ould never see
you again in this world, when I heard you was gone to that outlandish
country. I have been hardly used, since you went; I little thought they
would have turned me out of my old master's family in my old age!'

Emily lamented the circumstance, and then assured her, that she would
make her latter days comfortable, and expressed satisfaction, on seeing
her in so pleasant an habitation.

Theresa thanked her with tears, adding, 'Yes, mademoiselle, it is a
very comfortable home, thanks to the kind friend, who took me out of
my distress, when you was too far off to help me, and placed me here! I
little thought!--but no more of that--'

'And who was this kind friend?' said Emily: 'whoever it was, I shall
consider him as mine also.'

'Ah, mademoiselle! that friend forbad me to blazon the good deed--I must
not say, who it was. But how you are altered since I saw you last! You
look so pale now, and so thin, too; but then, there is my old master's
smile! Yes, that will never leave you, any more than the goodness, that
used to make him smile. Alas-a-day! the poor lost a friend indeed, when
he died!'

Emily was affected by this mention of her father, which Theresa
observing, changed the subject. 'I heard, mademoiselle,' said she,
'that Madame Cheron married a foreign gentleman, after all, and took you
abroad; how does she do?'

Emily now mentioned her death. 'Alas!' said Theresa, 'if she had not
been my master's sister, I should never have loved her; she was always
so cross. But how does that dear young gentleman do, M. Valancourt? he
was an handsome youth, and a good one; is he well, mademoiselle?'

Emily was much agitated.

'A blessing on him!' continued Theresa. 'Ah, my dear young lady, you
need not look so shy; I know all about it. Do you think I do not know,
that he loves you? Why, when you was away, mademoiselle, he used to
come to the chateau and walk about it, so disconsolate! He would go into
every room in the lower part of the house, and, sometimes, he would
sit himself down in a chair, with his arms across, and his eyes on
the floor, and there he would sit, and think, and think, for the hour
together. He used to be very fond of the south parlour, because I
told him it used to be yours; and there he would stay, looking at the
pictures, which I said you drew, and playing upon your lute, that hung
up by the window, and reading in your books, till sunset, and then he
must go back to his brother's chate