He had now obtained leave of absence from his regiment when he made the
excursion into the Pyrenees, which was the means of introducing him to
St. Aubert; and, as this permission was nearly expired, he was the more
anxious to declare himself to Emily’s family, from whom he reasonably
apprehended opposition, since his fortune, though, with a moderate
addition from hers, it would be sufficient to support them, would not
satisfy the views, either of vanity, or ambition. Valancourt was not
without the latter, but he saw golden visions of promotion in the army;
and believed, that with Emily he could, in the mean time, be delighted
to live within the limits of his humble income. His thoughts were now
occupied in considering the means of making himself known to her
family, to whom, however, he had yet no address, for he was entirely
ignorant of Emily’s precipitate departure from La Vallée, of whom he
hoped to obtain it. Meanwhile, the travellers pursued their journey; Emily making frequent
efforts to appear cheerful, and too often relapsing into silence and
dejection. Madame Cheron, attributing her melancholy solely to the
circumstance of her being removed to a distance from her lover, and
believing, that the sorrow, which her niece still expressed for the
loss of St. Aubert, proceeded partly from an affectation of
sensibility, endeavoured to make it appear ridiculous to her, that such
deep regret should continue to be felt so long after the period usually
allowed for grief. At length, these unpleasant lectures were interrupted by the arrival of
the travellers at Thoulouse; and Emily, who had not been there for many
years, and had only a very faint recollection of it, was surprised at
the ostentatious style exhibited in her aunt’s house and furniture; the
more so, perhaps, because it was so totally different from the modest
elegance, to which she had been accustomed. She followed Madame Cheron
through a large hall, where several servants in rich liveries appeared,
to a kind of saloon, fitted up with more show than taste; and her aunt,
complaining of fatigue, ordered supper immediately. “I am glad to find
myself in my own house again,” said she, throwing herself on a large
settee, “and to have my own people about me. I detest travelling;
though, indeed, I ought to like it, for what I see abroad always makes
me delighted to return to my own château. What makes you so silent,
child?—What is it that disturbs you now?”

Emily suppressed a starting tear, and tried to smile away the
expression of an oppressed heart; she was thinking of _her_ home, and
felt too sensibly the arrogance and ostentatious vanity of Madame
Cheron’s conversation. “Can this be my father’s sister!” said she to
herself; and then the conviction that she was so, warming her heart
with something like kindness towards her, she felt anxious to soften
the harsh impression her mind had received of her aunt’s character, and
to show a willingness to oblige her. The effort did not entirely fail;
she listened with apparent cheerfulness, while Madame Cheron expatiated
on the splendour of her house, told of the numerous parties she
entertained, and what she should expect of Emily, whose diffidence
assumed the air of a reserve, which her aunt, believing it to be that
of pride and ignorance united, now took occasion to reprehend. She knew
nothing of the conduct of a mind, that fears to trust its own powers;
which, possessing a nice judgment, and inclining to believe, that every
other person perceives still more critically, fears to commit itself to
censure, and seeks shelter in the obscurity of silence. Emily had
frequently blushed at the fearless manners, which she had seen admired,
and the brilliant nothings, which she had heard applauded; yet this
applause, so far from encouraging her to imitate the conduct that had
won it, rather made her shrink into the reserve, that would protect her
from such absurdity. Madame Cheron looked on her niece’s diffidence with a feeling very near
to contempt, and endeavoured to overcome it by reproof, rather than to
encourage it by gentleness. The entrance of supper somewhat interrupted the complacent discourse of
Madame Cheron and the painful considerations, which it had forced upon
Emily. When the repast, which was rendered ostentatious by the
attendance of a great number of servants, and by a profusion of plate,
was over, Madame Cheron retired to her chamber, and a female servant
came to show Emily to hers. Having passed up a large staircase, and
through several galleries, they came to a flight of back stairs, which
led into a short passage in a remote part of the château, and there the
servant opened the door of a small chamber, which she said was
Ma’amselle Emily’s, who, once more alone, indulged the tears she had
long tried to restrain. Those, who know, from experience, how much the heart becomes attached
even to inanimate objects, to which it has been long accustomed, how
unwillingly it resigns them; how with the sensations of an old friend
it meets them, after temporary absence, will understand the forlornness
of Emily’s feelings, of Emily shut out from the only home she had known
from her infancy, and thrown upon a scene, and among persons,
disagreeable for more qualities than their novelty. Her father’s
favourite dog, now in the chamber, thus seemed to acquire the character
and importance of a friend; and, as the animal fawned over her when she
wept, and licked her hands, “Ah, poor Manchon!” said she, “I have
nobody now to love me—but you!” and she wept the more. After some time,
her thoughts returning to her father’s injunctions, she remembered how
often he had blamed her for indulging useless sorrow; how often he had
pointed out to her the necessity of fortitude and patience, assuring
her, that the faculties of the mind strengthen by exertion, till they
finally unnerve affliction, and triumph over it. These recollections
dried her tears, gradually soothed her spirits, and inspired her with
the sweet emulation of practising precepts, which her father had so
frequently inculcated. CHAPTER XII

Some pow’r impart the spear and shield,
At which the wizard passions fly,
By which the giant follies die! COLLINS


Madame Cheron’s house stood at a little distance from the city of
Thoulouse, and was surrounded by extensive gardens, in which Emily, who
had risen early, amused herself with wandering before breakfast. From a
terrace, that extended along the highest part of them, was a wide view
over Languedoc. On the distant horizon to the south, she discovered the
wild summits of the Pyrenees, and her fancy immediately painted the
green pastures of Gascony at their feet. Her heart pointed to her
peaceful home—to the neighbourhood where Valancourt was—where St.
Aubert had been; and her imagination, piercing the veil of distance,
brought that home to her eyes in all its interesting and romantic
beauty.