She now retired to her bed, leaving the lamp burning on the table; but
its gloomy light, instead of dispelling her fear, assisted it; for, by
its uncertain rays, she almost fancied she saw shapes flit past her
curtains and glide into the remote obscurity of her chamber.—The castle
clock struck one before she closed her eyes to sleep. CHAPTER VI

I think it is the weakness of mine eyes,
That shapes this monstrous apparition. It comes upon me! JULIUS CÆSAR


Daylight dispelled from Emily’s mind the glooms of superstition, but
not those of apprehension. The Count Morano was the first image that
occurred to her waking thoughts, and then came a train of anticipated
evils, which she could neither conquer, nor avoid. She rose, and, to
relieve her mind from the busy ideas, that tormented it, compelled
herself to notice external objects. From her casement she looked out
upon the wild grandeur of the scene, closed nearly on all sides by
alpine steeps, whose tops, peeping over each other, faded from the eye
in misty hues, while the promontories below were dark with woods, that
swept down to their base, and stretched along the narrow valleys. The
rich pomp of these woods was particularly delightful to Emily; and she
viewed with astonishment the fortifications of the castle spreading
along a vast extent of rock, and now partly in decay, the grandeur of
the ramparts below, and the towers and battlements and various features
of the fabric above. From these her sight wandered over the cliffs and
woods into the valley, along which foamed a broad and rapid stream,
seen falling among the crags of an opposite mountain, now flashing in
the sunbeams, and now shadowed by over-arching pines, till it was
entirely concealed by their thick foliage. Again it burst from beneath
this darkness in one broad sheet of foam, and fell thundering into the
vale. Nearer, towards the west, opened the mountain-vista, which Emily
had viewed with such sublime emotion, on her approach to the castle: a
thin dusky vapour, that rose from the valley, overspread its features
with a sweet obscurity. As this ascended and caught the sunbeams, it
kindled into a crimson tint, and touched with exquisite beauty the
woods and cliffs, over which it passed to the summit of the mountains;
then, as the veil drew up, it was delightful to watch the gleaming
objects, that progressively disclosed themselves in the valley—the
green turf—dark woods—little rocky recesses—a few peasants’ huts—the
foaming stream—a herd of cattle, and various images of pastoral beauty. Then, the pine-forests brightened, and then the broad breast of the
mountains, till, at length, the mist settled round their summit,
touching them with a ruddy glow. The features of the vista now appeared
distinctly, and the broad deep shadows, that fell from the lower
cliffs, gave strong effect to the streaming splendour above; while the
mountains, gradually sinking in the perspective, appeared to shelve
into the Adriatic sea, for such Emily imagined to be the gleam of
bluish light that terminated the view. Thus she endeavoured to amuse her fancy, and was not unsuccessful. The
breezy freshness of the morning, too, revived her. She raised her
thoughts in prayer, which she felt always most disposed to do, when
viewing the sublimity of nature, and her mind recovered its strength. When she turned from the casement, her eyes glanced upon the door she
had so carefully guarded, on the preceding night, and she now
determined to examine whither it led; but, on advancing to remove the
chairs, she perceived, that they were already moved a little way. Her
surprise cannot be easily imagined, when, in the next minute, she
perceived that the door was fastened.—She felt, as if she had seen an
apparition. The door of the corridor was locked as she had left it, but
this door, which could be secured only on the outside, must have been
bolted, during the night. She became seriously uneasy at the thought of
sleeping again in a chamber, thus liable to intrusion, so remote, too,
as it was from the family, and she determined to mention the
circumstance to Madame Montoni, and to request a change. After some perplexity she found her way into the great hall, and to the
room, which she had left, on the preceding night, where breakfast was
spread, and her aunt was alone, for Montoni had been walking over the
environs of the castle, examining the condition of its fortifications,
and talking for some time with Carlo. Emily observed that her aunt had
been weeping, and her heart softened towards her, with an affection,
that showed itself in her manner, rather than in words, while she
carefully avoided the appearance of having noticed, that she was
unhappy. She seized the opportunity of Montoni’s absence to mention the
circumstance of the door, to request that she might be allowed another
apartment, and to enquire again, concerning the occasion of their
sudden journey. On the first subject her aunt referred her to Montoni,
positively refusing to interfere in the affair; on the last, she
professed utter ignorance. Emily, then, with a wish of making her aunt more reconciled to her
situation, praised the grandeur of the castle and the surrounding
scenery, and endeavoured to soften every unpleasing circumstance
attending it. But, though misfortune had somewhat conquered the
asperities of Madame Montoni’s temper, and, by increasing her cares for
herself, had taught her to feel in some degree for others, the
capricious love of rule, which nature had planted and habit had
nourished in her heart, was not subdued. She could not now deny herself
the gratification of tyrannising over the innocent and helpless Emily,
by attempting to ridicule the taste she could not feel. Her satirical discourse was, however, interrupted by the entrance of
Montoni, and her countenance immediately assumed a mingled expression
of fear and resentment, while he seated himself at the breakfast-table,
as if unconscious of there being any person but himself in the room. Emily, as she observed him in silence, saw, that his countenance was
darker and sterner than usual. “O could I know,” said she to herself,
“what passes in that mind; could I know the thoughts, that are known
there, I should no longer be condemned to this torturing suspense!”
Their breakfast passed in silence, till Emily ventured to request, that
another apartment might be allotted to her, and related the
circumstance which made her wish it. “I have no time to attend to these idle whims,” said Montoni, “that
chamber was prepared for you, and you must rest contented with it. It
is not probable, that any person would take the trouble of going to
that remote staircase, for the purpose of fastening a door. If it was
not fastened, when you entered the chamber, the wind, perhaps, shook
the door and made the bolts slide.