The Mysteries of Udolpho | Page 8

shade, seem to revivify the soul, and make mere existence bliss.
Madame St. Aubert, reanimated by the cheerfulness and recovery of
her husband, was no longer sensible of the indisposition which had
lately oppressed her; and, as she sauntered along the wood-walks of
this romantic glen, and conversed with him, and with her daughter, she
often looked at them alternately with a degree of tenderness, that filled
her eyes with tears. St. Aubert observed this more than once, and gently
reproved her for the emotion; but she could only smile, clasp his hand,
and that of Emily, and weep the more. He felt the tender enthusiasm
stealing upon himself in a degree that became almost painful; his
features assumed a serious air, and he could not forbear secretly
sighing--'Perhaps I shall some time look back to these moments, as to
the summit of my happiness, with hopeless regret. But let me not
misuse them by useless anticipation; let me hope I shall not live to
mourn the loss of those who are dearer to me than life.'
To relieve, or perhaps to indulge, the pensive temper of his mind, he
bade Emily fetch the lute she knew how to touch with such sweet

pathos. As she drew near the fishing-house, she was surprised to hear
the tones of the instrument, which were awakened by the hand of taste,
and uttered a plaintive air, whose exquisite melody engaged all her
attention. She listened in profound silence, afraid to move from the spot,
lest the sound of her steps should occasion her to lose a note of the
music, or should disturb the musician. Every thing without the building
was still, and no person appeared. She continued to listen, till timidity
succeeded to surprise and delight; a timidity, increased by a
remembrance of the pencilled lines she had formerly seen, and she
hesitated whether to proceed, or to return.
While she paused, the music ceased; and, after a momentary hesitation,
she re-collected courage to advance to the fishing-house, which she
entered with faltering steps, and found unoccupied! Her lute lay on the
table; every thing seemed undisturbed, and she began to believe it was
another instrument she had heard, till she remembered, that, when she
followed M. and Madame St. Aubert from this spot, her lute was left on
a window seat. She felt alarmed, yet knew not wherefore; the
melancholy gloom of evening, and the profound stillness of the place,
interrupted only by the light trembling of leaves, heightened her
fanciful apprehensions, and she was desirous of quitting the building,
but perceived herself grow faint, and sat down. As she tried to recover
herself, the pencilled lines on the wainscot met her eye; she started, as
if she had seen a stranger; but, endeavouring to conquer the tremor of
her spirits, rose, and went to the window. To the lines before noticed
she now perceived that others were added, in which her name appeared.
Though no longer suffered to doubt that they were addressed to herself,
she was as ignorant, as before, by whom they could be written. While
she mused, she thought she heard the sound of a step without the
building, and again alarmed, she caught up her lute, and hurried away.
Monsieur and Madame St. Aubert she found in a little path that wound
along the sides of the glen.
Having reached a green summit, shadowed by palm-trees, and
overlooking the vallies and plains of Gascony, they seated themselves
on the turf; and while their eyes wandered over the glorious scene, and

they inhaled the sweet breath of flowers and herbs that enriched the
grass, Emily played and sung several of their favourite airs, with the
delicacy of expression in which she so much excelled.
Music and conversation detained them in this enchanting spot, till the
sun's last light slept upon the plains; till the white sails that glided
beneath the mountains, where the Garonne wandered, became dim, and
the gloom of evening stole over the landscape. It was a melancholy but
not unpleasing gloom. St. Aubert and his family rose, and left the place
with regret; alas! Madame St. Aubert knew not that she left it for ever.
When they reached the fishing-house she missed her bracelet, and
recollected that she had taken it from her arm after dinner, and had left
it on the table when she went to walk. After a long search, in which
Emily was very active, she was compelled to resign herself to the loss
of it. What made this bracelet valuable to her was a miniature of her
daughter to which it was attached, esteemed a striking resemblance,
and which had been painted only a few months before. When Emily
was convinced that the bracelet was really gone, she blushed, and
became thoughtful.