'Is it for mine, or for Montoni's safety, that you are thus alarmed?'

said Morano, coldly, and turning towards her with a look of acrimony.'For both,' replied Emily, in a trembling voice. 'Unjust revenge!' cried the Count, resuming the abrupt tones of passion.

'Who, that looks upon that face, can imagine a punishment adequate to

the injury he would have done me? Yes, I will leave the castle; but it

shall not be alone. I have trifled too long. Since my prayers and my

sufferings cannot prevail, force shall. I have people in waiting, who

shall convey you to my carriage. Your voice will bring no succour; it

cannot be heard from this remote part of the castle; submit, therefore,

in silence, to go with me.'

This was an unnecessary injunction, at present; for Emily was too

certain, that her call would avail her nothing; and terror had so

entirely disordered her thoughts, that she knew not how to plead to

Morano, but sat, mute and trembling, in her chair, till he advanced

to lift her from it, when she suddenly raised herself, and, with a

repulsive gesture, and a countenance of forced serenity, said, 'Count

Morano! I am now in your power; but you will observe, that this is not

the conduct which can win the esteem you appear so solicitous to obtain,

and that you are preparing for yourself a load of remorse, in the

miseries of a friendless orphan, which can never leave you. Do you

believe your heart to be, indeed, so hardened, that you can look without

emotion on the suffering, to which you would condemn me?'--

Emily was interrupted by the growling of the dog, who now came again

from the bed, and Morano looked towards the door of the stair-case,

where no person appearing, he called aloud, 'Cesario!' 'Emily,' said the Count, 'why will you reduce me to adopt this conduct?

How much more willingly would I persuade, than compel you to become my

wife! but, by Heaven! I will not leave you to be sold by Montoni. Yet a

thought glances across my mind, that brings madness with it. I know not

how to name it. It is preposterous--it cannot be.--Yet you tremble--you

grow pale! It is! it is so;--you--you--love Montoni!' cried Morano,

grasping Emily's wrist, and stamping his foot on the floor.

An involuntary air of surprise appeared on her countenance. 'If you have

indeed believed so,' said she, 'believe so still.' 'That look, those words confirm it,' exclaimed Morano, furiously. 'No,

no, no, Montoni had a richer prize in view, than gold. But he shall not

live to triumph over me!--This very instant---'




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