The Works of Aphra Behn

She waited not long, all things concurring to her desire; for Katteriena falling sick, she had the good luck, as she call’d it then, to entertain Henault at the Grate oftentimes alone; the first moment she did so, she entertain’d him with the good News, and told him, She had at last vanquish’d her Heart in favour of him, and loving him above all things, Honour, her Vow or Reputation, had resolv’d to abandon her self wholly to him, to give her self up to love and serve him, and that she had no other Consideration in the World; but Henault, instead of returning her an Answer, all Joy and Satisfaction, held down his Eyes, and Sighing, with a dejected Look, he cry’d, ‘Ah, Madam! Pity a Man so wretched and undone, as not to be sensible of this Blessing as I ought.’ She grew pale at this Reply, and trembling, expected he would proceed: ‘’Tis not (continued he) that I want Love, tenderest Passion, and all the desire Youth and Love can inspire; But, Oh, Madam! when I consider, (for raving mad in Love as I am for your sake, I do consider) that if I should take you from this Repose, Nobly Born and Educated, as you are; and, for that Act, should find a rigid Father deprive me of all that ought to support you, and afford your Birth, Beauty, and Merits, their due, what would you say? How would you Reproach me?’ He sighing, expected her Answer, when Blushes overspreading her Face, she reply’d, in a Tone all haughty and angry, ‘Ah, Henault! Am I then refus’d, after having abandon’d all things for you? Is it thus, you reward my Sacrific’d Honour, Vows, and Virtue? Cannot you hazard the loss of Fortune to possess Isabella, who loses all for you!’ Then bursting into Tears, at her misfortune of Loving, she suffer’d him to say, ‘Oh, Charming fair one! how industrious is your Cruelty, to find out new Torments for an Heart, already press’d down with the Severities of Love? Is it possible, you can make so unhappy a Construction of the tenderest part of my Passion? And can you imagin it want of Love in me, to consider, how I shall preserve and merit the vast Blessing Heaven has given me? Is my Care a Crime? And would not the most deserving Beauty of the World hate me, if I should, to preserve my Life, and satisfy the Passion of my fond Heart, reduce her to the Extremities of Want and Misery? And is there any thing, in what I have said, but what you ought to take for the greatest Respect and tenderness!’ ‘Alas! (reply’d Isabella sighing) young as I am, all unskilful in Love I find, but what I feel, that Discretion is no part of it; and Consideration, inconsistent with the Nobler Passion, who will subsist of its own Nature, and Love unmixed with any other Sentiment? And ’tis not pure, if it be otherwise: I know, had I mix’d Discretion with mine, my Love must have been less, I never thought of living, but my Love; and, if I consider’d at all, it was, that Grandure and Magnificence were useless Trifles to Lovers, wholly needless and troublesom. I thought of living in some loanly Cottage, far from the noise of crowded busie Cities, to walk with thee in Groves, and silent Shades, where I might hear no Voice but thine; and when we had been tir’d, to sit us done by some cool murmuring Rivulet, and be to each a World, my Monarch thou, and I thy Sovereign Queen, while Wreaths of Flowers shall crown our happy Heads, some fragrant Bank our Throne, and Heaven our Canopy: Thus we might laugh at Fortune, and the Proud, despise the duller World, who place their Joys in mighty Shew and Equipage. Alas! my Nature could not bear it, I am unus’d to Wordly Vanities, and would boast of nothing but my Henault; no Riches, but his Love; no Grandure, but his Presence.’ She ended speaking, with Tears, and he reply’d, ‘Now, now, I find, my Isabella loves indeed, when she’s content to abandon the World for my sake; Oh! thou hast named the only happy Life that suits my quiet Nature, to be retir’d, has always been my Joy! But to be so with thee! Oh! thou hast charm’d me with a Thought so dear, as has for ever banish’d all my Care, but how to receive thy Goodness! Please think no more what my angry Parent may do, when he shall hear, how I have dispos’d of my self against his Will and Pleasure, but trust to Love and Providence; no more! be gone all Thoughts, but those of Isabella!’

As soon as he had made an end of expressing his Joy, he fell to consulting how, and when, she should escape; and since it was uncertain, when she should be offer’d the Key, for she would not ask for it, she resolv’d to give him notice, either by word of Mouth, or a bit of Paper she would write in, and give him through the Grate the first opportunity; and, parting for that time, they both resolv’d to get up what was possible for their Support, till Time should reconcile Affairs and Friends, and to wait the happy hour.

Isabella’s dead Mother had left Jewels, of the value of 2000l. to her Daughter, at her Decease, which Jewels were in the possession, now, of the Lady Abbess, and were upon Sale, to be added to the Revenue of the Monastery; and as Isabella was the most Prudent of her Sex, at least, had hitherto been so esteem’d, she was intrusted with all that was in possession of the Lady Abbess, and ’twas not difficult to make her self Mistress of all her own Jewels; as also, some 3 or 400l. in Gold, that was hoarded up in her Ladyship’s Cabinet, against any Accidents that might arrive to the Monastery; these Isabella also made her own, and put up with the Jewels; and having acquainted Henault, with the Day and Hour of her Escape, he got together what he could, and waiting for her, with his Coach, one Night, when no body was awake but her self, when rising softly, as she us’d to do, in the Night, to her Devotion, she stole so dexterously out of the Monastery, as no body knew any thing of it; she carry’d away the Keys with her, after having lock’d all the Doors, for she was intrusted often with all. She found Henault waiting in his Coach, and trusted none but an honest Coachman that lov’d him; he receiv’d her with all the Transports of a truly ravish’d Lover, and she was infinitely charm’d with the new Pleasure of his Embraces and Kisses.

They drove out of Town immediately, and because she durst not be seen in that Habit, (for it had been immediate Death for both) they drove into a Thicket some three Miles from the Town, where Henault having brought her some of his younger Sister’s Clothes, he made her put off her Habit, and put on those; and, rending the other, they hid them in a Sand-pit, covered over with Broom, and went that Night forty Miles from Iper, to a little Town upon the River Rhine, where, changing their Names, they were forthwith married, and took a House in a Country Village, a Farm, where they resolv’d to live retir’d, by the name of Beroone, and drove a Farming Trade; however, not forgetting to set Friends and Engines at work, to get their Pardon, as Criminals, first, that had trangress’d the Law; and, next, as disobedient Persons, who had done contrary to the Will and Desire of their Parents: Isabella writ to her Aunt the most moving Letters in the World, so did Henault to his Father; but she was a long time, before she could gain so much as an answer from her Aunt, and Henault was so unhappy, as never to gain one from his Father; who no sooner heard the News that was spread over all the Town and Country, that young Henault was fled with the so fam’d Isabella, a Nun, and singular for Devotion and Piety of Life, but he immediately setled his Estate on his younger Son, cutting Henault off with all his Birthright, which was 5000l. a Year. This News, you may believe, was not very pleasing to the young Man, who tho’ in possession of the loveliest Virgin, and now Wife, that ever Man was bless’d with; yet when he reflected, he should have children by her, and these and she should come to want, (he having been magnificently Educated, and impatient of scanty Fortune) he laid it to Heart, and it gave him a thousand Uneasinesses in the midst of unspeakable Joys; and the more be strove to hide his Sentiments from Isabella, the more tormenting it was within; he durst not name it to her, so insuperable a Grief it would cause in her, to hear him complain; and tho’ she could live hardly, as being bred to a devout and severe Life, he could not, but must let the Man of Quality shew it self; even in the disguise of an humbler Farmer: Besides all this, he found nothing of his Industry thrive, his Cattel still dy’d in the midst of those that were in full Vigour and Health of other Peoples; his Crops of Wheat and Barly, and other Grain, tho’ manag’d by able and knowing Husbandmen, were all, either Mildew’d, or Blasted, or some Misfortune still arriv’d to him; his Coach-Horses would fight and kill one another, his Barns sometimes be fir’d; so that it became a Proverb all over the Country, if any ill Luck had arriv’d to any body, they would say, ‘They had Monsieur BEROONE’S Luck.’ All these Reflections did but add to his Melancholy, and he grew at last to be in some want, insomuch, that Isabella, who had by her frequent Letters, and submissive Supplications, to her Aunt, (who lov’d her tenderly) obtain’d her Pardon, and her Blessing; she now press’d her for some Money, and besought her to consider, how great a Fortune she had brought to the Monastery, and implor’d, she would allow her some Sallary out of it, for she had been marry’d two Years, and most of what she had was exhausted. The Aunt, who found, that what was done, could not be undone, did, from time to time, supply her so, as one might have liv’d very decently on that very Revenue; but that would not satisfy the great Heart of Henault. He was now about three and twenty Years old, and Isabella about eighteen, too young, and too lovely a Pair, to begin their Misfortunes so soon; they were both the most Just and Pious in the World; they were Examples of Goodness, and Eminent for Holy Living, and for perfect Loving, and yet nothing thriv’d they undertook; they had no Children, and all their Joy was in each other; at last, one good Fortune arriv’d to them, by the Solicitations of the Lady Abbess, and the Bishop, who was her near Kinsman, they got a Pardon for Isabella’s quitting the Monastery, and marrying, so that she might now return to her own Country again. Henault having also his Pardon, they immediately quit the place, where they had remain’d for two Years, and came again into Flanders, hoping, the change of place might afford ’em better Luck.

Henault then began again to solicit his Cruel Father, but nothing would do, he refus’d to see him, or to receive any Letters from him; but, at last, he prevail’d so far with him, as that he sent a Kinsman to him, to assure him, if he would leave his Wife, and go into the French Campagn, he would Equip him as well as his Quality requir’d, and that, according as he behav’d himself, he should gain his Favour; but if he liv’d Idly at home, giving up his Youth and Glory to lazy Love, he would have no more to say to him, but race him out of his Heart, and out of his Memory.

He had setled himself in a very pretty House, furnished with what was fitting for the Reception of any Body of Quality that would live a private Life, and they found all the Respect that their Merits deserv’d from all the World, every body entirely loving and endeavouring to serve them; and Isabella so perfectly had the Ascendent over her Aunt’s Heart, that she procur’d from her all that she could desire, and much more than she could expect. She was perpetually progging and saving all that she could, to enrich and advance her, and, at last, pardoning and forgiving Henault, lov’d him as her own Child; so that all things look’d with a better Face than before, and never was so dear and fond a Couple seen, as Henault and Isabella; but, at last, she prov’d with Child, and the Aunt, who might reasonably believe, so young a Couple would have a great many Children, and foreseeing there was no Provision likely to be made them, unless he pleas’d his Father, for if the Aunt should chance to dye, all their Hope was gone; she therefore daily solicited him to obey his Father, and go to the Camp; and that having atchiev’d Fame and Renown, he would return a Favourite to his Father, and Comfort to his Wife: After she had solicited in vain, for he was not able to endure the thought of leaving Isabella, melancholy as he was with his ill Fortune; the Bishop, kinsman to Isabella, took him to task, and urg’d his Youth and Birth, and that he ought not to wast both without Action, when all the World was employ’d; and, that since his Father had so great a desire he should go into a Campagn, either to serve the Venetian against the Turks, or into the French Service, which he lik’d best; he besought him to think of it; and since he had satisfy’d his Love, he should and ought to satisfy his Duty, it being absolutely necessary for the wiping off the Stain of his Sacrilege, and to gain him the favour of Heaven, which, he found, had hitherto been averse to all he had undertaken: In fine, all his Friends, and all who lov’d him, joyn’d in this Design, and all thought it convenient, nor was he insensible of the Advantage it might bring him; but Love, which every day grew fonder and fonder in his Heart, oppos’d all their Reasonings, tho’ he saw all the Brave Youth of the Age preparing to go, either to one Army, or the other.

At last, he lets Isabella know, what Propositions he had made him, both by his Father, and his Relations; at the very first Motion, she almost fainted in his Arms, while he was speaking, and it possess’d her with so intire a Grief, that she miscarry’d, to the insupportable Torment of her tender Husband and Lover, so that, to re-establish her Repose, he was forc’d to promise not to go; however, she consider’d all their Circumstances, and weigh’d the Advantages that might redound both to his Honour and Fortune, by it; and, in a matter of a Month’s time, with the Persuasions and Reasons of her Friends, she suffer’d him to resolve upon going, her self determining to retire to the Monastery, till the time of his Return; but when she nam’d the Monastery, he grew pale and disorder’d, and obliged her to promise him, not to enter into it any more, for fear they should never suffer her to come forth again; so that he resolv’d not to depart, till she had made a Vow to him, never to go again within the Walls of a Religious House, which had already been so fatal to them. She promis’d, and he believ’d.

Henault, at last, overcame his Heart, which pleaded so for his Stay, and sent his Father word, he was ready to obey him, and to carry the first Efforts of his Arms against the common Foes of Christendom, the Turks; his Father was very well pleas’d at this, and sent him Two thousand Crowns, his Horses and Furniture sutable to his Quality, and a Man to wait on him; so that it was not long e’re he got himself in order to be gone, after a dismal parting.

He made what hast he could to the French Army, then under the Command of the Monsignior, the Duke of Beaufort, then at Candia, and put himself a Voluntier under his Conduct; in which Station was Villenoys, who, you have already heard, was so passionate a Lover of Isabella, who no sooner heard of Henault’s being arriv’d, and that he was Husband to Isabella, but he was impatient to learn, by what strange Adventure he came to gain her, even from her Vow’d Retreat, when he, with all his Courtship, could not be so happy, tho’ she was then free in the World, and Unvow’d to Heaven.

As soon as he sent his Name to Henault, he was sent for up, for Henault had heard of Villenoys, and that he had been a Lover of Isabella; they receiv’d one another with all the endearing Civility imaginable for the aforesaid Reason, and for that he was his Country-man, tho’ unknown to him, Villenoys being gone to the Army, just as Henault came from the Jesuits College. A great deal of Endearment pass’d between them, and they became, from that moment, like two sworn Brothers, and he receiv’d the whole Relation from Henault, of his Amour.

It was not long before the Siege began anew, for he arriv’d at the beginning of the Spring, and, as soon as he came, almost, they fell to Action; and it happen’d upon a day, that a Party of some Four hundred Men resolv’d to sally out upon the Enemy, as, when ever they could, they did; but as it is not my business to relate the History of the War, being wholly unacquainted with the Terms of Battels, I shall only say, That these Men were led by Villenoys, and that Henault would accompany him in this Sally, and that they acted very Noble, and great Things, worthy of a Memory in the History of that Siege; but this day, particularly, they had an occasion to shew their Valour, which they did very much to their Glory; but, venturing too far, they were ambush’d, in the persuit of the Party of the Enemies, and being surrounded, Villenoys had the unhappiness to see his gallant Friend fall, fighting and dealing of Wounds around him, even as he descended to the Earth, for he fell from his Horse at the same moment that he kill’d a Turk; and Villenoys could neither assist him, nor had he the satisfaction to be able to rescue his dead Body from under the Horses, but, with much ado, escaping with his own Life, got away, in spite of all that follow’d him, and recover’d the Town, before they could overtake him: He passionately bewail’d the Loss of this brave young Man, and offer’d any Recompence to those, that would have ventur’d to have search’d for his dead Body among the Slain; but it was not fit to hazard the Living, for unnecessary Services to the Dead; and tho’ he had a great mind to have Interr’d him, he rested content with what he wish’d to pay his Friends Memory, tho’ he could not: So that all the Service now he could do him, was, to write to Isabella, to whom he had not writ, tho’ commanded by her so to do, in three Years before, which was never since she took Orders. He gave her an Account of the Death of her Husband, and how Gloriously he fell fighting for the Holy Cross, and how much Honour he had won, if it had been his Fate to have outliv’d that great, but unfortunate, Day, where, with 400 Men, they had kill’d 1500 of the Enemy. The General Beaufort himself had so great a Respect and Esteem for this young Man, and knowing him to be of Quality, that he did him the honour to bemoan him, and to send a Condoling Letter to Isabella, how much worth her Esteem he dy’d, and that he had Eterniz’d his Memory with the last Gasp of his Life.

When this News arriv’d, it may be easily imagin’d, what Impressions, or rather Ruins, it made in the Heart of this fair Mourner; the Letters came by his Man, who saw him fall in Battel, and came off with those few that escap’d with Villenoys; he brought back what Money he had, a few Jewels, with Isabella’s Picture that he carry’d with him and had left in his Chamber in the Fort at Candia, for fear of breaking it in Action. And now Isabella’s Sorrow grew to the Extremity, she thought, she could not suffer more than she did by his Absence, but she now found a Grief more killing; she hung her Chamber with Black, and liv’d without the Light of Day: Only Wax Lights, that let her behold the Picture of this Charming Man, before which she sacrific’d Floods of Tears. He had now been absent about ten Months, and she had learnt just to live without him, but Hope preserv’d her then; but now she had nothing, for which to wish to live. She, for about two Months after the News arriv’d, liv’d without seeing any Creature but a young Maid, that was her Woman; but extream Importunity oblig’d her to give way to the Visits of her Friends, who endeavour’d to restore her Melancholy Soul to its wonted Easiness; for, however it was oppress’d within, by Henault’s Absence, she bore it off with a modest Chearfulness; but now she found, that Fortitude and Virtue fail’d her, when she was assur’d, he was no more: She continu’d thus Mourning, and thus inclos’d, the space of a whole Year, never suffering the Visit of any Man, but of a near Relation; so that she acquir’d a Reputation, such as never any young Beauty had, for she was now but Nineteen, and her Face and Shape more excellent than ever; she daily increas’d in Beauty, which, joyn’d to her Exemplary Piety, Charity, and all other excellent Qualities, gain’d her a wonderous Fame, and begat an Awe and Reverence in all that heard of her, and there was no Man of any Quality, that did not Adore her. After her Year was up, she went to the Churches, but would never be seen any where else abroad, but that was enough to procure her a thousand Lovers; and some, who had the boldness to send her Letters, which, if she receiv’d, she gave no Answer to, and many she sent back unread and unseal’d: So that she would encourage none, tho’ their Quality was far beyond what she could hope; but she was resolv’d to marry no more, however her Fortune might require it.

It happen’d, that, about this time, Candia being unfortunately taken by the Turks, all the brave Men that escap’d the Sword, return’d, among them, Villenoys, who no sooner arriv’d, but he sent to let Isabella know of it, and to beg the Honour of waiting on her; desirous to learn what Fate befel her dear Lord, she suffer’d him to visit her, where he found her, in her Mourning, a thousand times more Fair, (at least, he fancy’d so) than ever she appear’d to be; so that if he lov’d her before, he now ador’d her; if he burnt then, he rages now; but the awful Sadness, and soft Languishment of her Eyes, hinder’d him from the presumption of speaking of his Passion to her, tho’ it would have been no new thing; and his first Visit was spent in the Relation of every Circumstance of Henault’s Death; and, at his going away, he begg’d leave to visit her sometimes, and she gave him permission: He lost no time, but made use of the Liberty she had given him; and when his Sister, who was a great Companion of Isabella’s, went to see her, he would still wait on her; so that, either with his own Visits, and those of his Sister’s, he saw Isabella every day, and had the good luck to see, he diverted her, by giving her Relations of Transactions of the Siege, and the Customs and Manners of the Turks: All he said, was with so good a Grace, that he render’d every thing agreeable; he was, besides, very Beautiful, well made, of Quality and Fortune, and fit to inspire Love.

He made his Visits so often, and so long, that, at last, he took the Courage to speak of his Passion, which, at first, Isabella would by no means hear of, but, by degrees, she yielded more and more to listen to his tender Discourse; and he liv’d thus with her two Years, before he could gain any more upon her Heart, than to suffer him to speak of Love to her; but that, which subdu’d her quite was, That her Aunt, the Lady Abbess, dy’d, and with her, all the Hopes and Fortune of Isabella, so that she was left with only a Charming Face and Meen, a Virtue, and a Discretion above her Sex, to make her Fortune within the World; into a Religious House, she was resolv’d not to go, because her Heart deceiv’d her once, and she durst not trust it again, whatever it promis’d.

The death of this Lady made her look more favourably on Villenoys; but yet, she was resolv’d to try his Love to the utmost, and keep him off, as long as ’twas possible she could subsist, and ’twas for Interest she married again, tho’ she lik’d the Person very well; and since she was forc’d to submit her self to be a second time a Wife, she thought, she could live better with Villenoys, than any other, since for him she ever had a great Esteem; and fancy’d the Hand of Heaven had pointed out her Destiny, which she could not avoid, without a Crime.

So that when she was again importun’d by her impatient Lover, she told him, She had made a Vow to remain three Years, at least, before she would marry again, after the Death of the best of Men and Husbands, and him who had the Fruits of her early Heart; and, notwithstanding all the Solicitations of Villenoys, she would not consent to marry him, till her Vow of Widowhood was expir’d.