The Mysteries of Udolpho

Madame Cheron's servant made the attendance of the good La Voisin

unnecessary; and Emily, who felt sensibly her obligations to him, for

all his kind attention to her late father, as well as to herself, was

glad to spare him a long, and what, at his time of life, must have been

a troublesome journey.

During her stay at the convent, the peace and sanctity that reigned

within, the tranquil beauty of the scenery without, and the delicate

attentions of the abbess and the nuns, were circumstances so soothing to

her mind, that they almost tempted her to leave a world, where she had

lost her dearest friends, and devote herself to the cloister, in a spot,

rendered sacred to her by containing the tomb of St. Aubert. The pensive

enthusiasm, too, so natural to her temper, had spread a beautiful

illusion over the sanctified retirement of a nun, that almost hid from

her view the selfishness of its security. But the touches, which a

melancholy fancy, slightly tinctured with superstition, gave to the

monastic scene, began to fade, as her spirits revived, and brought once

more to her heart an image, which had only transiently been banished

thence. By this she was silently awakened to hope and comfort and sweet

affections; visions of happiness gleamed faintly at a distance, and,

though she knew them to be illusions, she could not resolve to shut them

out for ever. It was the remembrance of Valancourt, of his taste, his

genius, and of the countenance which glowed with both, that, perhaps,

alone determined her to return to the world. The grandeur and sublimity

of the scenes, amidst which they had first met, had fascinated her

fancy, and had imperceptibly contributed to render Valancourt more

interesting by seeming to communicate to him somewhat of their own

character. The esteem, too, which St. Aubert had repeatedly expressed

for him, sanctioned this kindness; but, though his countenance and

manner had continually expressed his admiration of her, he had not

otherwise declared it; and even the hope of seeing him again was so

distant, that she was scarcely conscious of it, still less that it

influenced her conduct on this occasion.

It was several days after the arrival of Madame Cheron's servant before

Emily was sufficiently recovered to undertake the journey to La Vallee.

On the evening preceding her departure, she went to the cottage to take

leave of La Voisin and his family, and to make them a return for their

kindness. The old man she found sitting on a bench at his door, between

his daughter, and his son-in-law, who was just returned from his daily

labour, and who was playing upon a pipe, that, in tone, resembled an

oboe. A flask of wine stood beside the old man, and, before him, a small

table with fruit and bread, round which stood several of his grandsons,

fine rosy children, who were taking their supper, as their mother

distributed it. On the edge of the little green, that spread before

the cottage, were cattle and a few sheep reposing under the trees. The

landscape was touched with the mellow light of the evening sun, whose

long slanting beams played through a vista of the woods, and lighted

up the distant turrets of the chateau. She paused a moment, before she

emerged from the shade, to gaze upon the happy group before her--on the

complacency and ease of healthy age, depictured on the countenance of

La Voisin; the maternal tenderness of Agnes, as she looked upon her

children, and the innocency of infantine pleasures, reflected in their

smiles. Emily looked again at the venerable old man, and at the cottage;

the memory of her father rose with full force upon her mind, and she

hastily stepped forward, afraid to trust herself with a longer pause.

She took an affectionate and affecting leave of La Voisin and his

family; he seemed to love her as his daughter, and shed tears; Emily

shed many. She avoided going into the cottage, since she knew it would

revive emotions, such as she could not now endure.