The Mysteries of Udolpho

As when a wave, that from a cloud impends,

And, swell'd with tempests, on the ship descends,

White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud,

Howl o'er the masts, and sing through ev'ry shroud:

Pale, trembling, tir'd, the sailors freeze with fears,

And instant death on ev'ry wave appears.

POPE'S HOMER

The Lady Blanche, meanwhile, who was left much alone, became impatient

for the company of her new friend, whom she wished to observe sharing in

the delight she received from the beautiful scenery around. She had now

no person, to whom she could express her admiration and communicate

her pleasures, no eye, that sparkled to her smile, or countenance, that

reflected her happiness; and she became spiritless and pensive. The

Count, observing her dissatisfaction, readily yielded to her entreaties,

and reminded Emily of her promised visit; but the silence of Valancourt,

which was now prolonged far beyond the period, when a letter might

have arrived from Estuviere, oppressed Emily with severe anxiety, and,

rendering her averse to society, she would willingly have deferred her

acceptance of this invitation, till her spirits should be relieved.

The Count and his family, however, pressed to see her; and, as the

circumstances, that prompted her wish for solitude, could not be

explained, there was an appearance of caprice in her refusal, which she

could not persevere in, without offending the friends, whose esteem

she valued.

At length, therefore, she returned upon a second visit

to Chateau-le-Blanc. Here the friendly manner of Count De Villefort

encouraged Emily to mention to him her situation, respecting the estates

of her late aunt, and to consult him on the means of recovering them. He

had little doubt, that the law would decide in her favour, and, advising

her to apply to it, offered first to write to an advocate at Avignon,

on whose opinion he thought he could rely. His kindness was gratefully

accepted by Emily, who, soothed by the courtesy she daily experienced,

would have been once more happy, could she have been assured of

Valancourt's welfare and unaltered affection. She had now been above a

week at the chateau, without receiving intelligence of him, and, though

she knew, that, if he was absent from his brother's residence, it was

scarcely probable her letter had yet reached him, she could not forbear

to admit doubts and fears, that destroyed her peace.

Again she would consider of all, that might have happened in the long period, since her

first seclusion at Udolpho, and her mind was sometimes so overwhelmed

with an apprehension, that Valancourt was no more, or that he lived

no longer for her, that the company even of Blanche became intolerably

oppressive, and she would sit alone in her apartment for hours together,

when the engagements of the family allowed her to do so, without

incivility. In one of these solitary hours, she unlocked a little box, which

contained some letters of Valancourt, with some drawings she had

sketched, during her stay in Tuscany, the latter of which were no

longer interesting to her; but, in the letters, she now, with melancholy

indulgence, meant to retrace the tenderness, that had so often soothed

her, and rendered her, for a moment, insensible of the distance, which

separated her from the writer. But their effect was now changed; the

affection they expressed appealed so forcibly to her heart, when she

considered that it had, perhaps, yielded to the powers of time and

absence, and even the view of the hand-writing recalled so many painful

recollections, that she found herself unable to go through the first she

had opened, and sat musing, with her cheek resting on her arm, and tears

stealing from her eyes, when old Dorothee entered the room to inform

her, that dinner would be ready, an hour before the usual time. Emily

started on perceiving her, and hastily put up the papers, but not before

Dorothee had observed both her agitation and her tears.