l he should have retired to his own apartment.

When the chimes had tolled another half hour, she once more opened
the door, and, perceiving that no person was in the corridor, hastily
crossed into a passage, that led along the south side of the castle
towards the stair-case, whence she believed she could easily find her
way to the turret. Often pausing on her way, listening apprehensively to
the murmurs of the wind, and looking fearfully onward into the gloom of
the long passages, she, at length, reached the stair-case; but there her
perplexity began. Two passages appeared, of which she knew not how to
prefer one, and was compelled, at last, to decide by chance, rather than
by circumstances. That she entered, opened first into a wide gallery,
along which she passed lightly and swiftly; for the lonely aspect of the
place awed her, and she started at the echo of her own steps.

On a sudden, she thought she heard a voice, and, not distinguishing
from whence it came, feared equally to proceed, or to return. For some
moments, she stood in an attitude of listening expectation, shrinking
almost from herself and scarcely daring to look round her. The voice
came again, but, though it was now near her, terror did not allow her to
judge exactly whence it proceeded. She thought, however, that it was the
voice of complaint, and her belief was soon confirmed by a low moaning
sound, that seemed to proceed from one of the chambers, opening into
the gallery. It instantly occurred to her, that Madame Montoni might be
there confined, and she advanced to the door to speak, but was checked
by considering, that she was, perhaps, going to commit herself to a
stranger, who might discover her to Montoni; for, though this person,
whoever it was, seemed to be in affliction, it did not follow, that he
was a prisoner.

While these thoughts passed over her mind, and left her still in
hesitation, the voice spoke again, and, calling 'Ludovico,' she then
perceived it to be that of Annette; on which, no longer hesitating, she
went in joy to answer her.

'Ludovico!' cried Annette, sobbing--'Ludovico!'

'It is not Ludovico, it is I--Mademoiselle Emily.'

Annette ceased sobbing, and was silent.

'If you can open the door, let me in,' said Emily, 'here is no person to
hurt you.'

'Ludovico!--O, Ludovico!' cried Annette.

Emily now lost her patience, and her fear of being overheard increasing,
she was even nearly about to leave the door, when she