she was for a moment unable to speak, or to rise from her
chair. His countenance was the mirror, in which she saw her own emotions
reflected, and it roused her to self-command. The joy, which had
animated his features, when he entered the pavilion, was suddenly
repressed, as, approaching, he perceived her agitation, and, in a
tremulous voice, enquired after her health. Recovered from her first
surprise, she answered him with a tempered smile; but a variety of
opposite emotions still assailed her heart, and struggled to subdue
the mild dignity of her manner. It was difficult to tell which
predominated--the joy of seeing Valancourt, or the terror of her aunt's
displeasure, when she should hear of this meeting. After some short and
embarrassed conversation, she led him into the gardens, and enquired if
he had seen Madame Cheron. 'No,' said he, 'I have not yet seen her, for
they told me she was engaged, and as soon as I learned that you were in
the gardens, I came hither.' He paused a moment, in great agitation, and
then added, 'May I venture to tell you the purport of my visit, without
incurring your displeasure, and to hope, that you will not accuse me of
precipitation in now availing myself of the permission you once gave
me of addressing your family?' Emily, who knew not what to reply, was
spared from further perplexity, and was sensible only of fear, when on
raising her eyes, she saw Madame Cheron turn into the avenue. As the
consciousness of innocence returned, this fear was so far dissipated as
to permit her to appear tranquil, and, instead of avoiding her aunt, she
advanced with Valancourt to meet her. The look of haughty and impatient
displeasure, with which Madame Cheron regarded them, made Emily shrink,
who understood from a single glance, that this meeting was believed to
have been more than accidental: having mentioned Valancourt's name, she
became again too much agitated to remain with them, and returned into
the chateau; where she awaited long, in a state of trembling anxiety,
the conclusion of the conference. She knew not how to account for
Valancourt's visit to her aunt, before he had received the permission
he solicited, since she was ignorant of a circumstance, which would have
rendered the request useless, even if Madame Cheron had been inclined to
grant it. Valancourt, in the agitation of his spirits, had forgotten to
date his letter, so that it was impossible for Madame Cheron to return
an answer; and, w