He spoke to her in accents somewhat softened from their usual harshness, but she regarded him with a kind of half curious, half terrified look, and answered only 'yes,' to whatever he said.

Her mind still seemed to retain no other impression, than that of fear.
Of this disorder Annette could give no explanation, and Montoni, having attempted, for some time, to persuade Emily to talk, retired, after ordering Annette to remain with her, during the night, and to inform him, in the morning, of her condition.
When he was gone, Emily again came forward, and asked who it was, that had been there to disturb her.

Annette said it was the Signor-Signor Montoni.

Emily repeated the name after her, several times, as if she did not recollect it, and then suddenly groaned, and relapsed into abstraction.
With some difficulty, Annette led her to the bed, which Emily examined with an eager, frenzied eye, before she lay down, and then, pointing, turned with shuddering emotion, to Annette, who, now more terrified, went towards the door, that she might bring one of the female servants to pass the night with them; but Emily, observing her going, called her by name, and then in the naturally soft and plaintive tone of her voice, begged, that she, too, would not forsake her.--'For since my father died,' added she, sighing, 'every body forsakes me.' 'Your father, ma'amselle!' said Annette, 'he was dead before you knew me.' 'He was, indeed!' rejoined Emily, and her tears began to flow.

She now wept silently and long, after which, becoming quite calm, she at length sunk to sleep, Annette having had discretion enough not to interrupt her tears.