The Mysteries of Udolpho

At this melancholy period St. Aubert was likewise visited by Madame

Cheron, his only surviving sister, who had been some years a widow, and

now resided on her own estate near Tholouse. The intercourse between

them had not been very frequent. In her condolements, words were not

wanting; she understood not the magic of the look that speaks at once

to the soul, or the voice that sinks like balm to the heart: but she

assured St. Aubert that she sincerely sympathized with him, praised the

virtues of his late wife, and then offered what she considered to be

consolation. Emily wept unceasingly while she spoke; St. Aubert was

tranquil, listened to what she said in silence, and then turned the

discourse upon another subject.

At parting she pressed him and her niece to make her an early visit.

'Change of place will amuse you,' said she, 'and it is wrong to give way

to grief.' St. Aubert acknowledged the truth of these words of course;

but, at the same time, felt more reluctant than ever to quit the spot

which his past happiness had consecrated. The presence of his wife

had sanctified every surrounding scene, and, each day, as it gradually

softened the acuteness of his suffering, assisted the tender enchantment

that bound him to home.

But there were calls which must be complied with, and of this kind was

the visit he paid to his brother-in-law M. Quesnel. An affair of an

interesting nature made it necessary that he should delay this visit no

longer, and, wishing to rouse Emily from her dejection, he took her with

him to Epourville.

As the carriage entered upon the forest that adjoined his paternal

domain, his eyes once more caught, between the chesnut avenue, the

turreted corners of the chateau. He sighed to think of what had passed

since he was last there, and that it was now the property of a man who

neither revered nor valued it. At length he entered the avenue, whose

lofty trees had so often delighted him when a boy, and whose melancholy

shade was now so congenial with the tone of his spirits. Every feature

of the edifice, distinguished by an air of heavy grandeur, appeared

successively between the branches of the trees--the broad turret, the

arched gate-way that led into the courts, the drawbridge, and the dry

fosse which surrounded the whole.

The sound of carriage wheels brought a troop of servants to the great

gate, where St. Aubert alighted, and from which he led Emily into the

gothic hall, now no longer hung with the arms and ancient banners of the

family. These were displaced, and the oak wainscotting, and beams that

crossed the roof, were painted white. The large table, too, that used to

stretch along the upper end of the hall, where the master of the mansion

loved to display his hospitality, and whence the peal of laughter, and

the song of conviviality, had so often resounded, was now removed; even

the benches that had surrounded the hall were no longer there. The heavy

walls were hung with frivolous ornaments, and every thing that appeared

denoted the false taste and corrupted sentiments of the present owner.