Emily started up, and ran to Madame Montoni's room. When she entered,
her aunt appeared to have fainted, for she was quite still, and
insensible; and Emily with a strength of mind, that refused to yield to
grief, while any duty required her activity, applied every means that
seemed likely to restore her. But the last struggle was over--she was
gone for ever. When Emily perceived, that all her efforts were ineffectual, she
interrogated the terrified Annette, and learned, that Madame Montoni
had fallen into a doze soon after Emily's departure, in which she had
continued, until a few minutes before her death.
'I wondered, ma'amselle,' said Annette, 'what was the reason my lady did
not seem frightened at the thunder, when I was so terrified, and I went
often to the bed to speak to her, but she appeared to be asleep; till
presently I heard a strange noise, and, on going to her, saw she was
dying.' Emily, at this recital, shed tears. She had no doubt but that the
violent change in the air, which the tempest produced, had effected this
fatal one, on the exhausted frame of Madame Montoni.
After some deliberation, she determined that Montoni should not be
informed of this event till the morning, for she considered, that he
might, perhaps, utter some inhuman expressions, such as in the present
temper of her spirits she could not bear. With Annette alone, therefore,
whom she encouraged by her own example, she performed some of the last
solemn offices for the dead, and compelled herself to watch during the
night, by the body of her deceased aunt. During this solemn period,
rendered more awful by the tremendous storm that shook the air, she
frequently addressed herself to Heaven for support and protection, and
her pious prayers, we may believe, were accepted of the God, that giveth
comfort.