The Mysteries of Udolpho

But M. Du Pont, with truer sympathy, seemed to understand her manner,

and his countenance quickly lost its vivacity, and sunk into the languor

of despondency. On the following day, however, he sought an opportunity of declaring

the purport of his visit, and renewed his suit; a declaration, which was

received with real concern by Emily, who endeavoured to lessen the pain

she might inflict by a second rejection, with assurances of esteem

and friendship; yet she left him in a state of mind, that claimed and

excited her tenderest compassion; and, being more sensible than ever

of the impropriety of remaining longer at the chateau, she immediately

sought the Count, and communicated to him her intention of returning to

the convent. 'My dear Emily,' said he 'I observe, with extreme concern, the illusion

you are encouraging--an illusion common to young and sensible minds.

Your heart has received a severe shock; you believe you can never

entirely recover it, and you will encourage this belief, till the habit

of indulging sorrow will subdue the strength of your mind, and discolour

your future views with melancholy and regret. Let me dissipate this

illusion, and awaken you to a sense of your danger.'

Emily smiled mournfully, 'I know what you would say, my dear sir,' said

she, 'and am prepared to answer you. I feel, that my heart can never

know a second affection; and that I must never hope even to recover its

tranquillity--if I suffer myself to enter into a second engagement.'

'I know, that you feel all this,' replied the Count; 'and I know, also,

that time will overcome these feelings, unless you cherish them in

solitude, and, pardon me, with romantic tenderness. Then, indeed, time

will only confirm habit. I am particularly empowered to speak on this

subject, and to sympathize in your sufferings,' added the Count, with

an air of solemnity, 'for I have known what it is to love, and to lament

the object of my love. Yes,' continued he, while his eyes filled with

tears, 'I have suffered!--but those times have passed away--long passed!

and I can now look back upon them without emotion.'

'My dear sir,' said Emily, timidly, 'what mean those tears?--they speak,

I fear, another language--they plead for me.'

'They are weak tears, for they are useless ones,' replied the Count,

drying them, 'I would have you superior to such weakness. These,

however, are only faint traces of a grief, which, if it had not been

opposed by long continued effort, might have led me to the verge

of madness! Judge, then, whether I have not cause to warn you of an

indulgence, which may produce so terrible an effect, and which must

certainly, if not opposed, overcloud the years, that otherwise might

be happy. M. Du Pont is a sensible and amiable man, who has long

been tenderly attached to you; his family and fortune are

unexceptionable;--after what I have said, it is unnecessary to add, that

I should rejoice in your felicity, and that I think M. Du Pont would

promote it. Do not weep, Emily,' continued the Count, taking her hand,

'there IS happiness reserved for you.'