The Mysteries of Udolpho

After employing himself, for about an hour, in botanizing, dinner was

served. It was a repast, to which gratitude, for being again permitted

to visit this spot, gave sweetness; and family happiness once more

smiled beneath these shades. Monsieur St. Aubert conversed with unusual

cheerfulness; every object delighted his senses. The refreshing pleasure

from the first view of nature, after the pain of illness, and the

confinement of a sick-chamber, is above the conceptions, as well as

the descriptions, of those in health. The green woods and pastures; the

flowery turf; the blue concave of the heavens; the balmy air; the murmur

of the limpid stream; and even the hum of every little insect of the

shade, seem to revivify the soul, and make mere existence bliss.

Madame St. Aubert, reanimated by the cheerfulness and recovery of her

husband, was no longer sensible of the indisposition which had lately

oppressed her; and, as she sauntered along the wood-walks of this

romantic glen, and conversed with him, and with her daughter, she often

looked at them alternately with a degree of tenderness, that filled her

eyes with tears. St. Aubert observed this more than once, and gently

reproved her for the emotion; but she could only smile, clasp his hand,

and that of Emily, and weep the more. He felt the tender enthusiasm

stealing upon himself in a degree that became almost painful; his

features assumed a serious air, and he could not forbear secretly

sighing--'Perhaps I shall some time look back to these moments, as to

the summit of my happiness, with hopeless regret. But let me not misuse

them by useless anticipation; let me hope I shall not live to mourn the

loss of those who are dearer to me than life.'

To relieve, or perhaps to indulge, the pensive temper of his mind, he

bade Emily fetch the lute she knew how to touch with such sweet pathos.

As she drew near the fishing-house, she was surprised to hear the tones

of the instrument, which were awakened by the hand of taste, and uttered

a plaintive air, whose exquisite melody engaged all her attention. She

listened in profound silence, afraid to move from the spot, lest the

sound of her steps should occasion her to lose a note of the music, or

should disturb the musician. Every thing without the building was still,

and no person appeared. She continued to listen, till timidity succeeded

to surprise and delight; a timidity, increased by a remembrance of the

pencilled lines she had formerly seen, and she hesitated whether to

proceed, or to return.

While she paused, the music ceased; and, after a momentary hesitation,

she re-collected courage to advance to the fishing-house, which she

entered with faltering steps, and found unoccupied! Her lute lay on the

table; every thing seemed undisturbed, and she began to believe it was

another instrument she had heard, till she remembered, that, when she

followed M. and Madame St. Aubert from this spot, her lute was left on

a window seat. She felt alarmed, yet knew not wherefore; the melancholy

gloom of evening, and the profound stillness of the place, interrupted

only by the light trembling of leaves, heightened her fanciful

apprehensions, and she was desirous of quitting the building, but

perceived herself grow faint, and sat down. As she tried to recover

herself, the pencilled lines on the wainscot met her eye; she started,

as if she had seen a stranger; but, endeavouring to conquer the tremor

of her spirits, rose, and went to the window. To the lines before

noticed she now perceived that others were added, in which her name

appeared.