The steps were
quick and bounding, and, in the next moment, the door of the chamber
opened, and a person entered, whose features were veiled in the
obscurity of twilight; but his voice could not be concealed, for it was
the voice of Valancourt! At the sound, never heard by Emily, without
emotion, she started, in terror, astonishment and doubtful pleasure,
and had scarcely beheld him at her feet, when she sunk into a seat,
overcome by the various emotions, that contended at her heart, and
almost insensible to that voice, whose earnest and trembling calls
seemed as if endeavouring to save her. Valancourt, as he hung over
Emily, deplored his own rash impatience, in having thus surprised her:
for when he had arrived at the château, too anxious to await the return
of the Count, who, he understood, was in the grounds, he went himself
to seek him, when, as he passed the tower, he was struck by the sound
of Emily’s voice, and immediately ascended. It was a considerable time before she revived, but, when her
recollection returned, she repulsed his attentions, with an air of
reserve, and enquired, with as much displeasure as it was possible she
could feel in these first moments of his appearance, the occasion of
his visit. “Ah Emily!” said Valancourt, “that air, those words—alas! I have, then,
little to hope—when you ceased to esteem me, you ceased also to love
me!”

“Most true, sir,” replied Emily, endeavouring to command her trembling
voice; “and if you had valued my esteem, you would not have given me
this new occasion for uneasiness.”

Valancourt’s countenance changed suddenly from the anxieties of doubt
to an expression of surprise and dismay: he was silent a moment, and
then said, “I had been taught to hope for a very different reception! Is it, then, true, Emily, that I have lost your regard for ever? am I
to believe, that, though your esteem for me may return—your affection
never can? Can the Count have meditated the cruelty, which now tortures
me with a second death?”

The voice, in which he spoke this, alarmed Emily as much as his words
surprised her, and, with trembling impatience, she begged that he would
explain them. “Can any explanation be necessary?” said Valancourt, “do you not know
how cruelly my conduct has been misrepresented? that the actions of
which you once believed me guilty (and, O Emily! how could you so
degrade me in your opinion, even for a moment!) those actions—I hold in
as much contempt and abhorrence as yourself? Are you, indeed, ignorant,
that Count de Villefort has detected the slanders, that have robbed me
of all I hold dear on earth, and has invited me hither to justify to
you my former conduct? It is surely impossible you can be uninformed of
these circumstances, and I am again torturing myself with a false
hope!”

The silence of Emily confirmed this supposition; for the deep twilight
would not allow Valancourt to distinguish the astonishment and doubting
joy, that fixed her features. For a moment, she continued unable to
speak; then a profound sigh seemed to give some relief to her spirits,
and she said,

“Valancourt! I was, till this moment, ignorant of all the circumstances
you have mentioned; the emotion I now suffer may assure you of the
truth of this, and, that, though I had ceased to esteem, I had not
taught myself entirely to forget you.”

“This moment,” said Valancourt, in a low voice, and leaning for support
against the window—“this moment brings with it a conviction that
overpowers me!—I am dear to you then—still dear to you, my Emily!”

“Is it necessary that I should tell you so?” she replied, “is it
necessary, that I should say—these are the first moments of joy I have
known, since your departure, and that they repay me for all those of
pain I have suffered in the interval?”

Valancourt sighed deeply, and was unable to reply; but, as he pressed
her hand to his lips, the tears, that fell over it, spoke a language,
which could not be mistaken, and to which words were inadequate. Emily, somewhat tranquillized, proposed returning to the château, and
then, for the first time, recollected that the Count had invited
Valancourt thither to explain his conduct, and that no explanation had
yet been given. But, while she acknowledged this, her heart would not
allow her to dwell, for a moment, on the possibility of his
unworthiness; his look, his voice, his manner, all spoke the noble
sincerity, which had formerly distinguished him; and she again
permitted herself to indulge the emotions of a joy, more surprising and
powerful, than she had ever before experienced. Neither Emily, nor Valancourt, were conscious how they reached the
château, whither they might have been transferred by the spell of a
fairy, for anything they could remember; and it was not, till they had
reached the great hall, that either of them recollected there were
other persons in the world besides themselves. The Count then came
forth with surprise, and with the joyfulness of pure benevolence, to
welcome Valancourt, and to entreat his forgiveness of the injustice he
had done him; soon after which, Mons. Bonnac joined this happy group,
in which he and Valancourt were mutually rejoiced to meet. When the first congratulations were over, and the general joy became
somewhat more tranquil, the Count withdrew with Valancourt to the
library, where a long conversation passed between them, in which the
latter so clearly justified himself of the criminal parts of the
conduct, imputed to him, and so candidly confessed and so feelingly
lamented the follies, which he had committed, that the Count was
confirmed in his belief of all he had hoped; and, while he perceived so
many noble virtues in Valancourt, and that experience had taught him to
detest the follies, which before he had only not admired, he did not
scruple to believe, that he would pass through life with the dignity of
a wise and good man, or to entrust to his care the future happiness of
Emily St. Aubert, for whom he felt the solicitude of a parent. Of this
he soon informed her, in a short conversation, when Valancourt had left
him. While Emily listened to a relation of the services, that
Valancourt had rendered Mons. Bonnac, her eyes overflowed with tears of
pleasure, and the further conversation of Count De Villefort perfectly
dissipated every doubt, as to the past and future conduct of him, to
whom she now restored, without fear, the esteem and affection, with
which she had formerly received him. When they returned to the supper-room, the Countess and Lady Blanche
met Valancourt with sincere congratulations; and Blanche, indeed, was
so much rejoiced to see Emily returned to happiness, as to forget, for
a while, that Mons. St. Foix was not yet arrived at the château, though
he had been expected for some hours; but her generous sympathy was,
soon after, rewarded by his appearance.