refore, for ever--for what of either
happiness or tranquillity could she expect with a man, whose tastes were
degenerated into low inclinations, and to whom vice was become habitual?
whom she must no longer esteem, though the remembrance of what he once
was, and the long habit of loving him, would render it very difficult
for her to despise him. 'O Valancourt!' she would exclaim, 'having been
separated so long--do we meet, only to be miserable--only to part for
ever?'

Amidst all the tumult of her mind, she remembered pertinaciously the
seeming candour and simplicity of his conduct, on the preceding night;
and, had she dared to trust her own heart, it would have led her to hope
much from this. Still she could not resolve to dismiss him for ever,
without obtaining further proof of his ill conduct; yet she saw no
probability of procuring it, if, indeed, proof more positive was
possible. Something, however, it was necessary to decide upon, and she
almost determined to be guided in her opinion solely by the manner, with
which Valancourt should receive her hints concerning his late conduct.

Thus passed the hours till dinner-time, when Emily, struggling against
the pressure of her grief, dried her tears, and joined the family
at table, where the Count preserved towards her the most delicate
attention; but the Countess and Mademoiselle Bearn, having looked, for a
moment, with surprise, on her dejected countenance, began, as usual,
to talk of trifles, while the eyes of Lady Blanche asked much of her
friend, who could only reply by a mournful smile.

Emily withdrew as soon after dinner as possible, and was followed by the
Lady Blanche, whose anxious enquiries, however, she found herself quite
unequal to answer, and whom she entreated to spare her on the subject
of her distress. To converse on any topic, was now, indeed, so extremely
painful to her, that she soon gave up the attempt, and Blanche left
her, with pity of the sorrow, which she perceived she had no power to
assuage.

Emily secretly determined to go to her convent in a day or two; for
company, especially that of the Countess and Mademoiselle Bearn, was
intolerable to her, in the present state of her spirits; and, in the
retirement of the convent, as well as the kindness of the abbess, she
hoped to recover the command of her mind, and to teach it resignation to
the event, which, she too plainly perceived, was approaching.

To have lost Valancourt by death, or to h