ld castle, among such dreary mountains, with the chance
of being murdered, or, what is as good, having my throat cut!'

'What can all this mean, indeed, Annette?' said Emily, in astonishment.

'Aye, ma'amselle, you may look surprised; but you won't believe it,
perhaps, till they have murdered you, too. You would not believe about
the ghost I told you of, though I shewed you the very place, where it
used to appear!--You will believe nothing, ma'amselle.'

'Not till you speak more reasonably, Annette; for Heaven's sake, explain
your meaning. You spoke of murder!'

'Aye, ma'amselle, they are coming to murder us all, perhaps; but what
signifies explaining?--you will not believe.'

Emily again desired her to relate what she had seen, or heard.

'O, I have seen enough, ma'am, and heard too much, as Ludovico can
prove. Poor soul! they will murder him, too! I little thought, when
he sung those sweet verses under my lattice, at Venice!'--Emily looked
impatient and displeased. 'Well, ma'amselle, as I was saying, these
preparations about the castle, and these strange-looking people, that
are calling here every day, and the Signor's cruel usage of my lady, and
his odd goings-on--all these, as I told Ludovico, can bode no good. And
he bid me hold my tongue. So, says I, the Signor's strangely altered,
Ludovico, in this gloomy castle, to what he was in France; there, all so
gay! Nobody so gallant to my lady, then; and he could smile, too, upon
a poor servant, sometimes, and jeer her, too, good-naturedly enough.
I remember once, when he said to me, as I was going out of my lady's
dressing-room--Annette, says he--'

'Never mind what the Signor said,' interrupted Emily; 'but tell me, at
once, the circumstance, which has thus alarmed you.'

'Aye, ma'amselle,' rejoined Annette, 'that is just what Ludovico said:
says he, Never mind what the Signor says to you. So I told him what I
thought about the Signor. He is so strangely altered, said I: for now he
is so haughty, and so commanding, and so sharp with my lady; and, if he
meets one, he'll scarcely look at one, unless it be to frown. So much
the better, says Ludovico, so much the better. And to tell you the
truth, ma'amselle, I thought this was a very ill-natured speech of
Ludovico: but I went on. And then, says I, he is always knitting his
brows; and if one speaks to him, he does not hear; and then he sits up
counselling so, of a night, with the other Signors--there they are, till