The Castle of Otranto | Page 5

were they struck with the
least compunction at the probability of the youth being starved, for they
firmly believed that, by his diabolic skill, he could easily supply
himself with nutriment.
Manfred thus saw his commands even cheerfully obeyed; and
appointing a guard with strict orders to prevent any food being
conveyed to the prisoner, he dismissed his friends and attendants, and
retired to his own chamber, after locking the gates of the castle, in
which he suffered none but his domestics to remain.

In the meantime, the care and zeal of the young Ladies had brought the
Princess Hippolita to herself, who amidst the transports of her own
sorrow frequently demanded news of her lord, would have dismissed
her attendants to watch over him, and at last enjoined Matilda to leave
her, and visit and comfort her father. Matilda, who wanted no
affectionate duty to Manfred, though she trembled at his austerity,
obeyed the orders of Hippolita, whom she tenderly recommended to
Isabella; and inquiring of the domestics for her father, was informed
that he was retired to his chamber, and had commanded that nobody
should have admittance to him. Concluding that he was immersed in
sorrow for the death of her brother, and fearing to renew his tears by
the sight of his sole remaining child, she hesitated whether she should
break in upon his affliction; yet solicitude for him, backed by the
commands of her mother, encouraged her to venture disobeying the
orders he had given; a fault she had never been guilty of before.
The gentle timidity of her nature made her pause for some minutes at
his door. She heard him traverse his chamber backwards, and forwards
with disordered steps; a mood which increased her apprehensions. She
was, however, just going to beg admittance, when Manfred suddenly
opened the door; and as it was now twilight, concurring with the
disorder of his mind, he did not distinguish the person, but asked
angrily, who it was? Matilda replied, trembling -
"My dearest father, it is I, your daughter."
Manfred, stepping back hastily, cried, "Begone! I do not want a
daughter;" and flinging back abruptly, clapped the door against the
terrified Matilda.
She was too well acquainted with her father's impetuosity to venture a
second intrusion. When she had a little recovered the shock of so bitter
a reception, she wiped away her tears to prevent the additional stab that
the knowledge of it would give to Hippolita, who questioned her in the
most anxious terms on the health of Manfred, and how he bore his loss.
Matilda assured her he was well, and supported his misfortune with
manly fortitude.

"But will he not let me see him?" said Hippolita mournfully; "will he
not permit me to blend my tears with his, and shed a mother's sorrows
in the bosom of her Lord? Or do you deceive me, Matilda? I know how
Manfred doted on his son: is not the stroke too heavy for him? has he
not sunk under it? You do not answer me--alas! I dread the
worst!--Raise me, my maidens; I will, I will see my Lord. Bear me to
him instantly: he is dearer to me even than my children."
Matilda made signs to Isabella to prevent Hippolita's rising; and both
those lovely young women were using their gentle violence to stop and
calm the Princess, when a servant, on the part of Manfred, arrived and
told Isabella that his Lord demanded to speak with her.
"With me!" cried Isabella.
"Go," said Hippolita, relieved by a message from her Lord: "Manfred
cannot support the sight of his own family. He thinks you less
disordered than we are, and dreads the shock of my grief. Console him,
dear Isabella, and tell him I will smother my own anguish rather than
add to his."
As it was now evening the servant who conducted Isabella bore a torch
before her. When they came to Manfred, who was walking impatiently
about the gallery, he started, and said hastily -
"Take away that light, and begone."
Then shutting the door impetuously, he flung himself upon a bench
against the wall, and bade Isabella sit by him. She obeyed trembling.
"I sent for you, Lady," said he--and then stopped under great
appearance of confusion.
"My Lord!"
"Yes, I sent for you on a matter of great moment," resumed he. "Dry
your tears, young Lady--you have lost your bridegroom. Yes, cruel fate!
and I have lost the hopes of my race! But Conrad was not worthy of

your beauty."
"How, my Lord!" said Isabella; "sure you do not suspect me of not
feeling the concern I ought: my duty and affection would have
always--"
"Think no more of him," interrupted Manfred; "he was a sickly, puny
child, and Heaven has perhaps taken him