ed to fail her, but she did not faint. To
Valancourt's terrified imagination she appeared to be dying; he called
upon her name, rose to go to the chateau for assistance, and then,
recollecting her situation, feared to go, or to leave her for a moment.

After a few minutes, she drew a deep sigh, and began to revive. The
conflict she had suffered, between love and the duty she at present owed
to her father's sister; her repugnance to a clandestine marriage,
her fear of emerging on the world with embarrassments, such as
might ultimately involve the object of her affection in misery and
repentance;--all this various interest was too powerful for a mind,
already enervated by sorrow, and her reason had suffered a transient
suspension. But duty, and good sense, however hard the conflict, at
length, triumphed over affection and mournful presentiment; above all,
she dreaded to involve Valancourt in obscurity and vain regret, which
she saw, or thought she saw, must be the too certain consequence of a
marriage in their present circumstances; and she acted, perhaps, with
somewhat more than female fortitude, when she resolved to endure a
present, rather than provoke a distant misfortune.

With a candour, that proved how truly she esteemed and loved him,
and which endeared her to him, if possible, more than ever, she told
Valancourt all her reasons for rejecting his proposals. Those, which
influenced her concerning his future welfare, he instantly refuted, or
rather contradicted; but they awakened tender considerations for her,
which the frenzy of passion and despair had concealed before, and love,
which had but lately prompted him to propose a clandestine and immediate
marriage, now induced him to renounce it. The triumph was almost too
much for his heart; for Emily's sake, he endeavoured to stifle his
grief, but the swelling anguish would not be restrained. 'O Emily!' said
he, 'I must leave you--I MUST leave you, and I know it is for ever!'

Convulsive sobs again interrupted his words, and they wept together in
silence, till Emily, recollecting the danger of being discovered, and
the impropriety of prolonging an interview, which might subject her to
censure, summoned all her fortitude to utter a last farewell.

'Stay!' said Valancourt, 'I conjure you stay, for I have much to tell
you. The agitation of my mind has hitherto suffered me to speak only
on the subject that occupied it;--I have forborne to mention a doubt of
much impor