Selected Works of Eliza Haywood

Idalia - Part 2.

With no other companions than her own disturbed meditations, and one man, whom Don Myrtano's servant-maid had provided for her as a guide, did the sorrowful Idalia quit the house of her beloved. They had not travelled many hours, before she found herself in a place suited, as it were, by nature to her present disposition: it was a forest, wild and desolate; the trackless paths discovered not that any human feet had ever trod them. No fields of corn, no vines, no olives here were planted; no limpid streams, no cool refreshing rivulets appeared to charm the eye with gay delightful prospects, and with their pleasing murmurs soothe the listening ear; but sapless trees, whose wind-bent, leafless twigs hung quivering to oppose the traveller's passage, and rank and unwholesome weeds unfit for use, hemmed in the borders of some stagnate brooks, which here and there, by length of time, the falling rains had made, composed a sad unblessed variety, and spread an area of nought but horror. The deep reverie she was in, which the melancholy solitude of everything about her had indulged, prevented her from taking any notice how improbable it was that this should be a road, especially such a one as that of consequence must be, which led to Verona, than which no town in Italy was more frequented: but they were not entered into it above some two or three hundred paces, before the man, appointed to conduct her, stopping his horse, obliged her to do so too; and looking on her with a countenance between stern and troubled, "Madam," said he, what think you of this place? Does it not seem cut out for rapes and murders, and every act of horror?" These words, and the manner in which they were spoke, was sufficient to rouse Idalia from that lethargy of thought she had been in, and wake her into terror. "Could I believe my life were an offence," replied she, "or were I conscious of any action which should excite revenge, I might, indeed, suspect that I should find it here." "Innocence," resumed he, is not alway a protection. You have, perhaps, incurred more displeasure than you are sensible of; for what cause, is not my business to examine, but I have received a reward to put an end to your misfortunes by this ——." With these last words he showed her a dagger, which he had wore concealed under his riding-coat. As much as Idalia had threatened to do a violence on herself, as much as she thought life a burden, ruined in her fortune and reputation, disappointed in her love, and deprived of everything the world calls dear, the imagination she was so near death, made her soul shake with agonies unfelt before: she burst into a flood of tears, and throwing herself at his feet, conjured him to spare her, in terms so soft, so moving, so persuasive, that the heart which had denied, must have been more than savage: the most hardened and accustomed murderer must have relented at such a pity-moving object, and dropped the dagger, if not turned the point against himself, for having thus alarmed her. What then became of him whose sentiments, however he appeared at present, were full of honour, and scorned so base, so barbarous a deed? Tears started from his eyes, and his whole frame seemed convulsed with inward tremblings, "Rise, madam, rise," (said he, as soon as he had power to speak,) "and, if you can, forgive the terror I have caused, and for which I am ready to expire with grief and penitence; but, to convince you, I never had a thought to execute the bloody purpose I presumed to threaten, I have provided you a place where you may remain in safety, which 'tis impossible you can do at Verona. The blooming colour which had so lately forsook the cheeks of the affrighted fair, returned, at this assurance, with all its wonted beauty; and looking more earnestly than she had done before on this person whose behaviour had given her such different emotions, she could easily perceive, though his garb was mean, his air, and the address with which he pronounced these last words, were far from that of a ruffian. She imagined also, that she saw something in his face which was not unknown to her; but when or how she had been acquainted with it, was out of her power to recollect.

After she had testified the sense she had of his obliging offer by some expressions of gratitude, she desired to be informed of what he knew concerning the inhumanity intended against her, and who they were that persecuted her with such a causeless malice. To which, after a little pause, he replied in this manner: "'Tis easy for you, madam," said he, "to guess that Ardella had her share in the abhorred design, because you know very well that it was by her I was appointed your conductor; and I shall make no scruple to confess that it was from her mouth I received my orders to dispatch you, and from her hand my hire, which was, indeed, a sum too great for a creature of her station to bestow, and, if she had not told me, that by performing her injunction I should oblige a powerful friend, would have made me know it must be to a person of the highest rank I owed it." 'Twould be impossible to represent the consternation Idalia was in at hearing these words: an imagination came immediately into her head more dreadful to her than the death she had escaped; and lifting up her eyes, streaming a second time with tears, "O too well," (cried she,) "too well I understand you! Myrtano's servant could not reach the price of such an undertaking; but Myrtano's self might well afford it. Oh! 'Tis he, 'tis he," (pursued she, in an agony which was not far off distraction,) the false, ungrateful, perjured man! Conscious of guilt, and taught by my behaviour how much I scorned to aid his brutal raptures, the passion he avowed is turned to hate! engaged to another, and unable to perform what honour did require, my death alone could silence my upbraidings! Cruel reward for love! Inhuman policy! Barbarous Myrtano!"