Emily herself, though she could
not encourage his affection, esteemed him both for the many virtues he
possessed, and for the services she had received from him; and it was
not without tender emotions of gratitude and pity, that she now saw him
depart for his family seat in Gascony; while he took leave of her with
a countenance so expressive of love and grief, as to interest the Count
more warmly in his cause than before. In a few days, Emily also left the château, but not before the Count
and Countess had received her promise to repeat her visit very soon;
and she was welcomed by the abbess, with the same maternal kindness she
had formerly experienced, and by the nuns, with much expression of
regard. The well-known scenes of the convent occasioned her many
melancholy recollections, but with these were mingled others, that
inspired gratitude for having escaped the various dangers, that had
pursued her, since she quitted it, and for the good, which she yet
possessed; and, though she once more wept over her father’s grave, with
tears of tender affection, her grief was softened from its former
acuteness. Some time after her return to the monastery, she received a letter from
her uncle, Mons. Quesnel, in answer to information that she had arrived
in France, and to her enquiries, concerning such of her affairs as he
had undertaken to conduct during her absence, especially as to the
period for which La Vallée had been let, whither it was her wish to
return, if it should appear, that her income would permit her to do so. The reply of Mons. Quesnel was cold and formal, as she expected,
expressing neither concern for the evils she suffered, nor pleasure,
that she was now removed from them; nor did he allow the opportunity to
pass, of reproving her for her rejection of Count Morano, whom he
affected still to believe a man of honour and fortune; nor of
vehemently declaiming against Montoni, to whom he had always, till now,
felt himself to be inferior. On Emily’s pecuniary concerns, he was not
very explicit; he informed her, however, that the term, for which La
Vallée had been engaged, was nearly expired; but, without inviting her
to his own house, added, that her circumstances would by no means allow
her to reside there, and earnestly advised her to remain, for the
present, in the convent of St. Claire. To her enquiries respecting poor old Theresa, her late father’s
servant, he gave no answer. In the postscript to his letter, Monsieur
Quesnel mentioned M. Motteville, in whose hands the late St. Aubert had
placed the chief of his personal property, as being likely to arrange
his affairs nearly to the satisfaction of his creditors, and that Emily
would recover much more of her fortune, than she had formerly reason to
expect. The letter also inclosed to Emily an order upon a merchant at
Narbonne, for a small sum of money. The tranquillity of the monastery, and the liberty she was suffered to
enjoy, in wandering among the woods and shores of this delightful
province, gradually restored her spirits to their natural tone, except
that anxiety would sometimes intrude, concerning Valancourt, as the
time approached, when it was possible that she might receive an answer
to her letter. CHAPTER XIII

As when a wave, that from a cloud impends,
And, swell’d with tempests, on the ship descends,
White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud,
Howl o’er the masts, and sing through ev’ry shroud:
Pale, trembling, tir’d, the sailors freeze with fears,
And instant death on ev’ry wave appears. POPE’S HOMER


The Lady Blanche, meanwhile, who was left much alone, became impatient
for the company of her new friend, whom she wished to observe sharing
in the delight she received from the beautiful scenery around. She had
now no person, to whom she could express her admiration and communicate
her pleasures, no eye, that sparkled to her smile, or countenance, that
reflected her happiness; and she became spiritless and pensive. The
Count, observing her dissatisfaction, readily yielded to her
entreaties, and reminded Emily of her promised visit; but the silence
of Valancourt, which was now prolonged far beyond the period, when a
letter might have arrived from Estuvière, oppressed Emily with severe
anxiety, and, rendering her averse to society, she would willingly have
deferred her acceptance of this invitation, till her spirits should be
relieved. The Count and his family, however, pressed to see her; and,
as the circumstances, that prompted her wish for solitude, could not be
explained, there was an appearance of caprice in her refusal, which she
could not persevere in, without offending the friends, whose esteem she
valued. At length, therefore, she returned upon a second visit to
Château-le-Blanc. Here the friendly manner of Count De Villefort
encouraged Emily to mention to him her situation, respecting the
estates of her late aunt, and to consult him on the means of recovering
them. He had little doubt, that the law would decide in her favour,
and, advising her to apply to it, offered first to write to an advocate
at Avignon, on whose opinion he thought he could rely. His kindness was
gratefully accepted by Emily, who, soothed by the courtesy she daily
experienced, would have been once more happy, could she have been
assured of Valancourt’s welfare and unaltered affection. She had now
been above a week at the château, without receiving intelligence of
him, and, though she knew, that, if he was absent from his brother’s
residence, it was scarcely probable her letter had yet reached him, she
could not forbear to admit doubts and fears, that destroyed her peace. Again she would consider of all, that might have happened in the long
period, since her first seclusion at Udolpho, and her mind was
sometimes so overwhelmed with an apprehension, that Valancourt was no
more, or that he lived no longer for her, that the company even of
Blanche became intolerably oppressive, and she would sit alone in her
apartment for hours together, when the engagements of the family
allowed her to do so, without incivility. In one of these solitary hours, she unlocked a little box, which
contained some letters of Valancourt, with some drawings she had
sketched, during her stay in Tuscany, the latter of which were no
longer interesting to her; but, in the letters, she now, with
melancholy indulgence, meant to retrace the tenderness, that had so
often soothed her, and rendered her, for a moment, insensible of the
distance, which separated her from the writer.