'Caterina went to the north-gallery, that is the wide gallery we passed,
ma'am, before we came to the corridor, here. As she went with the lamp
in her hand, thinking of nothing at all--There, again!' cried Annette
suddenly--'I heard it again!--it was not fancy, ma'amselle!'
'Hush!' said Emily, trembling. They listened, and, continuing to sit
quite still, Emily heard a low knocking against the wall. It came
repeatedly. Annette then screamed loudly, and the chamber door slowly
opened.--It was Caterina, come to tell Annette, that her lady wanted
her. Emily, though she now perceived who it was, could not immediately
overcome her terror; while Annette, half laughing, half crying, scolded
Caterina heartily for thus alarming them; and was also terrified lest
what she had told had been overheard.--Emily, whose mind was deeply
impressed by the chief circumstance of Annette's relation, was unwilling
to be left alone, in the present state of her spirits; but, to avoid
offending Madame Montoni, and betraying her own weakness, she struggled
to overcome the illusions of fear, and dismissed Annette for the night.
When she was alone, her thoughts recurred to the strange history of
Signora Laurentini and then to her own strange situation, in the wild
and solitary mountains of a foreign country, in the castle, and the
power of a man, to whom, only a few preceding months, she was an entire
stranger; who had already exercised an usurped authority over her, and
whose character she now regarded, with a degree of terror, apparently
justified by the fears of others. She knew, that he had invention equal
to the conception and talents to the execution of any project, and
she greatly feared he had a heart too void of feeling to oppose the
perpetration of whatever his interest might suggest. She had long
observed the unhappiness of Madame Montoni, and had often been witness
to the stern and contemptuous behaviour she received from her husband.
To these circumstances, which conspired to give her just cause for
alarm, were now added those thousand nameless terrors, which exist only
in active imaginations, and which set reason and examination equally at
defiance. Emily remembered all that Valancourt had told her, on the eve of her
departure from Languedoc, respecting Montoni, and all that he had said
to dissuade her from venturing on the journey. His fears had often since
appeared to her prophetic--now they seemed confirmed. Her heart, as
it gave her back the image of Valancourt, mourned in vain regret, but
reason soon came with a consolation which, though feeble at first,
acquired vigour from reflection. She considered, that, whatever might be
her sufferings, she had withheld from involving him in misfortune, and
that, whatever her future sorrows could be, she was, at least, free from
self-reproach.