ghtfully along, she fancied,
that she heard a low moaning at no great distance, and, having paused a
moment, she heard it again and distinctly. Several doors appeared on the
right hand of the passage. She advanced, and listened. When she came to
the second, she heard a voice, apparently in complaint, within, to which
she continued to listen, afraid to open the door, and unwilling to
leave it. Convulsive sobs followed, and then the piercing accents of an
agonizing spirit burst forth. Emily stood appalled, and looked through
the gloom, that surrounded her, in fearful expectation. The lamentations
continued. Pity now began to subdue terror; it was possible she might
administer comfort to the sufferer, at least, by expressing sympathy,
and she laid her hand on the door. While she hesitated she thought
she knew this voice, disguised as it was by tones of grief. Having,
therefore, set down the lamp in the passage, she gently opened the door,
within which all was dark, except that from an inner apartment a partial
light appeared; and she stepped softly on. Before she reached it, the
appearance of Madame Montoni, leaning on her dressing-table, weeping,
and with a handkerchief held to her eyes, struck her, and she paused.

Some person was seated in a chair by the fire, but who it was she could
not distinguish. He spoke, now and then, in a low voice, that did not
allow Emily to hear what was uttered, but she thought, that Madame
Montoni, at those times, wept the more, who was too much occupied by her
own distress, to observe Emily, while the latter, though anxious to know
what occasioned this, and who was the person admitted at so late an
hour to her aunt's dressing-room, forbore to add to her sufferings by
surprising her, or to take advantage of her situation, by listening to a
private discourse. She, therefore, stepped softly back, and, after
some further difficulty, found the way to her own chamber, where nearer
interests, at length, excluded the surprise and concern she had felt,
respecting Madame Montoni.

Annette, however, returned without satisfactory intelligence, for the
servants, among whom she had been, were either entirely ignorant, or
affected to be so, concerning the Count's intended stay at the castle.
They could talk only of the steep and broken road they had just passed,
and of the numerous dangers they had escaped and express wonder how
their lord could choose to encounter all these, in the darkness of
night; f