Emily's mind had not yet sufficiently recovered from its late shock, to endure the loneliness of her chamber, and she remained upon the ramparts; for Madame Montoni had not invited her to her dressing-room, whither she had gone evidently in low spirits, and Emily, from her late experience, had lost all wish to explore the gloomy and mysterious recesses of the castle.The ramparts, therefore, were almost her only retreat, and here she lingered, till the gray haze of evening was again spread over the scene.
The cavaliers supped by themselves, and Madame Montoni remained in her apartment, whither Emily went, before she retired to her own.
She found her aunt weeping, and in much agitation.The tenderness of Emily was naturally so soothing, that it seldom failed to give comfort to the drooping heart: but Madame Montoni's was torn, and the softest accents of Emily's voice were lost upon it.With her usual delicacy, she did not appear to observe her aunt's distress, but it gave an involuntary gentleness to her manners, and an air of solicitude to her countenance, which Madame Montoni was vexed to perceive, who seemed to feel the pity of her niece to be an insult to her pride, and dismissed her as soon as she properly could.Emily did not venture to mention again the reluctance she felt to her gloomy chamber, but she requested that Annette might be permitted to remain with her till she retired to rest; and the request was somewhat reluctantly granted.Annette, however, was now with the servants, and Emily withdrew alone.
With light and hasty steps she passed through the long galleries, while the feeble glimmer of the lamp she carried only shewed the gloom around her, and the passing air threatened to extinguish it.
The lonely silence, that reigned in this part of the castle, awed her; now and then, indeed, she heard a faint peal of laughter rise from a remote part of the edifice, where the servants were assembled, but it was soon lost, and a kind of breathless stillness remained.
As she passed the suite of rooms which she had visited in the morning, her eyes glanced fearfully on the door, and she almost fancied she heard murmuring sounds within, but she paused not a moment to enquire.
Having reached her own apartment, where no blazing wood on the hearth dissipated the gloom, she sat down with a book, to enliven her attention, till Annette should come, and a fire could be kindled.
She continued to read till her light was nearly expired, but Annette did not appear, and the solitude and obscurity of her chamber again affected her spirits, the more, because of its nearness to the scene of horror, that she had witnessed in the morning.Gloomy and fantastic images came to her mind.She looked fearfully towards the door of the stair-case, and then, examining whether it was still fastened, found that it was so.Unable to conquer the uneasiness she felt at the prospect of sleeping again in this remote and insecure apartment, which some person seemed to have entered during the preceding night, her impatience to see Annette, whom she had bidden to enquire concerning this circumstance, became extremely painful.
She wished also to question her, as to the object, which had excited so much horror in her own mind, and which Annette on the preceding evening had appeared to be in part acquainted with, though her words were very remote from the truth, and it appeared plainly to Emily, that the girl had been purposely misled by a false report: above all she was surprised, that the door of the chamber, which contained it, should be left unguarded.Such an instance of negligence almost surpassed belief.But her light was now expiring; the faint flashes it threw upon the walls called up all the terrors of fancy, and she rose to find her way to the habitable part of the castle, before it was quite extinguished.As she opened the chamber door, she heard remote voices, and, soon after, saw a light issue upon the further end of the corridor, which Annette and another servant approached.
'I am glad you are come,' said Emily: 'what has detained you so long? Pray light me a fire immediately.'
'My lady wanted me, ma'amselle,' replied Annette in some confusion;'I will go and get the wood.'
'No,' said Caterina, 'that is my business,' and left the room instantly, while Annette would have followed; but, being called back, she began to talk very loud, and laugh, and seemed afraid to trust a pause of silence.
Caterina soon returned with the wood, and then, when the cheerful blaze once more animated the room, and this servant had withdrawn, Emily asked Annette, whether she had made the enquiry she bade her.
'Yes, ma'amselle,' said Annette, 'but not a soul knows any thing about the matter: and old Carlo--I watched him well, for they say he knows strange things--old Carlo looked so as I don't know how to tell, and he asked me again and again, if I was sure the door was ever unfastened.Lord, says I--am I sure I am alive? And as for me, ma'am, I am all astounded, as one may say, and would no more sleep in this chamber, than I would on the great cannon at the end of the east rampart.'
'And what objection have you to that cannon, more than to any of the rest?' said Emily smiling: 'the best would be rather a hard bed.'
'Yes, ma'amselle, any of them would be hard enough for that matter;but they do say, that something has been seen in the dead of night, standing beside the great cannon, as if to guard it.'
'Well! my good Annette, the people who tell such stories, are happy in having you for an auditor, for I perceive you believe them all.'
'Dear ma'amselle! I will shew you the very cannon; you can see it from these windows!'
'Well,' said Emily, 'but that does not prove, that an apparition guards it.'
'What! not if I shew you the very cannon! Dear ma'am, you will believe nothing.'