The Mysteries of Udolpho

'Perhaps, then, I am a little superstitious, ma'amselle; and, if you

knew what I do, you might be so too. Strange things have happened

there. Monsieur, your good father, appeared to have known the late

Marchioness.' 'Pray inform me what did happen?' said Emily, with much

emotion. 'Alas! ma'amselle,' answered La Voisin, 'enquire no further; it is not

for me to lay open the domestic secrets of my lord.'--Emily, surprised

by the old man's words, and his manner of delivering them, forbore to

repeat her question; a nearer interest, the remembrance of St. Aubert,

occupied her thoughts, and she was led to recollect the music she heard

on the preceding night, which she mentioned to La Voisin. 'You was not

alone, ma'amselle, in this,' he replied, 'I heard it too; but I have so

often heard it, at the same hour, that I was scarcely surprised.'

'You doubtless believe this music to have some connection with the

chateau,' said Emily suddenly, 'and are, therefore, superstitious.' 'It

may be so, ma'amselle, but there are other circumstances, belonging to

that chateau, which I remember, and sadly too.' A heavy sigh followed:

but Emily's delicacy restrained the curiosity these words revived, and

she enquired no further.

On reaching the cottage, all the violence of her grief returned; it

seemed as if she had escaped its heavy pressure only while she was

removed from the object of it. She passed immediately to the chamber,

where the remains of her father were laid, and yielded to all the

anguish of hopeless grief. La Voisin, at length, persuaded her to

leave the room, and she returned to her own, where, exhausted by

the sufferings of the day, she soon fell into deep sleep, and awoke

considerably refreshed.

When the dreadful hour arrived, in which the remains of St. Aubert were

to be taken from her for ever, she went alone to the chamber to look

upon his countenance yet once again, and La Voisin, who had waited

patiently below stairs, till her despair should subside, with the

respect due to grief, forbore to interrupt the indulgence of it, till

surprise, at the length of her stay, and then apprehension overcame his

delicacy, and he went to lead her from the chamber. Having tapped gently

at the door, without receiving an answer, he listened attentively, but

all was still; no sigh, no sob of anguish was heard. Yet more alarmed by

this silence, he opened the door, and found Emily lying senseless across

the foot of the bed, near which stood the coffin. His calls procured

assistance, and she was carried to her room, where proper applications,

at length, restored her.