“You know that he has been in our house some time ago, informing us of your exaltation to the ducal dignity, and at the same time, placed the declaration of the ghost, concerning the murder, in its proper point of view. However, you are still ignorant of the most important circumstance. I will not dwell on the uncommon praise he bestowed on your family, and you in particular, but only mention that he concluded his panegyrics with the observation, that the Countess herself would deem you deserving her love, if she should be acquainted more intimately with your Grace. This unexpected turn perplexed Amelia evidently. She replied, she did not doubt the amiable qualities of the Duke, however she vowed eternal fidelity to the Count. ‘If that is your sole objection,’ the Irishman replied, ‘then I shall soon remove it. The deceased himself shall release you from your vow, from the performance of which he can derive neither benefit nor pleasure; it is in my power to make him declare it himself.’ ‘No, no!’ exclaimed Amelia, terrified, ‘the rest of the deceased shall not be interrupted; I should not be able to stand the sight of him.’ ‘No apparition, my Lady,’ the Irishman replied, ‘you shall neither hear nor see the deceased!’—With these words he took a blank piece of paper out of his pocket-book, requesting Amelia to write upon it the following words:——‘Spirit of the Count of Clairval, shall I preserve my heart and hand faithful to thee till death, according to my vow?’ As soon as the Countess had been persuaded to it with great difficulty, and wrote these words, the Irishman prevailed upon her to carry the paper to an apartment to which no one could have access without her knowledge and leave. Amelia chose the apartment contiguous to her bed-chamber. The shutters were bolted from within, the paper placed upon a table, and the room strongly fumigated by the Irishman, who uttered some mysterious words. When they had retired, the Irishman requested her to return and look after the paper; however she could see nothing but the words written by herself, upon which she shut the door, and put the key in her pocket.
“‘Sleep easy,’ the Irishman added, ‘and don’t open the chamber before to-morrow morning, when you will find an answer to your question.’
“The Irishman left us at eleven o’clock, and Amelia went to her bed-room, which she left not for a moment all night.—She went to bed, but uneasiness and curiosity did not suffer her to close her eyes. Not the least noise was heard in the adjoining apartment, and when Amelia entered it early in the morning, she had observed beneath the lines she had wrote, pale but legible characters, which she instantly knew to be the hand-writing of her deceased Lord———‘Thy vow, which binds me to be a living being upon earth, and, thee to one who is deceased, shackles my liberty. I break these chains. The man by whose orders I have been assassinated is Vasco**ellos.’
“Imagine how Amelia was astonished at an incident which evidently was the effect of a superior power; the apartment, the shutters, and the door of which had been carefully secured, and which was guarded by Amelia herself, being entirely inaccessible to any mortal, except by violent means, of which no traces could be perceived on the window shutters. This miraculous event was decisive for my friend, who professed herself entirely at liberty from that moment.
“Your Grace will easily believe me, that the tender attachment to you, which had found access to her heart, guarded by a solemn vow, acquired additional activity when the shackles were thrown off. The ghost himself appeared to have silently approved, by naming the real murderer, the passion for a Prince, whose father had been injured by an unjust suspicion. Amelia endeavoured, nevertheless, to conceal from me the real state of her heart, and, out of caprice, rather would leave me to guess, than to confess herself, what might have been misinterpreted as a weakness. However, that very constraint which she experienced by concealing a secret that struggled to break its confinement, some words which she dropped unknowingly, her gloomy looks and silent melancholy——in short, all those traits which seem to have told you so very little of Amelia’s secret sentiments, convinced me soon that love was the silent tormentor of her heart. I communicated my discovery to her, and she confessed at last that I was not mistaken.”
“Gracious Heaven!” I exclaimed, “she confessed---”
“And at the same time desired me earnestly to conceal it carefully from you; and do you know for what reason?”
“No!”
“Amelia feared she was not beloved by you. Your having proceeded on your travels during her illness without so much as taking leave of her, made her already suspect your indifference. This suspicion gained additional strength by your never having wrote a single line to her after your departure. Your behaviour during your present stay with us too, has cured her of that error as little as the information of your departure.”
“Should it be possible my love could have escaped Amelia’s looks?”