'Whoever you are,' said Emily, in a trembling voice, 'for heaven's sake
let me go!' 'My charming Emily,' said the man, 'why will you shut yourself up in
this obscure place, when there is so much gaiety below? Return with
me to the cedar parlour, where you will be the fairest ornament of the
party;--you shall not repent the exchange.'
Emily disdained to reply, and still endeavoured to liberate herself.
'Promise, that you will come,' he continued, 'and I will release you
immediately; but first give me a reward for so doing.'
'Who are you?' demanded Emily, in a tone of mingled terror and
indignation, while she still struggled for liberty--'who are you, that
have the cruelty thus to insult me?' 'Why call me cruel?' said the man, 'I would remove you from this dreary
solitude to a merry party below. Do you not know me?'
Emily now faintly remembered, that he was one of the officers who were
with Montoni when she attended him in the morning. 'I thank you for
the kindness of your intention,' she replied, without appearing to
understand him, 'but I wish for nothing so much as that you would leave
me.' 'Charming Emily!' said he, 'give up this foolish whim for solitude, and
come with me to the company, and eclipse the beauties who make part of
it; you, only, are worthy of my love.' He attempted to kiss her hand,
but the strong impulse of her indignation gave her power to liberate
herself, and she fled towards the chamber. She closed the door, before
he reached it, having secured which, she sunk in a chair, overcome by
terror and by the exertion she had made, while she heard his voice,
and his attempts to open the door, without having the power to raise
herself.
At length, she perceived him depart, and had remained,
listening, for a considerable time, and was somewhat revived by not
hearing any sound, when suddenly she remembered the door of the private
stair-case, and that he might enter that way, since it was fastened only
on the other side. She then employed herself in endeavouring to secure
it, in the manner she had formerly done. It appeared to her, that
Montoni had already commenced his scheme of vengeance, by withdrawing
from her his protection, and she repented of the rashness, that had made
her brave the power of such a man. To retain the estates seemed to be
now utterly impossible, and to preserve her life, perhaps her honour,
she resolved, if she should escape the horrors of this night, to give up
all claims to the estates, on the morrow, provided Montoni would suffer
her to depart from Udolpho.