'Several days,' he replied. 'It was my design to avail myself of the
permission M. St. Aubert had given me. I scarcely know how to account
for it; but, though I anxiously wished to do this, my resolution always
failed, when the moment approached, and I constantly deferred my visit.
I lodged in a village at some distance, and wandered with my dogs, among
the scenes of this charming country, wishing continually to meet you,
yet not daring to visit you.'

Having thus continued to converse, without perceiving the flight of
time, Valancourt, at length, seemed to recollect himself. 'I must go,'
said he mournfully, 'but it is with the hope of seeing you again, of
being permitted to pay my respects to your family; let me hear this hope
confirmed by your voice.' 'My family will be happy to see any friend
of my dear father,' said Emily. Valancourt kissed her hand, and still
lingered, unable to depart, while Emily sat silently, with her eyes bent
on the ground; and Valancourt, as he gazed on her, considered that it
would soon be impossible for him to recall, even to his memory, the
exact resemblance of the beautiful countenance he then beheld; at this
moment an hasty footstep approached from behind the plane-tree, and,
turning her eyes, Emily saw Madame Cheron. She felt a blush steal upon
her cheek, and her frame trembled with the emotion of her mind; but she
instantly rose to meet her visitor. 'So, niece!' said Madame Cheron,
casting a look of surprise and enquiry on Valancourt, 'so niece, how
do you do? But I need not ask, your looks tell me you have already
recovered your loss.'

'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 i