rious connection, which she fancied
had existed between her and St. Aubert, was particularly impressed
by the late extraordinary event, and much concerned for the loss of
Ludovico, whose integrity and faithful services claimed both her
esteem and gratitude. She was now very desirous to return to the quiet
retirement of her convent, but every hint of this was received with real
sorrow by the Lady Blanche, and affectionately set aside by the Count,
for whom she felt much of the respectful love and admiration of a
daughter, and to whom, by Dorothee's consent, she, at length, mentioned
the appearance, which they had witnessed in the chamber of the deceased
Marchioness. At any other period, he would have smiled at such a
relation, and have believed, that its object had existed only in the
distempered fancy of the relater; but he now attended to Emily with
seriousness, and, when she concluded, requested of her a promise, that
this occurrence should rest in silence. 'Whatever may be the cause and
the import of these extraordinary occurrences,' added the Count, 'time
only can explain them. I shall keep a wary eye upon all that passes in
the chateau, and shall pursue every possible means of discovering the
fate of Ludovico. Meanwhile, we must be prudent and be silent. I will
myself watch in the north chambers, but of this we will say nothing,
till the night arrives, when I purpose doing so.'
The Count then sent for Dorothee, and required of her also a promise of
silence, concerning what she had already, or might in future witness of
an extraordinary nature; and this ancient servant now related to him the
particulars of the Marchioness de Villeroi's death, with some of which
he appeared to be already acquainted, while by others he was evidently
surprised and agitated. After listening to this narrative, the Count
retired to his closet, where he remained alone for several hours;
and, when he again appeared, the solemnity of his manner surprised and
alarmed Emily, but she gave no utterance to her thoughts.
On the week following the disappearance of Ludovico, all the Count's
guests took leave of him, except the Baron, his son Mons. St. Foix, and
Emily; the latter of whom was soon after embarrassed and distressed by
the arrival of another visitor, Mons. Du Pont, which made her determine
upon withdrawing to her convent immediately. The delight, that appeared
in his countenance, when he met her, told that he brought back the
same ard
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