The Mysteries of Udolpho

Emily's pleasantest hours were passed in the pavilion of the terrace, to

which she retired, when she could steal from observation, with a book to

overcome, or a lute to indulge, her melancholy. There, as she sat

with her eyes fixed on the far-distant Pyrenees, and her thoughts on

Valancourt and the beloved scenes of Gascony, she would play the sweet

and melancholy songs of her native province--the popular songs she had

listened to from her childhood.

One evening, having excused herself from accompanying her aunt abroad,

she thus withdrew to the pavilion, with books and her lute. It was

the mild and beautiful evening of a sultry day, and the windows, which

fronted the west, opened upon all the glory of a setting sun. Its rays

illuminated, with strong splendour, the cliffs of the Pyrenees, and

touched their snowy tops with a roseate hue, that remained, long after

the sun had sunk below the horizon, and the shades of twilight had

stolen over the landscape. Emily touched her lute with that fine

melancholy expression, which came from her heart. The pensive hour and

the scene, the evening light on the Garonne, that flowed at no great

distance, and whose waves, as they passed towards La Vallee, she often

viewed with a sigh,--these united circumstances disposed her mind to

tenderness, and her thoughts were with Valancourt, of whom she had heard

nothing since her arrival at Tholouse, and now that she was removed from

him, and in uncertainty, she perceived all the interest he held in her

heart.

Before she saw Valancourt she had never met a mind and taste so

accordant with her own, and, though Madame Cheron told her much of the

arts of dissimulation, and that the elegance and propriety of thought,

which she so much admired in her lover, were assumed for the purpose of

pleasing her, she could scarcely doubt their truth. This possibility,

however, faint as it was, was sufficient to harass her mind with

anxiety, and she found, that few conditions are more painful than that

of uncertainty, as to the merit of a beloved object; an uncertainty,

which she would not have suffered, had her confidence in her own

opinions been greater.

She was awakened from her musing by the sound of horses' feet along

a road, that wound under the windows of the pavilion, and a gentleman

passed on horseback, whose resemblance to Valancourt, in air and figure,

for the twilight did not permit a view of his features, immediately

struck her. She retired hastily from the lattice, fearing to be seen,

yet wishing to observe further, while the stranger passed on without

looking up, and, when she returned to the lattice, she saw him faintly

through the twilight, winding under the high trees, that led to

Tholouse. This little incident so much disturbed her spirits, that the

temple and its scenery were no longer interesting to her, and, after

walking awhile on the terrace, she returned to the chateau.