end you a few flasks, and, when you taste them, you will sometimes
remember me your friend. Yes--those were his very words--me your
friend!' Emily still paced the room, without seeming to hear what
Theresa said, who continued speaking. 'And I have remembered him, often
enough, poor young gentleman!--for he gave me this roof for a shelter,
and that, which has supported me. Ah! he is in heaven, with my blessed
master, if ever saint was!'

Theresa's voice faltered; she wept, and set down the flask, unable to
pour out the wine. Her grief seemed to recall Emily from her own, who
went towards her, but then stopped, and, having gazed on her, for a
moment, turned suddenly away, as if overwhelmed by the reflection, that
it was Valancourt, whom Theresa lamented.

While she yet paced the room, the still, soft note of an oboe, or flute,
was heard mingling with the blast, the sweetness of which affected
Emily's spirits; she paused a moment in attention; the tender tones,
as they swelled along the wind, till they were lost again in the ruder
gust, came with a plaintiveness, that touched her heart, and she melted
into tears.

'Aye,' said Theresa, drying her eyes, 'there is Richard, our neighbour's
son, playing on the oboe; it is sad enough, to hear such sweet music
now.' Emily continued to weep, without replying. 'He often plays of an
evening,' added Theresa, 'and, sometimes, the young folks dance to the
sound of his oboe. But, dear young lady! do not cry so; and pray take
a glass of this wine,' continued she, pouring some into a glass, and
handing it to Emily, who reluctantly took it.

'Taste it for M. Valancourt's sake,' said Theresa, as Emily lifted the
glass to her lips, 'for he gave it me, you know, madam.' Emily's hand
trembled, and she spilt the wine as she withdrew it from her lips. 'For
whose sake!--who gave the wine?' said she in a faltering voice. 'M.
Valancourt, dear lady. I knew you would be pleased with it. It is the
last flask I have left.'

Emily set the wine upon the table, and burst into tears, while Theresa,
disappointed and alarmed, tried to comfort her; but she only waved her
hand, entreated she might be left alone, and wept the more.

A knock at the cottage door prevented Theresa from immediately obeying
her mistress, and she was going to open it, when Emily, checking her,
requested she would not admit any person; but, afterwards, recollecting,
that she had ordered her servant to attend her home, she said i