ign her settlements, or be imprisoned in the east turret of
the castle, 'where she shall find,' he added, 'a punishment she may not
expect.'

Emily then hastened to inform her aunt of this short respite and of the
alternative, that awaited her, to which the latter made no reply,
but appeared thoughtful, while Emily, in consideration of her extreme
languor, wished to sooth her mind by leading it to less interesting
topics: and, though these efforts were unsuccessful, and Madame Montoni
became peevish, her resolution, on the contended point, seemed somewhat
to relax, and Emily recommended, as her only means of safety, that she
should submit to Montoni's demand. 'You know not what you advise,' said
her aunt. 'Do you understand, that these estates will descend to you at
my death, if I persist in a refusal?'

'I was ignorant of that circumstance, madam,' replied Emily, 'but the
knowledge of it cannot with-hold me from advising you to adopt the
conduct, which not only your peace, but, I fear, your safety requires,
and I entreat, that you will not suffer a consideration comparatively so
trifling, to make you hesitate a moment in resigning them.'

'Are you sincere, niece?' 'Is it possible you can doubt it, madam?' Her
aunt appeared to be affected. 'You are not unworthy of these estates,
niece,' said she: 'I would wish to keep them for your sake--you shew a
virtue I did not expect.'

'How have I deserved this reproof, madam?' said Emily sorrowfully.

'Reproof!' replied Madame Montoni: 'I meant to praise your virtue.'

'Alas! here is no exertion of virtue,' rejoined Emily, 'for here is no
temptation to be overcome.'

'Yet Monsieur Valancourt'--said her aunt. 'O, madam!' interrupted Emily,
anticipating what she would have said, 'do not let me glance on that
subject: do not let my mind be stained with a wish so shockingly
self-interested.' She immediately changed the topic, and continued with
Madame Montoni, till she withdrew to her apartment for the night.

At that hour, the castle was perfectly still, and every inhabitant of
it, except herself, seemed to have retired to rest. As she passed along
the wide and lonely galleries, dusky and silent, she felt forlorn
and apprehensive of--she scarcely knew what; but when, entering the
corridor, she recollected the incident of the preceding night, a dread
seized her, lest a subject of alarm, similar to that, which had befallen
Annette, should occur to her, and which, whether real,