d he,--'the same--the same!' He paused in
extreme emotion, and then added, in a voice at once solemn, and
dejected,--'No--I am not the same!--I am lost--I am no longer worthy of
you!'

He again concealed his face. Emily was too much affected by this honest
confession to reply immediately, and, while she struggled to overcome
the pleadings of her heart, and to act with the decisive firmness, which
was necessary for her future peace, she perceived all the danger of
trusting long to her resolution, in the presence of Valancourt, and was
anxious to conclude an interview, that tortured them both; yet, when
she considered, that this was probably their last meeting, her fortitude
sunk at once, and she experienced only emotions of tenderness and of
despondency.

Valancourt, meanwhile, lost in emotions of remorse and grief, which he
had neither the power, or the will to express, sat insensible almost
of the presence of Emily, his features still concealed, and his breast
agitated by convulsive sighs.

'Spare me the necessity,' said Emily, recollecting her fortitude, 'spare
me the necessity of mentioning those circumstances of your conduct,
which oblige me to break our connection forever.--We must part, I now
see you for the last time.'

'Impossible!' cried Valancourt, roused from his deep silence, 'You
cannot mean what you say!--you cannot mean to throw me from you
forever!'

'We must part,' repeated Emily, with emphasis,--'and that forever! Your
own conduct has made this necessary.'

'This is the Count's determination,' said he haughtily, 'not yours,
and I shall enquire by what authority he interferes between us.' He now
rose, and walked about the room in great emotion.

'Let me save you from this error,' said Emily, not less agitated--'it is
my determination, and, if you reflect a moment on your late conduct, you
will perceive, that my future peace requires it.'

'Your future peace requires, that we should part--part forever!' said
Valancourt, 'How little did I ever expect to hear you say so!'

'And how little did I expect, that it would be necessary for me to say
so!' rejoined Emily, while her voice softened into tenderness, and her
tears flowed again.--'That you--you, Valancourt, would ever fall from my
esteem!'

He was silent a moment, as if overwhelmed by the consciousness of no
longer deserving this esteem, as well as the certainty of having lost
it, and then, with impassioned grief, lamented the criminality o