You know, said he, that I am descended of one of the most illustrious families in England, tho', by some imprudencies on the one side, and injustice on the other, my claim was set aside, and I deprived of that title which my ancestors for a long succession of years had enjoyed, so that the estate I am in possession of, was derived to me in right of my mother, who was an heiress. It is indeed sufficient to have given me a pretence to any lady I should have made choice on, and to provide for what children I might have had by her: but the pride of blood being not abated in me by being cut off from my birthright, inspired me with an unconquerable aversion to marriage, since I could not bequeath to my posterity that dignity I ought to have enjoyed myself:—I resolved therefore to live single, and that the misfortune of my family should dye with myself.
In my younger years I went to travel, as well for improvement, as to alleviate that discontent which was occasioned by the sight of another in possession of what I thought was my due.—Having made the tour of Europe, I took France again in my way home:—the gallantry and good breeding of these people very much attached me to them; but what chiefly engaged my continuance here much longer than I had done in any other part, was an acquaintance I had made with a lady called Matilda: she was of a very good family in England, was sent to a monastry merely for the sake of well-grounding her in a religion, the free exercise of which is not allowed at home, and to seclude her from settling her affections on any other than the person she was destined to by the will of her parents, and to whom she had been contracted in her infancy:—she was extremely young, and beautiful as an angel; and the knowledge she was pre-engaged, could not hinder me from loving her, any more than the declarations I made in her hearing against marriage, could the grateful returns she was pleased to make me:—in fine, the mutual inclination we had for each other, as it rendered us deaf to all suggestions but that of gratifying it, so it also inspired us with ingenuity to surmount all the difficulties that were between our wishes and the end of them.—Tho' a pensioner in a monastry, and very closely observed, by the help of a confidant she frequently got out, and many nights we passed together;—till some business relating to my estate at length calling me away, we were obliged to part, which we could not do without testifying a great deal of concern on both sides:—mine was truly sincere at that time, and I have reason to believe her's was no less so; but absence easily wears out the impressions of youth: as I never expected to see her any more, I endeavoured not to preserve a remembrance which would only have given me disquiet, and, to confess the truth, soon forgot both the pleasure and the pain I had experienced in this, as well as some other little sallies of my unthinking youth.
Many years passed over without my ever hearing any thing of her; and it was some months after I received your letter from Aix-la-Chappelle, that the post brought me one from Ireland: having no correspondence in that country, I was a little surprized, but much more when I opened it and found it contained these words:
To DORILAUS.
SIR,
"This comes to make a request, which I
know not if the acquaintance we had
together in the early part of both our lives,
would be sufficient to apologize for the trouble
you must take in complying with it:—permit
me therefore to acquaint you, that I have long
laboured under an indisposition which my physicians
assure me is incurable, and under which
I must inevitably sink in a short time; but
whatever they say, I know it is impossible
for me to leave the world without imparting
to you a secret wholly improper to be entrusted
in a letter, but is of the utmost importance
to those concerned in it, of whom yourself
is the principal:—be assured it regards
your honour, your conscience, your justice, as
well as the eternal peace of her who conjures
you, with the utmost earnestness, to come immediately
on the receipt of this to the castle of
M——e, in the north of Ireland, where, if
you arrive time enough, you will be surprized,
tho' I flatter myself not disagreeably so, with
the unravelling a most mysterious Event.
Yours, once known by the name of MATILDA,
now
M——E."
I will not repeat to you, my dear Louisa, continued Dorilaus, the strange perplexity of ideas that run thro' my mind after having read this letter:—I was very far from guessing at the real motive of this invitation; which, however, as I once had a regard for that lady, I soon determined to obey; and having left the care of my house to a relation of mine by the mother's side, I went directly for Ireland; but when I came there, was a little embarrassed in my mind what excuse I should make to her husband for my visit.—Before I ventured to the castle, I made a thorough enquiry after the character of this young lady, and in what manner she lived with her lord. Never did I hear a person more universally spoke well of:—the poor adored her charity, affability, and condescending sweetness of disposition:—the rich admired her wit, her virtue, and good breeding:—her beauty, tho' allowed inferior to few of her sex, was the least qualification that seemed deserving praise:—to add to all this, they told me she was a pattern of conjugal affection, and the best of mothers to a numerous race of Children;—that her lord had all the value he ought to have for so amiable a wife, and that no wedded pair ever lived together in greater harmony; and it was with the utmost concern, whoever I spoke to on this affair concluded what they related of her with saying, that so excellent an example of all that was valuable in womankind would shortly be taken from them;—that she had long, with an unexampled patience, lingered under a severe illness which every day threatened dissolution.
These accounts made me hesitate no farther:—I went boldly to the castle, asked to speak with the lord M——e, who received me with a politeness befitting his quality: I told him that my curiosity of seeing foreign countries had brought me to Ireland, and being in my tour thro' those parts, I took the liberty of calling at his seat, having formerly had the honour of being known to his lady when at her father's house, and whom I now heard, to my great concern, was indisposed, otherwise have been glad to pay my respects to her. The nobleman answered, with tears in his eyes, that she was indeed in a condition such as give no hope of her recovery, but that she sometimes saw company, tho' obliged to receive them in bed, having lost the use of her limbs, and would perhaps be glad of the visit of a person she had known so long.
On this I told him my name, which he immediately sent in; and her woman not long after came from her to let me know she would admit me. My lord went in with me; and to countenance what I said, I accosted her with the freedom of a person who had been acquainted when children, spoke of her father as of a gentleman who had favoured me with his good-will, tho', in reality, I had never seen him in my life, but remembered well enough what she had mentioned to me concerning him, and some others of her family, to talk as if I had been intimate among them. I could perceive she was very well pleased with the method I had taken of introducing myself; and, to prevent any suspicion that I had any other business with her than to pay my compliments, made my visit very short that day, not doubting but she would of herself contrive some means of entertaining me without witnesses, as she easily found her lord had desired I would make the castle my home while I stayed in that part of the country.
I was not deceived; the next morning having been told her lord was engaged with his steward, she sent for me, and making some pretence for getting rid of her woman, she plucked a paper from under her pillow, and putting it into my hand,—in that, said, you will find the secret I mentioned in my letter;—suspect not the veracity of it, I conjure you, nor love the unfortunate Horatio and Louisa less for their being mine.
I cannot express the confusion I was in, continued Dorilaus, at her mentioning you and your brother, but I had no opportunity of asking any questions:—her woman that instant returned, after which I stayed but a short time, being impatient to examine the contents, which, as near as I can remember, were to this purpose:
"You were scarce out of France before I
discovered our amour had produced such
consequences as, had my too fond passion given
me leave to think of, I never should have hazarded:—I
will not repeat the distraction I
was in;—you may easily judge of it:—I
communicated the misfortune to my nurse,
who you know I told you went from England
with me, and has often brought you messages
from the convent:—the faithful creature did
her utmost to console me for an evil which was
without a remedy:—to complete my confusion,
my father commanded me home; my lord
M——e was returned from his travels:—we
were both of an age to marry; and it
was resolved, by our parents, no longer to
defer the completion of an affair long before
agreed upon.—I was ready to lay violent hands
on myself, since there seemed no way to conceal
my shame; but my good nurse having set
all her wits to work for me, found out an expedient
which served me, when I could think
of nothing for myself.—She bid me be of
comfort; that she thought being sent for home
was the luckiest thing that could have happened,
since nothing could be so bad as to have my
pregnancy discovered in the convent, as it
infallibly must have been had I stayed a very little
time longer: she also assured me she would
contrive it so, as to keep the thing a secret
from all the world.—I found afterwards she
did not deceive me by vain promises.—We
left Paris, according to my father's order, and
came by easy journeys, befitting my condition,
to Calais, and embarked on board the packet for
Dover; but then, instead of taking coach for London,
hired a chariot, and went cross the country
to a little village, where a kinswoman of my
nurse's lived.—With these people I remained
till Horatio and Louisa came into the world:—I
could have had them nursed at that place, but
I feared some discovery thro' the miscarriage of
letters, which often happens, and which could
not have been avoided being sent on such occasions;—so
we contrived together that my
good confident and adviser should carry them
to your house, and commit the care of them
to you, who, equal with myself, had a right to
it:—she found means, by bribing a man that
worked under your gardener, to convey them
where I afterwards heard you found and received
them as I could wish, and becoming the
generosity of your nature.—I then took coach
for London, pretending, at my arrival, that I
had been delayed by sickness, and to excuse my
nurse's absence, said she had caught the fever
of me;—so no farther enquiry was made, and
I soon after was married to a man whose worth
is well deserving of a better wife, tho' I have
endeavoured to attone for my unknown transgression
by every act of duty in my power:—nurse
stayed long enough in your part of the
world to be able to bring me an account how
the children were disposed of.—That I never
gave you an account they were your own, was
occasioned by two reasons, first, the danger of
entrusting such a thing by the post, my nurse
soon after dying; and secondly, because, as I
was a wife, I thought it unbecoming of me to
remind you of a passage I was willing to forget
myself.—A long sickness has put other thoughts
into my head, and inspired me with a tenderness
for those unhappy babes, which the shame
of being their mother hitherto deprived them
of.—I hear, with pleasure, that you are not
married, and are therefore at full liberty to
make some provision for them, if they are yet
living, that may alleviate the misfortune of
their birth. Farewell; if I obtain this first and
last request, I shall dye well satisfied."
"P.S. Burn this paper, I conjure you, the moment
you have read it; but lay the contents
of it up in your heart never to be forgotten."
I now no longer wondered, pursued Dorilaus, at that impulse I had to love you;—I found it the simpathy of nature, and adored the divine power.—After having well fixed in my mind all the particulars of this amazing secret, I performed her injunction, and committed it to the flames: I had opportunity enough to inform her in what manner Horatio had disposed of himself, and let her know you were gone with a lady on her travels: I concealed indeed the motive, fearing to give her any occasion of reproaching herself for having so long concealed what my ignorance of might have involved us all in guilt and ruin.
I stayed some few days at the castle, and then took my leave: she said many tender things at parting concerning you, and seemed well satisfied with the assurances I gave her of making the same provision for you, as I must have done had the ceremony of the church obliged me to it. This seemed indeed the only thing for which she lived, and, I was informed, died in a few days after.