The Mysteries of Udolpho

His little fortune had been diminished by the necessary expences

of his education; but M. La Valancourt, the elder, seemed to think that

his genius and accomplishments would amply supply the deficiency of his

inheritance. They offered flattering hopes of promotion in the military

profession, in those times almost the only one in which a gentleman

could engage without incurring a stain on his name; and La Valancourt

was of course enrolled in the army. The general genius of his mind was

but little understood by his brother. That ardour for whatever is great

and good in the moral world, as well as in the natural one, displayed

itself in his infant years; and the strong indignation, which he felt

and expressed at a criminal, or a mean action, sometimes drew upon him

the displeasure of his tutor; who reprobated it under the general

term of violence of temper; and who, when haranguing on the virtues of

mildness and moderation, seemed to forget the gentleness and compassion,

which always appeared in his pupil towards objects of misfortune.

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 Vallee, 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 Tholouse; 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 shew 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 chateau. What makes you so silent,

child?--What is it that disturbs you now?'