Bentley's Miscellany, Volume II. Various
considered the manner of my cousin, more than her mere words, as encouragement to myself, and with all the ardour of my nature declared to her my passion. These were her words in reply: "Theodore, I pretend not to misunderstand you; and, if it be any comfort to you, believe that I most tenderly return your affection. But, oh, my beloved cousin! think how you have been afflicted, – and then ask yourself whether I ought to listen to your proposals? whether you ought to marry? Theodore, I solemnly promise you that, for your sake, never will I wed another; but, oh! ask me not to become your wife whilst you are subject to such a fearful malady."
In vain I represented to her that my late mental affliction had been caused wholly by my fear of losing her, as I believed that detested foreigner was exactly the man to charm her, and thus I considered her lost to me for ever.
"This, dear Theodore," she answered, "is one of your delusions. You had no cause why you should form such a preposterous notion, – a man old enough to be my father, and – "
"That is true," said I, "there is disparity of years; but, then, what a splendid being!"
"Yes," she replied coldly, "he wears a most magnificent cloak."
"Not always, sure?" I asked inquiringly, for I had never entered the room where he was, since he had cured my mother. "Did he not remove it when he dined and drank tea with you so often, and stayed so late, that I could have torn him to pieces for it?"
"Softly, my beloved cousin," said the sweet girl, placing her soft hand before my lips; "why are you so excited now when talking of this stranger? Your mother, Theodore, has been restored by him; and for that service what do we not all owe him?"
"Was it for this," I said, "from gratitude alone, you wore that ring?"
"Yes, from gratitude only. Are you now satisfied?"
"Blessings on you, dearest, for your kindness!" I continued. "But say, did you ever see him without that cloak?"
"Never, Theodore, never. It was always too hot or too cold; or he was poorly, or some excuse or other. We never could persuade him to take off that cloak."
I fell into a long reverie after this; nor could I blame her for her decision. I knew myself that my brain was not steady, and consequently I had no right to marry, to entail on my innocent offspring such a calamity. But then this inexplicable stranger; – perhaps he had the power to cure me, – he had already performed almost a miracle; if he could but settle my head, my beloved cousin would become mine, and I should be free from those fears that were constantly besetting me of becoming incurably mad.
Nothing would now do but my immediately setting out for Rome to seek the stranger with the large Spanish cloak. My mother did not think it advisable that I should go alone; so it was determined that she, with Louisa and Emily, accompanied by our sweet relative, should bear me company to Italy, and thither we accordingly went. We lingered not on our progress to look at curiosities, or paintings, or prospects. We journeyed as fast as four horses could carry us, and arrived quite safe at imperial Rome.
I was sorry to learn that the Marquis – was now at Naples; and, after settling my family in an elegant villa a few miles from modern Rome, I set off in quest of the man for whom I had an antipathy, powerful, incurable; and for what purpose? To request his aid, mysterious, perhaps sinful, to cure me of a disorder, of which the consciousness was part of its calamity. The raving madman, at least, is saved from knowing his own misery.
I had not been an hour at Naples, attended by my favourite servant, the young man who once acted to me as my keeper, when I saw from the window of my hotel the cloaked stranger pass with a lady on his arm. But I hesitated not, – I might lose him for ever; so I ran into the street, and hastily accosted him.
What I said to him I know not, for my words were wild and ambiguous; but he promised that he would dine with me the following day, although his manners were even more reserved than when I spoke to him at the Museum.
Our instincts ought ever to be attended to; the brute creation follow nothing else, and they commit no sin. The first time I saw this stranger, he was looking at an inscription at Athens, and I felt a secret desire to get from his presence; but he entangled me with his talk, his knowledge of everything around, his high bearing, his intelligent eyes, and his superb Spanish cloak.
Again we were seated at the same table, and I again requested him to remove his mantle.
"Not yet," he said significantly; "but after the cloth is removed I will, if you still wish it, take off this upper clothing."
Oh how sarcastically were these words pronounced! My heart beat violently; I could not eat, and became abstracted and melancholy; not a word was said respecting my request to him, nor did he ask me why I sought him. He ate in silence, and seemed to have forgotten he was not alone.
When the table was cleared, the stranger coolly took a book from under his cloak, and began to read; whilst I, pondering on all I had ever known of him, began to feel the most burning desire to see this man once without his cloak, and was determined to do my utmost to effect it.
"The cloth is now removed, signor," said I, "and you promised then you would take off that everlasting garment."
"It displeases you, then?" retorted my companion. "Is it not unsafe to penetrate below the exterior of all things? Is not the surface ever the most safe? Is not the outer clothing of nature ever the most beautiful to the eye? What deformity dwells in mines, in caverns, at the bottom of the ocean! Nature wears a cloak as beautiful as mine: do you wish also to strip off her covering as well as mine?"
"At this moment, signor," said I gloomily, "I was not thinking of Nature at all, but of the strangeness of your ever wearing that cloak."
"Was it for this you came from England, Sir Theodore?" inquired the marquis, "and sought me at Naples? The knowledge, I should deem, could never compensate you for the loss of your cousin's society so many days."
"It was not for this I sought you, noble marquis," I replied, piqued at his irony; "but, when a man ever wears a cloak, it must be for some purpose."
"Granted," slowly said my companion; "I have such purpose."
"Which you promised to unfold!" I exclaimed, with pertinacity. "Is it still your pleasure so to do?"
"It is necessary first that we should have no intruders," he answered, with a tone that froze me to the heart. Oh, how cutting, how sarcastic did it sound in my ears!
"No person will enter this apartment save my faithful servant, Hubert; therefore – "
"I promised to enlighten the master, and not the servant. If you insist on this strange request, the door must be securely locked; there must be no chance of interruption."
"Oh, what a fuss," I thought, "about a mantle! Why, he must be mad too! How can he cure me of an evil he has himself? Lock the door, forsooth, because he takes off his cloak! But I must humour him, I suppose, or he will find an excuse for breach of promise." As I thought this, I walked to the door, locked it, and, placing the key upon the table, merely said, "Now, signor, your promise?"
"Would it not be prudent, young gentleman," he observed, laying his finger on my sleeve, "that you should speak of your request, – that one that brought you hither, and which I should conceive of more importance than the satisfying an idle curiosity, – would it not be wiser of you to mention this previously to my taking off my cloak."
"Oh, what importance he attaches to so trifling a thing!" thought I; "but, after all, the man is right; I had better attend to the most essential, nor was I wise to couple two requests together."
"Signor Marquis," said I, "have you any cure for insanity?"
"I cured your father," was the answer, "and this your mother knows. He in return did me a service; he presented me with – this excellent cloak."
I was more puzzled than ever; I had never before heard that my poor father had unsettled reason, but many circumstances made me now believe it. I fancied too that my youngest sister gave indications of the same disorder; she was growing melancholy and reserved. "Oh, heavens!" thought I, "there will