nfluenced her conduct on this occasion.
It was several days after the arrival of Madame Cheron's servant before
Emily was sufficiently recovered to undertake the journey to La Vallee.
On the evening preceding her departure, she went to the cottage to take
leave of La Voisin and his family, and to make them a return for their
kindness. The old man she found sitting on a bench at his door, between
his daughter, and his son-in-law, who was just returned from his daily
labour, and who was playing upon a pipe, that, in tone, resembled an
oboe. A flask of wine stood beside the old man, and, before him, a small
table with fruit and bread, round which stood several of his grandsons,
fine rosy children, who were taking their supper, as their mother
distributed it. On the edge of the little green, that spread before
the cottage, were cattle and a few sheep reposing under the trees. The
landscape was touched with the mellow light of the evening sun, whose
long slanting beams played through a vista of the woods, and lighted
up the distant turrets of the chateau. She paused a moment, before she
emerged from the shade, to gaze upon the happy group before her--on the
complacency and ease of healthy age, depictured on the countenance of
La Voisin; the maternal tenderness of Agnes, as she looked upon her
children, and the innocency of infantine pleasures, reflected in their
smiles. Emily looked again at the venerable old man, and at the cottage;
the memory of her father rose with full force upon her mind, and she
hastily stepped forward, afraid to trust herself with a longer pause.
She took an affectionate and affecting leave of La Voisin and his
family; he seemed to love her as his daughter, and shed tears; Emily
shed many. She avoided going into the cottage, since she knew it would
revive emotions, such as she could not now endure.
One painful scene yet awaited her, for she determined to visit again her
father's grave; and that she might not be interrupted, or observed in
the indulgence of her melancholy tenderness, she deferred her visit,
till every inhabitant of the convent, except the nun who promised
to bring her the key of the church, should be retired to rest. Emily
remained in her chamber, till she heard the convent bell strike twelve,
when the nun came, as she had appointed, with the key of a private door,
that opened into the church, and they descended together the narrow
winding stair-case, that led thither. The nun offere
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