The Mysteries of Udolpho

'Let us leave this chamber,' said Emily: 'and let me caution you again,

Annette; be guarded in your conversation, and never tell, that you know

any thing of that picture.' 'Holy Mother!' exclaimed Annette, 'it is no secret; why all the servants

have seen it already!' Emily started.

'How is this?' said she--'Have seen it! When?--how?' 'Dear, ma'amselle, there is nothing surprising in that; we had all a

little more CURIOUSNESS than you had.' 'I thought you told me, the door was kept locked?' said Emily. 'If that was the case, ma'amselle,' replied Annette, looking about her,

'how could we get here?'

'Oh, you mean THIS picture,' said Emily, with returning calmness. 'Well,

Annette, here is nothing more to engage my attention; we will go

.' Emily, as she passed to her own apartment, saw Montoni go down to the

hall, and she turned into her aunt's dressing-room, whom she found

weeping and alone, grief and resentment struggling on her countenance.

Pride had hitherto restrained complaint. Judging of Emily's disposition

from her own, and from a consciousness of what her treatment of her

deserved, she had believed, that her griefs would be cause of triumph

to her niece, rather than of sympathy; that she would despise, not pity

her. But she knew not the tenderness and benevolence of Emily's heart,

that had always taught her to forget her own injuries in the misfortunes

of her enemy. The sufferings of others, whoever they might be, called

forth her ready compassion, which dissipated at once every obscuring

cloud to goodness, that passion or prejudice might have raised in her

mind. Madame Montoni's sufferings, at length, rose above her pride, and, when

Emily had before entered the room, she would have told them all, had not

her husband prevented her; now that she was no longer restrained by his

presence, she poured forth all her complaints to her niece.

'O Emily!' she exclaimed, 'I am the most wretched of women--I am

indeed cruelly treated! Who, with my prospects of happiness, could have

foreseen such a wretched fate as this?--who could have thought, when I

married such a man as the Signor, I should ever have to bewail my lot?

But there is no judging what is for the best--there is no knowing what

is for our good! The most flattering prospects often change--the best

judgments may be deceived--who could have foreseen, when I married the

Signor, that I should ever repent my GENEROSITY?'

Emily thought she might have foreseen it, but this was not a thought

of triumph. She placed herself in a chair near her aunt, took her

hand, and, with one of those looks of soft compassion, which might

characterize the countenance of a guardian angel, spoke to her in

the tenderest accents. But these did not sooth Madame Montoni, whom

impatience to talk made unwilling to listen. She wanted to complain, not

to be consoled; and it was by exclamations of complaint only, that Emily

learned the particular circumstances of her affliction.