virtues, which
are indispensable to a woman--sincerity, uniformity of conduct and
obedience.'

Emily, who had always endeavoured to regulate her conduct by the nicest
laws, and whose mind was finely sensible, not only of what is just
in morals, but of whatever is beautiful in the female character, was
shocked by these words; yet, in the next moment, her heart swelled with
the consciousness of having deserved praise, instead of censure, and she
was proudly silent. Montoni, acquainted with the delicacy of her mind,
knew how keenly she would feel his rebuke; but he was a stranger to the
luxury of conscious worth, and, therefore, did not foresee the energy of
that sentiment, which now repelled his satire. Turning to a servant who
had lately entered the room, he asked whether Morano had quitted the
castle. The man answered, that his servants were then removing him, on
a couch, to a neighbouring cottage. Montoni seemed somewhat appeased,
on hearing this; and, when Ludovico appeared, a few moments after,
and said, that Morano was gone, he told Emily she might retire to her
apartment.

She withdrew willingly from his presence; but the thought of passing the
remainder of the night in a chamber, which the door from the stair-case
made liable to the intrusion of any person, now alarmed her more than
ever, and she determined to call at Madame Montoni's room, and request,
that Annette might be permitted to be with her.

On reaching the great gallery, she heard voices seemingly in
dispute, and, her spirits now apt to take alarm, she paused, but soon
distinguished some words of Cavigni and Verezzi, and went towards them,
in the hope of conciliating their difference. They were alone. Verezzi's
face was still flushed with rage; and, as the first object of it was
now removed from him, he appeared willing to transfer his resentment
to Cavigni, who seemed to be expostulating, rather than disputing, with
him.

Verezzi was protesting, that he would instantly inform Montoni of the
insult, which Morano had thrown out against him, and above all, that,
wherein he had accused him of murder.

'There is no answering,' said Cavigni, 'for the words of a man in a
passion; little serious regard ought to be paid to them. If you persist
in your resolution, the consequences may be fatal to both. We have now
more serious interests to pursue, than those of a petty revenge.'

Emily joined her entreaties to Cavigni's arguments, and they, at length,
pr