tever he commands--would
you have me kneel down at his feet, and thank him for his cruelties?
Would you have me give up my settlements?'

'How much you mistake me, madam!' said Emily, 'I am unequal to advise
you on a point so important as the last: but you will pardon me for
saying, that, if you consult your own peace, you will try to conciliate
Signor Montoni, rather than to irritate him by reproaches.'

'Conciliate indeed! I tell you, niece, it is utterly impossible; I
disdain to attempt it.'

Emily was shocked to observe the perverted understanding and obstinate
temper of Madame Montoni; but, not less grieved for her sufferings,
she looked round for some alleviating circumstance to offer her. 'Your
situation is, perhaps, not so desperate, dear madam,' said Emily, 'as
you may imagine. The Signor may represent his affairs to be worse than
they are, for the purpose of pleading a stronger necessity for his
possession of your settlement. Besides, so long as you keep this, you
may look forward to it as a resource, at least, that will afford you
a competence, should the Signor's future conduct compel you to sue for
separation.'

Madame Montoni impatiently interrupted her. 'Unfeeling, cruel girl!'
said she, 'and so you would persuade me, that I have no reason to
complain; that the Signor is in very flourishing circumstances, that my
future prospects promise nothing but comfort, and that my griefs are
as fanciful and romantic as your own! Is it the way to console me, to
endeavour to persuade me out of my senses and my feelings, because you
happen to have no feelings yourself? I thought I was opening my heart
to a person, who could sympathize in my distress, but I find, that your
people of sensibility can feel for nobody but themselves! You may retire
to your chamber.'

Emily, without replying, immediately left the room, with a mingled
emotion of pity and contempt, and hastened to her own, where she yielded
to the mournful reflections, which a knowledge of her aunt's situation
had occasioned. The conversation of the Italian with Valancourt, in
France, again occurred to her. His hints, respecting the broken fortunes
of Montoni, were now completely justified; those, also, concerning his
character, appeared not less so, though the particular circumstances,
connected with his fame, to which the stranger had alluded, yet remained
to be explained. Notwithstanding, that her own observations and the
words of Count Morano had con