Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 154: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ree ee a Se JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. 141 but presently subduing the violence of my grief as well as I was able, I asked him whether he saw Antonia depart ?—‘ Yes, signor,’ he replied; ‘ but I could not discern her ladyship’s countenance through the veil which she wore. She leant upon the arm of the Cardinal, who appeared to address her in soothing whispers. I fear, signor, by all appearances, that her ladyship was very, very unhappy !’—‘ My God, and she is thus taken from me!’ I exclaimed, feeling as if I must lay violent hands upon myself.—The lacquey besought me to be calm; and he went on to say, ‘ When her lady- ship was gone, the Count sent for me and my sister into his presence, told us that he had no doubt as to our complicity in the intended flight, but added that he purposed to forgive us on condition, that we mentioned the circumstances to no one. We of course promised obedience to the injunc- tion, but I did not the less take the first oppor- tunity to run off to you, signor, to tell you all these things. —I thanked the man, and liberally rewarded him. MHastily dismissing him, I went forth with madness in my brain to make all pos- sible inquiries, with the last desperate hope of ascertaining in which direction Cardinal Gravina had taken off Antonia in the carriage. I sped to the Gravina palace—I lavished gold upon the porter and the lacqueys: but all to no effect! No one had heard the Cardinal give any instructions to his coachman: no one could surmise the desti- nation of the equipage. I wandered about, asking everywhere if such an equipage had been seen to pass: but hours went by, and I obtained not the slightest clue to that which I sought to discover. I returned home with anguish in my heart and frenzy in my brain: a letter was awaiting me—it was from the Count of Tivoli. I tore it open: its contents were laconic and cold. They were simply to the effect that my most audacious endeavour to carry off the Lady Antonia had been discovered— that in consequence of my machinations it had been deemed advisable to send the young lady away to some relations in a foreign and distant country—and that previous to her departure she had acknowledged her disobedience to her sire, and had besought his forgiveness. The letter con- cluded by observing that if I possessed a spark of honour I would abstain from giving publicity to whatsoever related to an episode in which the Tivoli family was concerned. Now, my dear Wilmot, you know all. A year has elapsed since Antonia was lost to me; and never since have I seen her—never since have I heard of her. I am still in the completest ignorance of the place to which she was consigned: the family to whose care she was confided, may live, for aught I know, amidst the smiling districts of France, or amidst the wildest steppes of Russia. Yes—for thus long she has been lost to me: but her image—that beloved and cherished image—dwells in my me- mory : for in respect to her that memory of mine is immortal! But it does more than dwell in my memory; I have transferred it to canvass * “Ah!” I ejaculated, in the hope that Francesco Avellino would show me the representative of the idol of his heart’s worship. “ But methought that you had scruples on this point——~” “Yes—when she was still at her father’s house, and when I could see her daily,” answered Avel- ; lino, in a voice of profoundest melancholy. “ But when she was gone—after we were so cruelly severed—and when in the course of weeks and months my mind began to recover somewhat from the dreadful shock which it had sustained,—then methought it would prove a melancholy pleasure to exercise whatsoever little artistic ability I may possess, in depicting upon canvass that image which was so indelibly impressed upon my mind. I have worked at it, Wilmot, with the most pains- taking attention: it has indeed proved to me a labour of love; and under this influence I have accomplished something which, poor as a specimen of art though it may be, is neverless a masterpiece of my ability ; and I could not have achieved it half so well if it had been a task for which the whole wealth of the Indies were to be received as the price. And as I have progressed with that labour of love of mine, I have felt the mysterious influence of hope occasionally stealing in unto my soul: for I have said to myself that her love is as constant and as imperishable as my own—and that if heaven spares her life, and mine also, there may yet a brighter day arise to smile in happiness upon the union of two fond hearts. But there are other times, Wilmot,” added Avellino, in a low deep voice, “when my soul abandons itself to de- spair, and whenit appears to me as if the re- mainder of my existence is doomed to continue a sor- rowful void—for that Antonia is lost to me for ever!” “No, no!” I exclaimed: “no, no, my dear friend! do not abandon yourself to despair. Love itself is hope ; and heaven will not punish you so cruelly—you, who have done naught but good deeds in your life! The afflictions we experience are often intended only to chasten us, and prepare us for the better appreciation of that happiness which we covet. These chastenings are therefore in themselves only temporary—the happiness comes at last—and the wise purposes of heaven are ful- filled.” Avellino listened to me with amazement and solemn attention; and pressing my hand, he said, “You have indeed infused hope into my soul. Yet how is it to be fulfilled? It is true that I do not believe—I never have believed, that Antonia re. canted to her father a single syllable of the love- vows she had pledged to me But again I ask, how is hope to be fulfilled ?” “ To ask such a question,” I rejoined, “is to ex- pect that heaven will inspire you with the power of penetrating into that which is toremain inscru- table until its own good time shall come. Reflect for a moment, my dear friend—and your memory will doubtless furnish you with sufficient corrobora- tions of what I am about tosay. How often have incidents which at the time appeared the meanest and the most trivial, been subsequently found to convert themselves into a train of circumstances the development of which in such a form was little expected. Yet those very incidents which seemed so insignificant at the time of their occurrence, and which subsequent events proved to be of such vital importance, all entered into the methods by which heayen was working out its mysterious ways. If your love may appear hopeless to- day and enveloped in darkest clouds, the sunshine may be upon it to-morrow; and your heart may yet rejoice. Do not despair therefore—have con- fidence in heayven—and believe that love itself is hope and faith !” OOO) S (©)