departure; but Emily had a few books and other things to collect, and
the clock had struck twelve before she had finished, or had
remembered that some of her drawing instruments, which she meant to
take with her, were in the parlour below. As she went to fetch
these, she passed her father's room, and, perceiving the door half
open, concluded that he was in his study--for, since the death of
Madame St. Aubert, it had been frequently his custom to rise from his
restless bed, and go thither to compose his mind. When she was below
stairs she looked into this room, but without finding him; and as she
returned to her chamber, she tapped at his door, and receiving no
answer, stepped softly in, to be certain whether he was there.

The room was dark, but a light glimmered through some panes of glass
that were placed in the upper part of a closet-door. Emily believed
her father to be in the closet, and, surprised that he was up at so
late an hour, apprehended he was unwell, and was going to enquire;
but, considering that her sudden appearance at this hour might alarm
him, she removed her light to the stair-case, and then stepped softly
to the closet. On looking through the panes of glass, she saw him
seated at a small table, with papers before him, some of which he was
reading with deep attention and interest, during which he often wept
and sobbed aloud. Emily, who had come to the door to learn whether
her father was ill, was now detained there by a mixture of curiosity
and tenderness. She could not witness his sorrow, without being
anxious to know the subject of; and she therefore continued to
observe him in silence, concluding that those papers were letters of
her late mother. Presently he knelt down, and with a look so solemn
as she had seldom seen him assume, and which was mingled with a
certain wild expression, that partook more of horror than of any
other character, he prayed silently for a considerable time.