The Shades of Udolpho

The ruthless grip on her arm propelled Catherine down the pavement. In the swirling fog, she could not see where she was being taken or even identify her captor. One of Mrs. Radcliffe’s heroines might have swooned at such a moment, but Catherine had no idea of doing so.

“Who are you?” she demanded. “Let me go! Where are you taking me?”

Her abductor stopped and turned. A face came leering at her out of the mist; instinctively she raised her hand and prepared to cry out. . .

***

MacGuffin’s coat gleamed; all traces of mud and the Avon had been removed, and he was once again a pampered house pet rather than the wild-looking creature of nature he had been only a little while earlier. MacGuffin had no vanity, but he enjoyed the sensation of being brushed and the attention he received from his master, and wagged his tail gratefully.

Henry attempted to brush away some of the hair that had traveled from the dog to his own coat, but it soon proved a hopeless business.

“Matthew,” he said, “another time, remind me to take off my coat before brushing Mac.”

“Yes, Mr. Tilney,” said Matthew, who had done precisely that on the present occasion, but had not been heeded.

“Come along, Mac,” said Henry.

MacGuffin followed him very willingly upstairs, where, he knew, there would be scraps from his family’s evening meal and a warm fire to lie beside. He trotted ahead of his master in the entrance hallway and stopped to sniff at the door, which stood ajar.


Henry looked outside, and saw nothing but swirling fog; he wondered for a moment, and then shut the door. He went up the stairs to the drawing room, MacGuffin close behind.