The Mysteries of Udolpho

After travelling a few miles, he fell asleep; and Emily,

who had put two or three books into the carriage, on leaving La Vallee,

had now the leisure for looking into them. She sought for one, in which

Valancourt had been reading the day before, and hoped for the pleasure

of re-tracing a page, over which the eyes of a beloved friend had

lately passed, of dwelling on the passages, which he had admired, and of

permitting them to speak to her in the language of his own mind, and to

bring himself to her presence.

On searching for the book, she could find

it no where, but in its stead perceived a volume of Petrarch's poems,

that had belonged to Valancourt, whose name was written in it, and from

which he had frequently read passages to her, with all the pathetic

expression, that characterized the feelings of the author. She hesitated

in believing, what would have been sufficiently apparent to almost any

other person, that he had purposely left this book, instead of the

one she had lost, and that love had prompted the exchange; but, having

opened it with impatient pleasure, and observed the lines of his pencil

drawn along the various passages he had read aloud, and under others

more descriptive of delicate tenderness than he had dared to trust

his voice with, the conviction came, at length, to her mind. For some

moments she was conscious only of being beloved; then, a recollection

of all the variations of tone and countenance, with which he had recited

these sonnets, and of the soul, which spoke in their expression, pressed

to her memory, and she wept over the memorial of his affection.

They arrived at Perpignan soon after sunset, where St. Aubert found,

as he had expected, letters from M. Quesnel, the contents of which

so evidently and grievously affected him, that Emily was alarmed,

and pressed him, as far as her delicacy would permit, to disclose

the occasion of his concern; but he answered her only by tears, and

immediately began to talk on other topics. Emily, though she forbore

to press the one most interesting to her, was greatly affected by her

father's manner, and passed a night of sleepless solicitude.

In the morning they pursued their journey along the coast towards

Leucate, another town on the Mediterranean, situated on the borders of

Languedoc and Rousillon. On the way, Emily renewed the subject of the

preceding night, and appeared so deeply affected by St. Aubert's silence

and dejection, that he relaxed from his reserve. 'I was unwilling, my

dear Emily,' said he, 'to throw a cloud over the pleasure you receive

from these scenes, and meant, therefore, to conceal, for the present,

some circumstances, with which, however, you must at length have been

made acquainted. But your anxiety has defeated my purpose; you suffer as

much from this, perhaps, as you will do from a knowledge of the facts I

have to relate.