The Mysteries of Udolpho

'My looks do me injustice then, Madame, my loss I know can never be

recovered.' 'Well--well! I will not argue with you; I see you have exactly your

father's disposition; and let me tell you it would have been much

happier for him, poor man! if it had been a different one.'

A look of dignified displeasure, with which Emily regarded Madame

Cheron, while she spoke, would have touched almost any other heart;

she made no other reply, but introduced Valancourt, who could scarcely

stifle the resentment he felt, and whose bow Madame Cheron returned with

a slight curtsy, and a look of supercilious examination. After a few

moments he took leave of Emily, in a manner, that hastily expressed his

pain both at his own departure, and at leaving her to the society of

Madame Cheron. 'Who is that young man?' said her aunt, in an accent which equally

implied inquisitiveness and censure. 'Some idle admirer of yours I

suppose; but I believed niece you had a greater sense of propriety, than

to have received the visits of any young man in your present unfriended

situation. Let me tell you the world will observe those things, and it

will talk, aye and very freely too.'

Emily, extremely shocked at this coarse speech, attempted to interrupt

it; but Madame Cheron would proceed, with all the self-importance of a

person, to whom power is new. '

It is very necessary you should be under the eye of some person more

able to guide you than yourself. I, indeed, have not much leisure for

such a task; however, since your poor father made it his last request,

that I should overlook your conduct--I must even take you under my care.

But this let me tell you niece, that, unless you will determine to be

very conformable to my direction, I shall not trouble myself longer

about you.' Emily made no attempt to interrupt Madame Cheron a second time, grief

and the pride of conscious innocence kept her silent, till her aunt

said, 'I am now come to take you with me to Tholouse; I am sorry

to find, that your poor father died, after all, in such indifferent

circumstances; however, I shall take you home with me. Ah! poor man, he

was always more generous than provident, or he would not have left his

daughter dependent on his relations.'

'Nor has he done so, I hope, madam,' said Emily calmly, 'nor did his

pecuniary misfortunes arise from that noble generosity, which always

distinguished him. The affairs of M. de Motteville may, I trust, yet

be settled without deeply injuring his creditors, and in the meantime I

should be very happy to remain at La Vallee.'