n a state of tranquil
pensiveness, which is not unpleasing. St. Aubert interrupted it by
observing, 'This is a very promising young man; it is many years since I
have been so much pleased with any person, on so short an acquaintance.
He brings back to my memory the days of my youth, when every scene was
new and delightful!' St. Aubert sighed, and sunk again into a reverie;
and, as Emily looked back upon the road they had passed, Valancourt was
seen, at the door of the little inn, following them with his eyes. Her
perceived her, and waved his hand; and she returned the adieu, till the
winding road shut her from his sight.

'I remember when I was about his age,' resumed St. Aubert, 'and I
thought, and felt exactly as he does. The world was opening upon me
then, now--it is closing.'

'My dear sir, do not think so gloomily,' said Emily in a trembling
voice, 'I hope you have many, many years to live--for your own sake--for
MY sake.'

'Ah, my Emily!' replied St. Aubert, 'for thy sake! Well--I hope it is
so.' He wiped away a tear, that was stealing down his cheek, threw a
smile upon his countenance, and said in a cheering voice, 'there
is something in the ardour and ingenuousness of youth, which is
particularly pleasing to the contemplation of an old man, if his
feelings have not been entirely corroded by the world. It is cheering
and reviving, like the view of spring to a sick person; his mind catches
somewhat of the spirit of the season, and his eyes are lighted up with a
transient sunshine. Valancourt is this spring to me.'

Emily, who pressed her father's hand affectionately, had never before
listened with so much pleasure to the praises he bestowed; no, not even
when he had bestowed them on herself.

They travelled on, among vineyards, woods, and pastures, delighted with
the romantic beauty of the landscape, which was bounded, on one side, by
the grandeur of the Pyrenees, and, on the other, by the ocean; and,
soon after noon, they reached the town of Colioure, situated on the
Mediterranean. Here they dined, and rested till towards the cool of
day, when they pursued their way along the shores--those enchanting
shores!--which extend to Languedoc. Emily gazed with enthusiasm on the
vastness of the sea, its surface varying, as the lights and shadows
fell, and on its woody banks, mellowed with autumnal tints.

St. Aubert was impatient to reach Perpignan, where he expected letters
from M. Quesnel; and it was the expectat