Her anxiety for her aunt and for herself increased with reflection.
Several assertions of Morano, which, on the preceding night, she
had believed were prompted either by interest, or by resentment, now
returned to her mind with the strength of truth. She could not doubt,
that Montoni had formerly agreed to give her to the Count, for a
pecuniary reward;--his character, and his distressed circumstances
justified the belief; these, also, seemed to confirm Morano's assertion,
that he now designed to dispose of her, more advantageously for himself,
to a richer suitor.
Amidst the reproaches, which Morano had thrown out against Montoni,
he had said--he would not quit the castle HE DARED TO CALL HIS, nor
willingly leave ANOTHER murder on his conscience--hints, which might
have no other origin than the passion of the moment: but Emily was now
inclined to account for them more seriously, and she shuddered to think,
that she was in the hands of a man, to whom it was even possible they
could apply. At length, considering, that reflection could neither
release her from her melancholy situation, or enable her to bear it with
greater fortitude, she tried to divert her anxiety, and took down from
her little library a volume of her favourite Ariosto; but his wild
imagery and rich invention could not long enchant her attention; his
spells did not reach her heart, and over her sleeping fancy they played,
without awakening it.
She now put aside the book, and took her lute, for it was seldom that
her sufferings refused to yield to the magic of sweet sounds; when they
did so, she was oppressed by sorrow, that came from excess of tenderness
and regret; and there were times, when music had increased such sorrow
to a degree, that was scarcely endurable; when, if it had not suddenly
ceased, she might have lost her reason. Such was the time, when she
mourned for her father, and heard the midnight strains, that floated by
her window near the convent in Languedoc, on the night that followed his
death. She continued to play, till Annette brought dinner into her chamber,
at which Emily was surprised, and enquired whose order she obeyed. 'My
lady's, ma'amselle,' replied Annette: 'the Signor ordered her dinner to
be carried to her own apartment, and so she has sent you yours. There
have been sad doings between them, worse than ever, I think.'
Emily, not appearing to notice what she said, sat down to the little
table, that was spread for her. But Annette was not to be silenced thus
easily. While she waited, she told of the arrival of the men, whom
Emily had observed on the ramparts, and expressed much surprise at their
strange appearance, as well as at the manner, in which they had been
attended by Montoni's order. 'Do they dine with the Signor, then?' said
Emily. 'No, ma'amselle, they dined long ago, in an apartment at the north end
of the castle, but I know not when they are to go, for the Signor told
old Carlo to see them provided with every thing necessary. They have
been walking all about the castle, and asking questions of the workmen
on the ramparts. I never saw such strange-looking men in my life; I am
frightened whenever I see them.'