The Mysteries of Udolpho

unfold

What worlds, or what vast regions, hold

Th' immortal mind, that hath forsook

Her mansion in this fleshly nook!

IL PENSEROSO

Emily's mind was refreshed by sleep. On waking in the morning, she

looked with surprise on Annette, who sat sleeping in a chair beside the

bed, and then endeavoured to recollect herself; but the circumstances of

the preceding night were swept from her memory, which seemed to retain

no trace of what had passed, and she was still gazing with surprise on

Annette, when the latter awoke.

'O dear ma'amselle! do you know me?' cried she.

'Know you! Certainly,' replied Emily, 'you are Annette; but why are you

sitting by me thus?' 'O you have been very ill, ma'amselle,--very ill indeed! and I am sure I

thought--' 'This is very strange!' said Emily, still trying to recollect the

past.--'But I think I do remember, that my fancy has been haunted by

frightful dreams. Good God!' she added, suddenly starting--'surely it

was nothing more than a dream!'

She fixed a terrified look upon Annette, who, intending to quiet her,

said 'Yes, ma'amselle, it was more than a dream, but it is all over

now.' 'She IS murdered, then!' said Emily in an inward voice, and shuddering

instantaneously. Annette screamed; for, being ignorant of the

circumstance to which Emily referred, she attributed her manner to a

disordered fancy; but, when she had explained to what her own speech

alluded, Emily, recollecting the attempt that had been made to carry her

off, asked if the contriver of it had been discovered. Annette replied,

that he had not, though he might easily be guessed at; and then told

Emily she might thank her for her deliverance, who, endeavouring to

command the emotion, which the remembrance of her aunt had occasioned,

appeared calmly to listen to Annette, though, in truth, she heard

scarcely a word that was said.

'And so, ma'amselle,' continued the latter, 'I was determined to be even

with Barnardine for refusing to tell me the secret, by finding it out

myself; so I watched you, on the terrace, and, as soon as he had opened

the door at the end, I stole out from the castle, to try to follow you;

for, says I, I am sure no good can be planned, or why all this secrecy?

So, sure enough, he had not bolted the door after him, and, when I

opened it, I saw, by the glimmer of the torch, at the other end of the

passage, which way you were going. I followed the light, at a distance,

till you came to the vaults of the chapel, and there I was afraid to go

further, for I had heard strange things about these vaults. But then,

again, I was afraid to go back, all in darkness, by myself; so by the

time Barnardine had trimmed the light, I had resolved to follow you, and

I did so, till you came to the great court, and there I was afraid he

would see me; so I stopped at the door again, and watched you across to

the gates, and, when you was gone up the stairs, I whipt after. There,

as I stood under the gate-way, I heard horses' feet without, and several

men talking; and I heard them swearing at Barnardine for not bringing

you out, and just then, he had like to have caught me, for he came down

the stairs again, and I had hardly time to get out of his way. But I had

heard enough of his secret now, and I determined to be even with him,

and to save you, too, ma'amselle, for I guessed it to be some new scheme

of Count Morano, though he was gone away. I ran into the castle, but I

had hard work to find my way through the passage under the chapel, and

what is very strange, I quite forgot to look for the ghosts they had

told me about, though I would not go into that place again by myself for

all the world!