The Mysteries of Udolpho

Some pow'r impart the spear and shield,

At which the wizard passions fly,

By which the giant follies die.

COLLINS

Madame Cheron's house stood at a little distance from the city of

Tholouse, and was surrounded by extensive gardens, in which Emily, who

had risen early, amused herself with wandering before breakfast. From a

terrace, that extended along the highest part of them, was a wide view

over Languedoc. On the distant horizon to the south, she discovered

the wild summits of the Pyrenees, and her fancy immediately painted

the green pastures of Gascony at their feet. Her heart pointed to her

peaceful home--to the neighbourhood where Valancourt was--where St.

Aubert had been; and her imagination, piercing the veil of distance,

brought that home to her eyes in all its interesting and romantic

beauty.

She experienced an inexpressible pleasure in believing, that she

beheld the country around it, though no feature could be distinguished,

except the retiring chain of the Pyrenees; and, inattentive to the scene

immediately before her, and to the flight of time, she continued to lean

on the window of a pavilion, that terminated the terrace, with her eyes

fixed on Gascony, and her mind occupied with the interesting ideas which

the view of it awakened, till a servant came to tell her breakfast

was ready. Her thoughts thus recalled to the surrounding objects,

the straight walks, square parterres, and artificial fountains of the

garden, could not fail, as she passed through it, to appear the worse,

opposed to the negligent graces, and natural beauties of the grounds of

La Vallee, upon which her recollection had been so intensely employed. '

Whither have you been rambling so early?' said Madame Cheron, as her

niece entered the breakfast-room. 'I don't approve of these solitary

walks;' and Emily was surprised, when, having informed her aunt, that

she had been no further than the gardens, she understood these to be

included in the reproof. 'I desire you will not walk there again at

so early an hour unattended,' said Madame Cheron; 'my gardens are very

extensive; and a young woman, who can make assignations by moon-light,

at La Vallee, is not to be trusted to her own inclinations elsewhere.'

Emily, extremely surprised and shocked, had scarcely power to beg an

explanation of these words, and, when she did, her aunt absolutely

refused to give it, though, by her severe looks, and half sentences,

she appeared anxious to impress Emily with a belief, that she was well

informed of some degrading circumstances of her conduct. Conscious

innocence could not prevent a blush from stealing over Emily's cheek;

she trembled, and looked confusedly under the bold eye of Madame Cheron,

who blushed also; but hers was the blush of triumph, such as sometimes

stains the countenance of a person, congratulating himself on the

penetration which had taught him to suspect another, and who loses both

pity for the supposed criminal, and indignation of his guilt, in the

gratification of his own vanity.