the worst when we enter its portals.  The anticipation is half pleasurable, half fearful, as we shudder at the thought of what may befall us within its walls.  At every turn something uncanny shakes our overwrought nerves; the sighing of the wind, the echo of distant footsteps, lurking shadows, gliding forms, inexplicable groans, mysterious music torture the sensitive imagination of Emily, who is mercilessly doomed to sleep in a deserted apartment with a door, which, as so often in the novel of terror, bolts only on the outside.  More nerve wracking than the unburied corpse or even than the ineffable horror concealed behind the black veil are the imaginary, impalpable terrors that seize on Emily’s tender fancy as she crosses the hall on her way to solve the riddle of her aunt’s disappearance: 

“Emily, deceived by the long shadows of the pillars and by the catching lights between, often stopped, imagining that she saw some person moving in the distant obscurity...and as she passed these pillars she feared to turn her eyes towards them, almost expecting to see a figure start from behind their broad shaft.”

Torn from the context, this passage no longer congeals us with terror, but in its setting it conveys in a wonderfully vivid manner the tricks of a feverish imagination.  So exhaustive—­and exhausting—­are the mysteries of Udolpho that it was a mistake to introduce another haunted castle, le Blanc, as an appendix.

Mrs. Radcliffe’s long deferred explanations of what is apparently supernatural have often been adversely criticised.  Her method varies considerably.  Sometimes we are enlightened almost immediately.  When the garrulous servant, Annette, is relating to Emily what she knows of the story of Laurentina, who had once lived in the castle, both mistress and servant are wrought up to a state of nervous tension: 

“Emily, whom now Annette had infected with her own terrors, listened attentively, but everything was still, and Annette proceeded...  ‘There again,’ cried Annette, suddenly, ‘I heard it again.’  ‘Hush!’ said Emily, trembling.  They listened and continued to sit quite still.  Emily heard a slow knocking against the wall.  It came repeatedly.  Annette then screamed loudly, and the chamber door slowly opened—­It was Caterina, come to tell Annette that her lady wanted her.”

It is seldom that the rude awakening comes thus swiftly.  More often we are left wondering uneasily and fearfully for a prolonged stretch of time.  The extreme limit of human endurance is reached in the episode of the Black Veil.  Early in the second volume, Emily, for whom the concealed picture had a fatal fascination, determined to gaze upon it.