The Mystery of the Black Tower (Gothic Classics) by John Palmer

Author:John Palmer [Palmer, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Classics, Genre Fiction, Historical
Amazon: B008XLX19K
Publisher: Valancourt Books
Published: 2012-08-12T22:00:00+00:00

Owen bowed, and attended Leonard to his closet, who said, “Now speak, void of thy ill-timed gibes, or dread my just resentment!”

“Why,” quoth the attendant, “I would have told you all, if you had given me time, and, like a skilful doctor, would have administered medicine, to enable you to undergo the operation with patience.”

“Wretch!” interrupted the son of Christopher, “Is this thy boasted regard? But proceed; tell me the cause of thy being here, or by him who gave me life, this instant is your last!”

“I am afraid it will, without your kind assistance,” replied the servant, “but prepare for the worst, if you will have it so: your mistress is stolen from the castle of Montmorenci; by whom no one can tell; all we know is, she was put on board a boat by several men, who carried her off in less time than would truss a rabbit.”

Had a dagger been planted in the breast of Leonard, it could not more have pained him.

“And is it possible,” he cried, “you cannot guess what is become of her?”

Owen shook his head, and sighed.

With folded arms, and his brow contracted with grief and indignation, the Knight threw himself into a chair, and continued buried in painful reverie; then, starting suddenly from his seat, he fell upon his knees and ejaculated.

“Almighty Father! listen and record my fixed resolve; never shall this frame know happiness, till the accursed authors of this horrid sacrilege are punished! Kneeling, I vow to dedicate my life to her revenge! And thou, oh fortune! blind and fickle Deity! also hear my prayer: befriend me in this trying hour; reveal to me the name of her detested persecutor; bring us but point to point, and as thou pleasest, then bestow thy smiles!”

While he spoke, his countenance was flushed with rage; his eye-balls rolled in their sockets, and his mind resembled the tempestuous ocean when Boreas’ blasts convulse the watery gulph.

“Caparison my charger!” cried he, “even now will I commence my search: every moment that I lose is a treason to love!”

Owen replied, “Truly sir, if I may presume to advise, it will be better to postpone your journey till the morning; consider, it is not now far from dark, and while that is the case, you may as well attempt to catch a will o’ th’ wisp! Besides, to say sooth, my courage is very apt to leave me by night; it is like an intermitting fever, comes and goes so quick, that I cannot be certain of it for a moment together. Do, for heaven’s sake, let us wait till dawn.”

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