The Mysteries of Udolpho

'Your sudden departure from Udolpho'--said she. Laurentini groaned.

'The reports that followed it,' continued Emily--'The west chamber--the

mournful veil--the object it conceals!--when murders are committed--'

The nun shrieked. 'What! there again!' said she, endeavouring to raise

herself, while her starting eyes seemed to follow some object round

the room--'Come from the grave! What! Blood--blood too!--There was

no blood--thou canst not say it!--Nay, do not smile,--do not smile so

piteously!' Laurentini fell into convulsions, as she uttered the last words; and

Emily, unable any longer to endure the horror of the scene, hurried from

the room, and sent some nuns to the assistance of the abbess.

The Lady Blanche, and the boarders, who were in the parlour, now

assembled round Emily, and, alarmed by her manner and affrighted

countenance, asked a hundred questions, which she avoided answering

further, than by saying, that she believed sister Agnes was dying. They

received this as a sufficient explanation of her terror, and had then

leisure to offer restoratives, which, at length, somewhat revived Emily,

whose mind was, however, so much shocked with the terrible surmises, and

perplexed with doubts by some words from the nun, that she was unable

to converse, and would have left the convent immediately, had she not

wished to know whether Laurentini would survive the late attack. After

waiting some time, she was informed, that, the convulsions having

ceased, Laurentini seemed to be reviving, and Emily and Blanche were

departing, when the abbess appeared, who, drawing the former aside, said

she had something of consequence to say to her, but, as it was late,

she would not detain her then, and requested to see her on the following

day.

Emily promised to visit her, and, having taken leave, returned with the

Lady Blanche towards the chateau, on the way to which the deep gloom of

the woods made Blanche lament, that the evening was so far advanced; for

the surrounding stillness and obscurity rendered her sensible of fear,

though there was a servant to protect her; while Emily was too much

engaged by the horrors of the scene she had just witnessed, to be

affected by the solemnity of the shades, otherwise than as they served

to promote her gloomy reverie, from which, however, she was at length

recalled by the Lady Blanche, who pointed out, at some distance, in

the dusky path they were winding, two persons slowly advancing. It was

impossible to avoid them without striking into a still more secluded

part of the wood, whither the strangers might easily follow; but all

apprehension vanished, when Emily distinguished the voice of Mons. Du

Pont, and perceived, that his companion was the gentleman, whom she

had seen at the monastery, and who was now conversing with so much

earnestness as not immediately to perceive their approach.