attending it, neither did any happen; but how great was her confusion! when arriving at the house where Natura lodged, she was told he went out in the evening, on the receipt of a billet brought him by his servant. — This disappointment destroyed all the remains of temperance had been left in her; she presently guessed the billet came from no other than Elgidia, doubted not but they were together, and figured in her mind a scene of tenderness between them so cruel to her imagination, that frenzy itself scarce exceeded what she endured: — she rode back with even more precipitation than she had set out, and being alighted at the gate thro' the great walk, supposing Elgidia had brought him into her chamber, where, if she found them, thought of nothing, but sacrificing one or both of them to her resentment.

In this situation of mind, it cannot be imagined she had any thought about the horses; but her companion having more the power of reflection, and judging them to be the farmer's, thought it best to tye them to a tree within the garden, that so they might be secured, and sent to him in the morning; which having done, and shut the gate, she was going to follow the abbess, when she met her coming back: — “I have considered,” said she, “that my perfidious sister would rather chuse the close arbour for her rendezvous, than her own chamber, where there would be more danger of being overheard by the nuns who lie near her; — go you therefore,” continued she, “and wait me in my apartment, while I search the garden.”

The nun obeyed, glad to be eased of this nocturnal attendance, and the abbess drew near, as softly as she could, to the arbour; and standing behind the covert of the greens of which it was composed, heard the consent Elgidia gave to accompany Natura, and saw her quit him, with a promise of returning, as soon as she had put on a habit somewhat more proper for travelling.

Had she followed the first dictates of her passion in this stabbing circumstance, she had either pursued her sister, and inflicted on her all that vindictive malice could suggest, or run into the arbour, and discharged some part of her fury on Natura: — each alike shared her resentment, but divided between both, lost its effects on either: — a revenge more pleasing, and less unbecoming of a female mind, at length got the better of those furious resolves; — she thought, that as every thing favoured such a design, and she was equipped for the purpose, to take the place of her sister, would afford her an exquisite triumph over the disappointment she should occasion them: accordingly, after staying long enough to encourage the deception, she came round the arbour, and entered at the passage by which Elgidia had gone out: — Natura, not doubting but it was his beloved, took her in his arms, saying, “How transporting is the expedition you have made in your return; and indeed we had need of it, for the night is far exhausted, and it is necessary you should be out of this part of the country before day-break.”

The abbess answered not to what he said, but gave him her hand; on which he led her towards the gate, entertaining her with the most endearing expressions as they walked, to all which she was still dumb. Natura was not surprized at it, as imagining she was too much engrossed by the thoughts of what she was about to do, to be able to speak: — but how great was his mortification, when having opened the gate, he found his servant, who having missed the horses, was just come back from a fruitless search of them. — He drew his sword, and had not the fellow stept nimbly aside, had certainly killed him: — while he was venting his passion in the severest terms, the abbess shut the gate upon him, and locked it with her own key, which, leaving in the lock, the one he had made use of, could now be of no service. — A caprice he had so little reason to expect in Elgidia, might very well surprize him, especially at a time when both had so much cause to be more grave! — he called to her, he complained, he even reproached the unkindness, and ill-manners of this treatment, while the abbess indulged on the other side the most spiteful pleasure in his vexation.

She left him railing at fate and womankind, without convincing him of his error, when as she was going to the monastery, she met Elgidia just coming out, and directing her steps towards the arbour: — they were in the same path, and facing each other: — Elgidia, full of the fears which usually attend actions of the nature she was about to do, no sooner perceived the form of a woman, and habited in the same manner as herself, than she took it for a spirit; and terrified almost to death, cried out, “a ghost! a ghost!” and ran, shrieking, with all her force to the cloyster, resolved, as much as it then was in her power to resolve on any thing, to desist from her enterprise. — She made no stop, till she got into her chamber, where she threw herself on the bed, in a condition not to be described.

The abbess was so well satisfied with the success of this last stratagem, that it greatly abated the thoughts of taking any further revenge: — she went laughing to her confidante, and told her the whole story, who congratulated her upon it, and said, that in her opinion, she might take it as a peculiar providence of Heaven, that had disappointed her first design, which could only have increased her confusion, and probably brought a lasting scandal on the order. The abbess wanted not reason, when her passion would permit her to exert it, and could not help confessing the truth of what the other remonstrated: — she now easily saw they were Natura's horses they had made use of, but how it came to pass that those she had bespoke, or the man she had ordered to bring them, happened to fail, remained a point yet to be discussed: — the morning, however, cleared it up; — the fellow acquainted her, that the farmer had no horses at home, and that as he was coming to let her know it, he saw two men at the gate, one of whom entered, so that he imagined she had provided herself elsewhere: — she then bad him turn out Natura's horses, which the nun having said how she had disposed of them, not thinking herself obliged to take any care of what belonged to a man, who had treated her with so much ingratitude.

Natura was all this time in the utmost perplexity, not only at the usage he imagined had been given him by Elgidia, but also for the loss of his horses; and at being told when he came home, that two women, in riding habits, well mounted, but without any attendants, had been to enquire for him: — all these things, the meaning of any one of which he was not able to fathom, so filled his head, that he could not take any repose: — pretty early in the morning, a letter was brought him from Elgidia, which he hastily opened, but found nothing in it, but what served to heighten his amazement and discontent.

She told him that she could not dispense with letting him know the occasion of her breach of promise; that intending nothing more than to perform it, she was hastening to the arbour, when, in the middle of the garden, she was met by an apparition, which, as near as she could discern, had the resemblance of herself; — that the terror she was in had obliged her to retire; and that as she could look on what she had seen, as no other than a warning from Heaven, she had determined to use her utmost endeavours for extinguishing a passion obnoxious to its will; to which end she desired he would make no farther attempts to engage her to an act so contrary to her duty, or even ever to see her more.