e shall find
that no threats can alter--But who would have believed! who would have
supposed, that a man of his family and apparent wealth had absolutely
no fortune?--no, scarcely a sequin of his own! I did all for the best;
I thought he was a man of consequence, of great property, or I am sure
I would never have married him,--ungrateful, artful man!' She paused to
take breath.

'Dear Madam, be composed,' said Emily: 'the Signor may not be so rich as
you had reason to expect, but surely he cannot be very poor, since
this castle and the mansion at Venice are his. May I ask what are the
circumstances, that particularly affect you?'

'What are the circumstances!' exclaimed Madame Montoni with resentment:
'why is it not sufficient, that he had long ago ruined his own fortune
by play, and that he has since lost what I brought him--and that now he
would compel me to sign away my settlement (it was well I had the chief
of my property settled on myself!) that he may lose this also, or throw
it away in wild schemes, which nobody can understand but himself? And,
and--is not all this sufficient?'

'It is, indeed,' said Emily, 'but you must recollect, dear madam, that I
knew nothing of all this.'

'Well, and is it not sufficient,' rejoined her aunt, 'that he is also
absolutely ruined, that he is sunk deeply in debt, and that neither
this castle, or the mansion at Venice, is his own, if all his debts,
honourable and dishonourable, were paid!'

'I am shocked by what you tell me, madam,' said Emily.

'And is it not enough,' interrupted Madame Montoni, 'that he has treated
me with neglect, with cruelty, because I refused to relinquish my
settlements, and, instead of being frightened by his menaces, resolutely
defied him, and upbraided him with his shameful conduct? But I bore all
meekly,--you know, niece, I never uttered a word of complaint, till now;
no! That such a disposition as mine should be so imposed upon! That I,
whose only faults are too much kindness, too much generosity, should be
chained for life to such a vile, deceitful, cruel monster!'

Want of breath compelled Madame Montoni to stop. If any thing could have
made Emily smile in these moments, it would have been this speech of
her aunt, delivered in a voice very little below a scream, and with a
vehemence of gesticulation and of countenance, that turned the whole
into burlesque. Emily saw, that her misfortunes did not admit of real
consolation, and, contemning the