The Mysteries of Udolpho

Of his circumstances, Valancourt himself hinted as far

as delicacy would permit, when he said he had at present little else to

offer but an heart, that adored her. He had solicited only for a distant

hope, and she could not resolve to forbid, though she scarcely dared to

permit it; at length, she acquired courage to say, that she must think

herself honoured by the good opinion of any person, whom her father had

esteemed. 'And was I, then, thought worthy of his esteem?' said Valancourt, in

a voice trembling with anxiety; then checking himself, he added, 'But

pardon the question; I scarcely know what I say. If I might dare to

hope, that you think me not unworthy such honour, and might be permitted

sometimes to enquire after your health, I should now leave you with

comparative tranquillity.'

Emily, after a moment's silence, said, 'I will be ingenuous with you,

for I know you will understand, and allow for my situation; you will

consider it as a proof of my--my esteem that I am so. Though I live

here in what was my father's house, I live here alone. I have, alas! no

longer a parent--a parent, whose presence might sanction your visits.

It is unnecessary for me to point out the impropriety of my receiving

them.' 'Nor will I affect to be insensible of this,' replied Valancourt, adding

mournfully--'but what is to console me for my candour? I distress you,

and would now leave the subject, if I might carry with me a hope of

being some time permitted to renew it, of being allowed to make myself

known to your family.'

Emily was again confused, and again hesitated what to reply; she felt

most acutely the difficulty--the forlornness of her situation, which did

not allow her a single relative, or friend, to whom she could turn

for even a look, that might support and guide her in the present

embarrassing circumstances. Madame Cheron, who was her only relative,

and ought to have been this friend, was either occupied by her own

amusements, or so resentful of the reluctance her niece had shewn to

quit La Vallee, that she seemed totally to have abandoned her.

'Ah! I see,' said Valancourt, after a long pause, during which Emily had

begun, and left unfinished two or three sentences, 'I see that I have

nothing to hope; my fears were too just, you think me unworthy of your

esteem. That fatal journey! which I considered as the happiest period of

my life--those delightful days were to embitter all my future ones. How

often I have looked back to them with hope and fear--yet never till

this moment could I prevail with myself to regret their enchanting

influence.' His voice faltered, and he abruptly quitted his seat and walked on the

terrace. There was an expression of despair on his countenance, that

affected Emily. The pleadings of her heart overcame, in some degree, her

extreme timidity, and, when he resumed his seat, she said, in an accent

that betrayed her tenderness, 'You do both yourself and me injustice

when you say I think you unworthy of my esteem; I will acknowledge that

you have long possessed it, and--and--'