She was pleased to find herself once more in the tranquil retirement
of the convent, where she experienced a renewal of all the maternal
kindness of the abbess, and of the sisterly attentions of the nuns. A
report of the late extraordinary occurrence at the chateau had already
reached them, and, after supper, on the evening of her arrival, it
was the subject of conversation in the convent parlour, where she was
requested to mention some particulars of that unaccountable event. Emily
was guarded in her conversation on this subject, and briefly related a
few circumstances concerning Ludovico, whose disappearance, her auditors
almost unanimously agreed, had been effected by supernatural means.
'A belief had so long prevailed,' said a nun, who was called sister
Frances, 'that the chateau was haunted, that I was surprised, when I
heard the Count had the temerity to inhabit it. Its former possessor,
I fear, had some deed of conscience to atone for; let us hope, that the
virtues of its present owner will preserve him from the punishment due
to the errors of the last, if, indeed, he was a criminal.'
'Of what crime, then, was he suspected?' said a Mademoiselle Feydeau, a
boarder at the convent. 'Let us pray for his soul!' said a nun, who had till now sat in silent
attention. 'If he was criminal, his punishment in this world was
sufficient.' There was a mixture of wildness and solemnity in her manner of
delivering this, which struck Emily exceedingly; but Mademoiselle
repeated her question, without noticing the solemn eagerness of the nun.
'I dare not presume to say what was his crime,' replied sister Frances;
'but I have heard many reports of an extraordinary nature, respecting
the late Marquis de Villeroi, and among others, that, soon after the
death of his lady, he quitted Chateau-le-Blanc, and never afterwards
returned to it. I was not here at the time, so I can only mention it
from report, and so many years have passed since the Marchioness died,
that few of our sisterhood, I believe, can do more.'
'But I can,' said the nun, who had before spoke, and whom they called
sister Agnes. 'You then,' said Mademoiselle Feydeau, 'are possibly acquainted with
circumstances, that enable you to judge, whether he was criminal or not,
and what was the crime imputed to him.' 'I am,' replied the nun; 'but who shall dare to scrutinize my
thoughts--who shall dare to pluck out my opinion? God only is his judge,
and to that judge he is gone!' Emily looked with surprise at sister Frances, who returned her a
significant glance. 'I only requested your opinion,' said Mademoiselle Feydeau, mildly; 'if
the subject is displeasing to you, I will drop it.'