The voice spoke again; and, then, thinking that it resembled that of Madame Montoni, Emily's spirits were instantly roused; she rushed towards a bed, that stood in a remote part of the room, and drew aside the curtains.

Within, appeared a pale and emaciated face.

She started back, then again advanced, shuddered as she took up the skeleton hand, that lay stretched upon the quilt; then let it drop, and then viewed the face with a long, unsettled gaze.

It was that of Madame Montoni, though so changed by illness, that the resemblance of what it had been, could scarcely be traced in what it now appeared.

She was still alive, and, raising her heavy eyes, she turned them on her niece.
'Where have you been so long ?' said she, in the same tone, 'I thought you had forsaken me.' 'Do you indeed live,' said Emily, at length, 'or is this but a terrible apparition ?' she received no answer, and again she snatched up the hand.
'This is substance,' she exclaimed, 'but it is cold--cold as marble!' She let it fall.