considered, that
Annette might, possibly, know something of the situation of Madame
Montoni, or direct her to the turret. At length, she obtained a reply,
though little satisfactory, to her questions, for Annette knew nothing
of Madame Montoni, and only conjured Emily to tell her what was become
of Ludovico. Of him she had no information to give, and she again asked
who had shut Annette up.

'Ludovico,' said the poor girl, 'Ludovico shut me up. When I ran away
from the dressing-room door to-day, I went I scarcely knew where, for
safety; and, in this gallery, here, I met Ludovico, who hurried me into
this chamber, and locked me up to keep me out of harm, as he said. But
he was in such a hurry himself, he hardly spoke ten words, but he told
me he would come, and let me out, when all was quiet, and he took away
the key with him. Now all these hours are passed, and I have neither
seen, or heard a word of him; they have murdered him--I know they have!'

Emily suddenly remembered the wounded person, whom she had seen borne
into the servants' hall, and she scarcely doubted, that he was Ludovico,
but she concealed the circumstance from Annette, and endeavoured to
comfort her. Then, impatient to learn something of her aunt, she again
enquired the way to the turret.

'O! you are not going, ma'amselle,' said Annette, 'for Heaven's sake, do
not go, and leave me here by myself.'

'Nay, Annette, you do not think I can wait in the gallery all night,'
replied Emily. 'Direct me to the turret; in the morning I will endeavour
to release you.'

'O holy Mary!' exclaimed Annette, 'am I to stay here by myself all
night! I shall be frightened out of my senses, and I shall die of
hunger; I have had nothing to eat since dinner!'

Emily could scarcely forbear smiling at the heterogeneous distresses of
Annette, though she sincerely pitied them, and said what she could to
sooth her. At length, she obtained something like a direction to the
east turret, and quitted the door, from whence, after many intricacies
and perplexities, she reached the steep and winding stairs of the
turret, at the foot of which she stopped to rest, and to re-animate her
courage with a sense of her duty. As she surveyed this dismal place, she
perceived a door on the opposite side of the stair-case, and, anxious
to know whether it would lead her to Madame Montoni, she tried to undraw
the bolts, which fastened it. A fresher air came to her face, as she
unclosed the door