yielded to first impressions; and, though he chose to warn her of their
danger, he silently applauded the benevolence, that could thus readily
expand in confidence to a stranger. He had observed Emily, with
attention, on the preceding evening, and was as much pleased with
her, as it was possible he could be with any person, on so short an
acquaintance. The mention, made of her by Mons. Du Pont, had also given
him a favourable impression of Emily; but, extremely cautious as
to those, whom he introduced to the intimacy of his daughter, he
determined, on hearing that the former was no stranger at the convent of
St. Claire, to visit the abbess, and, if her account corresponded with
his wish, to invite Emily to pass some time at the chateau. On this
subject, he was influenced by a consideration of the Lady Blanche's
welfare, still more than by either a wish to oblige her, or to befriend
the orphan Emily, for whom, however, he felt considerably interested.

On the following morning, Emily was too much fatigued to appear; but
Mons. Du Pont was at the breakfast-table, when the Count entered the
room, who pressed him, as his former acquaintance, and the son of a very
old friend, to prolong his stay at the chateau; an invitation, which Du
Pont willingly accepted, since it would allow him to be near Emily; and,
though he was not conscious of encouraging a hope, that she would
ever return his affection, he had not fortitude enough to attempt, at
present, to overcome it.

Emily, when she was somewhat recovered, wandered with her new friend
over the grounds belonging to the chateau, as much delighted with the
surrounding views, as Blanche, in the benevolence of her heart, had
wished; from thence she perceived, beyond the woods, the towers of the
monastery, and remarked, that it was to this convent she designed to go.

'Ah!' said Blanche with surprise, 'I am but just released from a
convent, and would you go into one? If you could know what pleasure
I feel in wandering here, at liberty,--and in seeing the sky and the
fields, and the woods all round me, I think you would not.' Emily,
smiling at the warmth, with which the Lady Blanche spoke, observed, that
she did not mean to confine herself to a convent for life.

'No, you may not intend it now,' said Blanche; 'but you do not know to
what the nuns may persuade you to consent: I know how kind they will
appear, and how happy, for I have seen too much of their art.'

When they returne