hen he recollected this circumstance, he was, perhaps,
not so sorry for the omission as glad of the excuse it allowed him for
waiting on her before she could send a refusal.

Madame Cheron had a long conversation with Valancourt, and, when she
returned to the chateau, her countenance expressed ill-humour, but not
the degree of severity, which Emily had apprehended. 'I have dismissed
this young man, at last,' said she, 'and I hope my house will never
again be disturbed with similar visits. He assures me, that your
interview was not preconcerted.'

'Dear madam!' said Emily in extreme emotion, 'you surely did not ask him
the question!' 'Most certainly I did; you could not suppose I should be
so imprudent as to neglect it.'

'Good God!' exclaimed Emily, 'what an opinion must he form of me, since
you, Madam, could express a suspicion of such ill conduct!'

'It is of very little consequence what opinion he may form of you,'
replied her aunt, 'for I have put an end to the affair; but I believe
he will not form a worse opinion of me for my prudent conduct. I let him
see, that I was not to be trifled with, and that I had more delicacy,
than to permit any clandestine correspondence to be carried on in my
house.'

Emily had frequently heard Madame Cheron use the word delicacy, but she
was now more than usually perplexed to understand how she meant to apply
it in this instance, in which her whole conduct appeared to merit the
very reverse of the term.

'It was very inconsiderate of my brother,' resumed Madame Cheron, 'to
leave the trouble of overlooking your conduct to me; I wish you was well
settled in life. But if I find, that I am to be further troubled with
such visitors as this M. Valancourt, I shall place you in a convent at
once;--so remember the alternative. This young man has the impertinence
to own to me,--he owns it! that his fortune is very small, and that he
is chiefly dependent on an elder brother and on the profession he has
chosen! He should have concealed these circumstances, at least, if he
expected to succeed with me. Had he the presumption to suppose I would
marry my niece to a person such as he describes himself!'

Emily dried her tears when she heard of the candid confession of
Valancourt; and, though the circumstances it discovered were afflicting
to her hopes, his artless conduct gave her a degree of pleasure, that
overcame every other emotion. But she was compelled, even thus early
in life, to obser