They passed on in a train to the chapel, where the solemn devotion, with which the service was performed, elevated her mind, and brought to it the comforts of faith and resignation.
Twilight came on, before the abbess’s kindness would suffer Emily to depart, when she left the convent, with a heart much lighter than she had entered it, and was reconducted by La Voisin through the woods, the pensive gloom of which was in unison with the temper of her mind; and she pursued the little wild path, in musing silence, till her guide suddenly stopped, looked round, and then struck out of the path into the high grass, saying he had mistaken the road. He now walked on quickly, and Emily, proceeding with difficulty over the obscured and uneven ground, was left at some distance, till her voice arrested him, who seemed unwilling to stop, and still hurried on. “If you are in doubt about the way,” said Emily, “had we not better enquire it at the château yonder, between the trees?”
“No,” replied La Voisin, “there is no occasion. When we reach that brook, ma’amselle, (you see the light upon the water there, beyond the woods) when we reach that brook, we shall be at home presently. I don’t know how I happened to mistake the path; I seldom come this way after sunset.”
“It is solitary enough,” said Emily, “but you have no banditti here.”
“No, ma’amselle—no banditti.”
“What are you afraid of then, my good friend? you are not superstitious?” “No, not superstitious; but, to tell you the truth, lady, nobody likes to go near that château, after dusk.” “By whom is it inhabited,” said Emily, “that it is so formidable?” “Why, ma’amselle, it is scarcely inhabited, for our lord the Marquis, and the lord of all these find woods, too, is dead. He had not once been in it, for these many years, and his people, who have the care of it, live in a cottage close by.” Emily now understood this to be the château, which La Voisin had formerly pointed out, as having belonged to the Marquis Villeroi, on the mention of which her father had appeared so much affected.
“Ah! it is a desolate place now,” continued La Voisin, “and such a grand, fine place, as I remember it!” Emily enquired what had occasioned this lamentable change; but the old man was silent, and Emily, whose interest was awakened by the fear he had expressed, and above all by a recollection of her father’s agitation, repeated the question, and added, “If you are neither afraid of the inhabitants, my good friend, nor are superstitious, how happens it, that you dread to pass near that château in the dark?”
“Perhaps, then, I am a little superstitious, ma’amselle; and, if you knew what I do, you might be so too. Strange things have happened there. Monsieur, your good father, appeared to have known the late Marchioness.” “Pray inform me what did happen?” said Emily, with much emotion.
“Alas! ma’amselle,” answered La Voisin, “enquire no further; it is not for me to lay open the domestic secrets of my lord.”—Emily, surprised by the old man’s words, and his manner of delivering them, forbore to repeat her question; a nearer interest, the remembrance of St. Aubert, occupied her thoughts, and she was led to recollect the music she heard on the preceding night, which she mentioned to La Voisin. “You were not alone, ma’amselle, in this,” he replied, “I heard it too; but I have so often heard it, at the same hour, that I was scarcely surprised.”
“You doubtless believe this music to have some connection with the château,” said Emily suddenly, “and are, therefore, superstitious.” “It may be so, ma’amselle, but there are other circumstances, belonging to that château, which I remember, and sadly too.” A heavy sigh followed: but Emily’s delicacy restrained the curiosity these words revived, and she enquired no further.