Emily withdrew to her own room, that she might compose her spirits and
remove the traces of her tears, which would encourage the censorious
remarks of the Countess and her favourite, as well as excite the
curiosity of the rest of the family. She found it, however, impossible
to tranquillize her mind, from which she could not expel the remembrance
of the late scene with Valancourt, or the consciousness, that she was to
see him again, on the morrow. This meeting now appeared more terrible to
her than the last, for the ingenuous confession he had made of his
ill conduct and his embarrassed circumstances, with the strength and
tenderness of affection, which this confession discovered, had deeply
impressed her, and, in spite of all she had heard and believed to his
disadvantage, her esteem began to return. It frequently appeared to her
impossible, that he could have been guilty of the depravities, reported
of him, which, if not inconsistent with his warmth and impetuosity,
were entirely so with his candour and sensibility. Whatever was the
criminality, which had given rise to the reports, she could not now
believe them to be wholly true, nor that his heart was finally closed
against the charms of virtue.
The deep consciousness, which he felt as
well as expressed of his errors, seemed to justify the opinion; and,
as she understood not the instability of youthful dispositions, when
opposed by habit, and that professions frequently deceive those, who
make, as well as those, who hear them, she might have yielded to the
flattering persuasions of her own heart and the pleadings of Valancourt,
had she not been guided by the superior prudence of the Count. He
represented to her, in a clear light, the danger of her present
situation, that of listening to promises of amendment, made under the
influence of strong passion, and the slight hope, which could attach
to a connection, whose chance of happiness rested upon the retrieval
of ruined circumstances and the reform of corrupted habits. On these
accounts, he lamented, that Emily had consented to a second interview,
for he saw how much it would shake her resolution and increase the
difficulty of her conquest.
Her mind was now so entirely occupied by nearer interests, that she
forgot the old housekeeper and the promised history, which so lately had
excited her curiosity, but which Dorothee was probably not very anxious
to disclose, for night came; the hours passed; and she did not appear
in Emily's chamber. With the latter it was a sleepless and dismal
night; the more she suffered her memory to dwell on the late scenes with
Valancourt, the more her resolution declined, and she was obliged
to recollect all the arguments, which the Count had made use of to
strengthen it, and all the precepts, which she had received from her
deceased father, on the subject of self-command, to enable her to act,
with prudence and dignity, on this the most severe occasion of her
life. There were moments, when all her fortitude forsook her, and when,
remembering the confidence of former times, she thought it impossible,
that she could renounce Valancourt. His reformation then appeared
certain; the arguments of Count De Villefort were forgotten; she readily
believed all she wished, and was willing to encounter any evil, rather
than that of an immediate separation.