The Mysteries of Udolpho

Still, as she ascended, the track of blood glared upon the

stairs. It led her to the door of a landing-place, that terminated them, but she

was unable to follow it farther. Now that she was so near the sought-for

certainty, she dreaded to know it, even more than before, and had not

fortitude sufficient to speak, or to attempt opening the door.

Having listened, in vain, for some sound, that might confirm, or destroy

her fears, she, at length, laid her hand on the lock, and, finding it

fastened, called on Madame Montoni; but only a chilling silence ensued.

'She is dead!' she cried,--'murdered!--her blood is on the stairs!'

Emily grew very faint; could support herself no longer, and had scarcely

presence of mind to set down the lamp, and place herself on a step.

When her recollection returned, she spoke again at the door, and again

attempted to open it, and, having lingered for some time, without

receiving any answer, or hearing a sound, she descended the turret,

and, with all the swiftness her feebleness would permit, sought her own

apartment. As she turned into the corridor, the door of a chamber opened, from

whence Montoni came forth; but Emily, more terrified than ever to behold

him, shrunk back into the passage soon enough to escape being noticed,

and heard him close the door, which she had perceived was the same she

formerly observed.

Having here listened to his departing steps, till

their faint sound was lost in distance, she ventured to her apartment,

and, securing it once again, retired to her bed, leaving the lamp

burning on the hearth. But sleep was fled from her harassed mind, to

which images of horror alone occurred. She endeavoured to think it

possible, that Madame Montoni had not been taken to the turret; but,

when she recollected the former menaces of her husband and the terrible

spirit of vengeance, which he had displayed on a late occasion; when she

remembered his general character, the looks of the men, who had forced

Madame Montoni from her apartment, and the written traces on the stairs

of the turret--she could not doubt, that her aunt had been carried

thither, and could scarcely hope, that she had not been carried to be

murdered.

The grey of morning had long dawned through her casements, before Emily

closed her eyes in sleep; when wearied nature, at length, yielded her a

respite from suffering.