A Letter from ROSALIE to MONTALBERT.

     "WHEN consciousness of existence returns only to bring with it the consciousness of misery—can I feel any satisfaction in recollection?—Yet I might have been more wretched—I might have been driven quite to distraction; for my little angel Harry might have been torn from me—but he is still with me, still the innocent, unconscious companion of his mother's sufferings!

     "Where art thou, Montalbert?—Alas! if thou hadst really been lost at Messina, as that treacherous Alozzi insinuated, would it be worth the pains that are now taken to persecute thy unhappy wife; to arraign the legality of thy son's birth?—

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 Ah! no, Montalbert!—thy cruel mother would then have left me to my ignominious fate, or, if common humanity had touched the heart of Signora Belcastro with pity for an unprotected stranger, she would have sent me and my child to England, where we could never have offended her more. But, Montalbert, the husband and the father lives, and his inhuman parent knows, that in whatever country we are, his unwearied love will discover us, unless we are hidden in some hideous prison like this. Barbarous Belcastro, it is thus that your cruelty defeats itself!—for amidst these dreary scenes this reflection supports and consoles me.—I dwell upon it incessantly—I convince myself that Montalbert lives—I press his little Harry to my heavy heart, and feel it less agonized as I determine to attempt to live for them both.

     "In the confidence that you, Montalbert, live for me, I tried, when I first recovered myself from terrors that almost deprived me of my reason, to give you

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 some account of the letter I wrote at Naples to your mother, which was undoubtedly the cause of all that has since befallen me. It is now before me, incoherent and half-blotted with my tears; but it describes what I felt, and I will not alter it. It ends at the point of time when I was persuaded I should have an answer, and when my sanguine hopes flattered me that it would be favourable.

     "I looked at our boy, and thought that, if once your mother saw him, his beauty, and his strong resemblance to you, would secure her kindness......I knew that I should tremble and falter; but yet I believed I could acquire courage enough to put him into her arms, with a few words which I mediated to speak. I persuaded myself, that infant loveliness and the voice of nature would do the rest. But the hours passed away, and no summons came for us, as I had fondly expected. I concluded that I should hear the next morning, and I endeavoured to compose myself for the night.

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     "It passed, however, in restlessness and anxiety; but day came, and with it my spirits regained some degree of tranquility. I dressed my baby with more care than I had done the preceeding day, and again sat down to hopes, fears, and conjectures—the hours wore away as on ordinary days, and I received neither letter nor message. The Count Alozzi* paid me his daily visit, but it was shorter than usual, and he either did not observe or at least did not speak to me of that anxiety, which I thought, my looks and manner must have betrayed.

     "Night came, and I now concluded that either Signora Belcastro would not condescend to notice me at all, or that her deliberating so long was a favourable circumstance; for, had she hastily and arrogantly determined to crush my hopes

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 for ever, it was most probable, that, a temper so irritable and violent as hers, she would have done it at once, and with as much rage as her contempt would suffer her to show.

     "In this persuasion then, which was calculated to calm my spirits as much as under such circumstances they would admit of being calmed, I again laid myself down by the side of my sleeping boy, and, notwithstanding the anxiety of my thoughts, fatigue overcame me, and I was lost in a dream that brought you, Montablert, to my view.....I imagined, that, reconciled to your mother, and in possesson of all our wishes, I was recounting to you the sad scenes which I had witnessed at Messina, when, suddenly awakened by a noise in my room, I saw a man, holding a small lantern, approach my bed, followed by one or two others. I shrieked in terror, and inquired, as well as I could, what they would have—and who they were?—One of them came near me, and, in a

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 deep and solemn voice, told me that I must rise, dress myself, and follow them. I asked, why? and whither I was to go?—I implored their mercy—I earnestly entreated they would tell who had sent them, and on what pretence I was thus to be dragged from my bed?—To these questions, the men told me, they neither could nor would answer; and one of them, more savage than the rest, approached to take my child, telling me, that he supposed, if he took the little master, I should be pleased to follow. This cruel menace drove me to madness. I snatched my child to my bosom, protesting that I would die before he should be forced from me; but that, if I must follow them, and they would only send my woman to me, and retire while I put on my clothes, that I would endeavour to obey.

     "As to a woman, they told me, none could be allowed me; that I must quit that house immediately; and that, if I would hasten, they would wait at the door

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 till I was ready with the child. This last word gave me some degree of courage, for the dread of losing my boy had been more terrible than all the rest. I promised every thing required of me, and asked if I might not take some clothes? for I now concluded I was going to prison. They answered, that I might take what I would; but that I must be expeditious, and that silence would avail me more than remonstrance or complaint.

     "The men then left the room, and I tried to acquire steadiness enough to dress myself. My infant needed little but a mantle in which I wrapped him, and our clothes were in two small trunks that stood near my bed. I had, therefore, nothing to pack, and was soon ready; but, expeditious as I had been, my conductors were become impatient, and I had hardly hurried on my things, and wrapped a large cloak around us both, before they entered, and, by the light of the same lantern, conducted me down the stairs, on which stood two or three other

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 men; an equal number were in the passage, and two others, who stood at the door like sentinels, opened it, where I saw a coach, into which they lifted me; the man who seemed to have the most authority seated himself opposite to me, and drove it away.

     "The night was extremely dark, yet I could not, even had it been otherwise, have formed the least idea whither they were carrying me......What a situation was mine!—Alone at such a time of night, with men whom I could consider not otherwise than as the banditti and assassins of whom I had often read in Italian stories. The strangeness and alarm of such a state alone enabled me to endure it, for I seemed petrified, and had no power to complain or to shed a tear. The man who was with me spoke not, and when I attempted to make any inquiries, which I once or twice collected enought courage to do, he gravely, but not uncivilly, told me, he could not answer them, and that it was merely fatiguing my spirits to ask any

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 questions whatever. I know not how far we had travelled, when the coach stopped at a house where I was taken out by the attendants, who seemed as numerous as before, led into a dreary room, which I thought belonged to an inn, and left to myself for a few moments. Some refreshment was then brought, and the man who had attended me in the coach came in at the same time, and seated himself at the table: he bade me eat, and I obeyed him on account of my infant; he eat heartily himself, yet spoke very little, and wore his hat pulled over his face, which, by the glimmering light of a lamp that hung in the room, appeared, I thought, to be the face of an assassin, and not young in his profession; for the man was between fifty and sixty, tall, bony, and hard-featured, with hollow eyes and large eyebrows, under which he seemed sometimes to examine my countenance with a look that made my heart sink within me.

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     "When the most dismal meal I had ever made was over, he told me we must renew our journey. I obeyed in silence, and we travelled the rest of the night, stopping twice to change horses.

     "When morning broke, I found we were in a mountainous coutry: between the high points of land, among which our road lay, I caught glimpses of the sea, and a faint and vague hope presented itself that I might be destined to some port remote from Naples to be sent to England. For none of the various conjectures, which, during this melancholy journey, passed through my mind, were so probable, as that the mother of Montalbert, enraged at what she had heard, and determined, at all events, to divide me from her son, had taken this method to conceal me from him while he was, perhaps, persuaded that I had perished in Sicilly. With this hope, therefore, I looked out anxiously for the element, which, I hoped, might restore me to my country,

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 where I was sure the vigilant love of Montalbert would soon follow me......Ah! vain and flattering illusion!—I indulged it only to embitter the miserable moments which have since passed; and, as they passed, have told me that, though Montalbert lives, I shall see him no more.

     "I must lay down my pen and try to conquer the tears which half efface the words I have written, and which will make my letter illegible.

     "I have taken a few turns in the gallery—my little Harry in my arms.......Oh! would he could answer when I talk to him of his dear father—he smiles innocently as if he already understood me!—If he should be ill in this desolate place—what would become of me!—The idea freezes my heart; but, alas! why should I torment myself with possible miseries, when I have so many real ones. Heaven sure will spare me from a trial to which I feel my strength altogether unequal. I know that I ought to check these gloomy

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 thoughts, and to preserve my own health, if I would avoid the distresses they represent to me.

     "But this is, indeed, difficult, Montalbert!—The poor solitary Rosalie has no human being to listen to her complaints, or to strengthen her resolution. Day after day she wanders round the deserted apartments of this melancholy house; she sees the faces of two servants, mean, ignorant, and without pity, who perform, in silence, the common offices of life, but seem totally insensible of the state of mind of their wretched prisoner: even the beauty of my lovely child does not plead with these people for him, or for me!

     "But I shall exhaust myself in lamenting my present situation, and become unable to pursue my narrative.

     "I go back then to relate the sequel of my melancholy journey, which continued all that day and the next, with only short intervals of rest; one of these was at a lone inn, on the steep ascent of a mountain, where my conductors put up,

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 rather, I believe, to avoid the violence of a storm that was likely to overtake them on the top of it, than to afford me and my child the repose we greatly needed.

     "Imagine, Montalbert, your unhappy wife sitting in one of the most dismal places imagination can conceive; the walls were of brick, and concealed only by the dirt that in most places covered them; there were neither sashes nor shutters to the windows, through which the lightning flashed, and the rain drove with fearful violence: but I had lately beheld convulsions of nature so much more dreadful, that I saw this tempest without any additional terror. Had I been sure that such a destiny awaited me as I have since experienced, I should, perhaps, have been more than indifferent, and have implored some friendly stroke which might have ended mine and my child's life.....Alas! for what are we reserved?

     "I looked at the group, which was assembled in the same room, with alarm

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 infinitely greater than what I felt from the tempest without, violent as it was. I have seen paintings, Montalbert, representing such people; but in England we have no such faces, at least I never saw such!

     "The men, however, seemed so well pleased with their quarters, that they were in no haste to depart, and I was afraid we should have passed the night in that hideous place; I could not imagine any thing that might await me at the end of my journey, for the people of the house seemed to be such as I remember reading a description of in one of Smollet's novels. Willingly, therefore, I obeyed the signal which my companion in the coach, at length, gave for us to proceed forward.

     "The remaining part of our journey lasted until, at a late hour in the night, I was removed into one of the carriages of the country, and we again travelled in darkness, very slowly, through roads where a common coach or chaise could not pass, and which would have given me at

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 another time great fears; but I was now so worn down with fatigue, and so bewildered in distracting conjectures of what was to come, that the present evil was less felt; nor should I, I think, have shrunk from death, could I have been assured that my infant would not survive me.

     "At length, however, as nearly as I could conjecture, about three in the morning of the third night, we arrived at the place, where the man who was in the carriage told me, I was to remain.

     "I was so enfeebled and dispirited, so cramped with a long and fatiguing journey, and so worn down with anguish of mind that I was unable to assist myself in getting out of the coach. The men, however, took me with as much ease as they did my little boy, and a coarse-looking man, who came out of the house, carried a light before us up a long and steep flight of steps. They led to a large hall, paved and lined with marble: it was

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 so large, and so cold, that I fancied myself already in the catacombs; but, alas! I could not weep—I felt the blood forsaking my heart, which seemed to beat no longer. I sat down, however, as the people bade me, till the baggage was brought out of the coach.

     "The few ideas, which fatigue and terror left me, pointed to imprisonment as what was certainly to be my lot, and I expected to be led to some dungeon beneath this immense apartment, and left to perish. After some moments, my conductor approached me: he told me, that here his commission ended; that he had orders to leave me in this house, where the necessaries of life would be provided for me, and from whence he needed scarce advise me not to attempt to escape, for escape was impossible, as I was far removed from all who had any knowledge of me, and the whole country was devoted to his employer.

     'And who is your employer, Sir? (said I); tell me, at least, that—that I may

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 know by what right, or on what account I am become a prisoner.'

     'You may think yourself fortunate, (returned the man), that you are in the hands of those who do not use all the power they possess; your treatment will in some measure depend on yourself. The people here can do nothing to assist your flight, even if you should be weak enough to tempt them; but I advise you to content yourself with the assurance that every effort will be ineffectual; and, that if you give much trouble to the persons in whose care you remain, your confinement will be made more strict and severe.'

     "To this I had nothing to reply, nor did the man stay to hear any farther remonstrance, but hastily left this gloomy apartment, and as dead a silence reigned as if I had been already buried alive.

     "The immense hall, or rather cave of marble, was lighted only by a lamp that stood on a distant table, and it seemed to me to have been built for gigantic

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 beings, so great were its dimensions and so heavy its construction.—'And is it here (said I to myself, as I surveyed the place) that I am left to die, unaided and unknown?—Or am I consigned to the mercy of the inhabitants of this place?'—Fatigue and fear, overcoming and depressing my mind, brought before it strange phantoms more horrible than any reality could be; and such an effect had this comfortless solitude on my exhausted spirits, that I thought my situation on the night of the dreadful concussion of earth, when I took shelter in the farm of Alozzi, was infinitely less dreadful. So much heavier do present evils appear than those of the past.

     "I believe I had been more than half an hour alone, and began to think I might lie down unmolested on the pavement and die, when the door at the farther end of the hall opened slowly, and a figure, which I could hardly distinguish through the gloom, moved slowly towards me. When

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 it came near me, I discerned that it was a woman in a kind of nun's dress; she spoke in a low and slow voice. There was someting in her language which I did not understand; but she seemed to invite me to remove from the place were I was. I arose, therefore, and followed her; she took up the lamp that was burning on the marble table, and proceeded through long and high passages, which appeared to terminate in utter darkness.

     "At length we came to a very broad staircase, which my guide began to ascend, though very slowly, and like a person who was either unwilling or unable to arrive very soon at the place whither they were going. I looked up and round this great staircase. Never could a place be imagined more massive, or more impressing, fit to convey the idea of a habitation of goblins and spectres; almost every part was of dark marble, and, in places where ornament was admitted, old paintings, blackened and nearly effaced by time, and

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 some faded gilding, served but to mark the long desertion of its owners.

     "The top of the stairs led into a gallery, which, through a marble balustrade, looked down into the great hall I had left, where I saw, by a light they had with them, three or four of the men that had accompanied me, who appeared like assassins assembled to decide on the fate of their vicitm. Yet such were the terrors that had seized me, from the uncertainty and singularity of my situation, that I had more dread of supernatural beings, I knew not what, than of these men who had so lately been the objects of my apprehension.

     "This surrounding gallery opened into another very large room, covered with some kind of mosaic painting, and that into another as big, but not in so good repair; at the bottom of which was a table with a crucifix upon it. The third door, that my silent conductress opened, discovered a bedchamber of nearly the

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 same dimensions as the othe two; where a small low bed, that stood in one corner, was hardly discernable. All seemed cold and comfortless, and the air was damp and heavy, as if the room had been long without ventilation. My conductress led me up to the bed—'This (said she) is your room, Singora Inglese, and this is your bed.'

     "I hastily asked, but in a manner the most conciliating that I could command, whether I might be allowed a light, a fire, and food?—and proceeded to say, how greatly I and my poor little boy were fatigued with a very long jouney of so many days and nights. The woman, whose face I now for the first time saw, looked at me and the innocent helpless creature for which I was pleading. Her countenance, which was sallow and sharp-featured, expressed rather distaste than pity or tenderness; she spoke low, and, as I understood, declined complying with my request; however, she lit an iron lamp that was fastened to the wall, and,

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 without any more ceremony left me as I believed for the night.

     "I heard her footsteps fainter and fainter, as she passed through the rooms we had before traversed; the doors shut after her, and again a death-like silence reigned. My child was restless, and I wished to undress him; but the comfort of a fire was denied me, and I surveyed my bed as if it had been my tomb, hardly daring to lie down upon it, yet feeling that I had no longer strength to sit up. I determined, therefore, to wrap myself and my boy in the cloak we had around us, and since I had no change of clothes for him, for my trunks remained in the hall, to attempt hushig him to repose on my breast—a breast torn, alas! with such variety of anguish, that now, though a fortnight has since elapsed, I look back upon those hours with a sensation of astonishment, and, recollecting the severity of my sufferings, am greatful for the power that was lent me to sustain them.

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     "But I break off here, Montalbert, and must recall more perfectly the succeeding hours, before I can finish this narrative, which I intend as a sort of prelude to the melancholy register of my time which I have kept.

     "I am supported, Montalbert, by the hope which in my calmer moments never entirely forsakes me, that we shall one day read this journal together, and that, while you suffer for the sorrows of your Rosalie, you will clasp her fondly to your heart, and rejoice that they are no more.

     "If that moment ever comes, Montalbert, for what calamities will it not overpay us!"