The Mysteries of Udolpho

As Emily approached the shores of Italy she began to discriminate the

rich features and varied colouring of the landscape--the purple hills,

groves of orange pine and cypress, shading magnificent villas, and towns

rising among vineyards and plantations. The noble Brenta, pouring its

broad waves into the sea, now appeared, and, when she reached its mouth,

the barge stopped, that the horses might be fastened which were now to

tow it up the stream. This done, Emily gave a last look to the Adriatic,

and to the dim sail, that from the sky-mix'd wave

Dawns on the sight, and the barge slowly glided between the green and luxuriant slopes

of the river. The grandeur of the Palladian villas, that adorn these

shores, was considerably heightened by the setting rays, which threw

strong contrasts of light and shade upon the porticos and long arcades,

and beamed a mellow lustre upon the orangeries and the tall groves of

pine and cypress, that overhung the buildings. The scent of oranges, of

flowering myrtles, and other odoriferous plants was diffused upon the

air, and often, from these embowered retreats, a strain of music stole

on the calm, and 'softened into silence.'

The sun now sunk below the horizon, twilight fell over the landscape,

and Emily, wrapt in musing silence, continued to watch its features

gradually vanishing into obscurity. She remembered her many happy

evenings, when with St. Aubert she had observed the shades of twilight

steal over a scene as beautiful as this, from the gardens of La Vallee,

and a tear fell to the memory of her father. Her spirits were softened

into melancholy by the influence of the hour, by the low murmur of

the wave passing under the vessel, and the stillness of the air, that

trembled only at intervals with distant music:--why else should she, at

these moments, have looked on her attachment to Valancourt with presages

so very afflicting, since she had but lately received letters from him,

that had soothed for a while all her anxieties? It now seemed to her

oppressed mind, that she had taken leave of him for ever, and that the

countries, which separated them, would never more be re-traced by her.

She looked upon Count Morano with horror, as in some degree the cause

of this; but apart from him, a conviction, if such that may be called,

which arises from no proof, and which she knew not how to account for,

seized her mind--that she should never see Valancourt again. Though she

knew, that neither Morano's solicitations, nor Montoni's commands

had lawful power to enforce her obedience, she regarded both with a

superstitious dread, that they would finally prevail.