UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY Class Book Volume V S3 a Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2016 https://archive.org/details/veiledpictureormOOunse I c=nden : Jhdl/ehe/i Dee r i -idee. T II E VEILED PICTURE; Oil, THE Mysteries of ;G;orgpno > ' T 'h. E • ; APPENNINE CASTLE o f SIGNOR AND ROSSI. A ROMANCE OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. I think it is the weakness of mine eyes. That shapes this monstrous apparition. It comes upon me ! Julius cjesai. Lennon : Printed for Thomas Tegg and Co. Fenchurch-Buildings; T. Hurst Paternoster-Raw ; T, Brown, Edinburgh; and B. Dugdale, Dublin. * And sold by Champante & Whitrow, Algate ; Wilmot and Hill, Borough - T. Hughes, Queen’s-Head- Passage, London ; J. Dingle, Bury ; T. Gib- bons, Bath ; T. Lamb, T. Matthews, and Messrs. Cowley and Richard- son; Bristol ; Messrs. Clarke & Co. M. Swindale, and J. Reddish, Man- Chester ; N. Rollaston, Coventry ; T. Richards and W. Gray, Plymouth t Harrod and Turner, Nottingham ; T. Binns, Leeds ; T. Newlingand M, Wood, Shewsbury; W. Troughton and W. Jones, Liverpool; J. Legg* Gosport ; T. Crooks, Rotherham ; J. Belsher, Birmingham ; and ever* other Bookseller in England, Scotland and Ireland. " Printed by T. Plummer , Seething- Lane, Tower-Street. VEILED PI CELT RE. O ' r ^ 3 * *« Or- ville felt a strong affection for every part of the old fabric, which his lady undertook to decorate with a chaste simpli- city. The library occupied the west side of the chateau, adjoining to which was a well-stored green-house. 1/ Or- ville loved botany, and often made excursions to the ro- mantic spots around, with his wife and daughter. Adjoin- ing to the green-house, on the eastern side of the building, was the apartment of Emily, containing her musical and drawing apparatus, in both which accomplishments. sh« excelled. The first interruption of happiness D’Orville had expe- rienced was in the death of his two sons. One daughter was now all his surviving care, who in .person resembled her mother. Under her father’s instruction she acquired a knowledge of Latin and English, that she might relish the beauties of sublime poetry. It was one of Emily’s earliest pleasures to ramble, and her favorite walk was to a fishing- house of her father’s, in a woody glen on the margin of a rivulet, that descended from the Pyrenees. This too was a. G 2 THE VEILED PICTURE. favorite retreat of D’Orville’s, to which he often brought his oboe, and played to the melting tones of Emily’s voice. In one of her excursions hither, she observed a sonnet, ad- dressed to the Nymph of the Shades, written in pencil on the wainscot. The lines were not inscribed to any person, and Emily could no i apply, them to herself, though she. un- doubtedly was the-nyrfiph of the shades. She therefore, in vain, wished to tracp ijhe writer ; the incident, however, was soon driven trorTi ‘her mind by the indisposition of her father, whose convalescence no sooner took place, than Madame D’Orville declined. The first scene he visited, when he had recovered his health, was the fishing grotto, accompanied by his wife and daughter, a basket of provi- sions, and Emily’s lute. They spent the afternoon in wan- dering about the scenery of the place, leaving Emily sitting on the root of a fallen elm, reading a favorite author. — While she sat, her lute sounded in the grotto with a sweet- ness and execution that enchanted her. It presently after ceased, and she entered the fishing-house to discover the musician, but no one was there ; her lute had been moved, and some lines added to those on the wainscot. While she mused, she heard a step without the building, and much alarmed, she caught up her lute, and hurried to her parents, who were sauntering in an adjoining glen. In returning home, Madame D’Orville missed her brace- let, containing the picture of her daughter. She recol- lected to have left it on the table, when she went to dinner, and Emily ran back for it, but it was gone. This singular circumstance occupied ' their attention till they reached home, where they found Monsieur and Madame Lebas had just arrived ; this gentleman was the only brother of Ma- dame D’Orville, and had always disapproved of her mar- riage, as ill-suited to his ambition and her advantage. His own wife was an Italian heiress ; in her disposition vain and frivolous. The conversation of Madame Lebas consisted only of the splendour of the scenes she had been involved in at Paris, when compared with the dullness of the cha- teau; to all which Emily listened with indifference. About twelve years ago Lebas had purchased of D’Orville the fa- mily estate at Paris, which tjlie latter’s father had left very much incumbered. The improvements he meant to make, and the noble company he intended to invite to his galas, occupied their conversation till bed-time ; before, however. T1IE VEILED PICTURE. 77 they separated for the night, M. Lebas requested a private audience with D’Orville, from which the latter returned much dejected. His wife could not penetrate into his melan- choly, nor learn the subject of a second conference which took place the next morning ; the guests dined at the cha- teau, and set out in the cool of the day foi Epourville, ly- ing about ten leagues distant, whither they pressingjy in- vited the family of D’Orville, and then took leave. Emily returned with delight to that liberty their presence had restrained. One evening, when D’Orville and his daughter had re- turned to the chateau from a romantic ramble, he found his wife had retired to her chamber very ill. The physi- cian who was sent for decided that his patient had caught the fever, from which M. D’Orville had lately recovered* The malady increased, and in spite of the tenderness and prayers of a fond husband and child, it counteracted the power of medicine, and in a fortnight removed her from this transitory scene, leaving D’Orville, for a time r too devoid of comfort himself to bestow any on his daughter. Madame D’Orville was buried in the neighbouring village church, attended by a large train of mourners, after which the afflicted widower returned, and being alone with Emily, he tenderly kissed her, and bid her restrain the sorrow na- tural to such a loss. The first person who came to condole with the mourner was a M. Caiilot, whose austerity, ex- cept on this occasion, would have induced a supposition, that he was divested of the finer feelings. lie was. followed by Madame Tissot, the only surviving sister of D’Orville, who had been some years a widow, and resided on her own estate near Thoulouse, whither she invited the relatives to pay her an early visit. But there were other calls which could not be dispensed with, and of this kind was a journey to Epourville, once his paternal domain. Wishing to rouse Emily from her dejection, they set off for this great, ancient, and turreted chateau, surrounded with a large moat, and all the gloom of woody scenery. On their arrival, they were led through the gothic hall to a parlour, where sat Monsieur and Madame Lebas, who re- ceived them with a stately politeness, and seemed to have forgotten that they ever had a sister. After some general conversation, D’Orville requested to speak with M, Lebas 7 $ THE VEILED PICTURE. and Emily being left with Madame, soon learned that a large party was to dine that day at the chateau, of which Madame Tissot was to be one. D’Orville, when he under- stood this, would have departed immediately, but fearful the anger of Emily's uncle might, at some future time, in- jure her, he determined to stay. The party consisted of two Italian gentlemen, and several ladies, whose conversa- tion was a melange of politics, and comments on Parisian fashions and the Opera. After dinner, D’Orville stole from the room to the old chesnut walk, which Lebas talked of cutting down. D’Orville ordered his carriage at an early hour, and Emily observed hat he appeared silent and dejected on the way home ; but, supposing it might arise from the company and place he had quitted, she thought it would in a short time be removed. Week after week passed, however, and the oppression of his spirits and languor increasing, a physician was called in, who immediately prescribed the air of Provence, whither they prepared immediately to depart, having first discharged all the servants, except Theresa, to counterbalance the expenses of their excursion. As the clock struck twelve, Emily had just finished packing up her books and instruments, when, in returning to her own room, she observed that of her father standing wide open. Curiosity prompted her to enter, which she did without her light, and saw him in an inner closet, turning over various papers and letters; he then knelt, and prayed most fer- vently ; after this he drew from a case a miniature picture of n lady, which Emily could see was not that of her mother. This he pressed to his lips and heart with convulsive force, and at length returned it to the case, upon which Emily withdrew. Every thing being ready, ,the travellers proceeded on their 'journey, after casting a lingering look at the chateau. The majestic Garonne wandered through the rich country they travelled in, winding its blue waves towards the Bay of Biscay. D'Orville now bent his way towards Roussillon, and soon after mid-day they reached the summit of one of those tremendous cliffs which overlook part of Gascony. Here he spread part of a repast they had brought with them, during the time they partook of which, the tears often swelled into his eyes. Having learned that a hamlet lay near the valley at the bottom of the mountain, winch they TI1E VEILED PICTURE, 79 might reach before the evening set in, they bent their course thither through a craggy road, and arrived in safety. D’Orville now enquired of the driver the distance to the hamlet, but he could not tell, and all their resource was to travel on in the gloomy scene. They were at length roused by the sound of fire-arms, which was presently fol- lowed by a rustling among the brakes, and proved to be a handsome young huntsman, followed by a couple of dogs. The stranger offered to conduct them to the hamlet, which lay a short distance, and where he feared the travellers would be wretchedly accommodated. When they reached the hamlet, there appeared to be no place fit to receive them ; and the stranger and D’Orville said they would walk to the next village, Emily following slowly in the carriage. — On the way, D’Orville learned that his companion was not a resident in that part, but had only assumed the hunter’s dress during the few weeks he meant to saunter away among its scenes.— D'Orvilie then enquired the road to Rousillon, and the stranger offered to conduct him to a village lying to the east, which immedi- ately led there. The first object, however, was to get ac- commodated for the night in the village : they examined the various cabins of the peasantry, but they were so mark- ed by poverty and want of room, that the stranger was in- duced to insist upon D’Orville accepting his accommoda- tions, which, though very humble, were mu< h superior to any they had seen. On their way, they learned their friend’s name was Angereau, who introduced them to his landlady ; and, after supper, they were conducted to good beds, the only two in the place. — D’Orville was somewhat surprised to find in Angereau’s room several volumes of the Latin poets, and his name, in the inside of the books, strength- ened the high opinion he had imbibed of him from his con- versation. D’Orvilie rose at an early hour, much refresh- ed by sleep ; and Angereau said lie would accompany them on the road to Beaujeu, to where it divided, and D’Orville gladly accepted his offer, but 6ould not persuade him to en- ter the carriage, as he preferred going on foot. As they went forward, Angereau often stopped to point out to them the peculiar objects of admiration around them; and when they came to the spot where the roads parted, Angereau took a lingering leave, and D'Orvilie observed he looked pensively at Emily. Not long after, putting his head out of so THE VEILED PICTURE. the window, he saw Angereau standing upon a bank of the road, leaning on his pike, and following the carriage with his eyes. He then waved his hand to him, and Angereau, returning the salute, started away. Neither village nor hamlet appeared for many leagues, and the travellers again took their dinner in the open air, and then set forward for Beaujeu. Night had advanced, and the muleteer drove cautiously, when, on turning the angle of a mountain, they observed a large tire among the rocks, which led them to conclude they were some of the banditti that infest the Pyrenees. A voice was now heard from behind, ordering the chaise to stop : in the next moment a man rode up to the carriage, ordering the driver to stand ; when D'Orville, no longer doubting it was a robber, drew a pistol and fired. The man fell on his horse, and gave a groan, which in- duced D'Orville to jump out ; when, to his astonishment, he observed it w r as Angereau, who now bled profusely from the wound he had received in his arm. Emily, on learning the dreadful catastrophe, fainted ; and D’Orville, distress- ed between the two suffering objects, scarcely knew what he did. — Angereau seemed more concerned about Emily than his own wounds; and when he recovered, he assured her his hurt was but slight. They now applied a bandage to it, and placing Angereau in the vehicle, they slowly moved towards Beaujeu. — He had just explained to them, that, pleased with their conversation, he had determined to overtake and join them, when they came in sight of the fire which had blazed at a distance, and which, as they ap- proached, was surrounded by gipsies, preparing their sup- per. Passing them without molestation, they soon after reached Beaujeu, where the wound was dressed, and de- clared to be dangerous. The travellers passed an agreea- able evening; and the next morning, Angereau being very feverish and the wound painful, he was ordered to proceed no further. During the several days they remained there, D’Orville began to admire the unsophisticated and gene- rous nature of Angereau ; and, with pleasure, he said to himself, “ this young man has never been at Paris." They again travelled leisurely toward Rousillon, D’Orville some- times amusing himself with botanizing, while Angereau and Emily were engaged in useful and refined conversation, in which they seemed to behold each other with mutual admiration. 3 THE VEILED PICTURE. Si The travellers now ascended some moon tains of prodi- gious elevation, among which they loitered till they found it impossible to reach Montigny by sunset. Passing round a mountain, on the summit of which was an Alpine bridge, suspended as it were in the clouds, they continr 1 to travel on in their dangerous and craggy road, till they heard the vesper bell ot a convent, which Angereau pro- posed to go in search of. D’ Orville said, they would ac- company him, as he stood in need of refresment and re- pose. Telling the driver to wait awhile in the road, D Or- ville, supported by Angereau and Emily, tolloweo the note of the bell, and entered a thick wood ; on emerging from which, they saw the convent they so eagerly desired to reach. They knocked, and were admitted to the superior, who received them with courtesy, and granted tin if re- quest. Angereau, with one of the friars, then returned to dispose of the muleteer, whom they lodged at a cottage skirting the wood. The travellers retired early to their respective apartments. Emily, occupied by the gloomy idea of her father's daily decline, lay two hours before she sunk to' sleep, which was interrupted by the chiming of a bell to summon the monks to prayers. After this she rest- ed uninterrupted till the next morning, when D'Orvilje was sufficiently recovered to pursue his journey. — They often alighted from the carriage, and while IVOrville seated himself on a rude hillock to admire the scenery, he survey- ed with pleasure the delight Angereau and Emily took in strolling and' conversing together. It was near noon when they arrived at a piece of steep and dangerous road, \yhich wound up an ascent, and, instead of following the carriage, they walked into a refreshing shade. Here they continued sauntering, till they found they had quite lost the road, and it became necessary to repair to a cottage at a little dis- tance. They found the cottager's wife in the deepest distress, seated with two strong beautiful children, who alternately looked up to their mother, bidding her not to weep. — D’Orville immediately enquired the cause, and learned that her husband was a shepherd, and a party of gipseys had stolen away his little ail ; and, what was worse, not only the few sheep bought with the pittance they had saved, would go to his master, but he would be discharged for ne- glect ! The value of the stolen sheep was considerable ; *2 THE VEILED PICTURE. D’Orville and Emily gave what they could spare; but An- gereau supplied the deficiency, choosing rather to leav« himself with only a louis or two, than not restore happi- ness to the cottagers. — By the direction of the children, they were conducted through a by-path to the road, where they found the driver spent with bawling. — They continued their progress, on every side arising the majestic sum- mits of the Pyrenees. Through a vast vista of the moun- tains appeared the low-lands of Roussillon, beyond which the waters of the Mediterranean shewed a distant sail steer- ing along its misty bosom. Having taken a simple repast in the rude scenery, they descended the lower Alps, that bind Roussillon, and reached the plains, in which was situ- ated the town of Arles, where they purposed to rest for the night. They met with simple but neat accommodation, and would have passed a happy evening, but for the gloom of separation. D’Orville intended to proceed along the shore of the Mediterranean to Languedoc, and Angereau, as he was perfectly Recovered, to return home. — In the morning Angerean breakfasted with D’Orville and Emily, and the moment had arrived in which they were to part. D’Or- \iiie invited Angereau to La Vallce, near which lived the elder brother of the latter, and who w r as not altogether unknown to D’Orville, who had conceived for Angereau a liking which made the regret of parting very keen. — They lingered at the door of the c haise several minutes after they were seated, and at length D’Orville pronounced the word farewell, which Emily passed to Angereau, and, after pressing her hand, they separated. A long silence ensued, till D’Orville observed* that when he was young he just thought and felt exactly like this young man ; but now the world was fast closing upon him. Emily combated the lat- ter idea, and D’Orville continued to please the ear of his daughter by speaking in praise of Angereau till they reach- ed Colioure, where they dined, and immediately set forward for Perpignan, at which place letters were expected from M. Lebas. They arrived soon after sun-set, and found a packet for D’Orville, the contents of which so evidently and grievously affected him, that Emily was alarmed. — As they pursued their journey the following morning to Leu- cate, Emily pressed her father to state the cause of his un- happiness in such an interesting manner, that he consented,, and told her, that when M. Lebas last visited him,, he had THE VEILED PICTURE. 83 stated, that a M. Moreau, in whose hands D’Orville’s per- sonal property lay invested, was in a state of ruin. “ The letters now received,” added D’Orville, “ confirm the fact by a statement from Moreau.” “ And must we quit our little estate at La Vallee ?” asked Emily. “ This,” D’Or- ville replied, “ depends on the state of Moreau’s' affairs ” “ Let 118 have but La Vallee,” said Emily, “ with myself to attend upon you, and I covet no more. In our minds we are rich, and with enough to supply the necessaries of life, I cannot be poor.” D’Orville could not reply he caught Emily to his bosom, and they mingled their tears together. On the following day they recommenced their journey through Languedoc, and at evening reached a village, where they could not procure beds, as it was the time of vintage, there was no resource but travelling on to the next post which the increasing illness of D’Orville rendered almost impossible.— Seeing a peasant walking on the road, Emily eagerly asked, if there were any house near where accom- modation might be had ? The man pointed fo a turreted eastle, almost hidden beneath some tall trees, which, he said was a strange place, and inhabited only by the steward and housekeeper. They immediately turned into the ol 00 - my avenue leading to the chateau, and had not proceeded tar, when a tall figure seemed slowly preceding the car- nage. D’Orville called to the driver to bid him stop; but ue declined this, saying perhaps he was some robber. In a moment after, he heard a deep hollow tone from some trees on _ the left it seemed to be scarcely human— Ihe terrified Michael now- turned his horses, not seeing any F-n rt L t ie chateau > and drove furiously down the avenue till he attained the high road, when they moved at a more moderate pace. “ I am very ill,” said D’Orville. “ V G u r^:.^ a* 1 * “ a,ld here is no assistance. Wliat shall I do . — At this juncture, the tones of a violin and tabor sounded through a glen that bordered the road, and determined her immediately to proceed to the spot, leav- ing her father to the care of Michael. At the end of a ong s adowy lane, Emily discovered a party of vintagers and7o"mc k nf g .Y t0 m h ° m She instantl y unfolded her distress, and some of the elder ones accompanied her to the car- *a*tle ? >f he C ° uld obtain r( hef at the er ; ad- ding, that, as she was Emily's guardian, her charge had no choice of action but her’s. The lovers bowed assent, and inwardly hoped that fortune would do more towards their happiness than the, self-interested and ambitious views of Mad. T issot. Angereau made frequent visits to Emily, and she pass- ed in his society the happiest hours she had known since the death of her father ; while her aunt increased her intercourse \Vith Mad. Claron, for the pleasure of announ- cing the attachment that subsisted between their nephew and niece. The regiment of Angereau lay near Toulouse, and thus he was enabled to pass the winter months in peace and pleasure with Emily. The eclat to which the splendor of Mad. Claron's entertainments had raised her name, now had a powerful operation on the mind of Mad. Tissot ,to> unite the two families by a hymeneal union, and she pro- THE VEILED PICTURE. 95 posed to advance, on the side of Emily, a sum equal to Mad. Claron’s liberality to her nephew. This was directly agreed upon, announced to the lovers, and preparations for the nuptials were ordered to made. During this, An- drossi became the acknowledged lover of Mad. Tissot, and his visits were incessant. Neither Emily nor Angereau had ever liked this Italian, and they much disapproved the unequal courtship, in point of age and other circumstances, between Mad. Tissot and Androssi. The former, one morning, sent for Emily, and, to her surprise, told her that henceforth she must consider Signor Androssi as her uncle, to whom she .had been married on the preceding morning privately ; and that she meant to give a splendid entertainment on the occasion, at which she should expect the company of Angereau and herself, whose nuptials would, from this circumstance, be a little delayed. The new hus- band having taken possession of the chateau, within a few days after the promised magnificent supper and ball was given, at which Mad. Claron excused herself from attend- ing. Angereau was Emily's partner ; and Madame Androssi talked and danced incessantly, while her husband appeared silent and haughty, seemingly weary of the parade and fri- volous company it had brought to together. A few weeks had only elapsed, when Madame Androssi told Emily she was to accompany them to Venice, where her husband had a fine mansion, and that the proposed connection between her and Angereau must for the future be wholly abandon- ed, since her husband had ordered it so for his niece's ad- vancement. — -Emily was so overcome by this sudden reverse of her fondest hopes, that she retired to her apartment, and wept till her tears were exhausted. When she was summoned to dinner, Androssi was absent, nor could his wife, whose jealousy was alarmed, account for the seem- ing neglect. In retiring from dinner across the hall, Emily met An- gereau, who had just entered. He was surprised to see her in teais, and, requesting a few minutes conversation, led her to the open door of an apartment. — He had no sooner heard what had passed between Emily and her aunt, than his indignation rose against Androssi, and it was only at Emily's earnest entreaty, he agreed to drop the prospect of personal revenge. She comforted his despondency with the assurances of her love, and the reflection, that in little 96 THE VEILED PICTURE. more than a year she should be of age, and out of the power of her capricious tyrannical relations. Having ta- ken a tender adieu of Emily, he, on his return home, wrote to Androssi, requesting an interview, which the lattbr re- fused as of no utility. Several letters passed without any farther success, till at last those of Angereau were return- ed unopened ; upon which the latter flew to the chateau, but was denied admittance. In the mean time, Androssi hastened the preparations for his journey ; and the last dav of Emily’s stay at Thoulouse arrived without affording a line of comfort to Angereau who had twice written to Emily, proposing a clandestine marriage, but which reach- ed only the hand of her guardian. Madame Glaron took no active steps to renew the match which Androssi had broken off. She had never esteemed Mad. Tissot, and now thought that her nephew’s interest would be better consult- ed in either delaying his marriage, or uniting into a better family. At length the last night arrived of Emily's being in. the same town with Angereau: the consideration that she had perhaps seen him for the. last time made her faint, and she went to the window of her chamber to inhale the reviving air. The moon-light and stillness that ovespread the scene induced her to take a walk in the garden, and, silently descending the stairs to the great hall, she opened the door, and entered the avenue. Having traversed the v/alks which served to bring Angereau to her mo[e imme- diate fancy, she took her seat in the pavilion, and in a mo- ment found herself in the embraces of the man she most esteemed on earth. “ My Emily,” said he, 1 have haunted these gardens every night, and heaven has at last blessed we with an opportunity of cancelling my despair V’ She uttered vows of unceasing love and constancy ; and Ange- reau ventured to propose a clandestine marriage on the following morning at the church of the Augustines. The conflict which the mind of Emily now suffered between love and duty, overcame the strength of her faculties, and she fainted in his arms. When she recovered, she told him all the reasons why she rejected his proposal, and was about to retire to the castle, when Angereau conjured her to attend to some particulars which he would not mention before, that her decision upon his proposal might be the more uninfluenced. As they walked upon the terrace, he proceeded as follows Littlq doubt exists that this An- THE VEILED PICTURE. n tlrossi is of Madame Lebas’s faniily, but that he is a man of real fortune appears very doubtful, from some information I gathered by acrident from an Italian who did not know I was acquainted him. lie said, that Androssi was consi- dered abroad as a man of desperate fortune and character, and that he had a castle situated among the Appennines, of whic h some strange stones are told. My eagerness to learn further particulars putting my informant on his guard, I could learn nothing more of him, though it ap- peared to me that he had much to disclose. — Think then, Emily, what I must feel to know you are placed in the ab- solute power of such a doubtful character as Androssi.’' — • Emily seemed awhile absorbed in thought, but she did not change her resolution. As the love of Angereau magnifi- ed her danger, she combated the folly of believing reports which even did not identify that Androssi was the person so alarmingly spoken of. — Angereau finding it in vain to re- move her resolution, pressed her to his heart, and held her there in silence, weeping. Having once more tenderly consigned each other to the protection of heaven, Ange- reau tore himself from the spot, and Emily hurried from the avenue lo her chamber* to seek repose. The carriages and baggage being ready at an early hour, the family of Androssi commenced their journey, Emily riding in the second carriage with Madame Androssi's wo- man, Alise. They stopped on their way to take up Signor Savilli, and soon reached a village, at which they changed horses. During several days the travellers journeyed over the plains of Languedoc, and then tiaversing Dauphiny, they began to ascend the Alps, where such scenes of sub- limity rose to astonish the eye, that, for a time, they ab- stracted the attention of Emily from Angereau. With wh.it delight did she view the setting sun, which the lovers had previously agreed to look up to at a certain hour, pleased with the idea of having a common object of inte- rest betwen them ! — The snow had not yet melted on the summit of Mount Cenis, over which the party passed, and then descended on the Italian side to the grassy vales of Piedmont; beyond lay the plains of Lombardy and the ci- ty of Turin. Passing No vale, sa, they reached the small ancient town of Susa, which formerly guarded the pass of the Alps into Piedmont. Here they rested for the night at THE VEILED PICTURE. 25 tin inn, and, during supper, Emily first caught a strain of Italian music. The long-drawn tones of a violin, playing an adagio air, stole so impressively upon her ear, that it drew to her memory the music which had enchanted her at a former period. Savilli smiled at the surprise of Emily, and remarked the performer was one of the inn-keeper’s family, and such exquisite music was very common among the peasantry. — Having retired for a few hours to rest, they recommenced their journey at an early hour, as Androssi meant to dine at Turin. As they approached that city, the magnificence of the stupendous Alps in the back ground became visible ; to the east stretched the plains of Lom- bardy, and beyond the towers of Turin lay the Appennines, bounding the horizon. Androssi, who had been often at Turin, did not care about indulging his wife's request to view the palace, but ordered dinner, and then departed for Venice. His manners during the journey were very reserv- ed to his wife, and Emily observed, that when Savilii men- tioned any daring exploit, of which the convulsed state of the country then furnished many, the eye of Androssi glowed with a lustre that partook more of the glare of ma- lice than the brightness of valour. — On entering the Mila- nese, the gentlemen assumed the Italian dress, and An- drossi added to his hat the military plume, which Emily imagined he wore to pass only with the more security through the parties of soldiers which overran the country. * — Though the devastations of war were every where visi- ble, they reached Milan in safety, and passed on to Vero- na. In their way they encountered the army of the victo- rious Ubaldo, who was returning with the spoils he had won into his own principality. This commander was a friend of Androssi's, and he drew up on the road side to give the army the pass, and welcome the haughty chief, who invited him to be present at a grand triumphant fete he meant to give the following day. — This Androssi declined, *nd taking a farewell of the General, they proceeded to Verona, which town they slept at, and set off the next day for Padua, whence they embarked on the Brenta for Ve- nice. Nothing could exceed Emily’s admiration on her first view of this magnificent assemblage of islets, palaces, and towers. It was Carnival time, and the fantastic amuse- muats extended along the whole line of those enchanting THE VEILED PICTURE. 27 shores. Their barge passed on, amidst floating orchestras of music, to the grand canal, where Androssi' s mansion was situated. It stopped at the portico of a large house, from whence a servant of Androssi's crossed the terrace, and immediately the party disembarked. From the por- tico they passed a noble hall to a staircase of marble, which led to a saloon fitted up in a style of eastern magni- ficence. Soon after their arrival, Androssi ordered Ins gondola, and went out with Savilli to mingle in the scenes of the evening. Emily, placing herself at the lattice of her window, enjoyed the festivity exhibited in theTiancing girls and singing groupes which succeeded one another, while Madame Androssi remained sullenly within. Moving now to the balcony, and putting on her veil, she saw a beauti- ful procession of gondolas, accompanied by the fabled dei- ties of the city, Neptune, and Venice, personified as his queen, who seemed to float to the sweetest sounds on the water. From this beautiful spectacle she was called to supper, to which Androssi did not return. When Emily was conducted to her chamber, she passed through long suites of noble rooms, which, from their desolate aspect, seemed not to have been occupied for many years. Her lattice commanded an extensive view of the Adriatic, contem- plating which for a time, and heaving a sigh to Angereau, she sunk to rest. Androssi, whose delight lay in the ener- getic passions and tempests of life, had spent the night in gaming with Savilli and a party of young men, who had more money than virtue or rank. Some of these he re- spected for superior play and ability, particularly three, the Signors Brandolo, Rodoni. and Valenza. The first was gay, extravagant, and generously brave : the second was the favourite of Androssi ; he was artful, cruel, and malignant: the last was daring, selfish, wavering, and easi- ly swayed. Such were the companions whom Androssi in- vited to his table the next day ; to whom must be added Count Milenza, and a Signora Tessini, a lady of distin- guished merit. Madame Androssi appeared reserved ; she disliked her husband’s companions, and shewed her atten- tion only to the Count Milenza, while Emily found the person and manners of Signora Tessini had won her invo- luntary regard. In the cool of the evening the party em- barked in Androssi’s gondola, and rowed out upon the se&. 3 I 2 58 THE VEILED PICTURE. The distant music, skimming on the water from other gon- dolas, inspired Androssi with sympathetic emotions, and snatching up Emily’s lute, he played and sung in the most hnished style a little plaintive air, the words of which he addressed to Emily, and then returned the instrument to her with a deep sigh. Emily followed next, and performed a slow movement and a lively air, the latter of which was encored. The rest of the company alternately sung or played, till Androssi expressed a desire to return, which was opposed by the Count. A boat now passing by, An- drossi pleaded business for his absence, and, with his friend, Rodoni, departed to visit the gaming-house. The Count having secretly dispatched a servant in Androssi’s boat for liis own gondola, it soon after came, and the whole parly removed into it : while they pauook of a collation of fruits and wines, the band of music followed in another gondola, playing to the movement of the oars in sweetest harmony. During this, the compliments and behaviour of the Count were so pointed to Emily, that she assumed a mild reserve, and directed her conversation to Signora Tessini. Emily now wished they were on shore again ; but it was near mid- night before the gondolas approached St. Mark’s palace, after which they adjourned to supper at the elegant castle of the Count. Before they separated, he invited Madame Androssi and her party to take coffee in his box at the opera the following evening, which was accepted. After this they were escorted home, whither Androssi returned late in the morning, in a very ill humour, having lost considerably at play. Several ladies visited them the next day, among whom a Signora Angela attracted Emily’s regard and at- tention. At night they adjourned to the opera with the Count, where the only feeling excited in her mind was the inferiority of art to the sublimity of nature. Several weeks passed in the course of customaiy visits, during which the Count took every opportunity of persecuting Emily with his visits. Not long after Androssi’s arrival at Venice, he had re- ceived a packet from M. Lebas, stating, that he was coming to take possession of an estate on the Brenta, devolved to him by the death of his wife’s uncle, the brother of Lebas’ late mother, to whom Androssi was related by the father’s side. Though Androssi had no claim to these possessions, he could ill conceal the envy which Lebas’ letter excited. TIIE VEILED PICTURE. The indifference of Androssi to his wife, whom he had mar- ried solely tor her property, increased every day. She had managed so as to deceive him in her estates, and in this he had been caught in his own snare ; she thought herself a Princess, possessed of such an elegant mansion at Venice, and the castle of Gorgono, among the Appenines; to which Androssi talked of going to receive some rents, as he had been absent two years, during which time it had been occu- pied only by an old steward. It was not long before the Count Milenza obtained An- drossi’s permission to pay his addresses to Emily, notwith- standing she gave him most frankly her reasons why they were inadmissible. Androssi was now seldom at home, except when the Count, or Signor Rodoni was there, for between himself and Savilli a coolness seemed to exist, though the latter remained in the house. Rodoni and An- drossi were often privately closeted together, and after these intercourses, Emily read in his countenance the deep and dark workings of his mind. A letter about this period found its way from Angereau by the ordinary post to the hands of Emily. .It breathed the continuance of his affection, and announced that La Vallee was let to a new tenant, who. was to take possession on that day week by Lebas’ orders, and that the old Theresa was discharged ; since which events he had received a summons to join his regiment. This intelli- gence was a direct infringement of D’Qrviiie’s last injunc- tion, and Emily resolved to remonstrate strongly with M. Lebas on the subject. Androssi soon after mentioned the necessity of her acquiescing in the step her uncle had taken, seeing it was for her advantage, and it could not be pre- vented ; Emil} therefore wrote a few lines at the bottom of a letter Androssi was about to send to him,, signifying her. assent to be guided by his judgement. On the following day the Count dined at Androssi’s, and appeared unusually gay and confident. In the evening Ma- dame and her party went out upon the sea, and the Count led Emily to his zendaletto, or private barge, carrying her hand to his lips, and thanking her for her condescension. On observing she was quite alone with the Coin t, she turn- ed to go away, and was met by Androssi, who overruled the delicacy of her objections, and reconducted her to the zendaletto. After the gondoliers had rowed a. little way a . w THE' VEILED PICTURE. the Count, taking the hand of Emily, said he did not know how to express his gratitude for her goodness in consenting to his wishes; but his thanks were also due to Signor An- ri rossi, who had allowed him the opportunity of doing so. — Emily regarded her company with a stern look, and de- manded of .Androssi what was meant bv this mystery of consent. And rossi replied, that her affectation of igno- rance w r as inadmissible, when she had that morning written to M. Lebas her assent to a marriage between the Count and herself, — a match highly to her advantage and honour. This induced Emily to give an explanation of the manner in which he had basely appropriated her letter respecting La Vallee to another purpose, and drew from her some re- mark s on the duplicity of Androssi, and her dislike to the Count. The subject, now placed in a new light, had near- ly created an affair of honour between the two friends, but Androssi, moderating his passion, requested the Count would order his servants to row back to Venice, that he might have some private conversation with him. Emily was happy to find herself once more safely returned to her vwn apartment, and she resolved when M. Lebas came, to interest him, since she could not return to La Vallee, to suffer her to board in a convent in Eranee. in the mean inne she requested Mad. Androfesi to use her influence with, the Count to discontinue his visits, but she found her aunt warm in his interest Androssi now prepared to go to Miarenti, where M. l.e- bas^was, and during the several days which elapsed before the family departed, Emily saw nothing of Count Milenza, which extremely surprised her. r l heir vessel now proceed- ed down the brent a, and Emily sat on the stern by herself, till she was summoned to take refreshment in the cabin,, where her aunt was seated, whose angered countenance in- dicated some recent dispute with her husband. Androssi then spoke to Emily of M. Lebas, and asked whether she meant to disclaim her knowledge of the subject of his let- ter to him. Emily replied, that she held the truth too sacred to deny it ; and then, to avoid further questions,, retook her station on. the deck. The barge, after being towed a few hours longer,- stopped at a flight of marble Bt< ps, which led up the Lark to a lawn. On landing, they found M. and Mad. Lebas, with a few friends, seated 041 sofas in the portico, enjoying, according to the custom of THE VEILED PICTURE. 31 the country, the refreshing coolness at two hours past mid- night. After the usual introduction, Lebas spoke aside to Androssi on his private affairs, till he named his niece, and then they withdrew to the gardens. The conversation be- tween the two ladies lay upon the superiorities of their own country, which continued till the morning dawned, and exhibited the market boats going to Venice. When the absent gentlemen rejoined the party, they strolled toge- ther round the luxuriant gardens, while Emily often linger- ed behind to contemplate the distant landscape, after which they retired to repose. Emily the next day took the earliest opportunity of speaking with M. Lebas concerning La Val- lee : he informed her in a positive tone, that the disposal of the place was a necessary measure to preserve at least a small income for her ; and added, that he was happy to hear the Venetian Count had made her such a noble offer, and she had accepted it. Emily now explained the mistake which Androssi had led her into, and her determination to refuse Milenza ; this so exasperated the ambitious Lebas, that, he owned, if she persisted in her folly, both, himself and Androssi would abandon her to the contempt of the world. The following night, after a trip on the water, thev re- turned to a splendid supper- in the airy hall, when the Count was present. On the following day lie renewed his addresses with grdat warmth, and Emily, in the most se- vere manner, gave him a rejection. During her stay at this pleasant villa, Emily was rendered miserable by the assiduities of Milenza, and the cruelties ot Androssi and Lebas, who seemed more determined than ever on effecting the marriage. Lebas at length relinquished his persuasions, and left the business to Androssi, with whom lie arranged a plan for the nuptial's, proposing to be with him at Venice im- mediately after they were concluded. The family of An- drossi, with tlie Count, then took their leave, and returned to Venice at midnight, when Androssi and Milenza with- drew to a cassino, and Emily retired to her own apartment* On the following day Androssi, in a short conversation with Emily, informed her, that he would no longei be tri- fled with, and that the marriage, if necessary, should take place without her consent, lie then remindediier that she v/as a stranger in a foreign country, and that, if she com- pelled bun to become her enemy, the punishment she THE VEILED PICTURE. 32 should receive would exceed her expectation. After he had retired, and Emily had recovered her despair, she re- solved to brave his anger, and endure the worst rather than be forced to consent to a hated union. An affair now hap- pened which delayed the marriage tor a few days. Andros- si’s friend, Rodoni, had privately assasinated a nobleman, and the senate having taken up the business, one of the bravos, for the sake of the reward, had confessed his em- ployer’s name. Rodoni, therefore, flew to his friend, who secreted him till the energy of justice had relaxed, and he had effected his escape from Venice. On the next evening, Androssi informed Emily that she was to be married the following morning. The evening was far advanced, when Madame Androssi came to her chamber with some bridal ornaments which the Count had sent to Emily, who endea- voured once more to interest her aunt in her favour, but without effect. For some time she sat so lost in thought, as to be wholly unconscious where she was. When her ter- rors had subsided, she retired to bed, not to sleep, but to collect spirits enough to bear her through the scene of the approaching morning. Emily was awakened from a slum- ber into which she had sunk, by a quick knocking at her door: it was Alise, who came to tell Emily not' to be frightened, but Signor Androssi had sent her to desire she would get ready directly to leave Venice. On demanding the cause of this sudden movement, Alise said that he had just come home in a very ill humour, and called all the ser- vants out of their beds, who reported that his F.xcellenza was going to his castle in the Appennines. Alise then has- tened from the room, and Emily, throwing her clothes and- books into a travelling trunk, was ready before Madame Androssi, who appeared to undertake the journey with more reluctance than any one. The family at length embarked, but neither the Count Milenza nor Rodoni was of the par- ty, and Emily felt like a criminal w ho receives a short res- pite. When they had landed on the shore, Androssi did. not embark on the Brenta, but pursued his way in carriages across the country to the Appennines : during the journey his manner to Emily was uncommonly severe. When they began to ascend these majestic mountains, the beauty of the wild scenery for a while absorbed the sorrows of our heroine. They continued rising till they entered a narrow pass, which shut out every view of the surrounding THE VEILED PICTURE, 33 country, and placed them in desert and craggy wilds. Towards the close of the day the road wound into a deep valley, surrounded by shaggy and almost inaccessible steeps. Through an opening of the cliffs the setting sun streamed upon the towers and battlements of a castle, that spread its extensive ramparts on the brow of a precipice above. — “ Look !” said Androssi, after a silence of several hours, “ there is Gorgono V ' — The carriage having passed through a road lined with tall pines, at length emerged upon a heathy rock, and soon reached the gates, where the deep tone of the portal bell gave notice to open the massy gates; after which an ancient servant of the castle drew the bolts, and the carriage passed through one gloomy court. yard in- to another, overgrown with weeds. The mind of Emil) was impressed with one of those premature convictions which the reason cannot resist, and which filled her with inward horror. They were led through a large gothic hall to a marble staircase, parsing the foot of which they traversed an antichamber, and then entered a spacious apartment, wainscoted with larch-wood. A single lamp illuminated this room, and presented fearfully to the eye the tall figure of Androssi, as he paced the floor, his arms folded, and his countenance shaded by the high plume that waved in his hat. The old servant now entered to welcome bis master to the castle, and to inform him, that for want of repair fome of the battlements of the north tower had fallen down. A fire being lighted in the hall, the family supped, af- ter which Aiise was called to shew Emily to her room : This was called the double chamber, and lay over the south rampart, at the opposite angle to that of Madame. The way to Emily's apartment was up the marble staircase, and through some intricate windings, intp which Aiise, more intent upon telling her fears than finishing her progress, en- tered, and becafrie bewildered. Emily now entered a large and spacious apartment, hung with tapestry, which opened to a suite of others, one of which was decorated with pic- tures. Among these a battle piece attracted her notice : a soldier with a malignant countenance was looking at his fallen foe, who was holding his hand up, supplicating. The countenance struck Emily as resembling Androssi. — Pass- ing on, they came to another, concealed by a veil of black silk : Aiise started at the: sight of it, and exclaimed, “ This, surely, is the picture they told me of at Venice \ }> Emily S4 THE VEILED PICTURE. bid her remove the veil ; but this she positively declined, and walking away with the light, Emily was compelled to follow. All she could learn of Alice was, that something dreadful belonged to it, and that it had been covered up in black ever since* and that it somehow had to do with the owner of the castle before Androssi came to the possession of it. At length they regained the marble staircase, and meeting with one of the servants, Emily was conducted to her chamber, which lay at the end of the corridor, near the suite of apartments through which they had been wan- dering. Calerina having made a fire in the chamber, which was very ancient and large, Alise and she retired to attend on Madame Androssi. Emily now began to examine her chamber, and perceiving a door through which she had not entered, she passed it, and saw a deep narrow staircase ; not choosing to descend it at present, she returned to her room, and endeavoured to fasten the door, which had two bolts on the outside, but no security within. This de- fect she endeavoured to remedy by placing a heavy chair against the door. Emily as soon after cheered by the en- try of Alise with some firing and supper, which Madame Androssi had sent her. Emily made the good-natured girl sit down with her, and it was not long before the secret she had acquired from one of the servants, under a promise of .secrecy, began to expand itself. “ Do you know, Ma- dame/' said Alise, “ this old castle was not always Signor Androssi’s, nor his father's neither ; but by some law or other came to the Signor, if the lady died unmarried : This lady used to live in the castle, and the Signor used to come and see her, and offered to marry her, though he was someway related to her. The lady was in love with some- body else, and would not have him, but pined about the castle for her lover. This happened a good many years ago* when Signor Androssi was a young man. The lady was called Signora Mi rand ini, and was very handsome.— The Signor finding he could not make her listen to him, left the castle for a long time, and never came near it.—* Now it happened one stormy evening, m November, this grand lady walked into the woods, which she loved to do, with her own maid ; but, Madame, from that day to this she has never been heard of, and it is reported that she has been seen several times since walking about the castle. — Carolo, the aid steward, they say, knows such things, if he THE VEILED PICTURE. 35 would but t-ell. However, since the lady has disappeared by day, the Signor has taken possien of ilie castle, and as *he has not ( c me to claim it within sfooi'^a^y years, ij, is now his own. The spirit of the lady, lifts* Wqvsevn Several times walking in the unfrequented , parts ’of dhb^casfle, but nobody ever saw it come in oi ’ Tii^^ay -there is a chapel adjoining the west sfdg o’f' ; t&e* castle, wjjfere-such groans are heard at midnight,’ it gnakos one shudder to think of them ¥' — T’he farther pro|r cess’ v$ *&1 i «s ptpry was interrupted by the entrance of Cathe’rifta,* who’ tame to summon her to her mistress. When Alise was gone, Emily endeavoured to console herself to sleep ; but her thoughts were so occupied by the strange story siie had heard, and the reports Angereau had mentioned, that it was one o'clock before she sunk to sleep. When she awoke, and had surveyed the extent of the castle and the wildness of the surrounding country, from her casement window, her eyes glanced on the door she had so carefully barrieadoed the preceding night. Finding ti chair had been moved a little way, and that the door was bolted on the other side, she felt at if she had seen an apparition, and determined to request Madame AndrossEs leave to change her cham- ber ; but this the latter had not power to do, and, upon her application to Androssi, with a stern malignant counte- nance he rebuked her for her idle fears. Alise, the next time she saw Emily, proceeded to ask how Ma amselle had slept in the double chamber; and stated, that frightful stories were told about .that room; and Emily related, that the outside bolts had |ftn fastened during the night. Alise’s terror was very visible. Emily, finding her spirits re-assured by the non-arrival of the Count, determined to explore the adjoining chambers of the castle, and, among the rest, the veiled picture. Hav- ing proceeded to the room, and paused a moment before she opened the door, she hastily entered, and went towards the picture, the frame of which appeared of an uncommon size. With a timid hand she lifted the veil, but instantly let it fall, perceiving that what it concealed was no picture; and, before leaving the chamber, she dropped senseless on the floor ! Having recovered herself so far as to get to her own apartment, she placed herself by the casement and gave way to the horrors that filled her mind, till she was rouzed by the voices of Androssi and his friends speak- 36 THE VEILED PICTURE. ing chearfully. That day she met them at dinner, but there was a busy seriousness in their looks not usual with them. Androssi ev i de 1 \t»ly Lib)) u re d under some vexation, during their nfehU » When the servants had withdrawn, Emily learned that the Cavalier, whom Rodoni had assas- sinated, was 9 dekvh 'ai^di.s^ict search was still making for him/ which seeded gi»v*e Androssi a secret uneasiness. — AfteV dinner, Madam^Androssi and Emily retired; the lat- ter went To the- i^mparU,, Jbi her mind had not yet suffi- ciently rebdvwed Ti ofn its late shock, to endure the loneli- ness of her chamber. At night, Alise renewed the con- versation about the extraordinary things related of the castle. u Old Carolo, said Alise, seemed quite astonished, when 1 told him that the door of the double chamber had been fastened on the outside during the night. He did not tell me why he was so alarmed 1 at your having found it open, but I am sure I would no more sleep in this chamber than on the great cannon at the end of the east ramparts, where a figure several times has been seen to plant itself as if on guard. — That terrible picture, too, which you wanted to see last night, and which my dear Rovedo first told me of, — this morning, do you know, I took a fancy to see it, and got as far as the door, but found it locked.” — On en- quiry, Emily found it was just after she had entered the chamber, and, from the answers of Alise, it was evident that she and her informei were jgnorant of the horrible truth. Emily herself felt also considerably alarmed, lest Androssi should have discovered her visit to the picture. — They sat talking, till the sound of the great bell of the portal alarmed them, and soon after a carriage drove into the court-yard. Emily exclaimed, u It is the Count!” and, on sending Alise to enquire, she returned with the unplea- sant intelligence of nis arrival; and that, in the way, she had met Rovedo, who said, that Androssi was then coun- selling with the other Signors, and he was sure something was hatching. — Emily again dispatched Alise to learn what was the object of the Count m visiting the Castle, but she returned, after some time, unsuccessful, not being able to gain intelligence from the servants, who were either igno- rant, or affected to be so. Having now dismissed Alise, who complained much of want of sleep, she sat musing till her eye rested on the miniature-picture found alter her fa- ther's death. Jt was open upon the table before her, and THE VEILED PICTURE. or called up the recollection of the dreadful words in the ma- nuscript. At length, raising herself fiom her reverie, she lay upon the bed without undressing, and heard the Castle clock strike two, before she closed her eyes. From her disturbed slumber she was soon awakened, by a noise from the* door of the staircase; it seemed like that made by the undrawing of rusty bolts, often ceasing, and being renewed. While Emily kept her eyes fixed on the spot, the door slowly opened, and a human figure strongly appeared, as it approached the feeble lamp on the hearth. It then ad- vanced, and having looked between the curtains, it took up the light, and walked to the bed. At this instant, thfc dog Mignon, which had slept at Emily's feet, awoke; and, barking loudly, flew at the stranger, who struck the animal smartly with a sheathed sword, and, in the moment after, Emily discovered the Count Milenza ! — She gazed at him, for a moment, in speechless affright, while he earnestly be- sought her to fear nothing. — Recovering her faculties, shfc leaped from the bed in her clothes, ran to the door by which he had entered, and there discovered, by the gleam of a lamp, another man, half way down the steps. — The Count, now taking her hand, led her back to the chamber, and then swore, that what he had done was only dictated by love and despair; that Androssi was a villain, who would have sold her to him; and that, if she meant to avoid his ambition and. dreadful machinations, she would nothesi- tate to fiy with one who adored her, and had already taken means for a safe egress from the castle. — Emily re- monstrated with him on the impossibility of his ever pos- sessing her affections, and the folly of imagining that she would quit the tyranny of Androssi for that of one who would force her inclinations. — The Count, finding that his arguments were retorted with double force on himself, at last grew outrageous, and swearing by heaven that Androssi should never possess her, he bid her prepare to accompany him to his carriage, whither, if she made any resistance, his servants should force her. — Emily knew, that, in the re- mote part where she was, no assistance could reach her, and all that remained was to remonstrate. The Count, now advancing to the door of the -stair-case, called to Be- sario, and presently several steps were heard ascending.—* Emily uttered a loud shriek— the dog barked — and, at the 3S THE VEILED PICTURE. same moment, the door that opened upon the corridor gave way; and Androssi, followed by the old steward and several others, rushed into the room. Draw !” cried An- drossi to the Count, who did not wait for a second chal- lenge. “ This to thine heart, villain !” said the Count, as he made a thrust at his enemy with his sword, who parried the blow; and, after receiving a wound in his own arm, and severely hurting his adversary, disarmed him. The Count then fell back into tire arms of his servant, and Androssi held his sword over his fallen antagonist, ready to give the fatal thrust; but Savilli arrested his hand. Androssi then gave orders, that the Count should instantly leave the Castle, and adjourned to examine his own hurt. When the Count recovered, he found Emily bending over him, with an eye of solicitation, and he addressed her — “ I have deserved this,” said he, “ but not from Androssi:. from you, Emily, in whom my whole soul centered, 1 have de- served punishment, and received pity. Forgive the suffer- ings I have already occasioned you: but, for that villain, Androssi, tell him, that Milenza will not leave another mur- der on his conscience if he can help it! He shall hear from me again.” Having again solicited Emily's pity and pardon, he ordered his servants to convey him to his carriage, and deposit him at the first cottage they came to. Emily sought her aunt, to acquaint her of the affair, but she knew it all; and spoke of her husband’s wound with the greatest apathy; after which, Emily, attended by Alise, retired to her cham- ber, having secured the stair-case door by placing some heavy furniture against it. It will now be necessary to account for some of the pre- vious transactions. When Milenza w r ent to the house of Androssi, on the morning appointed for his marriage with Emily, he was surprised to f nd no one there but the old housekeeper; from whom he learned, by threats, that Emily was carried to the Castle of Gorgono, on the Ap- pennine, whither he determined to follow, and obtain either her or full revenge on his enemy. — Milenza had lately re- ceived a confirmation that Androssj's circumstances were greatly involved; and, from this cause, he had promoted the Count's suit, the price of which was to be the surrender of the Gascony estate, on the completion of the nuptials. In the mean time, Androssi had learned that Milenza s ex- ravagance had deranged his affairs, and not coming to . THE VEILED PICTURE. 39 assign over the deed of cession to Androssi, lie concluded that he meant to keep possession, and defraud him. Un- der this idea, he departed suddenly for Gorgono, and was followed by Milenza, who came to claim Emily ; but the Signor, abiding by his first condition, the Count thought to carry her off by stratagem, having learned the path of the private staircase, by bribing a disaffected servant, who had long lived in the castle. Old Carolo, who was on the watch, told his suspicions to his master, and thus the . escape of Emily was prevented. The night following the sanguinary transactions in the corridor, Emily passed un- disturbed, and, the following morning, Alise told her that old Carolo had just shewn her a picture of the late lady of the place, to she would conduct her. It was in an obscure chamber, and several other portraits hung on the walls, covered with dust and cobwebs. It represented a lady in the flower of youth and beauty ; but the countenance wore a haughty impatience of misfortune, and none of that cap- tivating sweetness Emily had looked for. From this room Emily retired to converse with her aunt, whom she found in tears, and whose pride, for the first time, condescended to state her misery, and the present ruined state of her hus- band’s circumstances, as well as his cruel treatment of her. When Emily retired to her chamber, she had leisure tc re- flect on the truth of Milenza’ s words, and hence formed a conviction that Androssi had broken off the match with- him that he might dispose of her to a higher purchaser. The next day dinner was served in Emlfv’s apartment by the Signor’s orders, and Alise attended; who said the same in- junction was extended to her lady, Emily now enquired if she had heard any thing of Count Milenza, and learned that he was lodged in a cottage in the wood below, where he was dangerously ill. Emily ex- pressed some uneasiness for his recovery, and Alise won- dered that Emily 7 could feel any concern for one whoih she so much disliked : this led to a conversation about Mad. An-* drossi, and the active part she had taken in persuading her husband ta compel the marriage, in the course of which Al lse mentioned the many unkind things she had heard her mistress say ol Emily’s disposition and manners. In the even- ing Androssi sat late carousing with his guests in the cedar chamber. His recent triumph over Milenza had elevated K 2 THE VEILED PICTURE. his spirits, and Valenza, after having drank pretty freely, informed Androssi that the Count had asserted, before he quitted the castle, that it did not belong to the present possessor, and that he would not willingly leave another murder on his conscience. Androssi asked fiercely if any one believed the assertion of this disappointed knave, and they all replied in the negative. The Signor then said, for their satisfaction, he would briefly relate the way in which he became possessed of Gorgono. “ It is now near twen- ty years/' said Androssi, “ since this castle became mine. The lady, my predecessor, was distantly related to me by the female line. She was beautiful and rich ; I wooed her, but her heart was fixed upon another, and she rejected me, It is probable, however, she was disliked by the person she approved of, for she afterwards fell into a deep melancholy, and there is reason to think she put a period to her own life. I was not at the castle at the time. As some myste- rious circumstances attended that event, I will repeat -them.” “ Repeat them !” said a voice. The guests look- ed astonished, and Androssi exclaimed — “ We are over- heard !” — They searched the chamber, and finding no per- son but themselves, Valenza desired him to proceed. In a lower tone he then continued : — “ Signora Mirandini had for some months shewn a disturbed mind. In one of the gloomy nights of November she retired to the double cham- ber, and from that hour was seen no more !” “ Seen no more ! her body never found 1" exclaimed Brandolo and the rest. “ Never!” replied Androssi. “ And you sus- -pected her of suicide ?” said Valenza, looking keenly at the Signor ; — “ on what ground pray ?” — “ I will tell you hereafter/' continued Androssi. — “ I now come to a very extraordinary circumstance, which demands your attention and secrecy.” “ Attend !” cried the voice, and the com- pany started from their chairs. Every one heard the ex- clamation, and rushed out of the room, but nothing ap- peared that could create any alarm. Androssi proposed to drop the subject, and bidding them retire to their apart- ments, he left them, as he said, to dive into the mystery. We now return to Angereau, whom we left atThoulouse. — Having, after several visits to La Vallce, joined his bat- talion, he went to Paris.— His pure manners and unadul- terated notions soon raised a little conspiracy against him ©n the part of his brother officers, to reduce his morality THE VEILED PICTURE, 41 to their gay level. He began to visit the fashionable circles pf Paris, and among the rest made one at the petit sou - pers of the Countess Monge, whose beauty, taste, and ta- lents, were unrivalled. There was also a Marchioness De- camp, at whose assemblies he passed much of his time. — Her parties were less elegant and more vicious than those of the Countess Monge. These vortexes of elegance and dissipation had much weakened the force Emily had on his his affections, and he endeavoured as much as he could to prevent her intruding on his thoughts, because he was sen- sible he had departed from the purity of conduct which could alone make him worthy of her. In this state we shall leave Angereau, and turn to the gloomy Appenines, where the thoughts of Emily were still faithful to her lover. Androssi had endeavoured to trace the late mysterious voice, but could resolve it into nothing else than a trick of the servants. — In the mean time Madame Androssi re- mained closely confined in her room, visited only by Emily and Alise. The latter, coming one day to Emily's apart- ment, asked her with concern, if she knew the meaning of having so many strange ill-looking people quartered about the castle, and why the fortifications were put into such repair, when there seemed no foe to contend with, and why the Signor held so many midnight counsels, and re- ceived these cut-throat looking men, if it were not to do more murders in the Castle ? Alise having finished her tale, left the chamber, to find out new wonders. Emily that night, as she was retiring to rest, was alarmed by a strange and loud knocking at her chamber- door, against which a heavy weight fell, as if it would burst it open. She called to know who was there, but no voice answered. As thus she stood, fearful lest some assassin might enter at the staircase door, she heard a faint breathing near her. She was proceeding to her case- ment to call for assistance, when a footstep seemed to be upon the staircase, and she rushed to the door she had quitted; hastily opening she it, fell over the body of Alise, who Lad fallen into a fit, and was conveyed by Emily into her chamber. When she had recovered, Alise affirmed, that • she had seen a tall figure gliding along into the room that w&s always shut up, and of which nobody kept the key 42 THE VEILED PICTURE. but the Signor. — “ Was it the chamber where the black veil hangs ?” asked Emily. “ No,” replied Alise, “ it was one nearer to this room,” and Emily now recollected the foot- steps she had just heard on the stone staircase. Alise.slept that night with Emily, and nothing further was heard. On the following morning, from an upper casement Emily saw a complete band of armed men on horseback, headed by Brandolo and Valenza, depart from the castle, and she re- marked that the fortifications seemed to be complete, the workmen being no longer employed. The mystery was soon developed by the arrival of the talkative Alise, who had learned, as a great secret from Rovedo, her lover, that the Signor was going to be the Captain of this gang of ban- ditti. Alise continued so long relating her fears and Ro- vedo's stories, that Madame Androssi sent for Emily, to be & witness that she refused to give up the estates which had been conferred to her previous to her last marriage. An- drossi insisted on having the writings made over to him, and his wife as resolutely persisted in refusing. Androssi looked at her for a moment with a stern and steady countenance. You shall be removed this night to the eastern turret said he: “ there you will learn the danger of offe nding the Lord of Gorgono.” Androssi then left them, and Emily not long after inter- ceded with him for her aunt, and obtained this condition, that,, if she would sign the w riting, she should escape impri- sonment in the eastern turret, where, if she once entered, a dreadful punishment would await her. This Emily re- ported to her aunt, and, waving all consideration of the loss that would arise to herself as her aunt’s heir, she per- suaded her to give up the estates. Madame Androssi wished, she said, to have retained them for the benefit of her niece and Argereau, and paid a high compliment to the generous sentiments of Emily. — When she quitted Madam# at night to retire to rest, her way lay by the chamber where Alise had been terrified. Her alarm made her hesitate at the door of the chamber, whence issued the sound of a human voice ; in a moment after which Androssi came out, and directly retreated, but not before Emily bad seen a •person sitting by the fire in a melancholy attitude. While she watched, the door was again opened, and as quickly closed. Emily then retreated to her own chamber, and received that night no other interruption, except from, the THE VEILED PICTURE. 43 people in the castle exchanging the watch word as in a re gular garrison. The next morning Emily waited on Ma- dame Androssi, who had formed the resolution of escaping with her niece, in preference to giving up her estates, on which she might then enjoy life comfortably. Androssi en- tered the room while they were in conversation, and de- manded if she had resolved upon his proposal ; upon her hesitating he gave her till the evening to decide, and added that as he expected a party of cavaliers to dinner, he should expect her to sit at the head of the table with Emily, fully dressed fo^' Jthe occasion. The blush that overspread Emi- ly’s countenance when she •entered the dinner hall, where the guests were sitting, added to her beauty, and made her look irresistible. Two of the cavaliers then rose, and seated her between them. The eldest was a tall man, with a long and narrow visage, and eyes dark and penetrating. He was about forty, and had a subtle look and harsh fea- tures. The rest of the guests, in number eight, were dressed in uniforms, and all had the fierce looks of ban- ditti. During the dinner they talked of war and the Doge of Venice. When this repast was over, they rose, and each filling his goblet with wine, drank “ Success to our exploits \” Androssi was lifting his goblet to drink, when suddenly the wine hissed, rose to the brim, and burst the glass into a thousand pieces. He always used that sort of Venice glass which had the quality of breaking upon re- ceiving poisoned liquor ; instantly therefore he exclaimed, iC Shut the gates ! — There, is a traitor among us ; let the innocent assist in discovering the guilty!” The cavaliers all drew their swords, and Madame Androssi quitted the hall. The servants, being summoned, uniformly declared their ignorance of the design ; it therefore appeared, as the goblet of Androssi alone was poisoned, that the two ser- vants who distributed the wine must be privy to it : these therefore he ordered to be chained id a dungeon till they confessed ; after which, in about half- an hour, he followed his wife to her dressing-room.— u It avails you nothing,” said he to her, “ to deny the fact. — Your only chance of mercy rests on a full confession ; for your accomplice has confessed the deed.” Emily piteously interceded with the Signor, while Madame Androssi insisted it was only a sub- terfuge on her husband’s part to take her life. Some per- 44 TIIE VEILED PICTURE. sen now calling to him, with a dreadful menace he left the room, and locked them both in it, leaving them to com- fort each other. They were a short time after alarmed by the voice of Alise, requesting immediate entrance, as the Signors and Androssi were all fighting below in the hall, and were now coming towards her. As Emily could not open the door, she bid the poor girl fly, and in an instant they heard no more of her. Madame had just time to exclaim, “Hea- ven protect us, I hear them coming !” when Androssi unlocked the door, and rushed in, followed by the three ruffian looking men* whom he ordered directly to seize and carry her away. Emily sunk senseless on a couch, and when she recovered, no one was with her. Wishing now to gain information of the fate of her aunt, she stepped into the gallery, and proceeded to the smaller hall; ever} 7 where as she passed, she heard from a distance the uproar of con- tention. Perceiving it was useless to seek her aunt through the intricacies of the castle, she was about to leave this dismal hall, when she drew aside, on seeing a w r ounded man borne slowly along by four others. 11 is groans vi- brated oil her ear till they were lost in the distance, as she explored the way to her chamber. Her mind was em- ployed in various conjectures on the fate of Madame An- drossi till sun-set, when she determined to penetrate if possible to the eastern turret, a resolution which was for a while checked by the dread of some ruffian meeting her on the stone staircase, or encountering the mysterious in- habitant of the neighbouring apartment. About twelve o’clock, having lighted her lamp from some embers on the hearth, and secured the staircase door, she crossed into a passage that went along the south side of the building to the staircase, as she thought, leading to the turret. At the end of the gallery she came to two flights of steps, one of which she chose from chance; it opened into a wide pas- sage, in a chamber of which she heard the voice of Alise calling out for Rovedo, who, it appeared, had locked her up there for safety, and, having been since wounded in the affray of the previous night, had not been able to liberate her. Emily promised to interest old Carolo for her, and then obtained a direction from her to the eastern turret. — Having reached the stairs at the bottom of it, she began to ascend, and perceived the steps were stained with blood to THE VEILED PICTURE 45 the summit, where a fastened door prevented her fiom any farther entrance. Emily had little doubt her aunt was here, and she called on her name without receiving any answer. Finding further pursuit impracticable at pre- sent, she descended the turret, and regained her own apart- ment, when wearied nature sunk to repose. It was near noon next day before Emily ventured from her room, and the first visit she paid was to Alise, who earnestly intreated to be saved from starving and the hor- rors of loneliness. In returning to the great hall, she met the Signor, and intreated him to inform her where her aunt was placed, and to send Carolo to liberate Alise. To the latter he readily consented, but bid her not interfere in the fate of the former, who was taken care of. — A trum- pet now sounding, Androssi went forth to see the occasion of it, and sent old Carolo to Emily, who informed her that Valenza and his party had just arrived, and that the fight between the Signor and his guests, about the suspicion of poison he had thrown out, was now amicably settled. Fie then liberated Alise, whose only concern was for the "wounds Rovedo had received in the affray. Two days more passed without any material occurrence: on the last night she was looking out of her casement at a late hour, and contemplating the wildness of the views surrounding her, when she observed the star rise which had always accom- panied the magical music she had heard in Languedoc. Sud- denly the same sounds were repeated, and she endeavoured to ascertain from what quarter they proceeded, but whether from a room of the castle or from the terrace, she could not with certainty jwdge. — Having staid till the harmony had ceased, she closed the casement, and went to bed. Alise came almost breathless to Emily's apartment the fol- lowing morning, to announce that the person whom she had seen sitting in the chamber from which Androssi had emerged at midnight, was no other than Signor Rodoni, who had flown from Venice for the assassination of the nobleman. Emily now asked if any news had been heard of her aunt, but Alise knew nothing, and supposed she was disposed of in the same manner as the first lady df the Castle. — There was another important mission Alise had to communicate in great confidence, which was, that the porter of the Castle, Barbaro, earnestly desired to speak with her, and would attend lor that purpose on the eastern *6 THE VEILED PICTURE. rampart at midnight. Emily bid her tell him that she would meet him there herself at the appointed hour.— Emily’s thoughts till the hour of interview were much oc- cupied in conjecturing whether the conversation of Barbaro related to her aunt or herself. — At midnight they reached the first terrace, and having passed the centinels, they pro- ceeded to the eastern rampant, where Barbaro arrived a few minutes after them. lie made Alise retire, and then, hav- ing enjoined Emily to secresy, said, “ Lady, if it were known I had betrayed my trust, my life would answer for it. — I have heard from Alise your anxiety to hear of Ma- dame Androssi, and I have to inform you that she is now my prisoner, shut up in the chamber over the great gates of the court, where I will conduct you to a sight of the prisoner, if you will repair to the postern gate of the Castle, the following night at two, when the Signor is at jest.— Emily commended her aunt to his pity, and promised to reward him handsomely for the indulgence. The mur- dering countenance of this man almost gave a falsity to the possibility of his doing a generous act; nevertheless much was to be gained by the hazard, if he were sincere; but if not, might it not be a snare to destroy her in the same man- ner as her aunt? Dismissing however the belief of such enormous turpitude, she resolved to go at the fixed time. — At one o’clock that night she opened her casement, but, though she saw the star rise, no music floated in the air; all was hushed till the Castle clock tolled two, and Emily stole from her apartment to meet Barbaro at the postern gate.- -After chiding her for delay, Barbaro unclosed the gate, and they passed into a long passage, by torch light; at the end he unlocked a door, when they descended a few steps into a chapel, which appeared to be in ruins, and of winch Alise had before told her with much terror. Emily’s heart sunk as she followed him: he turned out of the prin- cipal aisle of the church to some steps that led to the vaults. Here she saw an open grave, which Emily concluded was prepared for her aunt. They however ascended another flight of stairs, passed through some gloomy chambers, and at length arrived at thr postern door, and ascended a pair of winding stairs. — This conducted to a chamber, in which Barbaro said he should leave Emily for a few minutes. — Taking the lamp, she began to reconnoitre the dark and mouldering roomp in the cent 3 e was an iron chair with a THE VEILED PICTURE. 47 chain suspended over it, probably the suffering place of some unfortunate. Advancing further, sire saw a curtain, which extended across the breadth of the room. Thinking it concealed some door, she drew it aside, and discovered a corpse stretched on a kind of couch. She gazed at the ghostly face for a second or two, and then sunk senseless on the floor. In this state Barbaro found her when he re- turned, and, taking her in his arms, he carried her without the castle walls; the fresh air now revived her, and she be- held herself surrounded by some horsemen, who were just about to lift her on a horse, when Androssi and his men rushed through the portal gate, attacked the cavaliers, de- feated the strange horsemen, and returned with Emily to the Castle. — She was immediately sent to her apartment, with Alise to attend her. The late dreadful discovery of the corpse had much injured her intellects, and she required the most soothing treatment to restore her deranged facul- ties. — Barbaro had been Milenza’s instrument in seizing Emily. He had learned from Alise that Emily’s anxiety to see her aunt would easily draw her to the postern gate, where the Count had a party of armed men ready to escort her away. The scheme however had failed, from the vigi- lance of those on watch in the Castle; and Milenza, now recovered from his wounds, and still enamoured of Emily, set off for Venice, projecting new schemes of punishing An- drossi, and liberating the injured sufferer. The following day, Emily was much better, and having dismissed Alise for the night, she stood at the casement, in- haling the cool air till the hour in which the aerial music appeared. While she listened, a low sound saluted her ear, like the soft moans of a person in distress, and pre- sently after a tall figure advanced along the rampart, and placed itself opposite her window, and there remained sta- tionary. Terrified at the gliding form, she was about to re- treat from the window, when it started away, and was lost in the obscurity of night. This extraordinary circumstance occupied Emily's attention a great part of the night, and before she sunk to rest, she resolved to be at the casement on the following one. She saw nothing the next morning jof Androssi, who was gone on an excursion with his corps of banditti, and with anxious hope and fear she waited till the time of midnight arrived, but saw nothing on this night. The next day she had an interview with Androssi, 48 THE VEILED PICTURE. and requested him to permit her to retire to France; at the same time boldly challenging him with the murder of his wife. Androssi peremptorily refused the first, and con- fessed that if she wished to see the latter, as she had much affection for her, she was to be found lying in the eastern turret. It was not long before the captains of the banditti began to disagree. The bold manly spirit of Valenza could but ill brook the cruelty and cowardice of Rodoni; which ger nerated a quarrel between the two, and was appeased only outwardly by their comrades. Emily, having learned where her aunt lay, ascended with Alise to the door of the eastern turret, which she had before found fastened ; it was now opened, and admitted her into a dusky silent chamber, in which was abed. A voice saluted her, which she knew to be Madame Androssi’s, whose pale and emaciated figure she now recognised. The blood she had seen on the stairs w as that of one of the wounded men who had carried her there; and the dead body in the portal chamber was a soldier who had fallen in the affray. Androssihad removed his wifeto the turret, the more quietly to dispatch her, if any circumstance rose to prove her guilt, though he now attributed the poison to some artifice of the Count Milenza. Want of sustenance, and the sorrows of Madame Androssi's mind, had brought her to the verge of death ; and all that Emily could effect with the Signor was, to let her be removed and die in her own chamber. — This being effected, Emily would have sat up with her aunt, but the latter insisted on her retiring to her own bed for a few hours, and if any alteration took place for the worse, Alise should apprise her of it. A little after twelve Emily withdrew, and again placed herself at the casement, when the same figure presented itself on the ram- part before her, and beckoned to her. While she looked with awe and astonishment, it beckoned again, and Emily asked, “ Who is it that wanders at this late hour ?” The figure then raised its head, and darted down the terrace, where it disappeared. While she stood musing, the two sentinels walked up the rampart in earnest conversation; the subject of which was, that one of their comrades had fallen down senseless with terror at the 'sight of a spectre which had alarmed them on a previous night. In the morning Emily found her aunt just expiring, but still with powers sufficient to place in her hands the papers THE VEILED PICTURE. *9 which would secure to her the estates in France ; these Androssi had not yet forced her to sign, and which had been the principal source of her inhuman treatment. At midnight Emily again stole away to her casement, and pre-* sently saw a blazing light moving backward and forward at a little distance. As it approached closer, she heard a footstep, and calling out to know who it was, was answered that it was Bolorio, a soldier on guard. “ What light is that which accompanies you/' said Emily. “ I cannot tell/' said the man. “ It has hovered over the point of my lance just as you see it all this night. But what it por- tends heaven only knows." Emily, after a little farther conversation, dismissed the centinel, and was soon after alarmed by the entry of Alise, who came to announce that Madame Androssi was dying. Before they could return to her chamber, she had expired, and all that remained to her excellent niece was to attend the body of this ambitious unfortunate woman, which was deposited on the second night in the grave Emily had seen in the vaults under the chapel. The ceremony was performed by a priest, who, when the service was over, wished to speak with Emily, but was prevented by the presence of their barbarian atten- dants. This pious Monk belonged to a convent at a little distance, whither Androssi had sent for him to perform the last holy rites. The sight of this good man renewed in Emily the most anxious desire to escape from the castle, but this idea was soon absorbed in others of greater im- portance. The day after the burial Androssi sent for Emily, and in the presence of Rodoni, requested her, after a few arguments on the natural descent of his wife’s propei ty to him, to sign a paper to that eft'ect; but Emily, who immediately discerned the use he meant to make of her signature, decidedly refused, and she was bid to retire. While she sat musing, a peal of laughter rose from the ter- race, and on going to the casement, she perceived three Italian ladies, one of whom was Signora Tessini, whose agreeable manners she had so much esteemed at Venice. — Quite at a loss to guess what motive could have brought them to the Castle, she formed an idea that they were «ome to be mistresses to some of the cavaliers, and th« subsequent entertainment that Androssi gave that night 50 THE VEILED PICTURE. with the remarks Alise made on their behaviour, confirmed Tier in that opinion. While Androssi and his mistress, for such SignoraTessini now appeared to be, were lost in merriment and revelry, Emily kept close within her chamber, and at the usual hour attended at her casement, when the figure again appeared, and played an air on the lute, accompanying it with the words of a French song, both which she recollected to be the same with those which had formerly so charmed her in the fishing-house at La Vallce. A thought now darted into her mind like lightning, that it was Angereau. She called from the casement to know, if the song was from Gascony, but no answer was returned ; and after repeating the ques- tion, and finding the unknown performer had ceased to play? she retired to rest, filled with a thousand conjectures on the possibility of its being Angereau, who was perhaps made a prisoner in the endeavour to rescue he r. Androssi again repeated his threats to use force if Emily refused to sign the papers ; during their conversation they were interrupted twice by a mysterious voice, which the Signor affected not to notice, but left her abruptly to visit the ramparts, and prepare for the approaching siege, which Emily had learned the castle was to undergo. The neighbouring noblemen had taken arms, in consequence of their villas being plun- dered, and having traced the marauders, were marching to- wards the castle. This account was in a few hours after confirmed by the presence of old Carolo, who came by the Signor’s orders to bid Emily prepare to leave the castle that day, under an escort of his men. — The order was so quick, that she had scarcely time to contemplate the destiny she *was next to be moved into, before she found herself out- side the walls, and felt no other regret at quitting that gloomy abode than what arose from the fear that the mu- sical figure she had heard was Angereau, and that she was leaving him a prisoner in the castle. During several hours they travelled on through regions of profound solitude, and winding down precipices, inter- mixed with forests of cypress, pine, and cedar, till ihe^ lost sight of Gorgono. The men, under whose charge Emily was placed, had by their conversation been assassins, and she much feared their object was to dispatch her. As night advanced, they encountered a tremendous storm of thunder THE VEILED PICTURE. 51 and lightning, just as they had nearly descended the moun- tains. Having arrived in the plains, they proceeded through a chesnut wood to a cottage, the owner of which, on knocking at the door, immediately descended, and let them in. From the manner in which he received Emily’s conductors, it was evident that he was apprised other com- ing. His wife, whose name was Pattesa, then led her to a neat chamber, where fatigue brought on the sweets of repose. The next morning she found that Borgo, one of her conductors, remained at the cottage, and on her proposing to walk about its vicinity, he forbad it. The owner of this cottage possessed it by the gift of Androssi, for an essential service he had rendered him about eighteen years before, and when Emily had learned this intelligence from their daughter Mariana, she thought herself placed in the hands of one of the murderers of Signora Mirandini, as the pe- riods of the sen ice and that lady’s disappearance agreed so well together. 'The innocent conversation of Mariana often amused the melancholy hours of Emily, and when Borgo so far relaxed as to permit her to walk out in his protection, she always accompanied her ; then Emily began to relish the beauties of the country, and the sea, to which the cot- tage lay very near, afforded by its prospect some compensa- tion for the limited liberty she enjoyed. The Count Milenza, during these transactions, had been seized at Venice, and placed in a dungeon, in consecpience of air anonymous letter sent by Androssi, charging him with treasonable practices. The armed force which had as- sailed the castle of Gorgono being, after an obstinate re- sistance, defeated, joy again filled the breast of Androssi, and he sent an escort for Emily, who was removed from the Tuscan cottage, and re-conducted to the Castle. She wished to avoid the presence of Androssi, who with his party were deeply carousing. While she waited to see Alise at the top of the stairs, two of the chiefs rushed out* and demanding of Androssi the way to Emily’s room, and commenced a race towards it. Valenza, however, dis- tanced his Competitor, while Emily, gliding softly to an angle, met Alise, who conducted her to her own chamber, which lay at another quarter of the Castle. Here Rovedo was introduced to her, the brave gallant of Alise ; he pro- mised to defend Emily from the passions of the Signor Va* 52 THE VEILED PICTURE, lenza, and to effect her escape when it could be done with a probability of safety. The following morning Androssi summoned Emily to his room, to know if she would sign the papers; she stipulated that she would, if permission were given her, to set off for France, as the condition of her consent. This he solemnly swore to do, and she accordingly put her name to the in- strument of cession : but, when she claimed the fulfilment of the conditions, he replied that he should not execute that part of the treaty, till he was in full possession, and then ordered Emily to her chamber. The following night Alise and Emily heard the music and the French song re- peated, but it seemed to come from so remote a quarter of the castle, that their loudest call could obtain nothing more than a faint articulation in reply. Re-assured, however, by this circumstance, Alise bid Rovedo enquire what prisoners were in the castle, and he brought word that a Frenchman was among them, whom he had conversed with, and whose joy seemed at the most extravagant height when he men- tioned Emily’s name. “ He then gave me this case,” said Rovedo, “ and told me to tell you, that he would not part with it for worlds, unless it were in the hope of receiving it from your hand again.” Emily took the case, and found it contained the very picture of herself, which her mothei had lost in the fishing- house. Her joy was extreme : no doubt existed it was An- gereau, and she bid Rovedo tell him as soon as possible she would see him in the corridor, the management of which she left to that faithful domestic, whose only opportunity depended on certain centinels being on guard. On the se- cond night the interview was effected by Rovedo ; he intro- duced the stranger to the apartment, and Emily fainted as she approac hed to rush into his arms. When she. reco- vered, the French gentleman still held her in his grasp, but it was not Angereau ! “ Madam,” said he, “ it is evident you have mistaken me for one more happy. — My name is La Fleur ; I am a native of Gascony, and have long ad- mired and loved you. My family residing near La Vallee, 1 loved to wander near the haunts you frequented ; I need not, therefore, disguise, that I visited the fishing-house, and thus became possessed of the picture which I committed to y our messenger.” Emily now explained the mistake under which she had laid from his not sending his name. The THE VEILED PICTURE. 5S generous La Fleur then made her an offer of his service to assist her in escaping, and thus possess her gratitude, if he could not her love. While they were conversing, Rovedo entered the room in a great hurry, and bid them follow him instantly, as the outer gates were then open for the sortie of the troops, and, by favour of the darkness, they might escape unob- served. Taking Alise in their way, they reached the por- tal without being discovered, and detaching two accoutred horses, which stood waiting for their riders, they passed through the dreadful barrier, and took the road that led to the woods," placing the females on the horses, which Ro- vedo and La Fleur conducted. In this manner they conti- nued that night and the next day, till they descended into the beautiful vale of Arno, whence they proceeded to Flo- rence. As they journed, Emily was told by La Fleur that he had been captured in an engagement with Androssi, and had learned from a centinel, whom he had bribed, that the woman he so dearly esteemed was a prisoner like himself* — “ This man,” continued La Fleur, “ permitted me to walk sometimes on the terrace, and J, observing that a light came from a window just over my dungeon, I con- cluded it was you : for the purpose of exciting your atten- tion, I procured an old lute, and accompanied it with my voice ; but from the distance 1 was at I twice only thought I received an answer. The dungeon in which I lay was parted hy a thin partition from a room where Androssi held his nocturnal counsels, and more than once I have endea- voured to alarm his conscience by repeating his words in a hollow voice, for I am convinced, from his conversation, that he is a murderer.” In this manner he related all the little events which had taken place at the castle, till they arrived at Leghorn, where they took shipping for Marseilles, near which place lay also the regiment of La Fleur, whose reserved conduct excited Emily’s esteem, though she could not love him.™ Crossing the Gulf of Lyons, they were overtaken by a storm, and wrecked on a part of the Mediteranean coast f near to the castle of Le Blanc, formerly occupied by the Marquis de Lormeh, and at which, D'Orville had endea- voured to obtain relief in his tour round the sea coast. — Since that period it had been occupied by the Count Amant? 5 4 . THE VEILED PICTURE. his relative and heir. The distress of our travellers was immediately relieved by the Count, who invited them to the chateau, and found in La Fleur an old acquaintance. Lady Blanche, the Count’s daughter, endeared herself to Emily, while Lady Amant took care of Rovedo and Alise. Emily wrote the following day to Angereau ; and, in wan- dering over the grounds with Blanche, perceived it was the same castle which had excited her curiosity so much from the description of La Voie. Shocked at this discovery, Emily asked Blanche if the nocturnal music was still heard in the environs of the chateau. Blanche, who had never heard of it, enquired of Alithea, the old housekeeper, who said that it was heard at intervals, and had been so ever since her dear lady died eighteen years ago, which was the reason of the late Marquis deserting the castle. “ The suite of rooms beyond the gallery contain strange things, my lady,” said Alithea. “ How like is this young lady to my late mistress, and when she smiles it is her very face ! She soon lost her gaiety when she came here. I saw her on her death bed, and never shall forget what she said.” Emily thought there was a mystery about this suite of rooms which mustbe explored. Just then she remembered the veiled picture she had witnessed in the castle of Gorgono, and, by an odd coincidence, the dreadful words that had acci- dentally met her eye in the MS. papers, and she shuddered at the reference they seemed to bear to the castle of Le Blanc. Being summoned to wait on the Count, he in a pa- ternal manner requested Emily to postpone her idea of em* tering the convent of St. Clair, and remain with his daugh- ter for a few days. In the mean time Emily wrote to her uncle Lebas, and to the Abbess of the convent, and visit- ed the good old Lavoie. In a few days after, she withdrew to the monastery, and there received a letter from Lebas, stating that the term for which La Vall6e had been let was nearly expired ; that the affairs of M. Moreau were likely to be arranged to her advantage, and, after giving her an order on a merchant at Narbonne for some money, he ad- vised her to remain at the convent. In a few days Emily, at the request of Lady Blanche, returned with her to the chateau, when the friendship of the Count induced Emily to lay open her affairs to him in a candid and explicit jmanuer* 8 THE VEILED PICTURE. . 55 On the following morning Emily had laid some papers on the table, and with them the minature picture found in her father's purse. Alithea chanced to enter, and survey- ing the portrait, exclaimed 4 4 It is the very likeness of my deceased mistress V ’ — Emily directly concluded the papers destroyed had related to the Marchioness, and as Alithea seemed to know all the particulars, she assured her of se- crecy, if she would impart the substance of what she knew. Alithea promised to visit Emily that night, when the family had retired to rest. Till that time, she accom- panied Blanche to see a merry-making of the vintagers hard by. — The Count and his lady were highly entertained, and joined the festive dance : but Emily stole away to wander in the adjoining avenue, overcome by the recollection, that, on that day twelvemonth, she had, with her father* beheld the same mirth and been on the same spot. As she walk- ed up a row of chesnuts, she thought she heard the voice of Angereau with Henri, the son of the Count. She turn- ed round — it was indeed Angereau, and she fainted sense- less in his arms ! — Angereau had received Emily's letter, and lost no time in repairing to Le Blanc, where he was immediately introduced to the family of the Count on their leaving the vintagers. Having returned to the chateau, Emily remarked, with some surprise, that the Count did not invite Angereau to sleep there, and he went away to his solitary inn, after having heard from Emily the suffer- ings she had undergone in the castle of Gorgono. When he had retired, the Count explained to Emily the motive of his cool reception of Angereau, having learned from his son, Henri, when at Paris, many anecdotes of his former conduct, marked by a strong tendency to gaming and li- bertinism. This intelligence extremely distressed Emily, and when she saw Angereau the following morning, he read in her looks the displeasure she felt at his conduct, which he had no doubt the Count had detailed. Pie entered into an im- passioned avowal of the constancy of his love, and ac- knowledged the errors he had committed, and the ruin he was in, with such an ingenuousness and promise of amend- ment, that the arguments of Emily gave way to the plea- sure of forgiveness, and before the interview was closed; she promised not wholly to discard him. 55 THE VEILED PICTURE* That night Alithea did not come according to her pro- mise^ and Emily was too absorbed with the idea of Ange- reau to investigate any other subject. The following morn- ing the Count renewed his arguments with Emily to persuade her from farther intimacy with Angereau, till he had passed some time of probation and repentance, — and she might be able to judge by his reformed conduct, if he sincerely loved her. Emily approved the hard lesson, and when Angereau came on the following afternoon, and she announced her resolution of not seeing him again, he applauded the justice of her decision, acknowledged that till he had retrieved his character and fortune he was unworthy to possess her, and then, with a look of despair, he pressed her hand and hur- ried out of the room, leaving Emily in a state- of mental agi- tation too great to be described. We now return to An- drossi, whose band of armed men were attacked by a cho- sen body of troops in an ambuscade. — This corps bad been ' sent by the State of Venice, at the instigation of Milenza, who obtained his liberty in consequence of Androssi and Rodoni, the assassin, being defeated and made captives.— This business was managed so suddenly that it never reached the ears of Emily ; who found the benevolence of a father and a sister in the kindnesses of the Count and his daugh- ter Blanche. Alithea now reminded Emily of the story she was to relate, and the latter appointed that night for the disclosure. Soon after twelve, Alithea entered, and draw- ing her chair close to Emily, thus began : — “ It is about twenty years since my lady Marchioness came a bride to the chateau, and then she was very like you. — I soon perceived though she smiled she was not happy at heart. My Lord the Marquis kept open house for a long time, but my lady was not happy, — Her father, it seems, had married her to the Marquis for his money, while there was another nobleman, or chevalier, whom she liked better. Among the many visitors who came to our Castle, there was one whose grace and civility seemed just suited to my Lady; and I always remarked that the Marquis seemed very gloomy, and my Lady much depressed when he came. I have heard it said that the Marchioness was privately mar- ried to some gentleman before she had the Marquis, and was afraid to own it to her father, who was a very stern man — but I never gave faith to this story. The Marquis at length ill-treated my lady exceedingly, and at the end THE VEILED ITCTURE. 57 of a year she was taken ill, and I fear did not come fairly by her death." While Alithea spoke, the music which had excited Emily’s attention at the time of her father's decease, softly stole upon her ear, and Alithea remarked it was the same she had so often heard. She then continued : — “ It was one night shortly after my lady’s death, when 1 had been sitting up late, that I first heard this music, which was accompanied by a voice, and exactly resembled the sweet performance of my lady when alive. Sometimes I have not heard it for many months, but still it has returned. When my lady was taken very ill, and shrieked so piercingly, the doctor was sent for, but he arrived too late. He appeared greatly shocked to see her, for soon after her death a frightful black- ness overspread her features, and the Marquis was closeted with him for several hours. 'I he body was buried in the convent yonder, and my Lord became melancholy. Soon after he joined his regiment, and never returned^again to the chateau, which has been shut up from that time till the present Count became possessed of it by the Marquis's death, which happened in the north of France/' Alithea now mentioned another portrait of the Marchioness, hang- ing up in the suite of rooms where she had died, and which had been shut up for many years. Emily felt a strong de- sire to view the whole ; and on the following night, Alithea attended with the keys of the apartments, which extended along the north side of the chateau. At one o'clock in the morning, taking a lamp, they crossed the servants' hall, and ascended the back staircase, a door upon which was un- locked, and led through several rooms to one more spacious than the rest, crossing which, Alithea unlocked the chamber in which the late Marchioness had died. Every thing re- mained in its unaltered state, and the pall of black velvet covered the bed in which she expired. In a closet of the chamber was the portrait of the Marchioness, the melan- choly of which resembled the miniature: about the shelves lay her various articles of apparel, and on the table was her lute, a crucifix, and a prayer-book open. Having returned into the chamber, she desired once more to look upon the bed : when they came opposite to the open door leading to the saloon, Emily thought she saw something glide in the obscure part of the room. — Overcome by what she con- ceived only a weakness, she sat down on the side of the bed 53 THE VEILED PICTURE. to recover herself. — Alithea was pointing out the spot where her mistress lay, when to the eyes of Emily the pall ap- peared to rise and fall. — Alithea saw the motion, and af- firmed it was only the wind.— Scarcely however had she uttered these words, when it became more strongly agitated than before. Emily, ashamed of being terrified at what might be the mere action of the wind, stepped back, and as she gazed within the curtains, the pall moved again, and the apparition of a human countenance rose above it. — Screaming with terror they both fled, and alarmed the ser- vants in their way. Having reached their own apartments* they remained together all night, and on the following morn- ing locked up the northern apartments. Among the visitors at the chateau were the Baron de St. Foix, an old friend of the Count, and the Chevalier his son, who had seen the Lady Blanche at Paris, and had fallen in love with her. The young man had now come with his father to pay his addresses, which were not ill receeived. — One evening as Emily sat in one of the most sequestered parts of the chateau wood till a late hour, the music and voice she had before heard at midnight stole upon her ear ; they approached for some time, and then ceased : directly after a figure emerged from the shade of the wood, and pas- sed along the bank at a little distance befoie her. — It went swiftly, and her spirits were so overcome with awe, that, though she saw, she did not much observe it. This little occurrence deeply oppressed her mind, and when she re- tired to her own room, it was some time before she sunk to repose. — But this was of short duration, for one of the maids had fainted, and fallen against her door. When the girl had recovered her speech, she affirmed that in passing up the back staircase, she had seen an apparition on the second landing-place, which had vanished at the door of the apart- ments lately opened. This last event raised such a terror in the servants, that many spoke of quitting the Castle, till Rovedo, laughing at their folly, proposed to watch for the ghost; and Henri and the Count willingly said they would accompany him. Ro- vedo, taking his sword and a lamp, they unlocked the north ball door, and proceeded through the suite of rooms till they came to the bed-room. After surveying the pall, and being told that the Marchioness died in that bed, the Count ordered some provisions, wine, and fuel, to be left with Ro- TI1E VEILED PICTURE. 59 Ycdo, and then wishing him well through the night, they re- tired. Rovedo, having examined the apartments to see that no one was concealed, returned to the bed-room, kin- dled a fire, drew forth his provision, and when he had done, began to read a book of Provencal tales. In the mean time, the Count and nis party retired to lest for the night : while the former was undressing, he was astonished by the sounds of music and a fine voice in accompaniment. — The walet informed him it was the same music that came from the woods, and which no one could account for. Count Amant, the following morning knocked at the door of the north chamber, but received no answer : he then repaired to one opening nearly on the saloon, which, having forced, he entered through the saloon into the bed-room, followed by Henri, and a few of the most courageous servants. — No trace of Rovedo appeared there, and the Count began to be seriously alarmed for his safety. — What made his disap- pearance extraordinary was, that all the doors were found to be bolted and locked on the inside, and there seemed no way by which he could have escaped or secreted himself. On the table was his sword, the lamp, the book, and the remains of a fiask of wine he had been drinking. The Count and Henri, after looking every where for a secret way of getting out, gave over the search, and retired together to the Count's closet, whence Iienri returned much depressed in his spirits. Poor Alise felt more than any one the loss of hei Rovedo. In a week after his disappearance, M. La Fleur paid a visit to the Count, and renewed his suit to Emily. This measure determined Emily to return to the Convent; the reason of which she stated to be, that she might not encourage a hopeless passion in a man whom she highly esteemed. On the following evening the Abbess and sisters welcomed her again, and she was pleased to find herself once more in their tranquil society. The strange events at the Castle had reached the convent, ai d Emily was surprised to learn from sister Anna, to whom she was more attached than the others, that they had a sister named Doria, whose conduct and manner, whenever the Castle was mentioned, shewed her to be somewhat deranged on that particular su.bjqct. The speeches of Doria seemed to fix guilt on the late Marquis, and at the same time to feel a wound in her own conscience. 60 THE VEILED PICTURE. When the nuns had retired to rest, Emily repaired to the