He then moved his lips, and stretched forth his hand to her; as she
received which, she sunk back in her chair, overcome by the impression
of death on his countenance. In a few minutes he recovered his voice,
and Emily then asked, if he wished to see the confessor; he replied,
that he did; and, when the holy father appeared, she withdrew. They
remained alone together above half an hour; when Emily was called in,
she found St. Aubert more agitated than when she had left him, and she
gazed, with a slight degree of resentment, at the friar, as the cause
of this; who, however, looked mildly and mournfully at her, and turned
away. St. Aubert, in a tremulous voice, said, he wished her to join in
prayer with him, and asked if La Voisin would do so too. The old man and
his daughter came; they both wept, and knelt with Emily round the bed,
while the holy father read in a solemn voice the service for the dying.
St. Aubert lay with a serene countenance, and seemed to join fervently
in the devotion, while tears often stole from beneath his closed
eyelids, and Emily's sobs more than once interrupted the service.
When it was concluded, and extreme unction had been administered,
the friar withdrew. St. Aubert then made a sign for La Voisin to come
nearer. He gave him his hand, and was, for a moment, silent. At length,
he said, in a trembling voice, 'My good friend, our acquaintance has
been short, but long enough to give you an opportunity of shewing me
much kind attention. I cannot doubt, that you will extend this kindness
to my daughter, when I am gone; she will have need of it. I entrust her
to your care during the few days she will remain here. I need say no
more--you know the feelings of a father, for you have children; mine
would be, indeed, severe if I had less confidence in you.' He paused. La
Voisin assured him, and his tears bore testimony to his sincerity, that
he would do all he could to soften her affliction, and that, if St.
Aubert wished it, he would even attend her into Gascony; an offer so
pleasing to St. Aubert, that he had scarcely words to acknowledge his
sense of the old man's kindness, or to tell him, that he accepted it.
The scene, that followed between St. Aubert and Emily, affected La
Voisin so much, that he quitted the chamber, and she was again left
alone with her father, whose spirits seemed fainting fast, but neither
his senses, or his voice, yet failed him; and, at intervals, he employed
much of these last awful moments in advising his daughter, as to her
future conduct. Perhaps, he never had thought more justly, or expressed
himself more clearly, than he did now.