After he had listened, and for a considerable time, to all she had to
relate, concerning Emily, he gave Theresa nearly all the money he had
about him, though she repeatedly refused it, declaring, that her
mistress had amply supplied her wants; and then, drawing a ring of
value from his finger, he delivered it her with a solemn charge to
present it to Emily, of whom he entreated, as a last favour, that she
would preserve it for his sake, and sometimes, when she looked upon it,
remember the unhappy giver. Theresa wept, as she received the ring, but it was more from sympathy,
than from any presentiment of evil; and before she could reply,
Valancourt abruptly left the cottage. She followed him to the door,
calling upon his name and entreating him to return; but she received no
answer, and saw him no more. CHAPTER XIV

Call up him, that left half told
The story of Cambuscan bold. MILTON


On the following morning, as Emily sat in the parlour adjoining the
library, reflecting on the scene of the preceding night, Annette rushed
wildly into the room, and, without speaking, sunk breathless into a
chair. It was some time before she could answer the anxious enquiries
of Emily, as to the occasion of her emotion, but, at length, she
exclaimed, “I have seen his ghost, madam, I have seen his ghost!”

“Who do you mean?” said Emily, with extreme impatience. “It came in from the hall, madam,” continued Annette, “as I was
crossing to the parlour.”

“Who are you speaking of?” repeated Emily, “Who came in from the hall?”

“It was dressed just as I have seen him, often and often,” added
Annette. “Ah! who could have thought—”

Emily’s patience was now exhausted, and she was reprimanding her for
such idle fancies, when a servant entered the room, and informed her,
that a stranger without begged leave to speak with her. It immediately occurred to Emily, that this stranger was Valancourt,
and she told the servant to inform him, that she was engaged, and could
not see any person. The servant, having delivered his message, returned with one from the
stranger, urging the first request, and saying, that he had something
of consequence to communicate; while Annette, who had hitherto sat
silent and amazed, now started up, and crying, “It is Ludovico!—it is
Ludovico!” ran out of the room. Emily bade the servant follow her, and,
if it really was Ludovico, to show him into the parlour. In a few minutes, Ludovico appeared, accompanied by Annette, who, as
joy rendered her forgetful of all rules of decorum towards her
mistress, would not suffer any person to be heard, for some time, but
herself. Emily expressed surprise and satisfaction, on seeing Ludovico
in safety, and the first emotions increased, when he delivered letters
from Count De Villefort and the Lady Blanche, informing her of their
late adventure, and of their present situation at an inn among the
Pyrenees, where they had been detained by the illness of Mons. St.
Foix, and the indisposition of Blanche, who added, that the Baron St.
Foix was just arrived to attend his son to his château, where he would
remain till the perfect recovery of his wounds, and then return to
Languedoc, but that her father and herself purposed to be at La Vallée,
on the following day. She added, that Emily’s presence would be
expected at the approaching nuptials, and begged she would be prepared
to proceed, in a few days to Château-le-Blanc. For an account of
Ludovico’s adventure, she referred her to himself; and Emily, though
much interested, concerning the means, by which he had disappeared from
the north apartments, had the forbearance to suspend the gratification
of her curiosity, till he had taken some refreshment, and had conversed
with Annette, whose joy, on seeing him in safety, could not have been
more extravagant, had he arisen from the grave. Meanwhile, Emily perused again the letters of her friends, whose
expressions of esteem and kindness were very necessary consolations to
her heart, awakened as it was by the late interview to emotions of
keener sorrow and regret. The invitation to Château-le-Blanc was pressed with so much kindness by
the Count and his daughter, who strengthened it by a message from the
Countess, and the occasion of it was so important to her friend, that
Emily could not refuse to accept it, nor, though she wished to remain
in the quiet shades of her native home, could she avoid perceiving the
impropriety of remaining there alone, since Valancourt was again in the
neighbourhood. Sometimes, too, she thought, that change of scenery and
the society of her friends might contribute, more than retirement, to
restore her to tranquillity. When Ludovico again appeared, she desired him to give a detail of his
adventure in the north apartments, and to tell by what means he became
a companion of the banditti, with whom the Count had found him. He immediately obeyed, while Annette, who had not yet had leisure to
ask him many questions, on the subject, prepared to listen, with a
countenance of extreme curiosity, venturing to remind her lady of her
incredulity, concerning spirits, in the castle of Udolpho, and of her
own sagacity in believing in them; while Emily, blushing at the
consciousness of her late credulity, observed, that, if Ludovico’s
adventure could justify Annette’s superstition, he had probably not
been here to relate it. Ludovico smiled at Annette, and bowed to Emily, and then began as
follows:

“You may remember, madam, that, on the night, when I sat up in the
north chamber, my lord, the Count, and Mons. Henri accompanied me
thither, and that, while they remained there, nothing happened to
excite any alarm. When they were gone I made a fire in the bedroom,
and, not being inclined to sleep, I sat down on the hearth with a book
I had brought with me to divert my mind. I confess I did sometimes look
round the chamber, with something like apprehension—”

“O very like it, I dare say,” interrupted Annette, “and I dare say too,
if the truth was known, you shook from head to foot.”

“Not quite so bad as that,” replied Ludovico, smiling, “but several
times, as the wind whistled round the castle, and shook the old
casements, I did fancy I heard odd noises, and, once or twice, I got up
and looked about me; but nothing was to be seen, except the grim
figures in the tapestry, which seemed to frown upon me, as I looked at
them. I had sat thus for above an hour,” continued Ludovico, “when
again I thought I heard a noise, and glanced my eyes round the room, to
discover what it came from, but, not perceiving anything, I began to
read again, and, when I had finished the story I was upon, I felt
drowsy, and dropped asleep.