In this perturbed state she passed some hours, and, when she was
summoned to dinner, she entreated permission to remain in her own
apartment; but Madame Montoni was alone, and the request was refused.
Emily and her aunt said little during the repast; the one occupied
by her griefs, the other engrossed by the disappointment, which the
unexpected absence of Montoni occasioned; for not only was her vanity
piqued by the neglect, but her jealousy alarmed by what she considered
as a mysterious engagement. When the cloth was drawn and they were
alone, Emily renewed the mention of Valancourt; but her aunt, neither
softened to pity, or awakened to remorse, became enraged, that her will
should be opposed, and the authority of Montoni questioned, though this
was done by Emily with her usual gentleness, who, after a long, and
torturing conversation, retired in tears.
As she crossed the hall, a person entered it by the great door, whom, as
her eyes hastily glanced that way, she imagined to be Montoni, and she
was passing on with quicker steps, when she heard the well-known voice
of Valancourt. 'Emily, O! my Emily!' cried he in a tone faltering with impatience,
while she turned, and, as he advanced, was alarmed at the expression of
his countenance and the eager desperation of his air. 'In tears, Emily!
I would speak with you,' said he, 'I have much to say; conduct me to
where we may converse. But you tremble--you are ill! Let me lead you to
a seat.'
He observed the open door of an apartment, and hastily took her hand
to lead her thither; but she attempted to withdraw it, and said, with a
languid smile, 'I am better already; if you wish to see my aunt she
is in the dining-parlour.' 'I must speak with YOU, my Emily,' replied
Valancourt, 'Good God! is it already come to this? Are you indeed so
willing to resign me?' But this is an improper place--I am overheard.
Let me entreat your attention, if only for a few minutes.'--'When you
have seen my aunt,' said Emily. 'I was wretched enough when I came
hither,' exclaimed Valancourt, 'do not increase my misery by this
coldness--this cruel refusal.'
The despondency, with which he spoke this, affected her almost to tears,
but she persisted in refusing to hear him, till he had conversed with
Madame Montoni. 'Where is her husband, where, then, is Montoni?' said
Valancourt, in an altered tone: 'it is he, to whom I must speak.'
Emily, terrified for the consequence of the indignation, that flashed
in his eyes, tremblingly assured him, that Montoni was not at home,
and entreated he would endeavour to moderate his resentment. At the
tremulous accents of her voice, his eyes softened instantly from
wildness into tenderness. 'You are ill, Emily,' said he, 'they will
destroy us both! Forgive me, that I dared to doubt your affection.'