The Mysteries of Udolpho

Dorothee's spirits being now more composed, she rose, and unlocked the

door that led into the late Marchioness's apartment, and Emily passed

into a lofty chamber, hung round with dark arras, and so spacious, that

the lamp she held up did not shew its extent; while Dorothee, when she

entered, had dropped into a chair, where, sighing deeply, she scarcely

trusted herself with the view of a scene so affecting to her. It was

some time before Emily perceived, through the dusk, the bed on which the

Marchioness was said to have died; when, advancing to the upper end of

the room, she discovered the high canopied tester of dark green damask,

with the curtains descending to the floor in the fashion of a tent,

half drawn, and remaining apparently, as they had been left twenty years

before; and over the whole bedding was thrown a counterpane, or pall, of

black velvet, that hung down to the floor. Emily shuddered, as she held

the lamp over it, and looked within the dark curtains, where she almost

expected to have seen a human face, and, suddenly remembering the

horror she had suffered upon discovering the dying Madame Montoni in the

turret-chamber of Udolpho, her spirits fainted, and she was turning from

the bed, when Dorothee, who had now reached it, exclaimed, 'Holy Virgin!

methinks I see my lady stretched upon that pall--as when last I saw

her!'

Emily, shocked by this exclamation, looked involuntarily again within

the curtains, but the blackness of the pall only appeared; while

Dorothee was compelled to support herself upon the side of the bed, and

presently tears brought her some relief.

'Ah!' said she, after she had wept awhile, 'it was here I sat on that

terrible night, and held my lady's hand, and heard her last words, and

saw all her sufferings--HERE she died in my arms!' '

Do not indulge these painful recollections,' said Emily, 'let us go.

Shew me the picture you mentioned, if it will not too much affect you.' 'It hangs in the oriel,' said Dorothee rising, and going towards a small

door near the bed's head, which she opened, and Emily followed with the

light, into the closet of the late Marchioness

. 'Alas! there she is, ma'amselle,' said Dorothee, pointing to a portrait

of a lady, 'there is her very self! just as she looked when she came

first to the chateau. You see, madam, she was all blooming like you,

then--and so soon to be cut off!'

While Dorothee spoke, Emily was attentively examining the picture, which

bore a strong resemblance to the miniature, though the expression of the

countenance in each was somewhat different; but still she thought she

perceived something of that pensive melancholy in the portrait, which so

strongly characterised the miniature.