countenance,' said Emily, with a design of reproving Madame Cheron, to
which she was induced by this disrespectful mention of her father.

'I called you here,' resumed her aunt, colouring, 'to tell you, that
I will not be disturbed in my own house by any letters, or visits from
young men, who may take a fancy to flatter you. This M. de Valantine--I
think you call him, has the impertinence to beg I will permit him to
pay his respects to me! I shall send him a proper answer. And for you,
Emily, I repeat it once for all--if you are not contented to conform
to my directions, and to my way of live, I shall give up the task of
overlooking your conduct--I shall no longer trouble myself with your
education, but shall send you to board in a convent.'

'Dear madam,' said Emily, bursting into tears, and overcome by the rude
suspicions her aunt had expressed, 'how have I deserved these reproofs?'
She could say no more; and so very fearful was she of acting with any
degree of impropriety in the affair itself, that, at the present moment,
Madame Cheron might perhaps have prevailed with her to bind herself by
a promise to renounce Valancourt for ever. Her mind, weakened by her
terrors, would no longer suffer her to view him as she had formerly
done; she feared the error of her own judgment, not that of Madame
Cheron, and feared also, that, in her former conversation with him, at
La Vallee, she had not conducted herself with sufficient reserve. She
knew, that she did not deserve the coarse suspicions, which her aunt had
thrown out, but a thousand scruples rose to torment her, such as would
never have disturbed the peace of Madame Cheron. Thus rendered anxious
to avoid every opportunity of erring, and willing to submit to any
restrictions, that her aunt should think proper, she expressed an
obedience, to which Madame Cheron did not give much confidence, and
which she seemed to consider as the consequence of either fear, or
artifice.

'Well, then,' said she, 'promise me that you will neither see this young
man, nor write to him without my consent.' 'Dear madam,' replied Emily,
'can you suppose I would do either, unknown to you!' 'I don't know
what to suppose; there is no knowing how young women will act. It is
difficult to place any confidence in them, for they have seldom sense
enough to wish for the respect of the world.'

'Alas, madam!' said Emily, 'I am anxious for my own respect; my father
taught me the value of that; he said i