The Mysteries of Udolpho

He then moved his lips, and stretched forth his hand to her; as she

received which, she sunk back in her chair, overcome by the impression

of death on his countenance. In a few minutes he recovered his voice,

and Emily then asked, if he wished to see the confessor; he replied,

that he did; and, when the holy father appeared, she withdrew. They

remained alone together above half an hour; when Emily was called in,

she found St. Aubert more agitated than when she had left him, and she

gazed, with a slight degree of resentment, at the friar, as the cause

of this; who, however, looked mildly and mournfully at her, and turned

away. St. Aubert, in a tremulous voice, said, he wished her to join in

prayer with him, and asked if La Voisin would do so too. The old man and

his daughter came; they both wept, and knelt with Emily round the bed,

while the holy father read in a solemn voice the service for the dying.

St. Aubert lay with a serene countenance, and seemed to join fervently

in the devotion, while tears often stole from beneath his closed

eyelids, and Emily's sobs more than once interrupted the service.

When it was concluded, and extreme unction had been administered,

the friar withdrew. St. Aubert then made a sign for La Voisin to come

nearer. He gave him his hand, and was, for a moment, silent. At length,

he said, in a trembling voice, 'My good friend, our acquaintance has

been short, but long enough to give you an opportunity of shewing me

much kind attention. I cannot doubt, that you will extend this kindness

to my daughter, when I am gone; she will have need of it. I entrust her

to your care during the few days she will remain here. I need say no

more--you know the feelings of a father, for you have children; mine

would be, indeed, severe if I had less confidence in you.' He paused. La

Voisin assured him, and his tears bore testimony to his sincerity, that

he would do all he could to soften her affliction, and that, if St.

Aubert wished it, he would even attend her into Gascony; an offer so

pleasing to St. Aubert, that he had scarcely words to acknowledge his

sense of the old man's kindness, or to tell him, that he accepted it.

The scene, that followed between St. Aubert and Emily, affected La

Voisin so much, that he quitted the chamber, and she was again left

alone with her father, whose spirits seemed fainting fast, but neither

his senses, or his voice, yet failed him; and, at intervals, he employed

much of these last awful moments in advising his daughter, as to her

future conduct. Perhaps, he never had thought more justly, or expressed

himself more clearly, than he did now.