He once more bade Emily adieu, pressed her hand to his lips, looked at
her, for the last time, and hurried out of the room.
Emily remained in the chair, where he had left her, oppressed with
a pain at her heart, which scarcely permitted her to breathe, and
listening to his departing steps, sinking fainter and fainter, as
he crossed the hall. She was, at length, roused by the voice of the
Countess in the garden, and, her attention being then awakened, the
first object, which struck her sight, was the vacant chair, where
Valancourt had sat. The tears, which had been, for some time, repressed
by the kind of astonishment, that followed his departure, now came to
her relief, and she was, at length, sufficiently composed to return to
her own room.