t
his fate, had she not remembered his crimes; for that of her unfortunate
aunt she did weep, and all sense of her errors was overcome by the
recollection of her misfortunes.

Other thoughts and other emotions succeeded, as Emily drew near the
well-known scenes of her early love, and considered, that Valancourt was
lost to her and to himself, for ever. At length, she came to the brow of
the hill, whence, on her departure for Italy, she had given a farewell
look to this beloved landscape, amongst whose woods and fields she had
so often walked with Valancourt, and where he was then to inhabit,
when she would be far, far away! She saw, once more, that chain of the
Pyrenees, which overlooked La Vallee, rising, like faint clouds, on the
horizon. 'There, too, is Gascony, extended at their feet!' said she,
'O my father,--my mother! And there, too, is the Garonne!' she added,
drying the tears, that obscured her sight,--'and Tholouse, and my aunt's
mansion--and the groves in her garden!--O my friends! are ye all lost
to me--must I never, never see ye more!' Tears rushed again to her eyes,
and she continued to weep, till an abrupt turn in the road had nearly
occasioned the carriage to overset, when, looking up, she perceived
another part of the well-known scene around Tholouse, and all the
reflections and anticipations, which she had suffered, at the moment,
when she bade it last adieu, came with recollected force to her heart.
She remembered how anxiously she had looked forward to the futurity,
which was to decide her happiness concerning Valancourt, and what
depressing fears had assailed her; the very words she had uttered, as
she withdrew her last look from the prospect, came to her memory. 'Could
I but be certain,' she had then said, 'that I should ever return, and
that Valancourt would still live for me--I should go in peace!'

Now, that futurity, so anxiously anticipated, was arrived, she was
returned--but what a dreary blank appeared!--Valancourt no longer
lived for her! She had no longer even the melancholy satisfaction of
contemplating his image in her heart, for he was no longer the same
Valancourt she had cherished there--the solace of many a mournful
hour, the animating friend, that had enabled her to bear up against the
oppression of Montoni--the distant hope, that had beamed over her gloomy
prospect! On perceiving this beloved idea to be an illusion of her own
creation, Valancourt seemed to be annihilated, and her