light was there;
but the casements below, as well as those above, were sunk so deep in
the thick walls of the castle, that she could not see them, or even the
faint ray, that probably glimmered through their bars. She then ventured
to call; but the wind bore her voice to the other end of the terrace,
and then the music was heard as before, in the pause of the gust.
Suddenly, she thought she heard a noise in her chamber, and she drew
herself within the casement; but, in a moment after, distinguishing
Annette's voice at the door, she concluded it was her she had heard
before, and she let her in. 'Move softly, Annette, to the casement,'
said she, 'and listen with me; the music is returned.' They were silent
till, the measure changing, Annette exclaimed, 'Holy Virgin! I know that
song well; it is a French song, one of the favourite songs of my dear
country.' This was the ballad Emily had heard on a former night, though
not the one she had first listened to from the fishing-house in Gascony.
'O! it is a Frenchman, that sings,' said Annette: 'it must be Monsieur
Valancourt.' 'Hark! Annette, do not speak so loud,' said Emily, 'we may
be overheard.' 'What! by the Chevalier?' said Annette. 'No,' replied
Emily mournfully, 'but by somebody, who may report us to the Signor.
What reason have you to think it is Monsieur Valancourt, who sings? But
hark! now the voice swells louder! Do you recollect those tones? I fear
to trust my own judgment.' 'I never happened to hear the Chevalier
sing, Mademoiselle,' replied Annette, who, as Emily was disappointed to
perceive, had no stronger reason for concluding this to be Valancourt,
than that the musician must be a Frenchman. Soon after, she heard the
song of the fishing-house, and distinguished her own name, which was
repeated so distinctly, that Annette had heard it also. She trembled,
sunk into a chair by the window, and Annette called aloud, 'Monsieur
Valancourt! Monsieur Valancourt!' while Emily endeavoured to check her,
but she repeated the call more loudly than before, and the lute and the
voice suddenly stopped. Emily listened, for some time, in a state
of intolerable suspense; but, no answer being returned, 'It does not
signify, Mademoiselle,' said Annette; 'it is the Chevalier, and I will
speak to him.' 'No, Annette,' said Emily, 'I think I will speak myself;
if it is he, he will know my voice, and speak again.' 'Who is it,' said
she, 'that sings at this late hour?'

A long silence e