During her state of insensibility, La Voisin had given directions for
the coffin to be closed, and he succeeded in persuading Emily to forbear
revisiting the chamber. She, indeed, felt herself unequal to this, and
also perceived the necessity of sparing her spirits, and recollecting
fortitude sufficient to bear her through the approaching scene. St.
Aubert had given a particular injunction, that his remains should be
interred in the church of the convent of St. Clair, and, in mentioning
the north chancel, near the ancient tomb of the Villerois, had pointed
out the exact spot, where he wished to be laid. The superior had granted
this place for the interment, and thither, therefore, the sad procession
now moved, which was met, at the gates, by the venerable priest,
followed by a train of friars. Every person, who heard the solemn chant
of the anthem, and the peal of the organ, that struck up, when the
body entered the church, and saw also the feeble steps, and the assumed
tranquillity of Emily, gave her involuntary tears. She shed none,
but walked, her face partly shaded by a thin black veil, between two
persons, who supported her, preceded by the abbess, and followed by
nuns, whose plaintive voices mellowed the swelling harmony of the dirge.
When the procession came to the grave the music ceased. Emily drew the
veil entirely over her face, and, in a momentary pause, between the
anthem and the rest of the service, her sobs were distinctly audible.
The holy father began the service, and Emily again commanded her
feelings, till the coffin was let down, and she heard the earth rattle
on its lid. Then, as she shuddered, a groan burst from her heart, and
she leaned for support on the person who stood next to her. In a few
moments she recovered; and, when she heard those affecting and sublime
words: 'His body is buried in peace, and his soul returns to Him that
gave it,' her anguish softened into tears.
The abbess led her from the church into her own parlour, and there
administered all the consolations, that religion and gentle sympathy
can give. Emily struggled against the pressure of grief; but the abbess,
observing her attentively, ordered a bed to be prepared, and recommended
her to retire to repose. She also kindly claimed her promise to remain
a few days at the convent; and Emily, who had no wish to return to
the cottage, the scene of all her sufferings, had leisure, now that no
immediate care pressed upon her attention, to feel the indisposition,
which disabled her from immediately travelling.
Meanwhile, the maternal kindness of the abbess, and the gentle
attentions of the nuns did all, that was possible, towards soothing her
spirits and restoring her health. But the latter was too deeply wounded,
through the medium of her mind, to be quickly revived. She lingered for
some weeks at the convent, under the influence of a slow fever, wishing
to return home, yet unable to go thither; often even reluctant to
leave the spot where her father's relics were deposited, and sometimes
soothing herself with the consideration, that, if she died here, her
remains would repose beside those of St. Aubert. In the meanwhile, she
sent letters to Madame Cheron and to the old housekeeper, informing them
of the sad event, that had taken place, and of her own situation.
From her aunt she received an answer, abounding more in common-place
condolement, than in traits of real sorrow, which assured her, that a
servant should be sent to conduct her to La Vallee, for that her
own time was so much occupied by company, that she had no leisure to
undertake so long a journey. However Emily might prefer La Vallee to
Tholouse, she could not be insensible to the indecorous and unkind
conduct of her aunt, in suffering her to return thither, where she had
no longer a relation to console and protect her; a conduct, which was
the more culpable, since St. Aubert had appointed Madame Cheron the
guardian of his orphan daughter.