He was now perfectly recovered
from the wounds, received, during his perilous adventure among the
Pyrenees, the mention of which served to heighten to the parties, who
had been involved in it, the sense of their present happiness. New
congratulations passed between them, and round the supper-table
appeared a group of faces, smiling with felicity, but with a felicity,
which had in each a different character. The smile of Blanche was frank
and gay, that of Emily tender and pensive; Valancourt’s was rapturous,
tender and gay alternately; Mons. St. Foix’s was joyous, and that of
the Count, as he looked on the surrounding party, expressed the
tempered complacency of benevolence; while the features of the
Countess, Henri, and Mons. Bonnac, discovered fainter traces of
animation. Poor Mons. Du Pont did not, by his presence, throw a shade
of regret over the company; for, when he had discovered, that
Valancourt was not unworthy of the esteem of Emily, he determined
seriously to endeavour at the conquest of his own hopeless affection,
and had immediately withdrawn from Château-le-Blanc—a conduct, which
Emily now understood, and rewarded with her admiration and pity. The Count and his guests continued together till a late hour, yielding
to the delights of social gaiety, and to the sweets of friendship. When
Annette heard of the arrival of Valancourt, Ludovico had some
difficulty to prevent her going into the supper-room, to express her
joy, for she declared, that she had never been so rejoiced at any
_accident_ as this, since she had found Ludovico himself. CHAPTER XIX

Now my task is smoothly done,
I can fly, or I can run
Quickly to the green earth’s end,
Where the bow’d welkin low doth bend,
And, from thence, can soar as soon
To the corners of the moon. MILTON


The marriages of the Lady Blanche and Emily St. Aubert were celebrated,
on the same day, and with the ancient baronial magnificence, at
Château-le-Blanc. The feasts were held in the great hall of the castle,
which, on this occasion, was hung with superb new tapestry,
representing the exploits of Charlemagne and his twelve peers; here,
were seen the Saracens, with their horrible visors, advancing to
battle; and there, were displayed the wild solemnities of incantation,
and the necromantic feats, exhibited by the magician _Jarl_ before the
Emperor. The sumptuous banners of the family of Villeroi, which had
long slept in dust, were once more unfurled, to wave over the gothic
points of painted casements; and music echoed, in many a lingering
close, through every winding gallery and colonnade of that vast
edifice. As Annette looked down from the corridor upon the hall, whose arches
and windows were illuminated with brilliant festoons of lamps, and
gazed on the splendid dresses of the dancers, the costly liveries of
the attendants, the canopies of purple velvet and gold, and listened to
the gay strains that floated along the vaulted roof, she almost fancied
herself in an enchanted palace, and declared, that she had not met with
any place, which charmed her so much, since she read the fairy tales;
nay, that the fairies themselves, at their nightly revels in this old
hall, could display nothing finer; while old Dorothée, as she surveyed
the scene, sighed, and said, the castle looked as it was wont to do in
the time of her youth. After gracing the festivities of Château-le-Blanc, for some days,
Valancourt and Emily took leave of their kind friends, and returned to
La Vallée, where the faithful Theresa received them with unfeigned joy,
and the pleasant shades welcomed them with a thousand tender and
affecting remembrances; and, while they wandered together over the
scenes, so long inhabited by the late Mons. and Madame St. Aubert, and
Emily pointed out, with pensive affection, their favourite haunts, her
present happiness was heightened, by considering, that it would have
been worthy of their approbation, could they have witnessed it. Valancourt led her to the plane-tree on the terrace, where he had first
ventured to declare his love, and where now the remembrance of the
anxiety he had then suffered, and the retrospect of all the dangers and
misfortunes they had each encountered, since last they sat together
beneath its broad branches, exalted the sense of their present
felicity, which, on this spot, sacred to the memory of St. Aubert, they
solemnly vowed to deserve, as far as possible, by endeavouring to
imitate his benevolence,—by remembering, that superior attainments of
every sort bring with them duties of superior exertion,—and by
affording to their fellow-beings, together with that portion of
ordinary comforts, which prosperity always owes to misfortune, the
example of lives passed in happy thankfulness to God, and, therefore,
in careful tenderness to his creatures. Soon after their return to La Vallée, the brother of Valancourt came to
congratulate him on his marriage, and to pay his respects to Emily,
with whom he was so much pleased, as well as with the prospect of
rational happiness, which these nuptials offered to Valancourt, that he
immediately resigned to him a part of the rich domain, the whole of
which, as he had no family, would of course descend to his brother, on
his decease. The estates, at Thoulouse, were disposed of, and Emily purchased of
Mons. Quesnel the ancient domain of her late father, where, having
given Annette a marriage portion, she settled her as the housekeeper,
and Ludovico as the steward; but, since both Valancourt and herself
preferred the pleasant and long-loved shades of La Vallée to the
magnificence of Epourville, they continued to reside there, passing,
however, a few months in the year at the birth-place of St. Aubert, in
tender respect to his memory. The legacy, which had been bequeathed to Emily by Signora Laurentini,
she begged Valancourt would allow her to resign to Mons. Bonnac; and
Valancourt, when she made the request, felt all the value of the
compliment it conveyed. The castle of Udolpho, also, descended to the
wife of Mons. Bonnac, who was the nearest surviving relation of the
house of that name, and thus affluence restored his long-oppressed
spirits to peace, and his family to comfort. O! how joyful it is to tell of happiness, such as that of Valancourt
and Emily; to relate, that, after suffering under the oppression of the
vicious and the disdain of the weak, they were, at length, restored to
each other—to the beloved landscapes of their native country,—to the
securest felicity of this life, that of aspiring to moral and labouring
for intellectual improvement—to the pleasures of enlightened society,
and to the exercise of the benevolence, which had always animated their
hearts; while the bowers of La Vallée became, once more, the retreat of
goodness, wisdom and domestic blessedness! O!