THE CASTLE OF OTRANTO

EVERY reflection which Manfred made on the Friar's behaviour, 
conspired to persuade him that Jerome was privy to an amour between 
Isabella and Theodore.  But Jerome's new presumption, so dissonant 
from his former meekness, suggested still deeper apprehensions.  The 
Prince even suspected that the Friar depended on some secret support 
from Frederic, whose arrival, coinciding with the novel appearance of 
Theodore, seemed to bespeak a correspondence.  Still more was he 
troubled with the resemblance of Theodore to Alfonso's portrait.  The 
latter he knew had unquestionably died without issue.  Frederic had 
consented to bestow Isabella on him.  These contradictions agitated 
his mind with numberless pangs.

He saw but two methods of extricating himself from his difficulties.  
The one was to resign his dominions to the Marquis - pride, ambition, 
and his reliance on ancient prophecies, which had pointed out a 
possibility of his preserving them to his posterity, combated that 
thought.  The other was to press his marriage with Isabella.  After 
long ruminating on these anxious thoughts, as he marched silently with 
Hippolita to the castle, he at last discoursed with that Princess on 
the subject of his disquiet, and used every insinuating and plausible 
argument to extract her consent to, even her promise of promoting the 
divorce.  Hippolita needed little persuasions to bend her to his 
pleasure.  She endeavoured to win him over to the measure of resigning 
his dominions; but finding her exhortations fruitless, she assured 
him, that as far as her conscience would allow, she would raise no 
opposition to a separation, though without better founded scruples 
than what he yet alleged, she would not engage to be active in 
demanding it.

This compliance, though inadequate, was sufficient to raise Manfred's 
hopes.  He trusted that his power and wealth would easily advance his 
suit at the court of Rome, whither he resolved to engage Frederic to 
take a journey on purpose.  That Prince had discovered so much passion 
for Matilda, that Manfred hoped to obtain all he wished by holding out 
or withdrawing his daughter's charms, according as the Marquis should 
appear more or less disposed to co-operate in his views.  Even the 
absence of Frederic would be a material point gained, until he could 
take further measures for his security.

Dismissing Hippolita to her apartment, he repaired to that of the 
Marquis; but crossing the great hall through which he was to pass he 
met Bianca.  The damsel he knew was in the confidence of both the 
young ladies.  It immediately occurred to him to sift her on the 
subject of Isabella and Theodore.  Calling her aside into the recess 
of the oriel window of the hall, and soothing her with many fair words 
and promises, he demanded of her whether she knew aught of the state 
of Isabella's affections.

"I! my Lord! no my Lord - yes my Lord - poor Lady! she is wonderfully 
alarmed about her father's wounds; but I tell her he will do well; 
don't your Highness think so?"

"I do not ask you," replied Manfred, "what she thinks about her 
father; but you are in her secrets.  Come, be a good girl and tell me; 
is there any young man - ha! - you understand me."

"Lord bless me! understand your Highness? no, not I.  I told her a few 
vulnerary herbs and repose - "

"I am not talking," replied the Prince, impatiently, "about her 
father; I know he will do well."

"Bless me, I rejoice to hear your Highness say so; for though I 
thought it not right to let my young Lady despond, methought his 
greatness had a wan look, and a something - I remember when young 
Ferdinand was wounded by the Venetian - "

 "Thou answerest from the point," interrupted Manfred; "but here, take 
this jewel, perhaps that may fix thy attention - nay, no reverences; 
my favour shall not stop here - come, tell me truly; how stands 
Isabella's heart?"

"Well! your Highness has such a way!" said Bianca, "to be sure - but 
can your Highness keep a secret? if it should ever come out of your 
lips - "

"It shall not, it shall not," cried Manfred.

"Nay, but swear, your Highness."

"By my halidame, if it should ever be known that I said it - "

"Why, truth is truth, I do not think my Lady Isabella ever much 
affectioned my young Lord your son; yet he was a sweet youth as one 
should see; I am sure, if I had been a Princess - but bless me!  I 
must attend my Lady Matilda; she will marvel what is become of me."

"Stay," cried Manfred; "thou hast not satisfied my question.  Hast 
thou ever carried any message, any letter?"

"I! good gracious!" cried Bianca; "I carry a letter?  I would not to 
be a Queen.  I hope your Highness thinks, though I am poor, I am 
honest.  Did your Highness never hear what Count Marsigli offered me, 
when he came a wooing to my Lady Matilda?"

"I have not leisure," said Manfred, "to listen to thy tale.  I do not 
question thy honesty.  But it is thy duty to conceal nothing from me.  
How long has Isabella been acquainted with Theodore?"

"Nay, there is nothing can escape your Highness!" said Bianca; "not 
that I know any thing of the matter.  Theodore, to be sure, is a 
proper young man, and, as my Lady Matilda says, the very image of good 
Alfonso.  Has not your Highness remarked it?"

"Yes, yes, - No - thou torturest me," said Manfred.  "Where did they 
meet? when?"

"Who! my Lady Matilda?" said Bianca.

"No, no, not Matilda:  Isabella; when did Isabella first become 
acquainted with this Theodore!"

"Virgin Mary!" said Bianca, "how should I know?"

"Thou dost know," said Manfred; "and I must know; I will - "

"Lord! your Highness is not jealous of young Theodore!" said Bianca.

"Jealous! no, no.  Why should I be jealous? perhaps I mean to unite 
them - If I were sure Isabella would have no repugnance."

"Repugnance! no, I'll warrant her," said Bianca; "he is as comely a 
youth as ever trod on Christian ground.  We are all in love with him; 
there is not a soul in the castle but would be rejoiced to have him 
for our Prince - I mean, when it shall please heaven to call your 
Highness to itself."

"Indeed!" said Manfred, "has it gone so far! oh! this cursed Friar! - 
but I must not lose time - go, Bianca, attend Isabella; but I charge 
thee, not a word of what has passed.  Find out how she is affected 
towards Theodore; bring me good news, and that ring has a companion.  
Wait at the foot of the winding staircase:  I am going to visit the 
Marquis, and will talk further with thee at my return."

Manfred, after some general conversation, desired Frederic to dismiss 
the two Knights, his companions, having to talk with him on urgent 
affairs.

As soon as they were alone, he began in artful guise to sound the 
Marquis on the subject of Matilda; and finding him disposed to his 
wish, he let drop hints on the difficulties that would attend the 
celebration of their marriage, unless - At that instant Bianca burst 
into the room with a wildness in her look and gestures that spoke the 
utmost terror.

"Oh! my Lord, my Lord!" cried she; "we are all undone! it is come 
again! it is come again!"

"What is come again?" cried Manfred amazed.

"Oh! the hand! the Giant! the hand! - support me! I am terrified out 
of my senses," cried Bianca.  "I will not sleep in the castle to-
night.  Where shall I go? my things may come after me to-morrow - 
would I had been content to wed Francesco! this comes of ambition!"

"What has terrified thee thus, young woman?" said the Marquis.  "Thou 
art safe here; be not alarmed."

"Oh! your Greatness is wonderfully good," said Bianca, "but I dare not 
- no, pray let me go - I had rather leave everything behind me, than 
stay another hour under this roof."

"Go to, thou hast lost thy senses," said Manfred.  "Interrupt us not; 
we were communing on important matters - My Lord, this wench is 
subject to fits - Come with me, Bianca."

"Oh! the Saints!  No," said Bianca, "for certain it comes to warn your 
Highness; why should it appear to me else?  I say my prayers morning 
and evening - oh! if your Highness had believed Diego!  'Tis the same 
hand that he saw the foot to in the gallery-chamber - Father Jerome 
has often told us the prophecy would be out one of these days - 
'Bianca,' said he, 'mark my words - '"

"Thou ravest," said Manfred, in a rage; "be gone, and keep these 
fooleries to frighten thy companions."

"What! my Lord," cried Bianca, "do you think I have seen nothing? go 
to the foot of the great stairs yourself - as I live I saw it."

"Saw what? tell us, fair maid, what thou hast seen," said Frederic.

"Can your Highness listen," said Manfred, "to the delirium of a silly 
wench, who has heard stories of apparitions until she believes them?"

"This is more than fancy," said the Marquis; "her terror is too 
natural and too strongly impressed to be the work of imagination.  
Tell us, fair maiden, what it is has moved thee thus?"

"Yes, my Lord, thank your Greatness," said Bianca; "I believe I look 
very pale; I shall be better when I have recovered myself - I was 
going to my Lady Isabella's chamber, by his Highness's order - "

"We do not want the circumstances," interrupted Manfred.  "Since his 
Highness will have it so, proceed; but be brief."

"Lord! your Highness thwarts one so!" replied Bianca; "I fear my hair 
- I am sure I never in my life - well! as I was telling your 
Greatness, I was going by his Highness's order to my Lady Isabella's 
chamber; she lies in the watchet-coloured chamber, on the right hand, 
one pair of stairs:  so when I came to the great stairs - I was 
looking on his Highness's present here - "

"Grant me patience! " said Manfred, "will this wench never come to the 
point? what imports it to the Marquis, that I gave thee a bauble for 
thy faithful attendance on my daughter? we want to know what thou 
sawest."

"I was going to tell your Highness," said Bianca, "if you would permit 
me.  So as I was rubbing the ring - I am sure I had not gone up three 
steps, but I heard the rattling of armour; for all the world such a 
clatter as Diego says he heard when the Giant turned him about in the 
gallery-chamber."

"What Giant is this, my Lord?" said the Marquis; "is your castle 
haunted by giants and goblins?"

"Lord! what, has not your Greatness heard the story of the Giant in 
the gallery-chamber?" cried Bianca.  "I marvel his Highness has not 
told you; mayhap you do not know there is a prophecy - "

"This trifling is intolerable," interrupted Manfred.  "Let us dismiss 
this silly wench, my Lord! we have more important affairs to discuss."

"By your favour," said Frederic, "these are no trifles.  The enormous 
sabre I was directed to in the wood, yon casque, its fellow - are 
these visions of this poor maiden's brain?"

"So Jaquez thinks, may it please your Greatness," said Bianca.  "He 
says this moon will not be out without our seeing some strange 
revolution.  For my part, I should not be surprised if it was to 
happen to-morrow; for, as I was saying, when I heard the clattering of 
armour, I was all in a cold sweat.  I looked up, and, if your 
Greatness will believe me, I saw upon the uppermost banister of the 
great stairs a hand in armour as big as big.  I thought I should have 
swooned.  I never stopped until I came hither - would I were well out 
of this castle.  My Lady Matilda told me but yester-morning that her 
Highness Hippolita knows something."

"Thou art an insolent!" cried Manfred.  "Lord Marquis, it much 
misgives me that this scene is concerted to affront me.  Are my own 
domestics suborned to spread tales injurious to my honour?  Pursue 
your claim by manly daring; or let us bury our feuds, as was proposed, 
by the intermarriage of our children.  But trust me, it ill becomes a 
Prince of your bearing to practise on mercenary wenches."

"I scorn your imputation," said Frederic.  "Until this hour I never 
set eyes on this damsel:  I have given her no jewel.  My Lord, my 
Lord, your conscience, your guilt accuses you, and would throw the 
suspicion on me; but keep your daughter, and think no more of 
Isabella.  The judgments already fallen on your house forbid me 
matching into it."

Manfred, alarmed at the resolute tone in which Frederic delivered 
these words, endeavoured to pacify him.  Dismissing Bianca, he made 
such submissions to the Marquis, and threw in such artful encomiums on 
Matilda, that Frederic was once more staggered.  However, as his 
passion was of so recent a date, it could not at once surmount the 
scruples he had conceived.  He had gathered enough from Bianca's 
discourse to persuade him that heaven declared itself against Manfred.  
The proposed marriages too removed his claim to a distance; and the 
principality of Otranto was a stronger temptation than the contingent 
reversion of it with Matilda.  Still he would not absolutely recede 
from his engagements; but purposing to gain time, he demanded of 
Manfred if it was true in fact that Hippolita consented to the 
divorce.  The Prince, transported to find no other obstacle, and 
depending on his influence over his wife, assured the Marquis it was 
so, and that he might satisfy himself of the truth from her own mouth.

As they were thus discoursing, word was brought that the banquet was 
prepared.  Manfred conducted Frederic to the great hall, where they 
were received by Hippolita and the young Princesses.  Manfred placed 
the Marquis next to Matilda, and seated himself between his wife and 
Isabella.  Hippolita comported herself with an easy gravity; but the 
young ladies were silent and melancholy.  Manfred, who was determined 
to pursue his point with the Marquis in the remainder of the evening, 
pushed on the feast until it waxed late; affecting unrestrained 
gaiety, and plying Frederic with repeated goblets of wine.  The 
latter, more upon his guard than Manfred wished, declined his frequent 
challenges, on pretence of his late loss of blood; while the Prince, 
to raise his own disordered spirits, and to counterfeit unconcern, 
indulged himself in plentiful draughts, though not to the intoxication 
of his senses.

The evening being far advanced, the banquet concluded.  Manfred would 
have withdrawn with Frederic; but the latter pleading weakness and 
want of repose, retired to his chamber, gallantly telling the Prince 
that his daughter should amuse his Highness until himself could attend 
him.  Manfred accepted the party, and to the no small grief of 
Isabella, accompanied her to her apartment.  Matilda waited on her 
mother to enjoy the freshness of the evening on the ramparts of the 
castle.

Soon as the company were dispersed their several ways, Frederic, 
quitting his chamber, inquired if Hippolita was alone, and was told by 
one of her attendants, who had not noticed her going forth, that at 
that hour she generally withdrew to her oratory, where he probably 
would find her.  The Marquis, during the repast, had beheld Matilda 
with increase of passion.  He now wished to find Hippolita in the 
disposition her Lord had promised.  The portents that had alarmed him 
were forgotten in his desires.  Stealing softly and unobserved to the 
apartment of Hippolita, he entered it with a resolution to encourage 
her acquiescence to the divorce, having perceived that Manfred was 
resolved to make the possession of Isabella an unalterable condition, 
before he would grant Matilda to his wishes.

The Marquis was not surprised at the silence that reigned in the 
Princess's apartment.  Concluding her, as he had been advertised, in 
her oratory, he passed on.  The door was ajar; the evening gloomy and 
overcast.  Pushing open the door gently, he saw a person kneeling 
before the altar.  As he approached nearer, it seemed not a woman, but 
one in a long woollen weed, whose back was towards him.  The person 
seemed absorbed in prayer.  The Marquis was about to return, when the 
figure, rising, stood some moments fixed in meditation, without 
regarding him.  The Marquis, expecting the holy person to come forth, 
and meaning to excuse his uncivil interruption, said,

"Reverend Father, I sought the Lady Hippolita."

"Hippolita!" replied a hollow voice; "camest thou to this castle to 
seek Hippolita?" and then the figure, turning slowly round, discovered 
to Frederic the fleshless jaws and empty sockets of a skeleton, wrapt 
in a hermit's cowl.

"Angels of grace protect me!" cried Frederic, recoiling.

"Deserve their protection!" said the Spectre.  Frederic, falling on 
his knees, adjured the phantom to take pity on him.

"Dost thou not remember me?" said the apparition.  "Remember the wood 
of Joppa!"

"Art thou that holy hermit?" cried Frederic, trembling.  "Can I do 
aught for thy eternal peace?"

"Wast thou delivered from bondage," said the spectre, "to pursue 
carnal delights?  Hast thou forgotten the buried sabre, and the behest 
of Heaven engraven on it?"

"I have not, I have not," said Frederic; "but say, blest spirit, what 
is thy errand to me?  What remains to be done?"

"To forget Matilda!" said the apparition; and vanished.

Frederic's blood froze in his veins.  For some minutes he remained 
motionless.  Then falling prostrate on his face before the altar, he 
besought the intercession of every saint for pardon.  A flood of tears 
succeeded to this transport; and the image of the beauteous Matilda 
rushing in spite of him on his thoughts, he lay on the ground in a 
conflict of penitence and passion.  Ere he could recover from this 
agony of his spirits, the Princess Hippolita with a taper in her hand 
entered the oratory alone.  Seeing a man without motion on the floor, 
she gave a shriek, concluding him dead.  Her fright brought Frederic 
to himself.  Rising suddenly, his face bedewed with tears, he would 
have rushed from her presence; but Hippolita stopping him, conjured 
him in the most plaintive accents to explain the cause of his 
disorder, and by what strange chance she had found him there in that 
posture.

"Ah, virtuous Princess!" said the Marquis, penetrated with grief, and 
stopped.

"For the love of Heaven, my Lord," said Hippolita, "disclose the cause 
of this transport!  What mean these doleful sounds, this alarming 
exclamation on my name?  What woes has heaven still in store for the 
wretched Hippolita?  Yet silent!  By every pitying angel, I adjure 
thee, noble Prince," continued she, falling at his feet, "to disclose 
the purport of what lies at thy heart.  I see thou feelest for me; 
thou feelest the sharp pangs that thou inflictest - speak, for pity!  
Does aught thou knowest concern my child?"

"I cannot speak," cried Frederic, bursting from her.  "Oh, Matilda!"

Quitting the Princess thus abruptly, he hastened to his own apartment.  
At the door of it he was accosted by Manfred, who flushed by wine and 
love had come to seek him, and to propose to waste some hours of the 
night in music and revelling.  Frederic, offended at an invitation so 
dissonant from the mood of his soul, pushed him rudely aside, and 
entering his chamber, flung the door intemperately against Manfred, 
and bolted it inwards.  The haughty Prince, enraged at this 
unaccountable behaviour, withdrew in a frame of mind capable of the 
most fatal excesses.  As he crossed the court, he was met by the 
domestic whom he had planted at the convent as a spy on Jerome and 
Theodore.  This man, almost breathless with the haste he had made, 
informed his Lord that Theodore, and some lady from the castle were, 
at that instant, in private conference at the tomb of Alfonso in St. 
Nicholas's church.  He had dogged Theodore thither, but the gloominess 
of the night had prevented his discovering who the woman was.

Manfred, whose spirits were inflamed, and whom Isabella had driven 
from her on his urging his passion with too little reserve, did not 
doubt but the inquietude she had expressed had been occasioned by her 
impatience to meet Theodore.  Provoked by this conjecture, and enraged 
at her father, he hastened secretly to the great church.  Gliding 
softly between the aisles, and guided by an imperfect gleam of 
moonshine that shone faintly through the illuminated windows, he stole 
towards the tomb of Alfonso, to which he was directed by indistinct 
whispers of the persons he sought.  The first sounds he could 
distinguish were -

"Does it, alas! depend on me?  Manfred will never permit our union."

"No, this shall prevent it!" cried the tyrant, drawing his dagger, and 
plunging it over her shoulder into the bosom of the person that spoke.

"Ah, me, I am slain!" cried Matilda, sinking.  "Good heaven, receive 
my soul!"

"Savage, inhuman monster, what hast thou done!" cried Theodore, 
rushing on him, and wrenching his dagger from him.

"Stop, stop thy impious hand!" cried Matilda; "it is my father!"

Manfred, waking as from a trance, beat his breast, twisted his hands 
in his locks, and endeavoured to recover his dagger from Theodore to 
despatch himself.  Theodore, scarce less distracted, and only 
mastering the transports of his grief to assist Matilda, had now by 
his cries drawn some of the monks to his aid.  While part of them 
endeavoured, in concert with the afflicted Theodore, to stop the blood 
of the dying Princess, the rest prevented Manfred from laying violent 
hands on himself.

Matilda, resigning herself patiently to her fate, acknowledged with 
looks of grateful love the zeal of Theodore.  Yet oft as her faintness 
would permit her speech its way, she begged the assistants to comfort 
her father.  Jerome, by this time, had learnt the fatal news, and 
reached the church.  His looks seemed to reproach Theodore, but 
turning to Manfred, he said,

"Now, tyrant! behold the completion of woe fulfilled on thy impious 
and devoted head!  The blood of Alfonso cried to heaven for vengeance; 
and heaven has permitted its altar to be polluted by assassination, 
that thou mightest shed thy own blood at the foot of that Prince's 
sepulchre!"

"Cruel man!" cried Matilda, "to aggravate the woes of a parent; may 
heaven bless my father, and forgive him as I do!  My Lord, my gracious 
Sire, dost thou forgive thy child?  Indeed, I came not hither to meet 
Theodore.  I found him praying at this tomb, whither my mother sent me 
to intercede for thee, for her - dearest father, bless your child, and 
say you forgive her."

"Forgive thee!  Murderous monster!" cried Manfred, "can assassins 
forgive?  I took thee for Isabella; but heaven directed my bloody hand 
to the heart of my child.  Oh, Matilda! - I cannot utter it - canst 
thou forgive the blindness of my rage?"

"I can, I do; and may heaven confirm it!" said Matilda; "but while I 
have life to ask it - oh! my mother! what will she feel?  Will you 
comfort her, my Lord?  Will you not put her away?  Indeed she loves 
you!  Oh, I am faint! bear me to the castle.  Can I live to have her 
close my eyes?"

Theodore and the monks besought her earnestly to suffer herself to be 
borne into the convent; but her instances were so pressing to be 
carried to the castle, that placing her on a litter, they conveyed her 
thither as she requested.  Theodore, supporting her head with his arm, 
and hanging over her in an agony of despairing love, still endeavoured 
to inspire her with hopes of life.  Jerome, on the other side, 
comforted her with discourses of heaven, and holding a crucifix before 
her, which she bathed with innocent tears, prepared her for her 
passage to immortality.  Manfred, plunged in the deepest affliction, 
followed the litter in despair.

Ere they reached the castle, Hippolita, informed of the dreadful 
catastrophe, had flown to meet her murdered child; but when she saw 
the afflicted procession, the mightiness of her grief deprived her of 
her senses, and she fell lifeless to the earth in a swoon.  Isabella 
and Frederic, who attended her, were overwhelmed in almost equal 
sorrow.  Matilda alone seemed insensible to her own situation:  every 
thought was lost in tenderness for her mother.

Ordering the litter to stop, as soon as Hippolita was brought to 
herself, she asked for her father.  He approached, unable to speak.  
Matilda, seizing his hand and her mother's, locked them in her own, 
and then clasped them to her heart.  Manfred could not support this 
act of pathetic piety.  He dashed himself on the ground, and cursed 
the day he was born.  Isabella, apprehensive that these struggles of 
passion were more than Matilda could support, took upon herself to 
order Manfred to be borne to his apartment, while she caused Matilda 
to be conveyed to the nearest chamber.  Hippolita, scarce more alive 
than her daughter, was regardless of everything but her; but when the 
tender Isabella's care would have likewise removed her, while the 
surgeons examined Matilda's wound, she cried,

"Remove me! never, never!  I lived but in her, and will expire with 
her."

Matilda raised her eyes at her mother's voice, but closed them again 
without speaking.  Her sinking pulse and the damp coldness of her hand 
soon dispelled all hopes of recovery.  Theodore followed the surgeons 
into the outer chamber, and heard them pronounce the fatal sentence 
with a transport equal to frenzy.

"Since she cannot live mine," cried he, "at least she shall be mine in 
death!  Father!  Jerome! will you not join our hands?" cried he to the 
Friar, who, with the Marquis, had accompanied the surgeons.

"What means thy distracted rashness?" said Jerome.  "Is this an hour 
for marriage?"

"It is, it is," cried Theodore.  "Alas! there is no other!"

"Young man, thou art too unadvised," said Frederic.  "Dost thou think 
we are to listen to thy fond transports in this hour of fate?  What 
pretensions hast thou to the Princess?"

"Those of a Prince," said Theodore; "of the sovereign of Otranto.  
This reverend man, my father, has informed me who I am."

"Thou ravest," said the Marquis.  "There is no Prince of Otranto but 
myself, now Manfred, by murder, by sacrilegious murder, has forfeited 
all pretensions."

"My Lord," said Jerome, assuming an air of command, "he tells you 
true.  It was not my purpose the secret should have been divulged so 
soon, but fate presses onward to its work.  What his hot-headed 
passion has revealed, my tongue confirms.  Know, Prince, that when 
Alfonso set sail for the Holy Land - "

"Is this a season for explanations?" cried Theodore.  "Father, come 
and unite me to the Princess; she shall be mine!  In every other thing 
I will dutifully obey you.  My life! my adored Matilda!" continued 
Theodore, rushing back into the inner chamber, "will you not be mine?  
Will you not bless your - "

Isabella made signs to him to be silent, apprehending the Princess was 
near her end.

"What, is she dead?" cried Theodore; "is it possible!"

The violence of his exclamations brought Matilda to herself.  Lifting 
up her eyes, she looked round for her mother.

"Life of my soul, I am here!" cried Hippolita; "think not I will quit 
thee!"

"Oh! you are too good," said Matilda.  "But weep not for me, my 
mother!  I am going where sorrow never dwells - Isabella, thou hast 
loved me; wouldst thou not supply my fondness to this dear, dear 
woman?  Indeed I am faint!"

"Oh! my child! my child!" said Hippolita in a flood of tears, "can I 
not withhold thee a moment?"

"It will not be," said Matilda; "commend me to heaven - Where is my 
father? forgive him, dearest mother - forgive him my death; it was an 
error.  Oh!  I had forgotten - dearest mother, I vowed never to see 
Theodore more - perhaps that has drawn down this calamity - but it was 
not intentional - can you pardon me?"

"Oh! wound not my agonising soul!" said Hippolita; "thou never couldst 
offend me - Alas! she faints! help! help!"

"I would say something more," said Matilda, struggling, "but it cannot 
be - Isabella - Theodore - for my sake - Oh! - " she expired.

Isabella and her women tore Hippolita from the corse; but Theodore 
threatened destruction to all who attempted to remove him from it.  He 
printed a thousand kisses on her clay-cold hands, and uttered every 
expression that despairing love could dictate.

Isabella, in the meantime, was accompanying the afflicted Hippolita to 
her apartment; but, in the middle of the court, they were met by 
Manfred, who, distracted with his own thoughts, and anxious once more 
to behold his daughter, was advancing to the chamber where she lay.  
As the moon was now at its height, he read in the countenances of this 
unhappy company the event he dreaded.

"What! is she dead?" cried he in wild confusion.  A clap of thunder at 
that instant shook the castle to its foundations; the earth rocked, 
and the clank of more than mortal armour was heard behind.  Frederic 
and Jerome thought the last day was at hand.  The latter, forcing 
Theodore along with them, rushed into the court.  The moment Theodore 
appeared, the walls of the castle behind Manfred were thrown down with 
a mighty force, and the form of Alfonso, dilated to an immense 
magnitude, appeared in the centre of the ruins.

"Behold in Theodore the true heir of Alfonso!" said the vision:  And 
having pronounced those words, accompanied by a clap of thunder, it 
ascended solemnly towards heaven, where the clouds parting asunder, 
the form of St. Nicholas was seen, and receiving Alfonso's shade, they 
were soon wrapt from mortal eyes in a blaze of glory.

The beholders fell prostrate on their faces, acknowledging the divine 
will.  The first that broke silence was Hippolita.

"My Lord," said she to the desponding Manfred, "behold the vanity of 
human greatness!  Conrad is gone!  Matilda is no more!  In Theodore we 
view the true Prince of Otranto.  By what miracle he is so I know not 
- suffice it to us, our doom is pronounced! shall we not, can we but 
dedicate the few deplorable hours we have to live, in deprecating the 
further wrath of heaven? heaven ejects us - whither can we fly, but to 
yon holy cells that yet offer us a retreat."

"Thou guiltless but unhappy woman! unhappy by my crimes!" replied 
Manfred, "my heart at last is open to thy devout admonitions.  Oh! 
could - but it cannot be - ye are lost in wonder - let me at last do 
justice on myself!  To heap shame on my own head is all the 
satisfaction I have left to offer to offended heaven.  My story has 
drawn down these judgments:  Let my confession atone - but, ah! what 
can atone for usurpation and a murdered child? a child murdered in a 
consecrated place?  List, sirs, and may this bloody record be a 
warning to future tyrants!"

"Alfonso, ye all know, died in the Holy Land - ye would interrupt me; 
ye would say he came not fairly to his end - it is most true - why 
else this bitter cup which Manfred must drink to the dregs.  Ricardo, 
my grandfather, was his chamberlain - I would draw a veil over my 
ancestor's crimes - but it is in vain!  Alfonso died by poison.  A 
fictitious will declared Ricardo his heir.  His crimes pursued him - 
yet he lost no Conrad, no Matilda!  I pay the price of usurpation for 
all!  A storm overtook him.  Haunted by his guilt he vowed to St. 
Nicholas to found a church and two convents, if he lived to reach 
Otranto.  The sacrifice was accepted:  the saint appeared to him in a 
dream, and promised that Ricardo's posterity should reign in Otranto 
until the rightful owner should be grown too large to inhabit the 
castle, and as long as issue male from Ricardo's loins should remain 
to enjoy it - alas! alas! nor male nor female, except myself, remains 
of all his wretched race!  I have done - the woes of these three days 
speak the rest.  How this young man can be Alfonso's heir I know not - 
yet I do not doubt it.  His are these dominions; I resign them - yet I 
knew not Alfonso had an heir - I question not the will of heaven - 
poverty and prayer must fill up the woeful space, until Manfred shall 
be summoned to Ricardo."

"What remains is my part to declare," said Jerome.  "When Alfonso set 
sail for the Holy Land he was driven by a storm to the coast of 
Sicily.  The other vessel, which bore Ricardo and his train, as your 
Lordship must have heard, was separated from him."

"It is most true," said Manfred; "and the title you give me is more 
than an outcast can claim - well! be it so - proceed."

Jerome blushed, and continued.  "For three months Lord Alfonso was 
wind-bound in Sicily.  There he became enamoured of a fair virgin 
named Victoria.  He was too pious to tempt her to forbidden pleasures.  
They were married.  Yet deeming this amour incongruous with the holy 
vow of arms by which he was bound, he determined to conceal their 
nuptials until his return from the Crusade, when he purposed to seek 
and acknowledge her for his lawful wife.  He left her pregnant.  
During his absence she was delivered of a daughter.  But scarce had 
she felt a mother's pangs ere she heard the fatal rumour of her Lord's 
death, and the succession of Ricardo.  What could a friendless, 
helpless woman do?  Would her testimony avail? - yet, my lord, I have 
an authentic writing - "

"It needs not," said Manfred; "the horrors of these days, the vision 
we have but now seen, all corroborate thy evidence beyond a thousand 
parchments.  Matilda's death and my expulsion - "

"Be composed, my Lord," said Hippolita; "this holy man did not mean to 
recall your griefs."  Jerome proceeded.

"I shall not dwell on what is needless.  The daughter of which 
Victoria was delivered, was at her maturity bestowed in marriage on 
me.  Victoria died; and the secret remained locked in my breast.  
Theodore's narrative has told the rest."

The Friar ceased.  The disconsolate company retired to the remaining 
part of the castle.  In the morning Manfred signed his abdication of 
the principality, with the approbation of Hippolita, and each took on 
them the habit of religion in the neighbouring convents.  Frederic 
offered his daughter to the new Prince, which Hippolita's tenderness 
for Isabella concurred to promote.  But Theodore's grief was too fresh 
to admit the thought of another love; and it was not until after 
frequent discourses with Isabella of his dear Matilda, that he was 
persuaded he could know no happiness but in the society of one with 
whom he could for ever indulge the melancholy that had taken 
possession of his soul.


END

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