The Mysteries of Udolpho

Montoni, meantime, was beset by dangers of another kind. His castle

was besieged by troops, who seemed willing to dare every thing, and to

suffer patiently any hardships in pursuit of victory. The strength

of the fortress, however, withstood their attack, and this, with the

vigorous defence of the garrison and the scarcity of provision on these

wild mountains, soon compelled the assailants to raise the siege.

When Udolpho was once more left to the quiet possession of Montoni,

he dispatched Ugo into Tuscany for Emily, whom he had sent from

considerations of her personal safety, to a place of greater security,

than a castle, which was, at that time, liable to be overrun by his

enemies. Tranquillity being once more restored to Udolpho, he was

impatient to secure her again under his roof, and had commissioned Ugo

to assist Bertrand in guarding her back to the castle. Thus compelled to

return, Emily bade the kind Maddelina farewell, with regret, and,

after about a fortnight's stay in Tuscany, where she had experienced

an interval of quiet, which was absolutely necessary to sustain her

long-harassed spirits, began once more to ascend the Apennines, from

whose heights she gave a long and sorrowful look to the beautiful

country, that extended at their feet, and to the distant Mediterranean,

whose waves she had so often wished would bear her back to France.

The distress she felt, on her return towards the place of her former

sufferings, was, however, softened by a conjecture, that Valancourt was

there, and she found some degree of comfort in the thought of being near

him, notwithstanding the consideration, that he was probably a prisoner.

It was noon, when she had left the cottage, and the evening was closed,

long before she came within the neighbourhood of Udolpho. There was a

moon, but it shone only at intervals, for the night was cloudy, and,

lighted by the torch, which Ugo carried, the travellers paced silently

along, Emily musing on her situation, and Bertrand and Ugo anticipating

the comforts of a flask of wine and a good fire, for they had perceived

for some time the difference between the warm climate of the lowlands

of Tuscany and the nipping air of these upper regions. Emily was, at

length, roused from her reverie by the far-off sound of the castle

clock, to which she listened not without some degree of awe, as it

rolled away on the breeze.

Another and another note succeeded, and died

in sullen murmur among the mountains:--to her mournful imagination it

seemed a knell measuring out some fateful period for her.

'Aye, there is the old clock,' said Bertrand, 'there he is still; the

cannon have not silenced him!'