our of passion, which had formerly banished him from
Chateau-le-Blanc. He was received with reserve by Emily, and with
pleasure by the Count, who presented him to her with a smile, that
seemed intended to plead his cause, and who did not hope the less for
his friend, from the embarrassment she betrayed.

But M. Du Pont, with truer sympathy, seemed to understand her manner,
and his countenance quickly lost its vivacity, and sunk into the languor
of despondency.

On the following day, however, he sought an opportunity of declaring
the purport of his visit, and renewed his suit; a declaration, which was
received with real concern by Emily, who endeavoured to lessen the pain
she might inflict by a second rejection, with assurances of esteem
and friendship; yet she left him in a state of mind, that claimed and
excited her tenderest compassion; and, being more sensible than ever
of the impropriety of remaining longer at the chateau, she immediately
sought the Count, and communicated to him her intention of returning to
the convent.

'My dear Emily,' said he 'I observe, with extreme concern, the illusion
you are encouraging--an illusion common to young and sensible minds.
Your heart has received a severe shock; you believe you can never
entirely recover it, and you will encourage this belief, till the habit
of indulging sorrow will subdue the strength of your mind, and discolour
your future views with melancholy and regret. Let me dissipate this
illusion, and awaken you to a sense of your danger.'

Emily smiled mournfully, 'I know what you would say, my dear sir,' said
she, 'and am prepared to answer you. I feel, that my heart can never
know a second affection; and that I must never hope even to recover its
tranquillity--if I suffer myself to enter into a second engagement.'

'I know, that you feel all this,' replied the Count; 'and I know, also,
that time will overcome these feelings, unless you cherish them in
solitude, and, pardon me, with romantic tenderness. Then, indeed, time
will only confirm habit. I am particularly empowered to speak on this
subject, and to sympathize in your sufferings,' added the Count, with
an air of solemnity, 'for I have known what it is to love, and to lament
the object of my love. Yes,' continued he, while his eyes filled with
tears, 'I have suffered!--but those times have passed away--long passed!
and I can now look back upon them without emotion.'

'My dear sir,' said Emily, timidly, 'w