Valancourt, meanwhile,
scarcely less embarrassed, did not dare to look at her, for whom he was
thus distressed; but, when Madame Cheron was silent, he said,
“Flattering, madam, as your approbation is to me—highly as I am
honoured by it—I have yet so much to fear, that I scarcely dare to
hope.” “Pray, sir, explain yourself,” said Madame Cheron; an unexpected
requisition, which embarrassed Valancourt again, and almost overcame
him with confusion, at circumstances, on which, had he been only a
spectator of the scene, he would have smiled. “Till I receive Mademoiselle St. Aubert’s permission to accept your
indulgence,” said he, falteringly—“till she allows me to hope—”

“O! is that all?” interrupted Madame Cheron. “Well, I will take upon me
to answer for her. But at the same time, sir, give me leave to observe
to you, that I am her guardian, and that I expect, in every instance,
that my will is hers.”

As she said this, she rose and quitted the room, leaving Emily and
Valancourt in a state of mutual embarrassment; and, when Valancourt’s
hopes enabled him to overcome his fears, and to address her with the
zeal and sincerity so natural to him, it was a considerable time before
she was sufficiently recovered to hear with distinctness his
solicitations and inquiries. The conduct of Madame Cheron in this affair had been entirely governed
by selfish vanity. Valancourt, in his first interview, had with great
candour laid open to her the true state of his present circumstances,
and his future expectancies, and she, with more prudence than humanity,
had absolutely and abruptly rejected his suit. She wished her niece to
marry ambitiously, not because she desired to see her in possession of
the happiness, which rank and wealth are usually believed to bestow,
but because she desired to partake the importance, which such an
alliance would give. When, therefore, she discovered that Valancourt
was the nephew of a person of so much consequence as Madame Clairval,
she became anxious for the connection, since the prospect it afforded
of future fortune and distinction for Emily, promised the exaltation
she coveted for herself. Her calculations concerning fortune in this
alliance were guided rather by her wishes, than by any hint of
Valancourt, or strong appearance of probability; and, when she rested
her expectation on the wealth of Madame Clairval, she seemed totally to
have forgotten, that the latter had a daughter. Valancourt, however,
had not forgotten this circumstance, and the consideration of it had
made him so modest in his expectations from Madame Clairval, that he
had not even named the relationship in his first conversation with
Madame Cheron. But, whatever might be the future fortune of Emily, the
present distinction, which the connection would afford for herself, was
certain, since the splendour of Madame Clairval’s establishment was
such as to excite the general envy and partial imitation of the
neighbourhood. Thus had she consented to involve her niece in an
engagement, to which she saw only a distant and uncertain conclusion,
with as little consideration of her happiness, as when she had so
precipitately forbade it: for though she herself possessed the means of
rendering this union not only certain, but prudent, yet to do so was no
part of her present intention. From this period Valancourt made frequent visits to Madame Cheron, and
Emily passed in his society the happiest hours she had known since the
death of her father. They were both too much engaged by the present
moments to give serious consideration to the future. They loved and
were beloved, and saw not, that the very attachment, which formed the
delight of their present days, might possibly occasion the sufferings
of years. Meanwhile, Madame Cheron’s intercourse with Madame Clairval
became more frequent than before, and her vanity was already gratified
by the opportunity of proclaiming, wherever she went, the attachment
that subsisted between their nephew and niece. Montoni was now also become a daily guest at the château, and Emily was
compelled to observe, that he really was a suitor, and a favoured
suitor, to her aunt. Thus passed the winter months, not only in peace, but in happiness, to
Valancourt and Emily; the station of his regiment being so near
Thoulouse, as to allow this frequent intercourse. The pavilion on the
terrace was the favourite scene of their interviews, and there Emily,
with Madame Cheron, would work, while Valancourt read aloud works of
genius and taste, listened to her enthusiasm, expressed his own, and
caught new opportunities of observing, that their minds were formed to
constitute the happiness of each other, the same taste, the same noble
and benevolent sentiments animating each. CHAPTER XIII

As when a shepherd of the Hebrid-Isles,
Placed far amid the melancholy main,
(Whether it be lone fancy him beguiles,
Or that aerial beings sometimes deign
To stand embodied to our senses plain)
Sees on the naked hill, or valley low,
The whilst in ocean Phœbus dips his wain,
A vast assembly moving to and fro,
Then all at once in air dissolves the wondrous show. CASTLE OF INDOLENCE


Madame Cheron’s avarice at length yielded to her vanity. Some very
splendid entertainments, which Madame Clairval had given, and the
general adulation, which was paid her, made the former more anxious
than before to secure an alliance, that would so much exalt her in her
own opinion and in that of the world. She proposed terms for the
immediate marriage of her niece, and offered to give Emily a dower,
provided Madame Clairval observed equal terms, on the part of her
nephew. Madame Clairval listened to the proposal, and, considering that
Emily was the apparent heiress of her aunt’s wealth, accepted it. Meanwhile, Emily knew nothing of the transaction, till Madame Cheron
informed her, that she must make preparation for the nuptials, which
would be celebrated without further delay; then, astonished and wholly
unable to account for this sudden conclusion, which Valancourt had not
solicited (for he was ignorant of what had passed between the elder
ladies, and had not dared to hope such good fortune), she decisively
objected to it. Madame Cheron, however, quite as jealous of
contradiction now, as she had been formerly, contended for a speedy
marriage with as much vehemence as she had formerly opposed whatever
had the most remote possibility of leading to it; and Emily’s scruples
disappeared, when she again saw Valancourt, who was now informed of the
happiness, designed for him, and came to claim a promise of it from
herself.