not
sink beneath this joy!' These were moments, when it was impossible
for her to feel emotions of regret, or melancholy, for any ordinary
interests;--even the reflection, that she had resigned the estates,
which would have been a provision for herself and Valancourt for life,
threw only a light and transient shade upon her spirits. The idea of
Valancourt, and that she should see him so soon, alone occupied her
heart.

At length the clock struck twelve; she opened the door to listen, if
any noise was in the castle, and heard only distant shouts of riot and
laughter, echoed feebly along the gallery. She guessed, that the Signor
and his guests were at the banquet. 'They are now engaged for the
night,' said she; 'and Valancourt will soon be here.' Having softly
closed the door, she paced the room with impatient steps, and often went
to the casement to listen for the lute; but all was silent, and, her
agitation every moment increasing, she was at length unable to support
herself, and sat down by the window. Annette, whom she detained, was, in
the meantime, as loquacious as usual; but Emily heard scarcely any thing
she said, and having at length risen to the casement, she distinguished
the chords of the lute, struck with an expressive hand, and then the
voice, she had formerly listened to, accompanied it.

Now rising love they fann'd, now pleasing dole
They breath'd in tender musings through the heart;
And now a graver, sacred strain they stole,
As when seraphic hands an hymn impart!

Emily wept in doubtful joy and tenderness; and, when the strain ceased,
she considered it as a signal, that Valancourt was about to leave the
prison. Soon after, she heard steps in the corridor;--they were the
light, quick steps of hope; she could scarcely support herself, as they
approached, but opening the door of the apartment, she advanced to meet
Valancourt, and, in the next moment, sunk in the arms of a stranger. His
voice--his countenance instantly convinced her, and she fainted away.

On reviving, she found herself supported by the stranger, who was
watching over her recovery, with a countenance of ineffable tenderness
and anxiety. She had no spirits for reply, or enquiry; she asked no
questions, but burst into tears, and disengaged herself from his
arms; when the expression of his countenance changed to surprise and
disappointment, and he turned to Ludovico, for an explanation; Annette
soon gave the information, which Ludo