The intelligent eyes of Emily seemed to read what passed in the mind of
her father, and she fixed them on his face, with an expression of such
tender pity, as recalled his thoughts from every desultory object of
regret, and he remembered only, that he must leave his daughter without
protection. This reflection changed regret to agony; he sighed deeply,
and remained silent, while she seemed to understand that sigh, for
she pressed his hand affectionately, and then turned to the window to
conceal her tears. The sun now threw a last yellow gleam on the waves of
the Mediterranean, and the gloom of twilight spread fast over the scene,
till only a melancholy ray appeared on the western horizon, marking the
point where the sun had set amid the vapours of an autumnal evening. A
cool breeze now came from the shore, and Emily let down the glass; but
the air, which was refreshing to health, was as chilling to sickness,
and St. Aubert desired, that the window might be drawn up. Increasing
illness made him now more anxious than ever to finish the day's journey,
and he stopped the muleteer to enquire how far they had yet to go to the
next post.
He replied, 'Nine miles.' 'I feel I am unable to proceed much
further,' said St. Aubert; 'enquire, as you go, if there is any house on
the road that would accommodate us for the night.' He sunk back in
the carriage, and Michael, cracking his whip in the air, set off, and
continued on the full gallop, till St. Aubert, almost fainting, called
to him to stop. Emily looked anxiously from the window, and saw a
peasant walking at some little distance on the road, for whom they
waited, till he came up, when he was asked, if there was any house in
the neighbourhood that accommodated travellers. He replied, that he knew
of none. 'There is a chateau, indeed, among those woods on the right,'
added he, 'but I believe it receives nobody, and I cannot show you the
way, for I am almost a stranger here.' St. Aubert was going to ask
him some further question concerning the chateau, but the man abruptly
passed on. After some consideration, he ordered Michael to proceed
slowly to the woods. Every moment now deepened the twilight, and
increased the difficulty of finding the road. Another peasant soon after
passed.
'Which is the way to the chateau in the woods?' cried Michael.
'The chateau in the woods!' exclaimed the peasant--'Do you mean that
with the turret, yonder?' 'I don't know as for the turret, as you call it,' said Michael, 'I mean
that white piece of a building, that we see at a distance there, among
the trees.'