The Mysteries of Udolpho

Barnardine, the porter, denied the accusation with a countenance so

steady and undaunted, that Montoni could scarcely believe him guilty,

though he knew not how to think him innocent. At length, the man was

dismissed from his presence, and, though the real offender, escaped

detection. Montoni then went to his wife's apartment, whither Emily followed soon

after, but, finding them in high dispute, was instantly leaving the

room, when her aunt called her back, and desired her to stay.--'You

shall be a witness,' said she, 'of my opposition. Now, sir, repeat the

command, I have so often refused to obey.'

Montoni turned, with a stern countenance, to Emily, and bade her quit

the apartment, while his wife persisted in desiring, that she would

stay. Emily was eager to escape from this scene of contention, and

anxious, also, to serve her aunt; but she despaired of conciliating

Montoni, in whose eyes the rising tempest of his soul flashed terribly.

'Leave the room,' said he, in a voice of thunder. Emily obeyed, and,

walking down to the rampart, which the strangers had now left, continued

to meditate on the unhappy marriage of her father's sister, and on her

own desolate situation, occasioned by the ridiculous imprudence of her,

whom she had always wished to respect and love. Madame Montoni's conduct

had, indeed, rendered it impossible for Emily to do either; but

her gentle heart was touched by her distress, and, in the pity thus

awakened, she forgot the injurious treatment she had received from her. As she sauntered on the rampart, Annette appeared at the hall door,

looked cautiously round, and then advanced to meet her. 'Dear ma'amselle, I have been looking for you all over the castle,' said

she. 'If you will step this way, I will shew you a picture.'

'A picture!' exclaimed Emily, and shuddered. 'Yes, ma'am, a picture of the late lady of this place. Old Carlo just

now told me it was her, and I thought you would be curious to see it. As

to my lady, you know, ma'amselle, one cannot talk about such things to

her.'-'And so,' said Emily smilingly, 'as you must talk of them to somebody--'

'Why, yes, ma'amselle; what can one do in such a place as this, if one

must not talk? If I was in a dungeon, if they would let me talk--it

would be some comfort; nay, I would talk, if it was only to the walls.

But come, ma'amselle, we lose time--let me shew you to the picture.' 'Is it veiled?' said Emily, pausing. 'Dear ma'amselle!' said Annette, fixing her eyes on Emily's face, 'what

makes you look so pale?--are you ill?'