“Raymond! Raymond! Thou art mine!
Raymond! Raymond! I am thine! etc.—”
The scene which had shocked me so sensibly on the former night, was again presented. The spectre again pressed her lips to mine, again touched me with her rotting fingers, and as on her first appearance, quitted the chamber as soon as the clock tolled two.
Even night was this repeated. Far from growing accustomed to the ghost, every succeeding visit inspired me with greater horror. Her idea pursued me continually, and I became the prey of habitual melancholy. The constant agitation of my mind naturally retarded the reestablishment of my health. Several months elapsed before I was able to quit my bed; and when at length I was moved to a sofa, I was so faint, spiritless, and emaciated, that I could not cross the room without assistance. The looks of my attendants sufficiently denoted the little hope, which they entertained of my recovery. The profound sadness which oppressed me without remission made the physician consider me to be an hypochondriac. The cause of my distress I carefully concealed in my own bosom, for I knew that no one could give me relief: the ghost was not even visible to any eye but mine. I had frequently caused attendants to sit up in my room: but the moment that the clock struck one, irresistible slumber seized them, nor left them till the departure of the ghost.
You may be surprised that during this time I made no enquiries after your sister. Theodore, who with difficulty had discovered my abode, had quieted my apprehensions for her safety: at the same time he convinced me that all attempts to release her from captivity must be fruitless till I should be in a condition to return to Spain. The particulars of her adventure which I shall now relate to you, were partly communicated to me by Theodore, and partly by Agnes herself.
On the fatal night when her elopement was to have taken place, accident had not permitted her to quit her chamber at the appointed time. At length she ventured into the haunted room, descended the staircase leading into the hall, found the gates open as she expected, and left the castle unobserved. What was her surprise at not finding me ready to receive her! She examined the cavern, ranged through every alley of the neighbouring wood, and passed two full hours in this fruitless enquiry. She could discover no traces either of me or of the carriage. Alarmed and disappointed, her only resource was to return to the castle before the Baroness missed her: but here she found herself in a fresh embarrassment. The bell had already tolled two: the ghostly hour was passed, and the careful porter had locked the folding gates. After much irresolution she ventured to knock softly. Luckily for her, Conrad was still awake: he heard the noise and rose, murmuring at being called up a second time. No sooner had he opened one of the doors, and beheld the supposed apparition waiting there for admittance, than he uttered a loud cry, and sank upon his knees. Agnes profited by his terror. She glided by him, flew to her own apartment, and having thrown off her spectre’s trappings, retired to bed endeavouring in vain to account for my disappearing.
In the mean while Theodore having seen my carriage drive off with the false Agnes, returned joyfully to the village. The next morning he released Cunegonda from her confinement, and accompanied her to the castle. There he found the Baron, his lady, and Don Gaston, disputing together upon the porter’s relation. All of them agreed in believing the existence of spectres: but the latter contended, that for a ghost to knock for admittance was a proceeding till then unwitnessed, and totally incompatible with the immaterial nature of a spirit. They were still discussing this subject when the page appeared with Cunegonda and cleared up the mystery. On hearing his deposition, it was agreed unanimously that the Agnes whom Theodore had seen step into my carriage must have been the Bleeding Nun, and that the ghost who had terrified Conrad was no other than Don Gaston’s daughter.
The first surprise which this discovery occasioned being over, the Baroness resolved to make it of use in persuading her niece to take the veil. Fearing lest so advantageous an establishment for his daughter should induce Don Gaston to renounce his resolution, she suppressed my letter, and continued to represent me as a needy unknown adventurer. A childish vanity had led me to conceal my real name even from my mistress; I wished to be loved for myself, not for being the son and heir of the Marquis de las Cisternas. The consequence was that my rank was known to no one in the castle except the Baroness, and she took good care to confine the knowledge to her own breast. Don Gaston having approved his sister’s design, Agnes was summoned to appear before them. She was taxed with having meditated an elopement, obliged to make a full confession, and was amazed at the gentleness with which it was received: but what was her affliction, when informed that the failure of her project must be attributed to me! Cunegonda, tutored by the Baroness, told her that when I released her, I had desired her to inform her lady that our connection was at an end, that the whole affair was occasioned by a false report, and that it by no means suited my circumstances to marry a woman without fortune or expectations.
To this account my sudden disappearing gave but too great an air of probability. Theodore, who could have contradicted the story, by Donna Rodolpha’s order was kept out
