“And is it possible,” said Emily, as these recollections returned—“is
it possible, that a mind, so susceptible of whatever is grand and
beautiful, could stoop to low pursuits, and be subdued by frivolous
temptations?”

She remembered how often she had seen the sudden tear start in his eye,
and had heard his voice tremble with emotion, while he related any
great or benevolent action, or repeated a sentiment of the same
character. “And such a mind,” said she, “such a heart, were to be
sacrificed to the habits of a great city!”

These recollections becoming too painful to be endured, she abruptly
left the pavilion, and, anxious to escape from the memorials of her
departed happiness, returned towards the château. As she passed along
the terrace, she perceived a person, walking, with a slow step, and a
dejected air, under the trees, at some distance. The twilight, which
was now deep, would not allow her to distinguish who it was, and she
imagined it to be one of the servants, till, the sound of her steps
seeming to reach him, he turned half round, and she thought she saw
Valancourt! Whoever it was, he instantly struck among the thickets on the left, and
disappeared, while Emily, her eyes fixed on the place, whence he had
vanished, and her frame trembling so excessively, that she could
scarcely support herself, remained, for some moments, unable to quit
the spot, and scarcely conscious of existence. With her recollection,
her strength returned, and she hurried toward the house, where she did
not venture to enquire who had been in the gardens, lest she should
betray her emotion; and she sat down alone, endeavouring to recollect
the figure, air and features of the person she had just seen. Her view
of him, however, had been so transient, and the gloom had rendered it
so imperfect, that she could remember nothing with exactness; yet the
general appearance of his figure, and his abrupt departure, made her
still believe, that this person was Valancourt. Sometimes, indeed, she
thought, that her fancy, which had been occupied by the idea of him,
had suggested his image to her uncertain sight: but this conjecture was
fleeting. If it was himself whom she had seen, she wondered much, that
he should be at Thoulouse, and more, how he had gained admittance into
the garden; but as often as her impatience prompted her to enquire
whether any stranger had been admitted, she was restrained by an
unwillingness to betray her doubts; and the evening was passed in
anxious conjecture, and in efforts to dismiss the subject from her
thoughts. But, these endeavours were ineffectual, and a thousand
inconsistent emotions assailed her, whenever she fancied that
Valancourt might be near her; now, she dreaded it to be true, and now
she feared it to be false; and, while she constantly tried to persuade
herself, that she wished the person, whom she had seen, might not be
Valancourt, her heart as constantly contradicted her reason. The following day was occupied by the visits of several neighbouring
families, formerly intimate with Madame Montoni, who came to condole
with Emily on her death, to congratulate her upon the acquisition of
these estates, and to enquire about Montoni, and concerning the strange
reports they had heard of her own situation; all which was done with
the utmost decorum, and the visitors departed with as much composure as
they had arrived. Emily was wearied by these formalities, and disgusted by the
subservient manners of many persons, who had thought her scarcely
worthy of common attention, while she was believed to be a dependant on
Madame Montoni. “Surely,” said she, “there is some magic in wealth, which can thus make
persons pay their court to it, when it does not even benefit
themselves. How strange it is, that a fool or a knave, with riches,
should be treated with more respect by the world, than a good man, or a
wise man in poverty!”

It was evening, before she was left alone, and she then wished to have
refreshed her spirits in the free air of her garden; but she feared to
go thither, lest she should meet again the person, whom she had seen on
the preceding night, and he should prove to be Valancourt. The suspense
and anxiety she suffered, on this subject, she found all her efforts
unable to control, and her secret wish to see Valancourt once more,
though unseen by him, powerfully prompted her to go, but prudence and a
delicate pride restrained her, and she determined to avoid the
possibility of throwing herself in his way, by forbearing to visit the
gardens, for several days. When, after near a week, she again ventured thither, she made Annette
her companion, and confined her walk to the lower grounds, but often
started as the leaves rustled in the breeze, imagining, that some
person was among the thickets; and, at the turn of every alley, she
looked forward with apprehensive expectation. She pursued her walk
thoughtfully and silently, for her agitation would not suffer her to
converse with Annette, to whom, however, thought and silence were so
intolerable, that she did not scruple at length to talk to her
mistress. “Dear madam,” said she, “why do you start so? one would think you knew
what has happened.”

“What has happened?” said Emily, in a faltering voice, and trying to
command her emotion. “The night before last, you know, madam—”

“I know nothing, Annette,” replied her lady in a more hurried voice. “The night before last, madam, there was a robber in the garden.”

“A robber!” said Emily, in an eager, yet doubting tone. “I suppose he was a robber, madam. What else could he be?”

“Where did you see him, Annette?” rejoined Emily, looking round her,
and turning back towards the château. “It was not I that saw him, madam, it was Jean the gardener. It was
twelve o’clock at night, and, as he was coming across the court to go
the back way into the house, what should he see—but somebody walking in
the avenue, that fronts the garden gate! So, with that, Jean guessed
how it was, and he went into the house for his gun.”

“His gun!” exclaimed Emily. “Yes, madam, his gun; and then he came out into the court to watch him. Presently, he sees him come slowly down the avenue, and lean over the
garden gate, and look up at the house for a long time; and I warrant he
examined it well, and settled what window he should break in at.”

“But the gun,” said Emily—“the gun!”

“Yes, madam, all in good time. Presently, Jean says, the robber opened
the gate, and was coming into the court, and then he thought proper to
ask him his business: so he called out again, and bade him say who he
was, and what he wanted. But the man would do neither; but turned upon
his heel, and passed into the garden again. Jean knew then well enough
how it was, and so he fired after him.”

“Fired!” exclaimed Emily. “Yes, madam, fired off his gun; but, Holy Virgin! what makes you look
so pale, madam?