ers, which, in an almost equal
degree, awakened her grief and astonishment.

They brought a retrospect of all the strange and mournful events, which
had occurred since she lived in peace with her parents. And to Emily,
who had been so tenderly educated, so tenderly loved, who once knew
only goodness and happiness--to her, the late events and her present
situation--in a foreign land--in a remote castle--surrounded by vice
and violence--seemed more like the visions of a distempered imagination,
than the circumstances of truth. She wept to think of what her parents
would have suffered, could they have foreseen the events of her future
life.

While she raised her streaming eyes to heaven, she observed the same
planet, which she had seen in Languedoc, on the night, preceding her
father's death, rise above the eastern towers of the castle, while she
remembered the conversation, which has passed, concerning the probable
state of departed souls; remembered, also, the solemn music she had
heard, and to which the tenderness of her spirits had, in spite of her
reason, given a superstitious meaning. At these recollections she wept
again, and continued musing, when suddenly the notes of sweet music
passed on the air. A superstitious dread stole over her; she stood
listening, for some moments, in trembling expectation, and then
endeavoured to re-collect her thoughts, and to reason herself into
composure; but human reason cannot establish her laws on subjects, lost
in the obscurity of imagination, any more than the eye can ascertain the
form of objects, that only glimmer through the dimness of night.

Her surprise, on hearing such soothing and delicious sounds, was, at
least, justifiable; for it was long--very long, since she had listened
to any thing like melody. The fierce trumpet and the shrill fife were
the only instruments she had heard, since her arrival at Udolpho.

When her mind was somewhat more composed, she tried to ascertain from
what quarter the sounds proceeded, and thought they came from below; but
whether from a room of the castle, or from the terrace, she could not
with certainty judge. Fear and surprise now yielded to the enchantment
of a strain, that floated on the silent night, with the most soft
and melancholy sweetness. Suddenly, it seemed removed to a distance,
trembled faintly, and then entirely ceased.

She continued to listen, sunk in that pleasing repose, which soft music
leaves on the mind--but it came