The Mysteries of Udolpho

'Alas, madam!' said Emily, 'I am anxious for my own respect; my father

taught me the value of that; he said if I deserved my own esteem, that

the world would follow of course.'

'My brother was a good kind of a man,' replied Madame Cheron, 'but he

did not know the world. I am sure I have always felt a proper respect

for myself, yet--' she stopped, but she might have added, that the world

had not always shewn respect to her, and this without impeaching its

judgment. 'Well!' resumed Madame Cheron, 'you have not give me the promise,

though, that I demand.' Emily readily gave it, and, being then suffered

to withdraw, she walked in the garden; tried to compose her spirits,

and, at length, arrived at her favourite pavilion at the end of the

terrace, where, seating herself at one of the embowered windows, that

opened upon a balcony, the stillness and seclusion of the scene allowed

her to recollect her thoughts, and to arrange them so as to form a

clearer judgment of her former conduct. She endeavoured to review with

exactness all the particulars of her conversation with Valancourt at La

Vallee, had the satisfaction to observe nothing, that could alarm her

delicate pride, and thus to be confirmed in the self-esteem, which was

so necessary to her peace. Her mind then became tranquil, and she saw

Valancourt amiable and intelligent, as he had formerly appeared, and

Madame Cheron neither the one, or the other. The remembrance of her

lover, however, brought with it many very painful emotions, for it by no

means reconciled her to the thought of resigning him; and, Madame Cheron

having already shewn how highly she disapproved of the attachment, she

foresaw much suffering from the opposition of interests; yet with all

this was mingled a degree of delight, which, in spite of reason, partook

of hope.

She determined, however, that no consideration should induce

her to permit a clandestine correspondence, and to observe in her

conversation with Valancourt, should they ever meet again, the same

nicety of reserve, which had hitherto marked her conduct. As she

repeated the words--'should we ever meet again!' she shrunk as if this

was a circumstance, which had never before occurred to her, and tears

came to her eyes, which she hastily dried, for she heard footsteps

approaching, and then the door of the pavilion open, and, on turning,

she saw--Valancourt. An emotion of mingled pleasure, surprise and

apprehension pressed so suddenly upon her heart as almost to overcome

her spirits; the colour left her cheeks, then returned brighter than

before, and she was for a moment unable to speak, or to rise from her

chair.