Emily, after asking Madame Montoni a thousand questions concerning
herself, left her, and sought Montoni; for the more solemn interest
she felt for her aunt, made her now regardless of the resentment her
remonstrances might draw upon herself, and of the improbability of his
granting what she meant to entreat. 'Madame Montoni is now dying, sir,' said Emily, as soon as she saw
him--'Your resentment, surely will not pursue her to the last moment!
Suffer her to be removed from that forlorn room to her own apartment,
and to have necessary comforts administered.'
'Of what service will that be, if she is dying?' said Montoni, with
apparent indifference. 'The service, at leave, of saving you, sir, from a few of those pangs
of conscience you must suffer, when you shall be in the same situation,'
said Emily, with imprudent indignation, of which Montoni soon made her
sensible, by commanding her to quit his presence. Then, forgetting her
resentment, and impressed only by compassion for the piteous state of
her aunt, dying without succour, she submitted to humble herself to
Montoni, and to adopt every persuasive means, that might induce him to
relent towards his wife.
For a considerable time he was proof against all she said, and all she
looked; but at length the divinity of pity, beaming in Emily's eyes,
seemed to touch his heart. He turned away, ashamed of his better
feelings, half sullen and half relenting; but finally consented, that
his wife should be removed to her own apartment, and that Emily should
attend her. Dreading equally, that this relief might arrive too late,
and that Montoni might retract his concession, Emily scarcely staid to
thank him for it, but, assisted by Annette, she quickly prepared Madame
Montoni's bed, and they carried her a cordial, that might enable her
feeble frame to sustain the fatigue of a removal. Madame was scarcely arrived in her own apartment, when an order was
given by her husband, that she should remain in the turret; but Emily,
thankful that she had made such dispatch, hastened to inform him of it,
as well as that a second removal would instantly prove fatal, and he
suffered his wife to continue where she was.
During this day, Emily never left Madame Montoni, except to prepare such
little nourishing things as she judged necessary to sustain her, and
which Madame Montoni received with quiet acquiescence, though she seemed
sensible that they could not save her from approaching dissolution, and
scarcely appeared to wish for life. Emily meanwhile watched over her
with the most tender solicitude, no longer seeing her imperious aunt in
the poor object before her, but the sister of her late beloved father,
in a situation that called for all her compassion and kindness. When
night came, she determined to sit up with her aunt, but this the latter
positively forbade, commanding her to retire to rest, and Annette alone
to remain in her chamber. Rest was, indeed, necessary to Emily, whose
spirits and frame were equally wearied by the occurrences and exertions
of the day; but she would not leave Madame Montoni, till after the turn
of midnight, a period then thought so critical by the physicians.