The Romance of the Forest

nd hope enchanted smiled and waved her golden
hair,
And longer had she sung--but, with a frown,
Revenge impatient rose.

ODE TO THE PASSIONS.

The dawn of morning now trembled through the clouds, when the travellers
stopped at a small town to change horses. Theodore entreated Adeline to
alight and take some refreshment, and to this she at length consented.
But the people of the inn were not yet up, and it was some time before
the knocking and the roaring of the postillion could rouse them.

Having taken some slight refreshment, Theodore and Adeline returned to
the carriage. The only subject upon which Theodore could have spoke with
interest, delicacy forbade him at this time to notice; and after
pointing out some beautiful scenery on the road, and making other
efforts to support a conversation, he relapsed into silence. His mind,
though still anxious, was now relieved from the apprehension that had
long oppressed it. When he first saw Adeline, her loveliness made a deep
impression on his heart: there was a sentiment in her beauty, which his
mind immediately acknowledged, and the effect of which, her manners and
conversation had afterwards confirmed. Her charms appeared to him like
those since so finely described by an English poet:

Oh! have you seen, bathed in the morning dew,
The budding rose its infant bloom display?
When first its virgin tints unfold to view.
It shrinks, and scarcely trusts the blaze of day.

So soft, so delicate, so sweet she came,
Youth's damask glow just dawning on her cheek.
I gaz'd, I sigh'd, I caught the tender flame,
Felt the fond pang, and droop'd with passion weak.

A knowledge of her destitute condition and of the dangers with which she
was environed, had awakened in his heart the tenderest touch of pity,
and assisted the change of admiration into love. The distress he
suffered, when compelled to leave her exposed to these dangers, without
being able to warn her of them, can only be imagined. During his
residence with his regiment, his mind was the constant prey of terrors,
which he saw no means of combating but by returning to the neighbourhood
of the abbey where he might obtain early intelligence of the Marquis's
schemes, and be ready to give his assistance to Adeline.

Leave of absence he could not request, without betraying his design
where most he dreaded it should be known; and at length with a generous
rashness, which though it defied law was impelled by virtue, he secretly
quitted his regiment. The progress of the Marquis's plan he had observed
with trembling anxiety, till the night that was to decide the fate of
Adeline and himself roused all his mind to action, and involved him in a
tumult of hope and fear, horror and expectation.

Never till the present hour had he ventured to believe she was in
safety. Now the distance they had gained from the chateau without
perceiving any pursuit, increased his best hopes. It was impossible he
could sit by the side of his beloved Adeline, and receive assurances of
her gratitude and esteem, without venturing to hope for her love. He
congratulated himself as her preserver, and anticipated scenes of
happiness when she should be under the protection of his family. The
clouds of misery and apprehension disappeared from his mind, and left it
to the sunshine of joy. When a shadow of fear would sometimes return, or
when he recollected with compunction the circumstances under which he
had left his regiment, stationed as it was upon the frontiers, and in a
time of war, he looked at Adeline, and her countenance with
instantaneous magic beamed peace upon his heart.

But Adeline had a subject of anxiety from which Theodore was exempt: the
prospect of her future days was involved in darkness and uncertainty.
Again she was going to claim the bounty of strangers--again going to
encounter the uncertainty of their kindness; exposed to the hardships of
dependance, or to the difficulty of earning a precarious livelihood.
These anticipations obscured the joy occasioned by her escape, and by
the affection which the conduct and avowal of Theodore had exhibited.
The delicacy of his behaviour, in forbearing to take advantage of her
present situation to plead his love, increased her esteem and flattered
her pride.

Adeline was lost in meditation upon subjects like these, when the
postillion stopped the carriage, and pointing to part of a road which
wound down the side of a hill they had passed, said there were several
horsemen in pursuit! Theodore immediately ordered him to proceed with
all possible speed, and to strike out of the great road into the first
obscure way that offered. The postillion cracked his whip in the air,
and set off as if he was flying for life. In the meanwhile Theodore
endeavoured to reanimate Adeline, who was sinking with terror, and who
now thought, if she could only escape from the Marquis, she could defy
the future.

Presently they struck into a by lane screened and overshadowed by thick
trees. Theodore again looked from the window, but the closing boughs
prevented his seeing far enough to determine whether the pursuit
continued. For his sake Adeline endeavoured to disguise her emotions.
This lane, said Theodore, will certainly lead to a town or village, and
then we have nothing to apprehend: for, though my single arm could not
defend you against the number of our pursuers, I nave no doubt of being
able to interest some of the inhabitants in our behalf.

Adeline appeared to be comforted by the hope this reflection suggested:
and Theodore again looked back: but the windings of the road closed his
view, and the rattling of the wheels overcame every other sound. At
length he called to the postillion to stop; and having listened
attentively without perceiving any sound of horses, he began to hope
they were now in safety. Do you know whither this road leads? said he.
The postillion answered that he did not, but he saw some houses through
the trees at a distance, and believed that it led to them. This was most
welcome intelligence to Theodore, who looked forward and perceived the
houses. The postillion set off. Fear nothing, my adored Adeline, said
he, you are now safe; I will part with you but with life. Adeline
sighed, not for herself only, but for the danger to which Theodore might
be exposed.

They had continued to travel in this manner for near half an hour, when
they arrived at a small village, and soon after stopped at an inn, the
best the place afforded. As Theodore lifted Adeline from the chaise, he
again entreated her to dismiss her apprehensions, and spoke with a
tenderness to which she could reply only by a smile that ill concealed
her anxiety. After ordering refreshments, he went out to speak with the
landlord; but had scarcely left the room when Adeline observed a party
of horsemen enter the inn yard, and she had no doubt these were the
persons from whom they fled. The faces of two of them only were turned
towards her, but she thought the figure of one of the others not unlike
that of the Marquis.

Her heart was chilled, and for some moments the powers of reason forsook
her. Her first design was to seek concealments but while she considered
the means, one of the horsemen looked up to the window near, which she
stood, and speaking to his companions they entered the inn. To quit the
room without being observed was impossible; to remain there, alone and
unprotected as she was, would almost be equally dangerous. She paced the
room in an agony of terror, often secretly calling on Theodore, and
often wondering he did not return. These were moments of indescribable
suffering. A loud and tumultuous sound of voices now arose from a
distant part of the house, and she soon, distinguished the words of the
disputants. I arrest you in the king's name, said one; and bid you, at
your peril, attempt to go from hence, except under a guard.

The next minute Adeline heard the voice of Theodore in reply. I do not
mean to dispute the king's orders, said he, and give you my word of
honour not to go without you; but first unhand me, that I may return to
that room; I have a friend there whom I wish to speak with. To this
proposal they at first objected, considering it merely as an excuse to
obtain an opportunity of escaping; but after much altercation and
entreaty his request was granted. He sprang forward towards the room
where Adeline remained; and while a sergeant and corporal followed him
to the door, the two soldiers went out into the yard of the inn to watch
the windows of the apartment.

With an eager hand he unclosed the door; but Adeline hastened not to
meet him, for she had fainted almost at the beginning of the dispute.
Theodore called loudly for assistance; and the mistress of the inn soon
appeared with her stock of remedies, which were administered in vain to
Adeline, who remained insensible, and by breathing alone gave signs of
her existence. The distress of Theodore was in the mean time heightened
by the appearance of the officers, who, laughing at the discovery of his
pretended friend, declared they could wait no longer. Saying this, they
would have forced him from the inanimate form of Adeline, over whom he
hung in unutterable anguish, when fiercely turning upon them he drew his
sword, and swore no power on earth should force him away before the lady
recovered.

The men, enraged by the action and the determined air of Theodore,
exclaimed, Do you oppose the king's orders? and advanced to seize him:
but he presented the point of his sword, and bade them at their peril
approach. One of them immediately drew. Theodore kept his guard, but did
not advance. I demand only to wait here till the lady recovers, said
he;--you understand the alternative. The man already exasperated by the
opposition of Theodore, regarded the latter part of his speech as a
threat, and became determined not to give up the point: he pressed
forward; and while his comrade called the men from the yard, Theodore
wounded him slightly in the shoulder, and received himself the stroke of
a sabre on his head.

The blood gushed furiously from the wound: Theodore, staggering to a
chair, sunk into it, just as the remainder of the party entered the
room; and Adeline unclosed her eyes to see him ghastly pale, and covered
with blood. She uttered an involuntary scream, and exclaiming, They have
murdered him, nearly relapsed. At the sound of her voice he raised his
head, and smiling held out his hand to her. I am not much hurt said he
faintly, and shall soon be better, if indeed you are recovered. She
hastened towards him, and gave her hand. Is nobody gone for a surgeon?
said she with a look of agony. Do not be alarmed, said Theodore, I am
not so ill as you imagine. The room was now crowded with people, whom
the report of the affray had now brought together; among these was a man
who acted as physician, apothecary, and surgeon to the village, and who
now stepped forward to the assistance of Theodore.

Having examined the wound, he declined giving his opinion, but ordered
the patient to be immediately put to bed; to which the officers
objected, alleging that it was their duty to carry him to the regiment.
That cannot be done without great danger to his life, replied the
doctor; and--

Oh; his life, said the sergeant; we have nothing to do with that, we
must do our duty. Adeline, who had hitherto stood in trembling anxiety,
could now no longer be silent. Since the surgeon, said she, has declared
it his opinion that this gentleman cannot be removed in his present
condition without endangering his life, you will remember that if he
dies, yours will probably answer it.

Yes, rejoined the surgeon, who was unwilling to relinquish his patient;
I declare before these witnesses, that he cannot be removed with safety:
you will do well therefore to consider the consequences. He has received
a very dangerous wound, which requires the most careful treatment, and
the event is even then doubtful; but if he travels, a fever may ensue,
and the wound will then be mortal. Theodore heard this sentence with
composure, but Adeline could with difficulty conceal the anguish of her
heart: she roused all her fortitude to suppress the tears that struggled
in her eyes; and though she wished to interest the humanity or to awaken
the fears of the men in behalf of their unfortunate prisoner, she dared
not to trust her voice with utterance.

From this internal struggle she was relieved by the compassion of the
people who filled the room, and becoming clamorous in the cause of
Theodore, declared the officers would be guilty of murder if they
removed him. Why he must die at any rate, said the sergeant, for
quitting his post, and drawing upon me in the execution of the king's
orders. A faint sickness seized the heart of Adeline, and she leaned for
support against Theodore's chair, whose concern for himself was for a
while suspended in his anxiety for her. He supported her with his arm,
and forcing a smile, said in a low voice, which she only could hear.
This is a misrepresentation; I doubt not, when the affair is inquired
into, it will be settled without any serious consequences.

Adeline knew these words were uttered only to console her, and therefore
did not give much credit to them, though Theodore continued to give her
similar assurances of his safety. Meanwhile the mob, whose compassion
for him had been gradually excited by the obduracy of the officer, were
now roused to pity and indignation by the seeming certainty of his
punishment, and the unfeeling manner in which it had been denounced. In
a short time they became so much enraged that, partly from a dread of
further consequences, and partly from the shame which their charges of
cruelty occasioned, the sergeant consented that he should be put to bed,
till his commanding officer might direct what was to be done. Adeline's
joy at this circumstance overcame for a moment the sense of her
misfortunes and of her situation.

She waited in an adjoining room the sentence of the surgeon, who was now
engaged in examining the wound; and though the accident would in any
other circumstances have severely afflicted her, she now lamented it the
more, because she considered herself as the cause of it, and because the
misfortune by illustrating more fully the affection of her lover, drew
him closer to her heart, and seemed therefore to sharpen the poignancy
of her affliction. The dreadful assertion that Theodore, should he
recover, would be punished with death, she scarcely dared to consider,
but endeavoured to believe that it was no more than a cruel exaggeration
of his antagonist.

Upon the whole, Theodore's present danger, together with the attendant
circumstances, awakened all her tenderness, and discovered to her the
true state of her affections. The graceful form, the noble, intelligent,
countenance, and the engaging manners which she had at first admired in
Theodore, became afterwards more interesting by that strength of thought
and elegance of sentiment exhibited in his conversation. His conduct,
since her escape, had excited her warmest gratitude; and the danger
which he had now encountered in her behalf, called forth her tenderness,
and heightened it into love. The veil was removed from her heart, and
she saw for the first time its genuine emotions.

The surgeon at length came out of Theodore's chamber into the room where
Adeline was waiting to speak with him. She inquired concerning the state
of his wound. You are a relation of the gentleman's, I presume, Madam;
his sister, perhaps? The question vexed and embarrassed her, and without
answering it she repeated her inquiry. Perhaps, Madam, you are more
nearly related, pursued the surgeon, seeming also to disregard her
question,--perhaps you are his wife? Adeline blushed, and was about to
reply, but he continued his speech. The interest you take in his welfare
is at least very flattering, and I would almost consent to exchange
conditions with him, were I sure of receiving such tender compassion
from so charming a lady. Saying this, he bowed to the ground. Adeline
assuming a very reserved air, said, Now, Sir, that you have concluded
your compliment, you will perhaps attend to my question; I have inquired
how you have left your patient.

That, Madam, is perhaps a question very difficult to be resolved; and it
is likewise a very disagreeable office to pronounce ill news--I fear he
will die. The surgeon opened his snuff-box and presented it to Adeline.
Die! she exclaimed in a faint voice, die!

Do not be alarmed, Madam, resumed the surgeon, observing her grow pale,
do not be alarmed. It is possible that the wound may not have reached
the----, he stammered, in that case the----, stammering again, is not
affected; and if so, the interior membranes of the brain are not
touched: in this case the wound may perhaps escape inflammation, and the
patient may possibly recover. But if, on the other hand----

I beseech you, Sir, to speak intelligibly, interrupted Adeline, and not
to trifle with my anxiety. Do you really believe him in danger?

In danger, Madam, exclaimed the surgeon, in danger! yes, certainly, in
very great danger. Saying this, he walked away with an air of chagrin
and displeasure. Adeline remained for some moments in the room, in an
excess of sorrow, which she found it impossible to restrain; and then
drying her tears, and endeavouring to compose her countenance, she went
to inquire for the mistress of the inn, to whom she sent a waiter. After
expecting her in vain for some time, she rang the bell, and sent another
message somewhat more pressing. Still the hostess did not appear; and
Adeline at length went herself down stairs, where she found her,
surrounded by a number of people, relating, with a loud voice and
various gesticulations, the particulars of the late accident. Perceiving
Adeline, she called out, Oh! here is Mademoiselle herself; and the eyes
of the assembly were immediately turned upon her. Adeline, whom the
crowd prevented from approaching the hostess, now beckoned her, and was
going to withdraw; but the landlady, eager in the pursuit of her story,
disregarded the signal. In vain did Adeline endeavour to catch her eye;
it glanced every where but upon her, who was unwilling to attract the
further notice of the crowd by calling out.

It is a great pity, to be sure, that he should be shot, said the
landlady, he's such a handsome man; but they say he certainly will if he
recovers. Poor gentleman! he will very likely not suffer though, for the
doctor says he will never go out of this house alive. Adeline now spoke
to a man who stood near, and desiring he would tell the hostess she
wished to speak with her, left the place.

In about ten minutes the landlady appeared. Alas! Mademoiselle, said
she, your brother is in a sad condition; they fear he won't get over.
Adeline inquired whether there was any other medical person in the town
than the surgeon whom she had seen. Lord, Madam, this is a rare healthy
place; we have little need of medicine people here; such an accident
never happened in it before. The doctor has been here ten years, but
there's very bad encouragement for his trade, and I believe he's poor
enough himself. One of the sort's quite enough for us. Adeline
interrupted her to ask some questions concerning Theodore, whom the
hostess had attended to his chamber. She inquired how he had borne the
dressing of the wound, and whether he appeared to be easier after the
operation; questions to which the hostess gave no very satisfactory
answers. She now inquired whether there was any surgeon in the
neighbourhood of the town, and was told there was not.

The distress visible in Adeline's countenance seemed to excite the
compassion of the landlady, who now endeavoured to console her in the
best manner she was able. She advised her to send for her friends, and
offered to procure a messenger. Adeline sighed, and said it was
unnecessary. I don't know, Ma'mselle, what you may think necessary,
continued the hostess; but I know I should think it very hard to die in
a strange place, with no relations near me, and I dare say the poor
gentleman thinks so himself; and besides, who is to pay for his funeral
if he dies? Adeline begged she would be silent; and desiring that every
proper attention might be given, she promised her a reward for her
trouble, and requested pen and ink immediately. Ay, to be sure,
Ma'mselle, that is the proper way; why your friends would never forgive
you if you did not acquaint them; I know it by myself. And as for taking
care of him, he shall have every thing the house affords; and I warrant
there is never a better inn in the province, though the town is none of
the biggest. Adeline was obliged to repeat her request for pen and ink,
before the loquacious hostess would quit the room.

The thought of sending for Theodore's friends had, in the tumult of the
late scenes, never occurred to her, and she was now somewhat consoled by
the prospect of comfort which it opened for him. When the pen and ink
were brought, she wrote the following note to Theodore:--

"In your present condition, you have need of every comfort that can be
procured you; and surely there is no cordial more valuable in illness
than the presence of a friend. Suffer me, therefore, to acquaint your
family with your situation: it will be a satisfaction to me, and, I
doubt not, a consolation to you."

In a short time after she had sent the note, she received a message from
Theodore, entreating most respectfully, but earnestly, to see her for a
few minutes. She immediately went to his chamber, and found her worst
apprehensions confirmed, by the languor expressed in his countenance;
while the shock she received, together with her struggle to disguise her
emotions, almost overcame her. I thank you for this goodness, said he,
extending his hand, which she received, and sitting down by the bed,
burst into a flood of tears. When her agitation had somewhat subsided,
and, removing her handkerchief from her eyes, she again looked on
Theodore, a smile of the tenderest love expressed his sense of the
interest she took in his welfare, and administered a temporary relief to
her heart.

Forgive this weakness, said she; my spirits have of late been so
variously agitated--Theodore interrupted her: These tears are more
flattering to my heart. But for my sake endeavour to support yourself: I
doubt not I shall soon be better; the surgeon--

I do not like him, said Adeline; but tell me how you find yourself? He
assured her that he was now much easier than he had yet been; and
mentioning her kind note, he led to the subject on account of which he
had solicited to see her. My family, said he, reside at a great distance
from hence, and I well know their affection is such, that, were they
informed of my situation, no consideration, however reasonable, could
prevent their coming to my assistance: but before they can arrive, their
presence will probably be unnecessary (Adeline looked earnestly at him.)
I should probably be well, pursued he, smiling, before a letter could
reach them; it would, therefore, occasion them unnecessary pain, and
moreover a fruitless journey. For your sake, Adeline, I could wish they
were here; but a few days will more fully show the consequences of my
wound: let us wait at least till then, and be directed by circumstances.

Adeline forbore to press the subject further, and turned to one more
immediately interesting. I much wish, said she, that you had a more able
surgeon; you know the geography of the province better than I do; are we
in the neighbourhood of any town likely to afford you other advice?

I believe not, said he; and this is an affair of little consequence, for
my wound is so inconsiderable that a very moderate share of skill may
suffice to cure it. But why, my beloved Adeline, do you give way to this
anxiety? why suffer yourself to be disturbed by this tendency to
forebode the worst? I am willing, perhaps presumptuously so, to
attribute it to your kindness; and suffer me to assure you, that while
it excites my gratitude, it increases my tenderest esteem. O Adeline!
since you wish my speedy recovery, let me see you composed: while I
believe you to be unhappy I cannot be well.--She assured him she would
endeavour to be at least tranquil; and fearing the conversation, if
prolonged, would be prejudicial to him, she left him to repose.

As she turned out of the gallery she met the hostess, upon whom certain
words of Adeline had operated as a talisman, transforming neglect and
impertinence into officious civility. She came to inquire whether the
gentleman above stairs had every thing that he liked, for she was sure
it was her endeavour that he should. I have got him a nurse, Ma'mselle,
to attend him, and I dare say she will do very well; but I will look to
that, for I shall not mind helping him myself sometimes. Poor gentleman!
how patiently he bears it! One would not think now that he believes he
is going to die; yet the doctor told him so himself, or at least as
good. Adeline was extremely shocked at this imprudent conduct of the
surgeon, and dismissed the landlady, after ordering a slight dinner.

Towards evening the surgeon again made his appearance; and having passed
some time with his patient, returned to the parlour, according to the
desire of Adeline, to inform her of his condition. He answered Adeline's
inquiries with great solemnity. It is impossible to determine positively
at present. Madam, but I have reason to adhere to the opinion I gave you
this morning. I am not apt indeed, to form opinions upon uncertain
grounds--I will give you a singular instance of this:

It is not above a fortnight since I was sent for to a patient at some
leagues distance: I was from home when the messenger arrived, and the
case being urgent, before I could reach the patient another physician
was consulted, who had ordered such medicines as he thought proper, and
the patient had been apparently relieved by them. His friends were
congratulating themselves upon his improvement when I arrived, and had
agreed in opinion with the physician that there was no danger in his
case. Depend upon it, said I, you are mistaken; these medicines cannot
have relieved him; the patient is in the utmost danger. The patient
groaned; but my brother physician persisted in affirming that the
remedies he had prescribed would not only be certain, but speedy, some
good effect having been already produced by them. Upon this I lost all
patience; and adhering to my opinion, that these effects were fallacious
and the case desperate, I assured the patient himself that his life was
in the utmost danger. I am not one of those, Madam, who deceive their
patients to the last moment;--but you shall hear the conclusion.

My brother physician was, I suppose, enraged by the firmness of my
opposition, for he assumed a most angry look, which did not in the least
affect me, and turning to the patient, desired he would decide upon
which of our opinions to rely, for he must decline acting with me. The
patient did me the honour, pursued the surgeon with a smile of
complacency and smoothing his ruffles, to think more highly of me than,
perhaps, I deserved, for he immediately dismissed my opponent. I could
not have believed, said he, as the physician left the room--I could not
have believed that a man who has been so many years in the profession
could be so wholly ignorant of it.

I could not have believed it either, said I.--I am astonished that he
was not aware of my danger, resumed the patient. I am astonished
likewise, replied I. I was resolved to do what I could for the patient,
for he was a man of understanding, as you perceive, and I had a regard
for him. I therefore altered the prescriptions, and myself administered
the medicines; but all would not do,--my opinion was verified, and he
died even before the next morning.--Adeline, who had been compelled to
listen to this long story, sighed at the conclusion of it. I don't
wonder that you are affected, Madam, said the surgeon; the instance I
have related is certainly a very affecting one. It distressed me so
much, that it was some time before I could think or even speak
concerning it. But you must allow, Madam, continued he, lowering his
voice and bowing with a look of self-congratulation, that this was a
striking instance of the infallibility of my judgment.

Adeline shuddered at the infallibility of his judgment, and made no
reply. It was a shocking thing for the poor man, resumed the
surgeon.--It was indeed, very shocking, said Adeline.--It affected me a
good deal when it happened, continued he.--Undoubtedly, Sir, said
Adeline.

But time wears away the most painful impressions.

I think you mention it was about a fortnight since this happened?

Somewhere thereabouts, replied the surgeon without seeming to understand
the observation.--And will you permit me, Sir, to ask the name of the
physician who so ignorantly opposed you?

Certainly, Madame; it is Lafance.

He lives in the obscurity he deserves, no doubt, said Adeline.

Why no, Madam, he lives in a town of some note, at about the distance of
four leagues from hence; and affords one instance, among many others,
that the public opinion, is generally erroneous. You will hardly believe
it, but I assure you it is a fact, that this man comes into a great deal
of practice, while I am suffered to remain here neglected, and, indeed
very little known.

During his narrative Adeline had been considering by what means she
could discover the name of the physician; for the instance that had been
produced to prove his ignorance, and the infallibility of his
opponent, had completely settled her opinion concerning them both. She
now more than ever wished to deliver Theodore from the hands of the
surgeon, and was musing on the possibility, when he with so much
self-security, developed the means.

She asked him a few more questions concerning the state of Theodore's
wound; and was told it was much as it had been, but that some degree of
fever had come on. But I have ordered a fire to be made in the room,
continued the surgeon, and some additional blankets to be laid on the
bed; these, I doubt not, will have a proper effect. In the mean time
they must be careful to keep from him every kind of liquid, except some
cordial draughts which I shall send. He will naturally ask for drink,
but it must on no account be given to him.

You do not approve then of the method which I have somewhere heard of,
said Adeline, of attending to nature in these cases?

Nature, Madam! pursued he, nature is the most improper guide in the
world: I always adopt a method directly contrary to what she would
suggest; for what can be the use of art, if she is only to follow
nature? This was my first opinion on setting out in life, and I have
ever since strictly adhered to it. From what I have said, indeed, Madam,
you may perhaps perceive that my opinions may be depended on; what they
once are they always are, for my mind is not of that frivolous kind to
be affected by circumstances.

Adeline was fatigued by this discourse, and impatient to impart to
Theodore her discovery of a physician: but the surgeon seemed by no
means disposed to leave her, and was expatiating upon various topics,
with new instances of his surprising sagacity, when the waiter brought a
message that some person desired to see him. He was, however, engaged
upon too agreeable a topic to be easily prevailed upon to quit it, and
it was not till after a second message was brought that he made his bow
to Adeline and left the room. The moment he was gone she sent a note to
Theodore, entreating his permission to call in the assistance of the
physician.

The conceited manners of the surgeon had by this time given Theodore a
very unfavourable opinion of his talents, and the last prescription had
so fully confirmed it, that he now readily consented to have other
advice. Adeline immediately inquired for a messenger; but recollecting
that the residence of the physician was still a secret, she applied to
the hostess, who being really ignorant of it, or pretending to be so,
gave her no information. What further inquiries she made were equally
ineffectual, and she passed some hours in extreme distress, while the
disorder of Theodore rather increased than abated.

When supper appeared, she asked the boy who waited if he knew a
physician of the name of Lafance in the neighbourhood. Not in the
neighbourhood, Madame; but I know doctor Lafance of Chancy, for I come
from the town.--Adeline inquired further, and received very satisfactory
answers. But the town was at some leagues distance, and the delay this
circumstance must occasion again alarmed her; she, however, ordered a
messenger to be immediately dispatched, and having sent again to inquire
concerning Theodore, retired to her chamber for the night.

The continued fatigue she had suffered for the last fourteen hours
overcame anxiety, and her harassed spirits sunk to repose. She slept
till late in the morning, and was then awakened by the landlady, who
came to inform her that Theodore was much worse, and to inquire what
should be done. Adeline, finding that the physician was not arrived,
immediately arose, and hastened to inquire further concerning Theodore.
The hostess informed her that he had passed a very disturbed night; that
he had complained of being very hot, and desired that the fire in his
room might be extinguished; but that the nurse knew her duty too well to
obey him, and had strictly followed the doctor's orders.

She added, that he had taken the cordial draughts regularly, but had,
notwithstanding, continued to grow worse, and at last became
light-headed. In the mean time the boy who had been sent for the
physician was still absent:--And no wonder, continued the hostess; why,
only consider, it's eight leagues off, and the lad had to find the road,
bad as it is, in the dark. But indeed, Ma'mselle, you might as well have
trusted our doctor, for we never want any body else, not we, in the town
here; and if I might speak my mind, Jaques had better have been sent off
for the young gentleman's friends than for this strange doctor that
nobody knows.

After asking some further questions concerning Theodore, the answers to
which rather increased than diminished her alarm, Adeline endeavoured to
compose her spirits, and await in patience the arrival of the physician.
She was now more sensible than ever of the forlornness of her own
condition, and of the danger of Theodore's, and earnestly wished that
his friends could be informed of his situation; a wish which could not
be gratified, for Theodore, who alone could acquaint her with their
place of residence, was deprived of recollection.

When the surgeon arrived and perceived the situation of his patient, he
expressed no surprise; but having asked some questions and given a few
general directions, he went down to Adeline. After paying her his usual
compliments, he suddenly assumed an air of importance,--I am sorry
Madam, said he, that it is my office to communicate disagreeable
intelligence, but I wish you to be prepared for the event, which I fear,
is approaching. Adeline comprehended his meaning; and though she had
hitherto given little faith to his judgment, she could not hear him hint
at the immediate danger of Theodore without yielding to the influence of
fear.

She entreated him to acquaint her with all he apprehended: and he then
proceeded to say that Theodore was, as he had foreseen, much worse this
morning than he had been the preceding night; and the disorder having
now affected his head, there was every reason to fear it would prove
fatal in a few hours. The worst consequences may ensue, continued he; if
the wound becomes inflamed, there will be very little chance of his
recovery.

Adeline listened to this sentence with a dreadful calmness, and gave no
utterance to grief, either by words or tears. The gentleman, I suppose,
Madam, has friends, and the sooner you inform them of his condition the
better. If they reside at any distance, it is indeed too late; but there
are other necessary--You are ill, Madam!

Adeline made an effort to speak, but in vain, and the surgeon now called
loudly for a glass of water; she drank it, and a deep sigh that she
uttered, seemed somewhat to relieve her oppressed heart: tears
succeeded. In the mean time the surgeon perceiving she was better,
though not well enough to listen to his conversation, took leave, and
promised to return in an hour. The physician was not yet arrived, and
Adeline awaited his appearance with a mixture of fear and anxious hope.

About noon he came; and having been informed of the accident by which
the fever was produced, and of the treatment which the surgeon had given
it, he ascended to Theodore's chamber. In a quarter of an hour he
returned to the room where Adeline expected him: The gentleman is still
delirious, said he, but I have ordered him a composing draught.----Is
there any hope, Sir? inquired Adeline. Yes, Madam, certainly there is
hope; the case at present is somewhat doubtful, but a few hours may
enable me to judge with more certainty: in the mean time, I have
directed that he shall be kept quiet, and be allowed to drink freely of
some diluting liquids.

He had scarcely, at Adeline's request, recommended a surgeon, instead of
the one at present employed, when the latter gentleman entered the room,
and perceiving the physician, threw a glance of mingled surprise and
anger at Adeline, who retired with him to another apartment, where she
dismissed him with a politeness which he did not deign to return, and
which he certainly did not deserve.

Early the following morning the surgeon arrived; but either the
medicines or the crisis of the disorder had thrown Theodore into a deep
sleep, in which he remained for several hours. The physician now gave
Adeline reason to hope for a favourable issue, and every precaution was
taken to prevent his being disturbed. He awoke perfectly sensible and
free from fever; and his first words inquired for Adeline, who soon
learned that he was out of danger.

In a few days he was sufficiently recovered to be removed from his
chamber to a room adjoining, where Adeline met him with a joy which she
found it impossible to repress; and the observance of this lighted up
his countenance with pleasure: indeed Adeline, sensible to the
attachment he had so nobly testified, and softened by the danger he had
encountered, no longer attempted to disguise the tenderness of her
esteem, and was at length brought to confess the interest his first
appearance had impressed upon her heart.

After an hour of affecting conversation, in which the happiness of a
young and mutual attachment totally occupied their minds, and excluded
every idea not in unison with delight, they returned to a sense of their
present embarrassments. Adeline recollected that Theodore was arrested
for disobedience of orders, and deserting his post; and Theodore, that
he must shortly be torn away from Adeline, who would be left exposed to
all the evils from which he had so lately rescued her. This thought
overwhelmed his heart with anguish; and after a long pause he ventured
to propose what his wishes had often suggested--a marriage with Adeline
before he departed from the village: this was the only means of
preventing, perhaps, an eternal separation; and though he saw the many
dangerous inconveniences to which she would be exposed by a marriage
with a man circumstanced like himself, yet these appeared so unequal to
those she would otherwise be left to encounter alone, that his reason
could no longer scruple to adopt what his affection had suggested.

Adeline was for some time too much agitated to reply: and though she had
little to oppose to the arguments and pleadings of Theodore; though she
had no friends to control, and no contrariety of interests to perplex
her, she could not bring herself to consent thus hastily to a marriage
with a man of whom she had little knowledge, and to whose family and
connexions she had no sort of introduction. At length she entreated he
would drop the subject; and the conversation for the remainder of the
day was more general, yet still interesting.

That similarity of taste and opinion which had at first attracted them,
every moment now more fully disclosed. Their discourse was enriched by
elegant literature, and endeared by mutual regard. Adeline had enjoyed
few opportunities of reading; but the books to which she had access,
operating upon a mind eager for knowledge, and upon a taste peculiarly
sensible of the beautiful and the elegant, had impressed all their
excellences upon her understanding. Theodore had received from nature
many of the qualities of genius, and from education, all that it could
bestow; to these were added a noble independency of spirit, a feeling
heart, and manners which partook of a happy mixture of dignity and
sweetness.

In the evening, one of the officers who, upon the representation of the
sergeant, was sent by the person employed to prosecute military
criminals, arrived at the village; and entering the apartment of
Theodore, from which Adeline immediately withdrew, informed him with an
air of infinite importance that he should set out on the following day
for head-quarters. Theodore answered that he was not able to bear the
journey, and referred him to his physician: but the officer replied that
he should take no such trouble, it being certain that the physician
might be instructed what to say, and that he should begin his journey on
the morrow. Here has been delay enough, said he, already; and you will
have sufficient business on your hands when you reach head-quarters; for
the sergeant whom you have severely wounded intends to appear against
you; and this, with the offence you have committed by deserting your
post----

Theodore's eyes flashed fire: Deserting! said he, rising from his seat
and darting a look of menace at his accuser--who dares to brand me with
the name of deserter? But instantly recollecting how much his conduct
had appeared to justify the accusation, he endeavoured to stifle his
emotions; and with a firm voice and composed manner said, that when he
reached head-quarters he should be ready to answer whatever might be
brought against him, but that till then he should be silent. The
boldness of the officer was repressed by the spirit and dignity with
which Theodore spoke these words, and muttering a reply that was
scarcely audible, he left the room.

Theodore sat musing on the danger of his situation: he knew that he had
much to apprehend from the peculiar circumstances attending his abrupt
departure from his regiment, it having been stationed in a garrison town
upon the Spanish frontiers, where the discipline was very severe, and
from the power of his colonel, the Marquis de Montalt, whom pride and
disappointment would now rouse to vengeance, and probably render
indefatigable in the accomplishment of his destruction. But his thoughts
soon fled from his own danger to that of Adeline; and in the
consideration of this, all his fortitude forsook him: he could not
support the idea of leaving her exposed to the evils he foreboded, nor,
indeed, of a separation so sudden as that which now threatened him: and
when she again entered the room, he renewed his solicitations for a
speedy marriage, with all the arguments that tenderness and ingenuity
could suggest.

Adeline, when she learned that he was to depart on the morrow, felt as
if bereaved of her last comfort: all the horrors of his situation arose
to her mind, and she turned from him in unutterable anguish. Considering
her silence as a favourable presage, he repeated his entreaties that she
would consent to be his, and thus give him a surety that their
separation should not be eternal. Adeline sighed deeply to these words:
And who can know that our separation will not be eternal, said she, even
if I could consent to the marriage you propose? But while you hear my
determination, forbear to accuse me of indifference; for indifference
towards you would indeed be a crime, after the services you have
rendered me.

And is a cold sentiment of gratitude all that I must expect from you?
said Theodore. I know that you are going to distress me with a proof of
your indifference, which you mistake for the suggestions of prudence;
and that I shall be compelled to look without reluctance upon the evils
that may shortly await me. Ah, Adeline! if you mean to reject this,
perhaps the last proposal which I can ever make to you, cease at least
to deceive yourself with an idea that you love me--that delirium is
fading even from my mind.

Can you then so soon forget our conversation of this morning? replied
Adeline; and can you think so lightly of me as to believe I would
profess a regard which I do not feel? If indeed you can believe this, I
shall do well to forget that I ever made such an acknowledgement, and
you that you heard it.

Forgive me, Adeline, forgive the doubts and inconsistencies I have
betrayed: let the anxieties of love, and the emergency of my
circumstances, plead for me. Adeline; smiling faintly through her tears,
held out her hand, which he seized and pressed to his lips. Yet do not
drive me to despair by a rejection of my suit, continued Theodore; think
what I must suffer to leave you here destitute of friends and
protection.

I am thinking how I may avoid a situation so deplorable, said Adeline.
They say there is a convent which receives boarders, within a few miles,
and thither I wish to go.

A convent! rejoined Theodore; would you go to a convent? Do you know the
persecutions you would be liable to; and that if the Marquis should
discover you, there is little probability the superior would resist his
authority, or at least his bribes?

All this I have considered, said Adeline, and am prepared to encounter
it, rather than enter into an engagement which at this time can be
productive only of misery to us both.

Ah, Adeline! could you think thus, if you truly loved? I see myself
about to be separated, and that perhaps for ever, from the object of my
tenderest affections; and I cannot but express all the anguish I feel--I
cannot forbear to repeat every argument that may afford even the
slightest possibility of altering your determination. But you,
Adeline, you look with complacency upon a circumstance which tortures
me with despair.

Adeline, who had long strove to support her spirits in his presence,
while she adhered to a resolution which reason suggested, but which the
pleadings of her heart powerfully opposed, was unable longer to command
her distress, and burst into tears. Theodore was in the same moment
convinced of his error, and shocked at the grief he had occasioned. He
drew his chair towards her, and taking her hand, again entreated her
pardon, and endeavoured in the tenderest accents to soothe and comfort
her.--What a wretch was I to cause you this distress, by questioning
that regard with which I can no longer doubt you honour me! Forgive me,
Adeline; say but you forgive me, and whatever may be the pain of this
separation, I will no longer oppose it.

You have given me some pain, said Adeline, but you have not offended
me.--She then mentioned some further particulars concerning the convent.
Theodore endeavoured to conceal the distress which the approaching
separation occasioned him, and to consult with her on these plans with
composure. His judgment by degrees prevailed over his passions, and he
now perceived that the plan she suggested, would afford her best chance
of security. He considered, what in the first agitation of his mind had
escaped him, that he might be condemned upon the charges brought against
him, and that his death, should they have been married, would not only
deprive her of her protector, but leave her more immediately exposed to
the designs of the Marquis, who would doubtless attend his trial.
Astonished that he had not noticed this before, and shocked at the
unwariness by which he might have betrayed her into so dangerous a
situation, he became at once reconciled to the idea of leaving her in a
convent. He could have wished to place her in the asylum of his own
family: but the circumstances under which she must be introduced were so
awkward and painful, and above all, the distance at which they resided
would render a journey so highly dangerous for her, that he forbore to
propose it. He entreated only that she would allow him to write to her;
but recollecting that his letters might be a means of betraying the
place of her residence to the Marquis, he checked himself: I must deny
myself even this melancholy pleasure, said he, lest my letters should
discover your abode; yet hew shall I be able to endure the impatience
and uncertainty to which prudence condemns me! If you are in danger, I
shall be ignorant of it; though, indeed, did I know it, said he with a
look of despair, I could not fly to save you. O exquisite misery! 'tis
now only I perceive all the horrors of confinement--'tis now only that I
understand all the value of liberty.

His utterance was interrupted by the violent agitation of his mind; he
arose from his chair, and walked with quick paces about the room.
Adeline sat, overcome by the description which Theodore had given of his
approaching situation, and by the consideration that she might remain in
the most terrible suspense concerning his fate. She saw him in a
prison--pale--emaciated, and in chains:--she saw all the vengeance of
the Marquis descending upon him; and this for his noble exertions in her
cause. Theodore, alarmed by the placid despair expressed in her
countenance, threw himself into a chair by hers, and taking her hand,
attempted to speak comfort to her; but the words faltered on his lips,
and he could only bathe her hand with tears.

This mournful silence was interrupted by the arrival of the carriage at
the inn, and Theodore, arising, went to the window that opened into the
yard. The darkness of the night prevented his distinguishing the objects
without, but a light now brought from the house showed him a carriage
and four, attended by several servants. Presently he saw a gentleman,
wrapped up in a roquelaure, alight and enter the inn, and in the next
moment he heard the voice of the Marquis.

He had flown to support Adeline, who was sinking with terror, when the
door opened, and the Marquis followed by the officers and several
servants entered. Fury flashed from his eyes as they glanced upon
Theodore, who hung over Adeline with a look of fearful solicitude--Seize
that traitor, said he, turning to the officers; why have you suffered
him to remain here so long?

I am no traitor, said Theodore with a firm voice and the dignity of
conscious worth, but a defender of innocence, of one whom the
treacherous Marquis de Montalt would destroy.

Obey your orders, said the Marquis to the officers. Adeline shrieked,
held faster by Theodore's arm, and entreated the men not to part them.
Force only can effect it, said Theodore, as he looked round for some
instrument of defence; but he could see none, and in the same moment
they surrounded and seized him. Dread every thing from my vengeance,
said the Marquis to Theodore, as he caught the hand of Adeline, who had
lost all power of resistance and was scarcely sensible of what passed;
dread every thing from my vengeance; you know you have deserved it.

I defy your vengeance, cried Theodore, and dread only the pangs of
conscience, which your power cannot inflict upon me, though your vices
condemn you to its tortures.

Take him instantly from the room, and see that he is strongly fettered,
said the Marquis; he shall soon know what a criminal who adds insolence
to guilt may suffer.--Theodore exclaiming, Oh, Adeline! farewell! was
now forced out of the room; while Adeline, whose torpid senses were
roused by his voice and his last looks, fell at the feet of the Marquis,
and with tears of agony implored compassion for Theodore: but her
pleadings for his rival served only to irritate the pride and exasperate
the hatred of the Marquis. He denounced vengeance on his head, and
imprecations too dreadful for the spirits of Adeline, whom he compelled
to rise; and then endeavouring to stifle the emotions of rage, which the
presence of Theodore had excited, he began to address her with his usual
expressions of admiration.

The wretched Adeline, who, regardless of what he said, still endeavoured
to plead for her unhappy lover, was at length alarmed by the returning
rage which the countenance of the Marquis expressed; and exerting all
her remaining strength, she sprung from his grasp towards the door of
the room: but he seized her hand before she could reach it, and
regardless of her shrieks, bringing her back to her chair, was going to
speak, when voices were heard in the passage, and immediately the
landlord and his wife, whom Adeline's cries had alarmed, entered the
apartment. The Marquis, turning furiously at them, demanded what they
wanted; but not waiting for an answer, he bade them attend him, and
quitting the room, she heard the door locked upon her.

[Illustration 06]

Adeline now ran to the windows, which were unfastened and opened into
the inn-yard. All was dark and silent. She called aloud for help, but no
person appeared; and the windows were so high that it was impossible to
escape unassisted. She walked about the room in an agony of terror and
distress, now stooping to listen, and fancying she heard voices
disputing below and now quickening her steps, as suspense increased the
agitation of her mind.

She had continued in this state for near half an hour, when she suddenly
heard a violent noise in the lower part of the house, which increased
till all was uproar and confusion. People passed quickly through the
passages, and doors were frequently opened and shut. She called, but
received no answer. It immediately occurred to her that Theodore, having
heard her screams, had attempted to come to her assistance, and that the
bustle had been occasioned by the opposition of the officers. Knowing
their fierceness and cruelty, she was seized with dreadful apprehensions
for the life of Theodore.

A confused uproar of voices now sounded from below, and the screams of
women convinced her there was fighting; she even thought she heard the
clashing of swords: the image of Theodore dying by the hands of the
Marquis now rose to her imagination, and the terrors of suspense became
almost insupportable. She made a desperate effort to force the door, and
again called for help; but her trembling hands were powerless, and every
person in the house seemed to be too much engaged even to hear her. A
loud shriek now pierced her ears, and amidst the tumult that followed
she clearly distinguished deep groans. This confirmation of her fears
deprived her of all her remaining spirits, and growing faint, she sunk
almost lifeless into a chair near the door. The uproar gradually
subsided till all was still, but nobody returned to her. Soon after she
heard voices in the yard, but she had no power to walk across the room,
even to ask the questions she wished, yet feared, to have answered.

About a quarter of an hour elapsed, when the door was unlocked, and the
hostess appeared with a countenance as pale as death. For God's sake,
said Adeline, tell me what has happened? Is he wounded? Is he killed?

He is not dead, Ma'mselle, but--

He is dying then?--tell me where he is--let me go.

Stop, Ma'mselle, cried the hostess, you are to stay here, I only want
the hartshorn out of that cupboard there. Adeline tried to escape by the
door; but the hostess, pushing her aside, locked it, and went down
stairs.

Adeline's distress now entirely overcame her, and she sat motionless and
scarcely conscious that she existed, till roused by a sound of footsteps
near the door, which was again opened, and three men, whom she knew to
be the Marquis's servants entered. She had sufficient recollection to
repeat the questions she had asked the landlady; but they answered only
that she must come with them, and that a chaise was waiting for her at
the door. Still she urged her questions. Tell me if he lives, cried
she.--Yes, Ma'mselle, he is alive, but he is terribly wounded, and the
surgeon is just come to him. As they spoke they hurried her along the
passage: and without noticing her entreaties and supplications to know
whither she was going, they had reached the foot of the stairs, when her
cries brought several people to the door. To these the hostess related
that the lady was the wife of a gentleman just arrived, who had
overtaken her in her flight with a gallant; an account which the
Marquis's servants corroborated. 'Tis the gentleman who has just fought
the duel, added the hostess, and it was on her account.

Adeline, partly disdaining to take any notice of this artful story, and
partly from her desire to know the particulars of what had happened,
contented herself with repeating her inquiries; to which one of the
spectators at last replied, that the gentleman was desperately wounded.
The Marquis's people would now have hurried her into the chaise, but she
sunk lifeless in their arms; and her condition so interested the
humanity of the spectators, that, notwithstanding their belief of what
had been said, they opposed the effort made to carry her, senseless as
she was, into the carriage.

She was at length taken into a room, and by proper applications restored
to her senses. There she so earnestly besought an explanation of what
had happened, that the hostess acquainted her with some particulars of
the late rencounter. When the gentleman that was ill heard your screams,
Madam, said she, he became quite outrageous, as they tell me, and
nothing could pacify him. The Marquis, for they say he is a Marquis, but
you know best, was then in the room with my husband and I, and when he
heard the uproar, he went down to see what was the matter; and when he
came into the room where the Captain was, he found him struggling with
the sergeant. Then the Captain was more outrageous than ever; and
notwithstanding he had one leg chained, and no sword, he contrived to
get the sergeant's cutlass out of the scabbard, and immediately flew at
the Marquis, and wounded him desperately; upon which he was secured.--It
is the Marquis then who is wounded, said Adeline; the other gentleman is
not hurt?

No, not he, replied the hostess; but he will smart for it by and by, for
the Marquis swears he will do for him. Adeline for a moment forgot all
her misfortunes and all her danger in thankfulness for the immediate
escape of Theodore; and she was proceeding to make some further
inquiries concerning him, when the Marquis's servants entered the room,
and declared they could wait no longer. Adeline, now awakened to a sense
of the evils with which she was threatened, endeavoured to win the pity
of the hostess, who however was, or affected to be, convinced of the
truth of the Marquis's story, and therefore insensible to all she could
urge. Again she addressed his servants, but in vain; they would neither
suffer her to remain longer at the inn, nor inform her whither she was
going; but in the presence of several persons, already prejudiced by the
injurious assertions of the hostess, Adeline was hurried into the
chaise, and her conductors mounting their horses, the whole party was
very soon beyond the village.

Thus ended Adeline's share of an adventure, begun with a prospect not
only of security, but of happiness--an adventure which had attached her
more closely to Theodore, and shown him to be more worthy of her love;
but which, at the same time, had distressed her by new disappointment,
produced the imprisonment of her generous and now adored lover, and
delivered both himself and her into the power of a rival irritated by
delay, contempt, and opposition.