'is it veiled?' said emily, pausing.
'dear ma'amselle!' said annette, fixing her eyes on emily's face, 'what makes you look so pale?--are you ill?'
'no, annette, i am well enough, but i have no desire to see this picture; return into the hall.'
'what! ma'am, not to see the lady of this castle?' said the girl--'the lady, who disappeared to strangely? well! now, i would have run to the furthest mountain we can see, yonder, to have got a sight of such a picture; and, to speak my mind, that strange story is all, that makes me care about this old castle, though it makes me thrill all over, as it were, whenever i think of it.'
'yes, annette, you love the wonderful; but do you know, that, unless you guard against this inclination, it will lead you into all the misery of superstition?'
annette might have smiled in her turn, at this sage observation of emily, who could tremble with ideal terrors, as much as herself, and listen almost as eagerly to the recital of a mysterious story.
annette urged her request.
'are you sure it is a picture?' said emily, 'have you seen it?--is it veiled?'
'holy maria! ma'amselle, yes, no, yes.i am sure it is a picture--ihave seen it, and it is not veiled!'
the tone and look of surprise, with which this was uttered, recalled emily's prudence; who concealed her emotion under a smile, and bade annette lead her to the picture.it was in an obscure chamber, adjoining that part of the castle, allotted to the servants.several other portraits hung on the walls, covered, like this, with dust and cobweb.
'that is it, ma'amselle,' said annette, in a low voice, and pointing.
emily advanced, and surveyed the picture.it represented a lady in the flower of youth and beauty; her features were handsome and noble, full of strong expression, but had little of the captivating sweetness, that emily had looked for, and still less of the pensive mildness she loved.it was a countenance, which spoke the language of passion, rather than that of sentiment; a haughty impatience of misfortune--not the placid melancholy of a spirit injured, yet resigned.