ounting for tastes.
He was always so much influenced by people's countenances; now I, for my
part, have no notion of this, it is all ridiculous enthusiasm. What has
a man's face to do with his character? Can a man of good character
help having a disagreeable face?'--which last sentence Madame Cheron
delivered with the decisive air of a person who congratulates herself
on having made a grand discovery, and believes the question to be
unanswerably settled.
Emily, desirous of concluding the conversation, enquired if her aunt
would accept some refreshment, and Madame Cheron accompanied her to the
chateau, but without desisting from a topic, which she discussed with so
much complacency to herself, and severity to her niece.
'I am sorry to perceive, niece,' said she, in allusion to somewhat that
Emily had said, concerning physiognomy, 'that you have a great many of
your father's prejudices, and among them those sudden predilections for
people from their looks. I can perceive, that you imagine yourself to be
violently in love with this young adventurer, after an acquaintance of
only a few days. There was something, too, so charmingly romantic in the
manner of your meeting!'
Emily checked the tears, that trembled in her eyes, while she said,
'When my conduct shall deserve this severity, madam, you will do well
to exercise it; till then justice, if not tenderness, should surely
restrain it. I have never willingly offended you; now I have lost my
parents, you are the only person to whom I can look for kindness. Let me
not lament more than ever the loss of such parents.' The last words were
almost stifled by her emotions, and she burst into tears. Remembering
the delicacy and the tenderness of St. Aubert, the happy, happy days
she had passed in these scenes, and contrasting them with the coarse
and unfeeling behaviour of Madame Cheron, and from the future hours
of mortification she must submit to in her presence--a degree of grief
seized her, that almost reached despair. Madame Cheron, more offended
by the reproof which Emily's words conveyed, than touched by the
sorrow they expressed, said nothing, that might soften her grief; but,
notwithstanding an apparent reluctance to receive her niece, she desired
her company. The love of sway was her ruling passion, and she knew it
would be highly gratified by taking into her house a young orphan, who
had no appeal from her decisions, and on whom she could exercise without
controul t
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