gloomy grandeur of those to which she had long been confined, and to the manners of the people who moved among them, that she could almost have fancied herself again at La Vallée; and, wondering why Montoni had sent her thither, could scarcely believe that he had selected so enchanting a spot for any cruel design. It was, however, probably not the spot, but the persons who happened to inhabit it, and to whose care he could safely commit the execution of his plans, whatever they might be, that had determined his choice.

She now ventured again to inquire whether they were near the place of their destination, and was answered by Ugo, that they had not far to go. Only to the wood of chesnuts in the valley yonder, said he, there, by the brook that sparkles with the moon; I wish I was once at rest there, with a flask of good wine and a slice of Tuscany bacon.

Emily's spirits revived when she heard that the journey was so nearly concluded, and saw the wood of chesnuts in an open part of the vale, on the margin of the stream.

In a short time they reached the entrance of the wood, and perceived between the twinkling leaves a light streaming from a distant cottage-window. They proceeded along the edge of the brook to where the trees, crowding over it, excluded the moonbeams; but a long line of light, from the cottage above, was seen on its dark tremulous surface. Bertrand now stepped on first, and Emily heard him knock, and call loudly at the door. As she reached it, the small upper casement, where the light appeared, was unclosed by a man, who, having inquired what they wanted, immediately descended, let them into a neat rustic cot, and called up his wife to set refreshments before the travellers. As this man conversed, rather apart, with Bertrand, Emily anxi

VOL. XLVI.

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ously surveyed him. He was a tall but not robast peasant, of a sallow complexion, and had a shrewd and cunning eye; his countenance was not of a character to win the ready confidence of youth, and there was nothing in his manner that might conciliate a stranger.

Ugo called impatiently for supper, and in a tone as if he knew his authority here to be unquestionable. I expected you an hour ago, said the peasant, for I have had Signor Montoni's letter these three hours, and I and my wife had given you up, and gone to bed. How did you fare in the storm?

Ill enough, replied Ugo, ill enough, and we are like to fare ill enough here, too, unless you will make more haste. Get us more wine, and let us see what you have to eat.

The peasant placed before them all that his cottage afforded-ham, wine, figs, and grapes of such size and flavour as Emily had seldom tasted.

After taking refreshment, she was shown by the peasant's wife to her little bed-chamber, where she asked some questions concerning Montoni; to which the woman, whose name was Dorina, gave reserved answers, pretending ignorance of his Excellenza's intention in sending Emily hither, but acknowledging that her husband had been apprized of the circumstance. Perceiving that she could obtain no intelligence concerning her destination, Emily dismissed Dorina, and retired to repose: but all the busy scenes of the past and the anticipated ones of the future came to her anxious mind, and conspired with the sense of her new situation to banish sleep.

CHAPTER XV.

Was nought around but images of rest, Sleep-soothing groves and quiet lawns between, And flowery beds that slumbrous influence kest, From poppies breathed, and banks of pleasant green, Where never yet was creeping creature seen. Meantime unnumber'd glitt'ring streamlets play'd, And hurled every-where their water's sheen, That, as they bicker'd through the sunny glade, Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made, THOMSON,

WHEN Emily, in the morning, opened her casement, she was surprised to observe the beauties that surrounded it. The cottage was nearly embowered in the woods, which were chiefly of ches nut intermixed with some cypress, larch, and syca more, Beneath the dark and spreading branches appeared to the north and to the east the woody Apennines, rising in majestic amphitheatre, not black with pines, as she had been accustomed to see them, but their loftiest summits crowned with ancient forests of chesnut, oak, and oriental plane, now animated with the rich tints of autumn, and which swept downward to the valley uninterruptedly, except where some bold rocky promontory looked out from among the foliage, and caught the passing gleam, Vineyards stretched along the feet of the mountains, where the elegant villas of the Tuscan nobility frequently adorned the scene, and overlooked slopes clothed with groves of olive, mulberry, orange, and lemon. The plain to which these declined, was coloured with the riches of cultivation, whose mingled hues were mellowed into harmony by an Italian sun. Vines, their purple clusters blushing between the russet foliage, hung in luxuriant festoons from the branches of standard fig and cherry trees, while pastures of verdure, such as Emily had seldom seen in Italy, enriched the banks of a stream that, after descending from the mountains, wound along the landscape, which it reflected, to a bay of the sea. There, far in the west, thewaters, fading into the sky, assumed a tint of the faintest purple, and the line of separation between them was now and then discernible only by the progress of a sail, brightened with the sun-beam, along the horizon.

The cottage, which was shaded by the woods from the intenser rays of the sun, and was open only to his evening light, was covered entirely with vines, fig-trees, and jessamine whose flowers surpassed in size and fragrance any that Emily had seen. These ripening clusters of grapes hung round her little casement. The turf, that grew under the woods, was inlaid with a variety of wild flowers and perfumed herbs, and on the opposite margin of the stream, whose current diffused freshness beneath the shades, rose a grove of lemon and orange trees. This, though nearly opposite to Emily's window, did not interrupt her prospect, but rather heightened, by its dark verdure, the effect of the perspective; and to her this spot was a bower of sweets, whose charms communicated imperceptibly to her mind somewhat of their own serenity.

She was soon summoned to breakfast by the peasant's daughter, a girl about seventeen, of a pleasant countenance, which, Emily was glad to observe, seemed animated with the pure affections of nature, though the others that surrounded her expressed, more or less, the worst qualities-cruelty, ferocity, cunning, and duplicity; of the latter style of countenance, especially, were those of the peasant and his wife. Maddeliną spoke little; but what she said was in a soft voice, and with an air of modesty and complacency that interested Emily, who breakfasted at a separate table with Dorina, while Ugo and Bertrand were taking a repast of Tuscany bacon and wine with their host, near the cottage door; when they had finished which, Ugo, rising hastily, inquired for his mule, and Emily learned that he was to return to Udolpha, while Bertrand remained at the cottage; a circumstance which, though it did not surprise, distressed her.

When Ugo was departed, Emily proposed to walk in the neighbouring woods; but on being told that she must not quit the cottage without having Bertrand for her attendant, she withdrew to her own room. There, as her eyes settled on the towering Apennines, she recollected the terrific scenery they had exhibited, and the horrors she had suffered, on the preceding night, particularly at the moment when Bertrand had betrayed himself to be an assas sin; and these remembrances awakened a train of images, which, since they abstracted her from a consideration of her own situation, she pursued for some time, and then arranged in the following lines; pleased to have discovered any innocent means by which she could beguile an hour of misfortune.