'No doubt you would,' replied Madame Cheron, with a smile of irony, 'and
I shall no doubt consent to this, since I see how necessary tranquillity
and retirement are to restore your spirits. I did not think you capable
of so much duplicity, niece; when you pleaded this excuse for remaining
here, I foolishly believed it to be a just one, nor expected to have
found with you so agreeable a companion as this M. La Val--, I forget
his name.' Emily could no longer endure these cruel indignities. 'It was a just
one, madam,' said she; 'and now, indeed, I feel more than ever the value
of the retirement I then solicited; and, if the purport of your visit
is only to add insult to the sorrows of your brother's child, she could
well have spared it.'
'I see that I have undertaken a very troublesome task,' said Madame
Cheron, colouring highly. 'I am sure, madam,' said Emily mildly, and
endeavouring to restrain her tears, 'I am sure my father did not mean it
should be such. I have the happiness to reflect, that my conduct under
his eye was such as he often delighted to approve. It would be very
painful to me to disobey the sister of such a parent, and, if you
believe the task will really be so troublesome, I must lament, that it
is yours.' 'Well! niece, fine speaking signifies little. I am willing, in
consideration of my poor brother, to overlook the impropriety of your
late conduct, and to try what your future will be.'
Emily interrupted her, to beg she would explain what was the impropriety
she alluded to. 'What impropriety! why that of receiving the visits of a lover unknown
to your family,' replied Madame Cheron, not considering the impropriety
of which she had herself been guilty, in exposing her niece to the
possibility of conduct so erroneous.
A faint blush passed over Emily's countenance; pride and anxiety
struggled in her breast; and, till she recollected, that appearances
did, in some degree, justify her aunt's suspicions, she could not
resolve to humble herself so far as to enter into the defence of a
conduct, which had been so innocent and undesigning on her part. She
mentioned the manner of Valancourt's introduction to her father; the
circumstances of his receiving the pistol-shot, and of their afterwards
travelling together; with the accidental way, in which she had met him,
on the preceding evening. She owned he had declared a partiality for
her, and that he had asked permission to address her family.
'And who is this young adventurer, pray?' said Madame Cheron, 'and what
are his pretensions?' 'These he must himself explain, madam,' replied
Emily. 'Of his family my father was not ignorant, and I believe it is
unexceptionable.' She then proceeded to mention what she knew concerning
it. 'Oh, then, this it seems is a younger brother,' exclaimed her aunt, 'and
of course a beggar. A very fine tale indeed! And so my brother took a
fancy to this young man after only a few days acquaintance!--but that
was so like him! In his youth he was always taking these likes and
dislikes, when no other person saw any reason for them at all; nay,
indeed, I have often thought the people he disapproved were much more
agreeable than those he admired;--but there is no accounting for tastes.
He was always so much influenced by people's countenances; now I, for my
part, have no notion of this, it is all ridiculous enthusiasm. What has
a man's face to do with his character? Can a man of good character
help having a disagreeable face?'--which last sentence Madame Cheron
delivered with the decisive air of a person who congratulates herself
on having made a grand discovery, and believes the question to be
unanswerably settled.