The Mysteries of Udolpho

Her curiosity, concerning the Marchioness, powerful as it was, it is

probable she would now have resisted, as she had formerly done, on

unwarily observing the few terrible words in the papers, which had never

since been erased from her memory, had she been certain that the history

of that lady was the subject of those papers, or, that such simple

particulars only as it was probable Dorothee could relate were included

in her father's command. What was known to her could be no secret to

many other persons; and, since it appeared very unlikely, that St.

Aubert should attempt to conceal what Emily might learn by ordinary

means, she at length concluded, that, if the papers had related to the

story of the Marchioness, it was not those circumstances of it, which

Dorothee could disclose, that he had thought sufficiently important to

wish to have concealed. She, therefore, no longer hesitated to make the

enquiries, that might lead to the gratification of her curiosity.

'Ah, ma'amselle!' said Dorothee, 'it is a sad story, and cannot be told

now: but what am I saying? I never will tell it. Many years have passed,

since it happened; and I never loved to talk of the Marchioness to any

body, but my husband. He lived in the family, at that time, as well as

myself, and he knew many particulars from me, which nobody else did; for

I was about the person of my lady in her last illness, and saw and heard

as much, or more than my lord himself. Sweet saint! how patient she was!

When she died, I thought I could have died with her!'

'Dorothee,' said Emily, interrupting her, 'what you shall tell, you may

depend upon it, shall never be disclosed by me. I have, I repeat it,

particular reasons for wishing to be informed on this subject, and am

willing to bind myself, in the most solemn manner, never to mention what

you shall wish me to conceal.'

Dorothee seemed surprised at the earnestness of Emily's manner, and,

after regarding her for some moments, in silence, said, 'Young lady!

that look of yours pleads for you--it is so like my dear mistress's,

that I can almost fancy I see her before me; if you were her daughter,

you could not remind me of her more. But dinner will be ready--had you

not better go down?'

'You will first promise to grant my request,' said Emily.

'And ought not you first to tell me, ma'amselle, how this picture fell

into your hands, and the reasons you say you have for curiosity about my

lady?' 'Why, no, Dorothee,' replied Emily, recollecting herself, 'I have also

particular reasons for observing silence, on these subjects, at least,

till I know further; and, remember, I do not promise ever to speak upon

them; therefore, do not let me induce you to satisfy my curiosity, from

an expectation, that I shall gratify yours. What I may judge proper to

conceal, does not concern myself alone, or I should have less scruple

in revealing it: let a confidence in my honour alone persuade you to

disclose what I request.'