red to believe, that Montoni
did really intend to permit her return to France as soon as he had
secured her property, and that he would, in the mean time, protect her
from insult; but her chief hope rested with Ludovico, who, she doubted
not, would be zealous in her cause, though he seemed almost to despair
of success in it. One circumstance, however, she had to rejoice in. Her
prudence, or rather her fears, had saved her from mentioning the name
of Valancourt to Montoni, which she was several times on the point of
doing, before she signed the paper, and of stipulating for his release,
if he should be really a prisoner in the castle. Had she done this,
Montoni's jealous fears would now probably have loaded Valancourt
with new severities, and have suggested the advantage of holding him a
captive for life.

Thus passed the melancholy day, as she had before passed many in this
same chamber. When night drew on, she would have withdrawn herself to
Annette's bed, had not a particular interest inclined her to remain
in this chamber, in spite of her fears; for, when the castle should be
still, and the customary hour arrived, she determined to watch for the
music, which she had formerly heard. Though its sounds might not enable
her positively to determine, whether Valancourt was there, they would
perhaps strengthen her opinion that he was, and impart the comfort, so
necessary to her present support.--But, on the other hand, if all should
be silent--! She hardly dared to suffer her thoughts to glance that way,
but waited, with impatient expectation, the approaching hour.

The night was stormy; the battlements of the castle appeared to rock in
the wind, and, at intervals, long groans seemed to pass on the air,
such as those, which often deceive the melancholy mind, in tempests,
and amidst scenes of desolation. Emily heard, as formerly, the sentinels
pass along the terrace to their posts, and, looking out from her
casement, observed, that the watch was doubled; a precaution, which
appeared necessary enough, when she threw her eyes on the walls, and saw
their shattered condition. The well-known sounds of the soldiers' march,
and of their distant voices, which passed her in the wind, and were lost
again, recalled to her memory the melancholy sensation she had
suffered, when she formerly heard the same sounds; and occasioned almost
involuntary comparisons between her present, and her late situation.
But this was no subject for congra