She looked anxiously up
at the first casement, that appeared above the lofty arch of the
portcullis; but it was dark, and she enquired, whether it belonged to
the chamber where Madame Montoni was confined. Emily spoke low, and
Barnardine, perhaps, did not hear her question, for he returned no
answer; and they, soon after, entered the postern door of the gateway,
which brought them to the foot of a narrow staircase that wound up one
of the towers. “Up this staircase the Signora lies,” said Barnardine. “Lies!” repeated Emily faintly, as she began to ascend. “She lies in the upper chamber,” said Barnardine. As they passed up, the wind, which poured through the narrow cavities
in the wall, made the torch flare, and it threw a stronger gleam upon
the grim and sallow countenance of Barnardine, and discovered more
fully the desolation of the place—the rough stone walls, the spiral
stairs, black with age, and a suit of ancient armour, with an iron
visor, that hung upon the walls, and appeared a trophy of some former
victory. Having reached a landing-place, “You may wait here, lady,” said he,
applying a key to the door of a chamber, “while I go up, and tell the
Signora you are coming.”

“That ceremony is unnecessary,” replied Emily, “my aunt will rejoice to
see me.”

“I am not so sure of that,” said Barnardine, pointing to the room he
had opened: “Come in here, lady, while I step up.”

Emily, surprised and somewhat shocked, did not dare to oppose him
further, but, as he was turning away with the torch, desired he would
not leave her in darkness. He looked around, and, observing a tripod
lamp, that stood on the stairs, lighted and gave it to Emily, who
stepped forward into a large old chamber, and he closed the door. As
she listened anxiously to his departing steps, she thought he
descended, instead of ascending, the stairs; but the gusts of wind,
that whistled round the portal, would not allow her to hear distinctly
any other sound. Still, however, she listened, and, perceiving no step
in the room above, where he had affirmed Madame Montoni to be, her
anxiety increased, though she considered, that the thickness of the
floor in this strong building might prevent any sound reaching her from
the upper chamber. The next moment, in a pause of the wind, she
distinguished Barnardine’s step descending to the court, and then
thought she heard his voice; but, the rising gust again overcoming
other sounds, Emily, to be certain on this point, moved softly to the
door, which, on attempting to open it, she discovered was fastened. All
the horrid apprehensions, that had lately assailed her, returned at
this instant with redoubled force, and no longer appeared like the
exaggerations of a timid spirit, but seemed to have been sent to warn
her of her fate. She now did not doubt, that Madame Montoni had been
murdered, perhaps in this very chamber; or that she herself was brought
hither for the same purpose. The countenance, the manners and the
recollected words of Barnardine, when he had spoken of her aunt,
confirmed her worst fears. For some moments, she was incapable of
considering of any means, by which she might attempt an escape. Still
she listened, but heard footsteps neither on the stairs, nor in the
room above; she thought, however, that she again distinguished
Barnardine’s voice below, and went to a grated window, that opened upon
the court, to enquire further. Here, she plainly heard his hoarse
accents, mingling with the blast, that swept by, but they were lost
again so quickly, that their meaning could not be interpreted; and then
the light of a torch, which seemed to issue from the portal below,
flashed across the court, and the long shadow of a man, who was under
the arch-way, appeared upon the pavement. Emily, from the hugeness of
this sudden portrait, concluded it to be that of Barnardine; but other
deep tones, which passed in the wind, soon convinced her he was not
alone, and that his companion was not a person very liable to pity. When her spirits had overcome the first shock of her situation, she
held up the lamp to examine, if the chamber afforded a possibility of
an escape. It was a spacious room, whose walls, wainscoted with rough
oak, showed no casement but the grated one, which Emily had left, and
no other door than that, by which she had entered. The feeble rays of
the lamp, however, did not allow her to see at once its full extent;
she perceived no furniture, except, indeed, an iron chair, fastened in
the centre of the chamber, immediately over which, depending on a chain
from the ceiling, hung an iron ring. Having gazed upon these, for some
time, with wonder and horror, she next observed iron bars below, made
for the purpose of confining the feet, and on the arms of the chair
were rings of the same metal. As she continued to survey them, she
concluded, that they were instruments of torture, and it struck her,
that some poor wretch had once been fastened in this chair, and had
there been starved to death. She was chilled by the thought; but, what
was her agony, when, in the next moment, it occurred to her, that her
aunt might have been one of these victims, and that she herself might
be the next! An acute pain seized her head, she was scarcely able to
hold the lamp, and, looking round for support, was seating herself,
unconsciously, in the iron chair itself; but suddenly perceiving where
she was, she started from it in horror, and sprung towards a remote end
of the room. Here again she looked round for a seat to sustain her, and
perceived only a dark curtain, which, descending from the ceiling to
the floor, was drawn along the whole side of the chamber. Ill as she
was, the appearance of this curtain struck her, and she paused to gaze
upon it, in wonder and apprehension. It seemed to conceal a recess of the chamber; she wished, yet dreaded,
to lift it, and to discover what it veiled: twice she was withheld by a
recollection of the terrible spectacle her daring hand had formerly
unveiled in an apartment of the castle, till, suddenly conjecturing,
that it concealed the body of her murdered aunt, she seized it, in a
fit of desperation, and drew it aside. Beyond, appeared a corpse,
stretched on a kind of low couch, which was crimsoned with human blood,
as was the floor beneath. The features, deformed by death, were ghastly
and horrible, and more than one livid wound appeared in the face. Emily, bending over the body, gazed, for a moment, with an eager,
frenzied eye; but, in the next, the lamp dropped from her hand, and she
fell senseless at the foot of the couch. When her senses returned, she found herself surrounded by men, among
whom was Barnardine, who were lifting her from the floor, and then bore
her along the chamber. She was sensible of what passed, but the extreme
languor of her spirits did not permit her to speak, or move, or even to
feel any distinct fear.