The Mysteries of Udolpho

Having withdrawn to a distant part of the corridor, he said,

with a long-drawn sigh, 'You, madam, are no stranger to me, though I am

so unhappy as to be unknown to you.--My name is Du Pont; I am of France,

of Gascony, your native province, and have long admired,--and, why

should I affect to disguise it?--have long loved you.' He paused,

but, in the next moment, proceeded. 'My family, madam, is probably not

unknown to you, for we lived within a few miles of La Vallee, and I

have, sometimes, had the happiness of meeting you, on visits in

the neighbourhood. I will not offend you by repeating how much you

interested me; how much I loved to wander in the scenes you frequented;

how often I visited your favourite fishing-house, and lamented the

circumstance, which, at that time, forbade me to reveal my passion. I

will not explain how I surrendered to temptation, and became possessed

of a treasure, which was to me inestimable; a treasure, which I

committed to your messenger, a few days ago, with expectations

very different from my present ones. I will say nothing of these

circumstances, for I know they will avail me little; let me only

supplicate from you forgiveness, and the picture, which I so unwarily

returned.

Your generosity will pardon the theft, and restore the

prize. My crime has been my punishment; for the portrait I stole has

contributed to nourish a passion, which must still be my torment.'

Emily now interrupted him. 'I think, sir, I may leave it to your

integrity to determine, whether, after what has just appeared,

concerning Mons. Valancourt, I ought to return the picture. I think you

will acknowledge, that this would not be generosity; and you will allow

me to add, that it would be doing myself an injustice. I must consider

myself honoured by your good opinion, but'--and she hesitated,--'the

mistake of this evening makes it unnecessary for me to say more.'

'It does, madam,--alas! it does!' said the stranger, who, after a long

pause, proceeded.--'But you will allow me to shew my disinterestedness,

though not my love, and will accept the services I offer. Yet, alas!

what services can I offer? I am myself a prisoner, a sufferer, like

you. But, dear as liberty is to me, I would not seek it through half

the hazards I would encounter to deliver you from this recess of vice.

Accept the offered services of a friend; do not refuse me the reward of

having, at least, attempted to deserve your thanks.'