I carried pistols and a dagger
constantly about me, and was ever on the watch to prevent artifice; and
by these means gained a greater degree of tranquillity. Indeed, as the
period approached, the threat appeared more as a delusion, not to be
regarded as worthy to disturb my peace, while the happiness I hoped for
in my marriage wore a greater appearance of certainty, as the day fixed
for its solemnization drew nearer, and I heard it continually spoken of
as an occurrence which no accident could possibly prevent. Elizabeth seemed happy; my tranquil demeanour contributed greatly to
calm her mind. But on the day that was to fulfil my wishes and my
destiny, she was melancholy, and a presentiment of evil pervaded her;
and perhaps also she thought of the dreadful secret, which I had
promised to reveal to her the following day. My father was in the mean
time overjoyed, and, in the bustle of preparation, only observed in the
melancholy of his niece the diffidence of a bride. After the ceremony was performed, a large party assembled at my
father’s; but it was agreed that Elizabeth and I should pass the
afternoon and night at Evian, and return to Cologny the next morning. As
the day was fair, and the wind favourable, we resolved to go by water. Those were the last moments of my life during which I enjoyed the
feeling of happiness. We passed rapidly along: the sun was hot, but we
were sheltered from its rays by a kind of canopy, while we enjoyed the
beauty of the scene, sometimes on one side of the lake, where we saw
Mont Salêve, the pleasant banks of Montalêgre, and at a distance,
surmounting all, the beautiful Mont Blânc, and the assemblage of snowy
mountains that in vain endeavour to emulate her; sometimes coasting the
opposite banks, we saw the mighty Jura opposing its dark side to the
ambition that would quit its native country, and an almost
insurmountable barrier to the invader who should wish to enslave it. I took the hand of Elizabeth: “You are sorrowful, my love. Ah! if you
knew what I have suffered, and what I may yet endure, you would
endeavour to let me taste the quiet, and freedom from despair, that this
one day at least permits me to enjoy.”

“Be happy, my dear Victor,” replied Elizabeth; “there is, I hope,
nothing to distress you; and be assured that if a lively joy is not
painted in my face, my heart is contented. Something whispers to me not
to depend too much on the prospect that is opened before us; but I will
not listen to such a sinister voice. Observe how fast we move along, and
how the clouds which sometimes obscure, and sometimes rise above the
dome of Mont Blânc, render this scene of beauty still more interesting. Look also at the innumerable fish that are swimming in the clear
waters, where we can distinguish every pebble that lies at the bottom. What a divine day! how happy and serene all nature appears!”

Thus Elizabeth endeavoured to divert her thoughts and mine from all
reflection upon melancholy subjects. But her temper was fluctuating; joy
for a few instants shone in her eyes, but it continually gave place to
distraction and reverie. The sun sunk lower in the heavens; we passed the river Drance, and
observed its path through the chasms of the higher, and the glens of the
lower hills. The Alps here come closer to the lake, and we approached
the amphitheatre of mountains which forms its eastern boundary. The
spire of Evian shone under the woods that surrounded it, and the range
of mountain above mountain by which it was overhung. The wind, which had hitherto carried us along with amazing rapidity,
sunk at sunset to a light breeze; the soft air just ruffled the water,
and caused a pleasant motion among the trees as we approached the shore,
from which it wafted the most delightful scent of flowers and hay. The
sun sunk beneath the horizon as we landed; and as I touched the shore, I
felt those cares and fears revive, which soon were to clasp me, and
cling to me for ever. CHAPTER VI. It was eight o’clock when we landed; we walked for a short time on the
shore, enjoying the transitory light, and then retired to the inn, and
contemplated the lovely scene of waters, woods, and mountains, obscured
in darkness, yet still displaying their black outlines. The wind, which had fallen in the south, now rose with great violence in
the west. The moon had reached her summit in the heavens, and was
beginning to descend; the clouds swept across it swifter than the flight
of the vulture, and dimmed her rays, while the lake reflected the scene
of the busy heavens, rendered still busier by the restless waves that
were beginning to rise. Suddenly a heavy storm of rain descended. I had been calm during the day; but so soon as night obscured the shapes
of objects, a thousand fears arose in my mind. I was anxious and
watchful, while my right hand grasped a pistol which was hidden in my
bosom; every sound terrified me; but I resolved that I would sell my
life dearly, and not relax the impending conflict until my own life, or
that of my adversary, were extinguished. Elizabeth observed my agitation for some time in timid and fearful
silence; at length she said, “What is it that agitates you, my dear
Victor? What is it you fear?”

“Oh! peace, peace, my love,” replied I, “this night, and all will be
safe: but this night is dreadful, very dreadful.”

I passed an hour in this state of mind, when suddenly I reflected how
dreadful the combat which I momentarily expected would be to my wife,
and I earnestly entreated her to retire, resolving not to join her until
I had obtained some knowledge as to the situation of my enemy. She left me, and I continued some time walking up and down the passages
of the house, and inspecting every corner that might afford a retreat to
my adversary. But I discovered no trace of him, and was beginning to
conjecture that some fortunate chance had intervened to prevent the
execution of his menaces; when suddenly I heard a shrill and dreadful
scream. It came from the room into which Elizabeth had retired. As I
heard it, the whole truth rushed into my mind, my arms dropped, the
motion of every muscle and fibre was suspended; I could feel the blood
trickling in my veins, and tingling in the extremities of my limbs. This
state lasted but for an instant; the scream was repeated, and I rushed
into the room. Great God! why did I not then expire! Why am I here to relate the
destruction of the best hope, and the purest creature of earth. She was
there, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the bed, her head hanging
down, and her pale and distorted features half covered by her hair. Every where I turn I see the same figure—her bloodless arms and relaxed
form flung by the murderer on its bridal bier. Could I behold this, and
live? Alas! life is obstinate, and clings closest where it is most
hated. For a moment only did I lose recollection; I fainted.