Emily started back in terror, and looked for explanation to the abbess, who made her a signal not to be alarmed, and calmly said to Agnes, 'Daughter, I have brought Mademoiselle St.Aubert to visit you: I thought you would be glad to see her.'
Agnes made no reply; but, still gazing wildly upon Emily, exclaimed, 'It is her very self! Oh! there is all that fascination in her look, which proved my destruction! What would you have--what is it you came to demand--Retribution?--It will soon be yours--it is yours already.How many years have passed, since last I saw you! My crime is but as yesterday.--Yet I am grown old beneath it; while you are still young and blooming--blooming as when you forced me to commit that most abhorred deed! O! could I once forget it!--yet what would that avail?--the deed is done!'
Emily, extremely shocked, would now have left the room; but the abbess, taking her hand, tried to support her spirits, and begged she would stay a few moments, when Agnes would probably be calm, whom now she tried to sooth.But the latter seemed to disregard her, while she still fixed her eyes on Emily, and added, 'What are years of prayers and repentance? they cannot wash out the foulness of murder!--Yes, murder! Where is he--where is he?--Look there--look there!--see where he stalks along the room! Why do you come to torment me now?' continued Agnes, while her straining eyes were bent on air, 'why was not I punished before?--O! do not frown so sternly! Hah!
there again! 'til she herself! Why do you look so piteously upon me--and smile, too? smile on me! What groan was that?'
Agnes sunk down, apparently lifeless, and Emily, unable to support herself, leaned against the bed, while the abbess and the attendant nun were applying the usual remedies to Agnes.'Peace,' said the abbess, when Emily was going to speak, 'the delirium is going off, she will soon revive.When was she thus before, daughter?'
'Not of many weeks, madam,' replied the nun, 'but her spirits have been much agitated by the arrival of the gentleman she wished so much to see.'
'Yes,' observed the abbess, 'that has undoubtedly occasioned this paroxy** of frenzy.When she is better, we will leave her to repose.'
Emily very readily consented, but, though she could now give little assistance, she was unwilling to quit the chamber, while any might be necessary.
When Agnes recovered her senses, she again fixed her eyes on Emily, but their wild expression was gone, and a gloomy melancholy had succeeded.It was some moments before she recovered sufficient spirits to speak; she then said feebly--'The likeness is wonderful!--surely it must be something more than fancy.Tell me, I conjure you,' she added, addressing Emily, 'though your name is St.Aubert, are you not the daughter of the Marchioness?'
'What Marchioness?' said Emily, in extreme surprise; for she had imagined, from the calmness of Agnes's manner, that her intellects were restored.The abbess gave her a significant glance, but she repeated the question.
'What Marchioness?' exclaimed Agnes, 'I know but of one--the Marchioness de Villeroi.'
Emily, remembering the emotion of her late father, upon the unexpected mention of this lady, and his request to be laid near to the tomb of the Villerois, now felt greatly interested, and she entreated Agnes to explain the reason of her question.The abbess would now have withdrawn Emily from the room, who being, however, detained by a strong interest, repeated her entreaties.
'Bring me that casket, sister,' said Agnes; 'I will shew her to you;yet you need only look in that mirror, and you will behold her; you surely are her daughter: such striking resemblance is never found but among near relations.'
The nun brought the casket, and Agnes, having directed her how to unlock it, she took thence a miniature, in which Emily perceived the exact resemblance of the picture, which she had found among her late father's papers.Agnes held out her hand to receive it; gazed upon it earnestly for some moments in silence; and then, with a countenance of deep despair, threw up her eyes to Heaven, and prayed inwardly.When she had finished, she returned the miniature to Emily.'Keep it,' said she, 'I bequeath it to you, for I must believe it is your right.I have frequently observed the resemblance between you; but never, till this day, did it strike upon my conscience so powerfully! Stay, sister, do not remove the casket--there is another picture I would shew.'
Emily trembled with expectation, and the abbess again would have withdrawn her.'Agnes is still disordered,' said she, 'you observe how she wanders.In these moods she says any thing, and does not scruple, as you have witnessed, to accuse herself of the most horrible crimes.'
Emily, however, thought she perceived something more than madness in the inconsistencies of Agnes, whose mention of the Marchioness, and production of her picture, had interested her so much, that she determined to obtain further information, if possible, respecting the subject of it.
The nun returned with the casket, and, Agnes pointing out to her a secret drawer, she took from it another miniature.'Here,' said Agnes, as she offered it to Emily, 'learn a lesson for your vanity, at least; look well at this picture, and see if you can discover any resemblance between what I was, and what I am.'
Emily impatiently received the miniature, which her eyes had scarcely glanced upon, before her trembling hands had nearly suffered it to fall--it was the resemblance of the portrait of Signora Laurentini, which she had formerly seen in the castle of Udolpho--the lady, who had disappeared in so mysterious a manner, and whom Montoni had been suspected of having caused to be murdered.
In silent astonishment, Emily continued to gaze alternately upon the picture and the dying nun, endeavouring to trace a resemblance between them, which no longer existed.
'Why do you look so sternly on me?' said Agnes, mistaking the nature of Emily's emotion.
