When fades along the West the Sun’s last beam,
As, weary, to the nether world he goes,
And mountain-summits catch the purple gleam,
And slumbering ocean faint and fainter glows,

Silent upon the globe’s broad shade I steal,
And o’er its dry turf shed the cooling dews,
And ev’ry fever’d herb and flow’ret heal,
And all their fragrance on the air diffuse. Where’er I move, a tranquil pleasure reigns;
O’er all the scene the dusky tints I send,
That forests wild and mountains, stretching plains
And peopled towns, in soft confusion blend. Wide o’er the world I waft the fresh’ning wind,
Low breathing through the woods and twilight vale,
In whispers soft, that woo the pensive mind
Of him, who loves my lonely steps to hail. His tender oaten reed I watch to hear,
Stealing its sweetness o’er some plaining rill,
Or soothing ocean’s wave, when storms are near,
Or swelling in the breeze from distant hill! I wake the fairy elves, who shun the light;
When, from their blossom’d beds, they slily peep,
And spy my pale star, leading on the night,—
Forth to their games and revelry they leap;

Send all the prison’d sweets abroad in air,
That with them slumber’d in the flow’ret’s cell;
Then to the shores and moonlight brooks repair,
Till the high larks their matin-carol swell. The wood-nymphs hail my airs and temper’d shade,
With ditties soft and lightly sportive dance,
On river margin of some bow’ry glade,
And strew their fresh buds as my steps advance:

But, swift I pass, and distant regions trace,
For moonbeams silver all the eastern cloud,
And Day’s last crimson vestige fades apace;
Down the steep west I fly from Midnight’s shroud. The moon was now rising out of the sea. She watched its gradual
progress, the extending line of radiance it threw upon the waters, the
sparkling oars, the sail faintly silvered, and the wood-tops and the
battlements of the watch-tower, at whose foot she was sitting, just
tinted with the rays. Emily’s spirits were in harmony with this scene. As she sat meditating, sounds stole by her on the air, which she
immediately knew to be the music and the voice she had formerly heard
at midnight, and the emotion of awe, which she felt, was not unmixed
with terror, when she considered her remote and lonely situation. The
sounds drew nearer. She would have risen to leave the place, but they
seemed to come from the way she must have taken towards the château,
and she awaited the event in trembling expectation. The sounds
continued to approach, for some time, and then ceased. Emily sat
listening, gazing and unable to move, when she saw a figure emerge from
the shade of the woods and pass along the bank, at some little distance
before her. It went swiftly, and her spirits were so overcome with awe,
that, though she saw, she did not much observe it. Having left the spot, with a resolution never again to visit it alone,
at so late an hour, she began to approach the château, when she heard
voices calling her from the part of the wood, which was nearest to it. They were the shouts of the Count’s servants, who were sent to search
for her; and when she entered the supper-room, where he sat with Henri
and Blanche, he gently reproached her with a look, which she blushed to
have deserved. This little occurrence deeply impressed her mind, and, when she
withdrew to her own room, it recalled so forcibly the circumstances she
had witnessed, a few nights before, that she had scarcely courage to
remain alone. She watched to a late hour, when, no sound having renewed
her fears, she, at length, sunk to repose. But this was of short
continuance, for she was disturbed by a loud and unusual noise, that
seemed to come from the gallery, into which her chamber opened. Groans
were distinctly heard, and, immediately after, a dead weight fell
against the door, with a violence, that threatened to burst it open. She called loudly to know who was there, but received no answer,
though, at intervals, she still thought she heard something like a low
moaning. Fear deprived her of the power to move. Soon after, she heard
footsteps in a remote part of the gallery, and, as they approached, she
called more loudly than before, till the steps paused at her door. She
then distinguished the voices of several of the servants, who seemed
too much engaged by some circumstance without, to attend to her calls;
but, Annette soon after entering the room for water, Emily understood,
that one of the maids had fainted, whom she immediately desired them to
bring into her room, where she assisted to restore her. When this girl
had recovered her speech, she affirmed, that, as she was passing up the
back staircase, in the way to her chamber, she had seen an apparition
on the second landing-place; she held the lamp low, she said, that she
might pick her way, several of the stairs being infirm and even
decayed, and it was upon raising her eyes, that she saw this
appearance. It stood for a moment in the corner of the landing-place,
which she was approaching, and then, gliding up the stairs, vanished at
the door of the apartment, that had been lately opened. She heard
afterwards a hollow sound. “Then the devil has got a key to that apartment,” said Dorothée, “for
it could be nobody but he; I locked the door myself!”

The girl, springing down the stairs and passing up the great staircase,
had run, with a faint scream, till she reached the gallery, where she
fell, groaning, at Emily’s door. Gently chiding her for the alarm she had occasioned, Emily tried to
make her ashamed of her fears; but the girl persisted in saying, that
she had seen an apparition, till she went to her own room, whither she
was accompanied by all the servants present, except Dorothée, who, at
Emily’s request, remained with her during the night. Emily was
perplexed, and Dorothée was terrified, and mentioned many occurrences
of former times, which had long since confirmed her superstitions;
among these, according to her belief, she had once witnessed an
appearance, like that just described, and on the very same spot, and it
was the remembrance of it, that had made her pause, when she was going
to ascend the stairs with Emily, and which had increased her reluctance
to open the north apartments. Whatever might be Emily’s opinions, she
did not disclose them, but listened attentively to all that Dorothée
communicated, which occasioned her much thought and perplexity. From this night the terror of the servants increased to such an excess,
that several of them determined to leave the château, and requested
their discharge of the Count, who, if he had any faith in the subject
of their alarm, thought proper to dissemble it, and, anxious to avoid
the inconvenience that threatened him, employed ridicule and then
argument to convince them they had nothing to apprehend from
supernatural agency.