The Mysteries of Udolpho

'Caterina went to the north-gallery, that is the wide gallery we passed,

ma'am, before we came to the corridor, here. As she went with the lamp

in her hand, thinking of nothing at all--There, again!' cried Annette

suddenly--'I heard it again!--it was not fancy, ma'amselle!'

'Hush!' said Emily, trembling. They listened, and, continuing to sit

quite still, Emily heard a low knocking against the wall. It came

repeatedly. Annette then screamed loudly, and the chamber door slowly

opened.--It was Caterina, come to tell Annette, that her lady wanted

her. Emily, though she now perceived who it was, could not immediately

overcome her terror; while Annette, half laughing, half crying, scolded

Caterina heartily for thus alarming them; and was also terrified lest

what she had told had been overheard.--Emily, whose mind was deeply

impressed by the chief circumstance of Annette's relation, was unwilling

to be left alone, in the present state of her spirits; but, to avoid

offending Madame Montoni, and betraying her own weakness, she struggled

to overcome the illusions of fear, and dismissed Annette for the night.

When she was alone, her thoughts recurred to the strange history of

Signora Laurentini and then to her own strange situation, in the wild

and solitary mountains of a foreign country, in the castle, and the

power of a man, to whom, only a few preceding months, she was an entire

stranger; who had already exercised an usurped authority over her, and

whose character she now regarded, with a degree of terror, apparently

justified by the fears of others. She knew, that he had invention equal

to the conception and talents to the execution of any project, and

she greatly feared he had a heart too void of feeling to oppose the

perpetration of whatever his interest might suggest. She had long

observed the unhappiness of Madame Montoni, and had often been witness

to the stern and contemptuous behaviour she received from her husband.

To these circumstances, which conspired to give her just cause for

alarm, were now added those thousand nameless terrors, which exist only

in active imaginations, and which set reason and examination equally at

defiance. Emily remembered all that Valancourt had told her, on the eve of her

departure from Languedoc, respecting Montoni, and all that he had said

to dissuade her from venturing on the journey. His fears had often since

appeared to her prophetic--now they seemed confirmed. Her heart, as

it gave her back the image of Valancourt, mourned in vain regret, but

reason soon came with a consolation which, though feeble at first,

acquired vigour from reflection. She considered, that, whatever might be

her sufferings, she had withheld from involving him in misfortune, and

that, whatever her future sorrows could be, she was, at least, free from

self-reproach.