t, till near midnight, but not without many hints from
Annette, that she wished to go. The embers were now nearly burnt out;
and Emily heard, at a distance, the thundering sound of the hall doors,
as they were shut for the night. She, therefore, prepared for rest, but
was still unwilling that Annette should leave her. At this instant, the
great bell of the portal sounded. They listened in fearful expectation,
when, after a long pause of silence, it sounded again. Soon after, they
heard the noise of carriage wheels in the court-yard. Emily sunk almost
lifeless in her chair; 'It is the Count,' said she.

'What, at this time of night, ma'am!' said Annette: 'no, my dear lady.
But, for that matter, it is a strange time of night for any body to
come!'

'Nay, pr'ythee, good Annette, stay not talking,' said Emily in a voice
of agony--'Go, pr'ythee, go, and see who it is.'

Annette left the room, and carried with her the light, leaving Emily in
darkness, which a few moments before would have terrified her in this
room, but was now scarcely observed by her. She listened and waited, in
breathless expectation, and heard distant noises, but Annette did not
return. Her patience, at length, exhausted, she tried to find her way
to the corridor, but it was long before she could touch the door of the
chamber, and, when she had opened it, the total darkness without made
her fear to proceed. Voices were now heard, and Emily even thought she
distinguished those of Count Morano, and Montoni. Soon after, she
heard steps approaching, and then a ray of light streamed through the
darkness, and Annette appeared, whom Emily went to meet.

'Yes, ma'amselle,' said she, 'you was right, it is the Count sure
enough.'

'It is he!' exclaimed Emily, lifting her eyes towards heaven and
supporting herself by Annette's arm.

'Good Lord! my dear lady, don't be in such a FLUSTER, and look so pale,
we shall soon hear more.'

'We shall, indeed!' said Emily, moving as fast as she was able towards
her apartment. 'I am not well; give me air.' Annette opened a casement,
and brought water. The faintness soon left Emily, but she desired
Annette would not go till she heard from Montoni.

'Dear ma'amselle! he surely will not disturb you at this time of night;
why he must think you are asleep.'

'Stay with me till I am so, then,' said Emily, who felt temporary relief
from this suggestion, which appeared probable enough, though her fears
had prevented its occur