The combatants were, at length, separated; and, after a very long and
violent dispute, reconciled. Montoni then left the room with Orsino,
whom he detained in private consultation for a considerable time.
Emily, meanwhile, stunned by the last words of Montoni, forgot, for the
moment, his declaration, that she should continue in the castle, while
she thought of her unfortunate aunt, who, he had said, was laid in
the east turret. In suffering the remains of his wife to lie thus long
unburied, there appeared a degree of brutality more shocking than she
had suspected even Montoni could practise.
After a long struggle, she determined to accept his permission to visit
the turret, and to take a last look of her ill-fated aunt: with which
design she returned to her chamber, and, while she waited for Annette
to accompany her, endeavoured to acquire fortitude sufficient to support
her through the approaching scene; for, though she trembled to encounter
it, she knew that to remember the performance of this last act of duty
would hereafter afford her consoling satisfaction.
Annette came, and Emily mentioned her purpose, from which the former
endeavoured to dissuade her, though without effect, and Annette was,
with much difficulty, prevailed upon to accompany her to the turret; but
no consideration could make her promise to enter the chamber of death.
They now left the corridor, and, having reached the foot of the
stair-case, which Emily had formerly ascended, Annette declared she
would go no further, and Emily proceeded alone. When she saw the track
of blood, which she had before observed, her spirits fainted, and, being
compelled to rest on the stairs, she almost determined to proceed no
further. The pause of a few moments restored her resolution, and she
went on.
As she drew near the landing-place, upon which the upper chamber opened,
she remembered, that the door was formerly fastened, and apprehended,
that it might still be so. In this expectation, however, she was
mistaken; for the door opened at once, into a dusky and silent chamber,
round which she fearfully looked, and then slowly advanced, when a
hollow voice spoke.
Emily, who was unable to speak, or to move from
the spot, uttered no sound of terror. The voice spoke again; and, then,
thinking that it resembled that of Madame Montoni, Emily's spirits were
instantly roused; she rushed towards a bed, that stood in a remote part
of the room, and drew aside the curtains. Within, appeared a pale and
emaciated face. She started back, then again advanced, shuddered as she
took up the skeleton hand, that lay stretched upon the quilt; then let
it drop, and then viewed the face with a long, unsettled gaze. It
was that of Madame Montoni, though so changed by illness, that the
resemblance of what it had been, could scarcely be traced in what it now
appeared. She was still alive, and, raising her heavy eyes, she turned
them on her niece. 'Where have you been so long?' said she, in the same tone, 'I
thought you had forsaken me.'