surprised him; when he saw me at the convent I was gay and coquettish, and a long absence had not effaced me from his memory. At his return he heard what a reputation for devoutness I had acquired, but he could not believe it without further proof; he came to church for the purpose of seeing me and love followed him there.
As I was looking round at my neighbors, I perceived Verland; the sight of him made the color fly into my face, and my heart languished to fall into the same fault with him again. The few years that had elapsed had only exalted the character of his attractions and rendered them more effective; they were sufficient to revive my desires and drew me every day to the spot where I had seen them. I was not pleased to see him so slow in his advances; it appears that he saw this, and only waited an opportunity of addressing me, which I took care should be soon. He approached with a timid air, and said:
“May a person, who in bygone days has had the happiness to meet you, again presume to present himself before you without giving offence? If the most sincere repentance can wipe away the memory of a fault, you may now look on me without indignation.”
As he thus spoke his voice trembled, and I replied that the politeness of the man was sufficient atonement for the imprudence of the boy.
“You do not know all my faults; your goodness has just pardoned one crime, but I have more need than ever of your generosity.”
After saying this, he remained silent, and although I knew very well what he meant, I answered that I was not aware of the new imprudence of which he spoke.
“It is that of adoring you,” said he, kissing my hand.
He very well understood by my silence that his new crime was excused; and fearing to discover my feelings too far, I left him.
I had no doubt that Verland, if sincere, would find an early opportunity of proving it; he saw the motive of my retiring, and smiled as I went on. I heard his sighs, and my own responded thereto internally. What shall I say? A second interview procured him the avowal of my love, and permission to ask me in marriage of my mother. She refused; and I was almost in despair about it. Her opposition irritated our love and was almost too much for Verland. The imprudent step we had taken banished every hope, and to make matters still worse I found that my mother was my rival. This fact was easily seen by her lavishing praises on Verland.
A miserable victim of my devotion to love, I dared not ask my mother why she refused to marry me to a man whom she thought perfect. At length I could not bear up against my grief; I was equally enraged against my mother and my passion was at its height. I saw Verland every day, and we became inseparable. Would you believe that I had not yet yielded to his entreaties, though it was the only means of bringing my mother to her senses? However, the tears of my lover, his exceeding love, and my own inclination so far wrought upon me that I listened to his proposal to elope with him, and we fixed on the day, the hour, and the manner of carrying it into effect.
I was so far in love that I could think of nothing but the pleasure I anticipated with Verland. The most horrid place appeared to me a paradise if he were there. The day appointed came; as I was going out, an invisible hand arrested me. I now stood on the edge of the precipice, and as I measured its depth, I shuddered and retreated. Surprised at my weakness, I tried to smother the voice of reason, but it triumphed. I went back, and my tears began to flow. Provoked at my cowardice, I endeavored to summon courage, but all in vain. In the meantime the hour was drawing nigh, and what was I to do? Alas! I knew not what to think. At last a ray of light burst in upon me, and I became easy; I saw the means of possessing my lover and taking vengeance oh my mother. But what has all this prudence profited me? To plunge me in the abyss. I might perhaps have been happier in a foreign land, in the society of a lover that adored me; at least I should not have been the slave of those appearances that have ruined me? But why do I deceive myself? Another country would have seen my heart the same, and my love also; and I should have been as effectually destroyed there by the same causes.
I made the signal to Verland that had been agreed upon in case of the non-execution of our project, Postponing till the next day my explanation of the reasons. We were both at church, and he approached without speaking a word; his countenance expressed his grief, and I felt alarmed.
“Do you love me?” said I.
“I love you!” said he.
“Verland, I read your distress in your eyes, and it rends my heart. Lament with me a want of courage that might have snatched us from the enjoyment of our love, if despair itself has not suggested the means of consoling us both. I do not doubt your love, but I want a proof of it, as there is a cruel mother opposed to our wishes. Ah, Verland, does not the blush which suffuses my face tell you what means I wish you to employ?”
“Dear Agatha” said he as he squeezed my hand, “your love makes you feel the necessity of a thing that I have often proposed to you?”
“Yes!” I answered; “you shall no longer mourn; but to ensure our happiness I only want one word from your mouth.”
“Speak! What must I do?”
“Marry my mother!”
He stood speechless with surprise, and stared at me as if he had lost his senses.
“Marry your mother, Agatha! What is it you propose?”
“Something,” said I, “of which I repent. Your coldness proves your love; and your indifference opens my eyes to my own passion. Good heavens! Have I then given a thought to such a coward!”
“Agatha,” said he, “what do you wish to reduce me to?”
“Ungrateful wretch! When I surmount the horror of seeing you in the arms of my rival-when, to deceive her, to give myself up to you, to have the happiness of seeing you, and to enjoy your caresses, I sacrifice for you all that I hold most dear-you tremble; am I stronger than you? No; but you have not so much love.”
“Enough! enough!” said he; “you triumph; I am ashamed of myself, and our hearts shall soon be at ease.”
Delighted at his decision, I promised to recompense him on his wedding day; perhaps I should not have been able to wait, if my mother's impatience had not been as great as mine. Verland offered her his hand, and she consented too become his wife. In raptures at the conquest that she imagined to be effected by her charms, she was eager to reap the fruits of it, but they were not destined for her. The wedding day came, and my joy procured me from my mother most affectionate caresses, which I repaid by others not less sincere. My heart revelled in anticipation of pleasure and vengeance. Verland came; he was adorable; a thousand new graces animated his every action; his slightest smile enchanted me, and the most unmeaning of is words was able to inflame me! I could hardly keep my feelings under due control. In the midst of the tumult he came up to me, and said:
“I have done everything for love, will love do nothing for me?”
A glance of the eye was my only answer. I quitted the company, and he followed my example. I retired to my chamber, and he was with me in a minute. I threw myself down on the bed and he was on me instantaneously. I must beg to be excused the detail of the pleasures we enjoyed. “O mother,” cried I in the midst of our transports, “how dearly have you paid for your injustice!”
My lover was a prodigy; we remained an hour together without being idle a minute. His strength never failed him; but as Antaeus, when wrestling with Hercules, gained fresh strength every time he touched the earth, so my lover by coming in contact with me was so invigorated as to come to the charge every time with increased ability.
During his time they were looking for both of us in every direction, and had even knocked at my door. For fear of exciting suspicion, we then separated. Verland went into the garden, where they found him, as he intended they should. He was most unmercifully railed at by all the party and a regular war of jokes was carried on against him. A pretended headache came to his relief; and he said that having felt indisposed, and not wishing to disturb the amusement of others, he had retired for a few minutes without speaking. His cast-down looks, occasioned by the fatigue he had undergone, made them believe the excuse to be true.
Feeling certain that they would come to seek me in my chamber, I raised the slide that covered the keyhole, and laid myself prostrate before a crucifix. This succeeded admirably; it was thought that the rejoicings were not sufficient to withdraw me from my religious duties, and this extraordinary devotion created a kind of veneration for me.
As soon, however, as I had sufficiently recovered myself I rejoined the company, and to prevent all possibility of suspicion, I pretended that I only joined in the festivity out of complaisance to others.
