unfold
What worlds, or what vast regions, hold
Th' immortal mind, that hath forsook
Her mansion in this fleshly nook!
IL PENSEROSO
Emily's mind was refreshed by sleep. On waking in the morning, she
looked with surprise on Annette, who sat sleeping in a chair beside the
bed, and then endeavoured to recollect herself; but the circumstances of
the preceding night were swept from her memory, which seemed to retain
no trace of what had passed, and she was still gazing with surprise on
Annette, when the latter awoke.
'O dear ma'amselle! do you know me?' cried she.
'Know you! Certainly,' replied Emily, 'you are Annette; but why are you
sitting by me thus?' 'O you have been very ill, ma'amselle,--very ill indeed! and I am sure I
thought--' 'This is very strange!' said Emily, still trying to recollect the
past.--'But I think I do remember, that my fancy has been haunted by
frightful dreams. Good God!' she added, suddenly starting--'surely it
was nothing more than a dream!'
She fixed a terrified look upon Annette, who, intending to quiet her,
said 'Yes, ma'amselle, it was more than a dream, but it is all over
now.' 'She IS murdered, then!' said Emily in an inward voice, and shuddering
instantaneously. Annette screamed; for, being ignorant of the
circumstance to which Emily referred, she attributed her manner to a
disordered fancy; but, when she had explained to what her own speech
alluded, Emily, recollecting the attempt that had been made to carry her
off, asked if the contriver of it had been discovered. Annette replied,
that he had not, though he might easily be guessed at; and then told
Emily she might thank her for her deliverance, who, endeavouring to
command the emotion, which the remembrance of her aunt had occasioned,
appeared calmly to listen to Annette, though, in truth, she heard
scarcely a word that was said.
'And so, ma'amselle,' continued the latter, 'I was determined to be even
with Barnardine for refusing to tell me the secret, by finding it out
myself; so I watched you, on the terrace, and, as soon as he had opened
the door at the end, I stole out from the castle, to try to follow you;
for, says I, I am sure no good can be planned, or why all this secrecy?
So, sure enough, he had not bolted the door after him, and, when I
opened it, I saw, by the glimmer of the torch, at the other end of the
passage, which way you were going. I followed the light, at a distance,
till you came to the vaults of the chapel, and there I was afraid to go
further, for I had heard strange things about these vaults. But then,
again, I was afraid to go back, all in darkness, by myself; so by the
time Barnardine had trimmed the light, I had resolved to follow you, and
I did so, till you came to the great court, and there I was afraid he
would see me; so I stopped at the door again, and watched you across to
the gates, and, when you was gone up the stairs, I whipt after. There,
as I stood under the gate-way, I heard horses' feet without, and several
men talking; and I heard them swearing at Barnardine for not bringing
you out, and just then, he had like to have caught me, for he came down
the stairs again, and I had hardly time to get out of his way. But I had
heard enough of his secret now, and I determined to be even with him,
and to save you, too, ma'amselle, for I guessed it to be some new scheme
of Count Morano, though he was gone away. I ran into the castle, but I
had hard work to find my way through the passage under the chapel, and
what is very strange, I quite forgot to look for the ghosts they had
told me about, though I would not go into that place again by myself for
all the world!