'I am, indeed I am, unequal to these moments,' replied Emily, 'you tear
my heart, but I never can consent to this hasty, imprudent proposal!'
'If we could command our time, my Emily, it should not be thus hasty; we
must submit to circumstances.'
'We must indeed! I have already told you all my heart--my spirits are
gone. You allowed the force of my objections, till your tenderness
called up vague terrors, which have given us both unnecessary anguish.
Spare me! do not oblige me to repeat the reasons I have already urged.'
'Spare you!' cried Valancourt, 'I am a wretch--a very wretch, that have
felt only for myself!--I! who ought to have shewn the fortitude of a
man, who ought to have supported you, I! have increased your sufferings
by the conduct of a child! Forgive me, Emily! think of the distraction
of my mind now that I am about to part with all that is dear to me--and
forgive me! When you are gone, I shall recollect with bitter remorse
what I have made you suffer, and shall wish in vain that I could see
you, if only for a moment, that I might sooth your grief.'
Tears again interrupted his voice, and Emily wept with him. 'I will shew
myself more worthy of your love,' said Valancourt, at length; 'I will
not prolong these moments. My Emily--my own Emily! never forget me! God
knows when we shall meet again! I resign you to his care.--O God!--O
God!--protect and bless her!'
He pressed her hand to his heart. Emily sunk almost lifeless on his
bosom, and neither wept, nor spoke. Valancourt, now commanding his own
distress, tried to comfort and re-assure her, but she appeared totally
unaffected by what he said, and a sigh, which she uttered, now and then,
was all that proved she had not fainted.
He supported her slowly towards the chateau, weeping and speaking to
her; but she answered only in sighs, till, having reached the gate, that
terminated the avenue, she seemed to have recovered her consciousness,
and, looking round, perceived how near they were to the chateau. 'We
must part here,' said she, stopping, 'Why prolong these moments? Teach
me the fortitude I have forgot.'
Valancourt struggled to assume a composed air. 'Farewell, my love!' said
he, in a voice of solemn tenderness--'trust me we shall meet again--meet
for each other--meet to part no more!' His voice faltered, but,
recovering it, he proceeded in a firmer tone. 'You know not what I shall
suffer, till I hear from you; I shall omit no opportunity of conveying
to you my letters, yet I tremble to think how few may occur. And trust
me, love, for your dear sake, I will try to bear this absence with
fortitude. O how little I have shewn to-night!' 'Farewell!' said Emily faintly. '