with the view of a scene so affecting to her. It was fome time before Emily perceived, through the dufk, the bed on which the Marchionefs was faid to have died; when, advancing to the upper end of the room, she discovered the high canopied tester of dark green damak, with the curtains defcending to the floor in the fashion of a tent half drawn, and remaining apparently as they had been left twenty years before; and over the whole bedding was thrown a counterpane, or pall, of black velvet, that hung down to the floor. Emily fhuddered, as fhe held the lamp over it, and looked within the dark curtains, where he almoft expected to have feen a human face, and, fuddenly remembering the horror fhe had fuffered upon difcovering the dying Madame Montoni in the turret chamber of Udolpho, her spirits fainted, and she was turning from the bed, when Dorothée, who had now reached it, exclaimed, "Holy Virgin! methinks I fee my lady ftretched X upon that pall--as when laft I faw her!"

Emily, fhocked by this exclamation, looked involuntarily again within the curtains, but the blackness of the pall only appeared; while Dorothée was compelled to support herself upon the fide of the bed, and presently tears brought her fome relief.

"Ah!" faid fhe, after fhe had wept awhile, "it was here I fat on that terrible night, and held my lady's hand, and heard her laft words, and faw all her fufferings -here fhe died in my arms!"

"Do not indulge thefe painful recollections," said Emily, "let us go. Shew me the picture you mentioned, if it will not too much affect you."

"It hangs in the oriel," faid Dorothée rifing, and going towards a fmall door near the bed's head, which fhe opened, and Emily followed with the light, into the closet of the late Marchionefs.

"Alas! there fhe is, ma'amfelle," faid Dorothée, pointing to a portrait of a lady, "there is her very felf! juft às fhe looked

when

when she came first to the chateau,

You

fee, madam, she was all blooming like you, then-and fo foon to be cut off!"

While Dorothée fpoke, Emily was attentively examining the picture, which bore a strong resemblance to the miniature, though the expreffion of the countenance in each was fomewhat different; but ftill she thought the perceived fomething of that penfive melancholy in the portrait, which fo ftrongly characterised the miniature.

"Pray, ma'amfelle, ftand befide the picture, that I may look at you together," faid Dorothée, who, when the request was complied with, exclaimed again at the refemblance. Emily alfo, as fhe gazed upon it, thought that fhe had fomewhere feen a perfon very like it, though fhe could not now recollect who this was.

In this closet were many memorials of the departed Marchionefs; a robe and feveral articles of her drefs were fcattered upon the chairs, as if they had just been thrown off. On the floor, were a pair of black

D 6

black fattin flippers, and, on the dreffingtable, a pair of gloves and a long black veil, which, as Emily took it up to examine, she perceived was dropping to pieces with age.

"Ah!" said Dorothée, observing the veil, "my lady's hand laid it there; it has never been moved fince!"

Emily, fhuddering, immediately laid it down again. "I well remember feeing her take it off," continued Dorothée, "it was on the night before her death, when the had returned from a little walk I had perfuaded her to take in the gardens, and fhe feemed refreshed by it. I told her how much better she looked, and I remember what a languid fmile fhe gave me; but, alas! fhe little thought, or I either, that she was to die, that night."

Dorothée wept again, and then, taking up the veil, threw it fuddenly over Emily, who fhuddered to find it wrapped round her, defcending even to her feet, and, as The endeavoured to throw it off, Dorothée entreated

entreated that she would keep it on for one

moment.

"I thought," added fhe, "how like you would look to my dear mistress in that veil ;—may your life, ma’amfelle, be a happier one than her's!"

Emily, having difengaged herself from the veil, laid it again on the dressing table, and furveyed the clofet, where every object, on which her eye fixed, feemed to speak of the Marchionefs. In a large oriel window of painted glass, ftood a table, with a filver crucifix, and a prayerbook open; and Emily remembered with emotion what Dorothée had mentioned concerning her cuftom of playing on her lute in this window, before fhe obferved the lute itself, lying on a corner of the table, as if it had been carelessly placed there by the hand, that had fo often awakened it.

"This is a fad forlorn place!" faid Dorothée, "for, when my dear lady died, I had no heart to put it to rights, or the chamber either; and my lord never came into the rooms after, fo they remain just as they