nsued, and, having repeated the question, she perceived
some faint accents, mingling in the blast, that swept by; but the sounds
were so distant, and passed so suddenly, that she could scarcely hear
them, much less distinguish the words they uttered, or recognise the
voice. After another pause, Emily called again; and again they heard
a voice, but as faintly as before; and they perceived, that there were
other circumstances, besides the strength, and direction of the wind, to
content with; for the great depth, at which the casements were fixed in
the castle walls, contributed, still more than the distance, to prevent
articulated sounds from being understood, though general ones were
easily heard. Emily, however, ventured to believe, from the circumstance
of her voice alone having been answered, that the stranger was
Valancourt, as well as that he knew her, and she gave herself up to
speechless joy. Annette, however, was not speechless.--She renewed
her calls, but received no answer; and Emily, fearing, that a further
attempt, which certainly was, as present, highly dangerous, might expose
them to the guards of the castle, while it could not perhaps terminate
her suspense, insisted on Annette's dropping the enquiry for this night;
though she determined herself to question Ludovico, on the subject, in
the morning, more urgently than she had yet done. She was now enabled
to say, that the stranger, whom she had formerly heard, was still in
the castle, and to direct Ludovico to that part of it, in which he was
confined.

Emily, attended by Annette, continued at the casement, for some time,
but all remained still; they heard neither lute or voice again, and
Emily was now as much oppressed by anxious joy, as she lately was by a
sense of her misfortunes. With hasty steps she paced the room, now half
calling on Valancourt's name, then suddenly stopping, and now going to
the casement and listening, where, however, she heard nothing but
the solemn waving of the woods. Sometimes her impatience to speak to
Ludovico prompted her to send Annette to call him; but a sense of the
impropriety of this at midnight restrained her. Annette, meanwhile, as
impatient as her mistress, went as often to the casement to listen, and
returned almost as much disappointed. She, at length, mentioned
Signor Verezzi, and her fear, lest he should enter the chamber by the
staircase, door. 'But the night is now almost past, Mademoiselle,' said
she, recollecti