3.24.2005

David here, diatribe on hold: La Motte's up to his tricks again and the intrigue is too deep to summarize. For a time, Louis's presence brightens things all around. He returns to the inn at Auboine to plant a false report of having found the abbey deserted, and something like tranquility is restored. "But the joy which his unexpected arrival had given to La Motte quickly began to evaporate, and the gloom of despondency again settled on his countenance. He returned frequently to his haunt in the forest--the same mysterious sadness tinctured his manner and revived the anxiety of Madame La Motte, who was resolved to aquaint her son with this subject of distress, and solicit his assistance to penetrate its source."

Shortly after learning from his mother of the change in his father's temper, Louis spies La Motte the elder slipping into the deep shade of the forest at the edge of the abbey's lawn. "He judged this to be a good opportunity of commencing his plan, and, quitting the abbey, slowly followed at a distance. La Motte continued to walk straight forward, and seemed so deeply wrapt in thought, that he looked neither to the right or left, and scarcely lifted his head from the ground. Louis had followed him near half a mile, when he saw him suddenly strike into an avenue of the forest, which took a different direction from the way he had hitherto gone. He quickened his steps that he might not lose sight of him, but, having reached the avenue, found the trees so thickly interwoven, that La Motte was already hid from view.

"He continued, however, to pursue the way before him: it conducted him through the most gloomy part of the forest he had yet seen, till at length it terminated in an obscure recess, over-arched with high trees, whose interwoven branches secluded the direct rays of the sun, and admitted only a sort of solemn twilight. Louis looked around in search of La Motte, but he was nowhere to be seen. While he stood surveying the place, and considering what farther should be done, he observed, through the gloom, an object at some distance, but the deep shadow that fell around prevented his distinguishing what it was.

"In advancing, he perceived the ruins of a small building, which, from the traces that remained, appeared to have been a tomb. As he gazed upon it, 'Here,' said he, 'are probably deposited the ashes of some ancient monk, once an inhabitant of the abbey; perhaps, of the founder, who, after having spent a life of abstinence and prayer, sought in heaven the reward of his forbearance upon earth. Mistaken man! reason, had you trusted to its dictates, would have informed you, that the active virtues, the adherence to the golden rule, "Do as you would be done unto," could alone deserve the favour of a Deity, whose glory is benevolence.'

"He remained with his eyes fixed upon the spot, and presently saw a figure arise under the arch of the sepulchre. It started, as if on perceiving him, and immediately disappeared. Louis, though unused to fear, felt at that moment an uneasy sensation, but almost immediately it struck him that this was La Motte himself. He advanced to the ruin and called him. No answer was returned, and he repeated the call, but all was yet as still as the grave. He then went up to the arch-way and endeavoured to examine the place where he had disappeared, but the shadowy obscurity rendered the attempt fruitless. He observed, however, a little to the right, an entrance to the ruin, and advanced some steps down a dark kind of passage, when, recollecting that this place might be the haunt of banditti, his danger alarmed him, and he retreated with precipitation.

"He walked toward the abbey by the way he came, and finding no person followed him, and believing himself again in safety, his former surmise returned, and he thought it was La Motte he had seen. He mused upon this strange possibility, and endeavoured to assign a reason for so mysterious a conduct, but in vain. Notwithstanding this, his belief of it strengthened, and he entered the abbey under as full a conviction as the circumstances would admit of, that it was his father who had appeared in the sepulchre. On entering what was now used as a parlour, he was much surprised to find him quietly seated there with Mamade La Motte and Adeline, and conversing as if he had been returned some time."

As a very young reader I thought italics were used to indicate shivering. That's the spirit in which I've introduced them here; if I'm alone in feeling it well that's hardly a first. It should be noted that Mrs. Radcliffe is herself quite sparing with the italics, and seems to have ignored the horror-heightening effect of ALL CAPITALS entirely. (For that I think we have Lovecraft and Stephen King to thank.) But enough with the prattle. What in Sam Hain is going on with La Motte in that obscure recess?

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