'Go a little farther, and if we see no house then, we will return to the
road,' replied St. Aubert.
Michael proceeded with reluctance, and the extreme slowness of his pace
made St. Aubert look again from the window to hasten him, when again he
saw the same figure. He was somewhat startled: probably the gloominess
of the spot made him more liable to alarm than usual; however this
might be, he now stopped Michael, and bade him call to the person in the
avenue. 'Please your honour, he may be a robber,' said Michael. 'It does not
please me,' replied St. Aubert, who could not forbear smiling at the
simplicity of his phrase, 'and we will, therefore, return to the road,
for I see no probability of meeting here with what we seek.'
Michael turned about immediately, and was retracing his way with
alacrity, when a voice was heard from among the trees on the left. It
was not the voice of command, or distress, but a deep hollow tone, which
seemed to be scarcely human. The man whipped his mules till they went as
fast as possible, regardless of the darkness, the broken ground, and
the necks of the whole party, nor once stopped till he reached the gate,
which opened from the avenue into the high-road, where he went into a
more moderate pace.
'I am very ill,' said St. Aubert, taking his daughter's hand. 'You are
worse, then, sir!' said Emily, extremely alarmed by his manner, 'you
are worse, and here is no assistance. Good God! what is to be done!' He
leaned his head on her shoulder, while she endeavoured to support him
with her arm, and Michael was again ordered to stop. When the rattling
of the wheels had ceased, music was heard on their air; it was to Emily
the voice of Hope. 'Oh! we are near some human habitation!' said she,
'help may soon be had.'
She listened anxiously; the sounds were distant, and seemed to come from
a remote part of the woods that bordered the road; and, as she looked
towards the spot whence they issued, she perceived in the faint
moon-light something like a chateau. It was difficult, however, to reach
this; St. Aubert was now too ill to bear the motion of the carriage;
Michael could not quit his mules; and Emily, who still supported her
father, feared to leave him, and also feared to venture alone to such a
distance, she knew not whither, or to whom. Something, however, it was
necessary to determine upon immediately; St. Aubert, therefore, told
Michael to proceed slowly; but they had not gone far, when he fainted,
and the carriage was again stopped. He lay quite senseless.--'My dear,
dear father!' cried Emily in great agony, who began to fear that he was
dying, 'speak, if it is only one word to let me hear the sound of your
voice!'