The Mysteries of Udolpho

Emily's mind had not yet sufficiently recovered from its late shock,

to endure the loneliness of her chamber, and she remained upon the

ramparts; for Madame Montoni had not invited her to her dressing-room,

whither she had gone evidently in low spirits, and Emily, from her

late experience, had lost all wish to explore the gloomy and mysterious

recesses of the castle. The ramparts, therefore, were almost her only

retreat, and here she lingered, till the gray haze of evening was again

spread over the scene.

The cavaliers supped by themselves, and Madame Montoni remained in her

apartment, whither Emily went, before she retired to her own. She found

her aunt weeping, and in much agitation. The tenderness of Emily was

naturally so soothing, that it seldom failed to give comfort to the

drooping heart: but Madame Montoni's was torn, and the softest accents

of Emily's voice were lost upon it. With her usual delicacy, she did

not appear to observe her aunt's distress, but it gave an involuntary

gentleness to her manners, and an air of solicitude to her countenance,

which Madame Montoni was vexed to perceive, who seemed to feel the pity

of her niece to be an insult to her pride, and dismissed her as soon

as she properly could. Emily did not venture to mention again the

reluctance she felt to her gloomy chamber, but she requested that

Annette might be permitted to remain with her till she retired to rest;

and the request was somewhat reluctantly granted. Annette, however, was

now with the servants, and Emily withdrew alone.

With light and hasty steps she passed through the long galleries, while

the feeble glimmer of the lamp she carried only shewed the gloom

around her, and the passing air threatened to extinguish it. The lonely

silence, that reigned in this part of the castle, awed her; now and

then, indeed, she heard a faint peal of laughter rise from a remote part

of the edifice, where the servants were assembled, but it was soon lost,

and a kind of breathless stillness remained. As she passed the suite of

rooms which she had visited in the morning, her eyes glanced fearfully

on the door, and she almost fancied she heard murmuring sounds within,

but she paused not a moment to enquire.

Having reached her own apartment, where no blazing wood on the

hearth dissipated the gloom, she sat down with a book, to enliven her

attention, till Annette should come, and a fire could be kindled. She

continued to read till her light was nearly expired, but Annette did not

appear, and the solitude and obscurity of her chamber again affected her

spirits, the more, because of its nearness to the scene of horror, that

she had witnessed in the morning. Gloomy and fantastic images came to

her mind.