CHAPTER XI
What transport to retrace our early plays, Our easy bliss, when each thing joy supplied The woods, the mountains and the warbling maze Of the wild brooks! THOMSON
Blanche's slumbers continued, till long after the hour, which she hadso impatiently anticipated, for her woman, fatigued with travelling,did not call her, till breakfast was nearly ready. Her disappointment,however, was instantly forgotten, when, on opening the casement, shesaw, on one hand, the wide sea sparkling in the morning rays, with itsstealing sails and glancing oars; and, on the other, the fresh woods,the plains far-stretching and the blue mountains, all glowing with thesplendour of day.
As she inspired the pure breeze, health spread a deeper blush upon hercountenance, and pleasure danced in her eyes.
'Who could first invent convents!' said she, 'and who could firstpersuade people to go into them? and to make religion a pretence, too,where all that should inspire it, is so carefully shut out! God isbest pleased with the homage of a grateful heart, and, when we view hisglories, we feel most grateful. I never felt so much devotion, duringthe many dull years I was in the convent, as I have done in the fewhours, that I have been here, where I need only look on all aroundme--to adore God in my inmost heart!'
Saying this, she left the window, bounded along the gallery, and, inthe next moment, was in the breakfast room, where the Count wasalready seated. The cheerfulness of a bright sunshine had dispersedthe melancholy glooms of his reflections, a pleasant smile was on hiscountenance, and he spoke in an enlivening voice to Blanche, whoseheart echoed back the tones. Henri and, soon after, the Countess withMademoiselle Bearn appeared, and the whole party seemed to acknowledgethe influence of the scene; even the Countess was so much re-animated asto receive the civilities of her husband with complacency, and but onceforgot her good-humour, which was when she asked whether they had anyneighbours, who were likely to make THIS BARBAROUS SPOT more tolerable,and whether the Count believed it possible for her to exist here,without some amusement?
Soon after breakfast the party dispersed; the Count, ordering hissteward to attend him in the library, went to survey the condition ofhis premises, and to visit some of his tenants; Henri hastened withalacrity to the shore to examine a boat, that was to bear them on alittle voyage in the evening and to superintend the adjustment of a silkawning; while the Countess, attended by Mademoiselle Bearn, retired toan apartment on the modern side of the chateau, which was fitted up withairy elegance; and, as the windows opened upon balconies, that frontedthe sea, she was there saved from a view of the HORRID Pyrenees. Here,while she reclined on a sofa, and, casting her languid eyes over theocean, which appeared beyond the wood-tops, indulged in the luxuries ofENNUI, her companion read aloud a sentimental novel, on some fashionablesystem of philosophy, for the Countess was herself somewhat of aPHILOSOPHER, especially as to INFIDELITY, and among a certain circle heropinions were waited for with impatience, and received as doctrines.
The Lady Blanche, meanwhile, hastened to indulge, amidst the wildwood-walks around the chateau, her new enthusiasm, where, as shewandered under the shades, her gay spirits gradually yielded to pensivecomplacency. Now, she moved with solemn steps, beneath the gloom ofthickly interwoven branches, where the fresh dew still hung upon everyflower, that peeped from among the grass; and now tripped sportivelyalong the path, on which the sunbeams darted and the checquered foliagetrembled--where the tender greens of the beech, the acacia and themountain-ash, mingling with the solemn tints of the cedar, the pine andcypress, exhibited as fine a contrast of colouring, as the majestic oakand oriental plane did of form, to the feathery lightness of the corktree and the waving grace of the poplar.
Having reached a rustic seat, within a deep recess of the woods, sherested awhile, and, as her eyes caught, through a distant opening, aglimpse of the blue waters of the Mediterranean, with the white sail,gliding on its bosom, or of the broad mountain, glowing beneath themid-day sun, her mind experienced somewhat of that exquisite delight,which awakens the fancy, and leads to poetry. The hum of bees alonebroke the stillness around her, as, with other insects of varioushues, they sported gaily in the shade, or sipped sweets from the freshflowers: and, while Blanche watched a butter-fly, flitting from bud tobud, she indulged herself in imagining the pleasures of its short day,till she had composed the following stanzas.
THE BUTTER-FLY TO HIS LOVE
What bowery dell, with fragrant breath, Courts thee to stay thy airy flight; Nor seek again the purple heath, So oft the scene of gay delight?
Long I've watch'd i' the lily's bell, Whose whiteness stole the morning's beam; No fluttering sounds thy coming tell, No waving wings, at distance, gleam.
But fountain fresh, nor breathing grove, Nor sunny mead, nor blossom'd tree, So sweet as lily's cell shall prove,-- The bower of constant love and me.
When April buds begin to blow, The prim-rose, and the hare-bell blue, That on the verdant moss bank grow, With violet cups, that weep in dew;
When wanton gales breathe through the shade, And shake the blooms, and steal their sweets, And swell the song of ev'ry glade, I range the forest's green retreats:
There, through the tangled wood-walks play, Where no rude urchin paces near, Where sparely peeps the sultry day, And light dews freshen all the air.
High on a sun-beam oft I sport O'er bower and fountain, vale and hill; Oft ev'ry blushing flow'ret court, That hangs its head o'er winding rill.
But these I'll leave to be thy guide, And shew thee, where the jasmine spreads Her snowy leaf, where may-flow'rs hide, And rose-buds rear their peeping heads.
With me the mountain's summit scale, And taste the wild-thyme's honied bloom, Whose fragrance, floating on the gale, Oft leads me to the cedar's gloom.
Yet, yet, no sound comes in the breeze! What shade thus dares to tempt thy stay? Once, me alone thou wish'd to please, And with me only thou wouldst stray.
But, while thy long delay I mourn, And chide the sweet shades for their guile, Thou may'st be true, and they forlorn, And fairy favours court thy smile.
The tiny queen of fairy-land, Who knows thy speed, hath sent thee far, To bring, or ere the night-watch stand, Rich essence for her shadowy car:
Perchance her acorn-cups to fill With nectar from the Indian rose, Or gather, near some haunted rill, May-dews, that lull to sleep Love's woes:
Or, o'er the mountains, bade thee fly, To tell her fairy love to speed, When ev'ning steals upon the sky, To dance along the twilight mead.
But now I see thee sailing low, Gay as the brightest flow'rs of spring, Thy coat of blue and jet I know, And well thy gold and purple wing.
Borne on the gale, thou com'st to me; O! welcome, welcome to my home! In lily's cell we'll live in glee, Together o'er the mountains roam!
When Lady Blanche returned to the chateau, instead of going to theapartment of the Countess, she amused herself with wandering over thatpart of the edifice, which she had not yet examined, of which the mostantient first attracted her curiosity; for, though what she had seen ofthe modern was gay and elegant, there was something in the former moreinteresting to her imagination. Having passed up the great stair-case,and through the oak gallery, she entered upon a long suite of chambers,whose walls were either hung with tapestry, or wainscoted with cedar,the furniture of which looked almost as antient as the rooms themselves;the spacious fire-places, where no mark of social cheer remained,presented an image of cold desolation; and the whole suite had so muchthe air of neglect and desertion, that it seemed, as if the venerablepersons, whose portraits hung upon the walls, had been the last toinhabit them.
On leaving these rooms, she found herself in another gallery, one end ofwhich was terminated by a back stair-case, and the other by a door,that seemed to communicate with the north-side of the chateau, but whichbeing fastened, she descended the stair-case, and, opening a door inthe wall, a few steps down, found herself in a small square room, thatformed part of the west turret of the castle. Three windows present
edeach a separate and beautiful prospect; that to the north, overlookingLanguedoc; another to the west, the hills ascending towards thePyrenees, whose awful summits crowned the landscape; and a third,fronting the south, gave the Mediterranean, and a part of the wildshores of Rousillon, to the eye.
Having left the turret, and descended the narrow stair-case, she foundherself in a dusky passage, where she wandered, unable to find her way,till impatience yielded to apprehension, and she called for assistance.Presently steps approached, and light glimmered through a door at theother extremity of the passage, which was opened with caution by someperson, who did not venture beyond it, and whom Blanche observedin silence, till the door was closing, when she called aloud, and,hastening towards it, perceived the old housekeeper. 'Dear ma'amselle!is it you?' said Dorothee, 'How could you find your way hither?' HadBlanche been less occupied by her own fears, she would probably haveobserved the strong expressions of terror and surprise on Dorothee'scountenance, who now led her through a long succession of passages androoms, that looked as if they had been uninhabited for a century,till they reached that appropriated to the housekeeper, where Dorotheeentreated she would sit down and take refreshment. Blanche accepted thesweet meats, offered to her, mentioned her discovery of the pleasantturret, and her wish to appropriate it to her own use. WhetherDorothee's taste was not so sensible to the beauties of landscape as heryoung lady's, or that the constant view of lovely scenery had deadenedit, she forbore to praise the subject of Blanche's enthusiasm, which,however, her silence did not repress. To Lady Blanche's enquiry ofwhither the door she had found fastened at the end of the gallery led,she replied, that it opened to a suite of rooms, which had not beenentered, during many years, 'For,' added she, 'my late lady died in oneof them, and I could never find in my heart to go into them since.'
Blanche, though she wished to see these chambers, forbore, on observingthat Dorothee's eyes were filled with tears, to ask her to unlock them,and, soon after, went to dress for dinner, at which the whole party metin good spirits and good humour, except the Countess, whose vacant mind,overcome by the languor of idleness, would neither suffer her to behappy herself, or to contribute to the happiness of others. MademoiselleBearn, attempting to be witty, directed her badinage against Henri,who answered, because he could not well avoid it, rather than from anyinclination to notice her, whose liveliness sometimes amused, but whoseconceit and insensibility often disgusted him.
The cheerfulness, with which Blanche rejoined the party, vanished, onher reaching the margin of the sea; she gazed with apprehension uponthe immense expanse of waters, which, at a distance, she had beheld onlywith delight and astonishment, and it was by a strong effort, that sheso far overcame her fears as to follow her father into the boat.
As she silently surveyed the vast horizon, bending round the distantverge of the ocean, an emotion of sublimest rapture struggled toovercome a sense of personal danger. A light breeze played on thewater, and on the silk awning of the boat, and waved the foliage of thereceding woods, that crowned the cliffs, for many miles, and which theCount surveyed with the pride of conscious property, as well as with theeye of taste.
At some distance, among these woods, stood a pavilion, which had oncebeen the scene of social gaiety, and which its situation still madeone of romantic beauty. Thither, the Count had ordered coffee and otherrefreshment to be carried, and thither the sailors now steeredtheir course, following the windings of the shore round many a woodypromontory and circling bay; while the pensive tones of horns and otherwind instruments, played by the attendants in a distant boat, echoedamong the rocks, and died along the waves. Blanche had now subdued herfears; a delightful tranquillity stole over her mind, and held her insilence; and she was too happy even to remember the convent, or herformer sorrows, as subjects of comparison with her present felicity.
The Countess felt less unhappy than she had done, since the moment ofher leaving Paris; for her mind was now under some degree of restraint;she feared to indulge its wayward humours, and even wished to recoverthe Count's good opinion. On his family, and on the surrounding scene,he looked with tempered pleasure and benevolent satisfaction, while hisson exhibited the gay spirits of youth, anticipating new delights, andregretless of those, that were passed.
After near an hour's rowing, the party landed, and ascended a littlepath, overgrown with vegetation. At a little distance from the pointof the eminence, within the shadowy recess of the woods, appearedthe pavilion, which Blanche perceived, as she caught a glimpse of itsportico between the trees, to be built of variegated marble. As shefollowed the Countess, she often turned her eyes with rapture towardsthe ocean, seen beneath the dark foliage, far below, and from thenceupon the deep woods, whose silence and impenetrable gloom awakenedemotions more solemn, but scarcely less delightful.
The pavilion had been prepared, as far as was possible, on a very shortnotice, for the reception of its visitors; but the faded colours ofits painted walls and ceiling, and the decayed drapery of its oncemagnificent furniture, declared how long it had been neglected, andabandoned to the empire of the changing seasons. While the party partookof a collation of fruit and coffee, the horns, placed in a distant partof the woods, where an echo sweetened and prolonged their melancholytones, broke softly on the stillness of the scene. This spot seemed toattract even the admiration of the Countess, or, perhaps, it was merelythe pleasure of planning furniture and decorations, that made her dwellso long on the necessity of repairing and adorning it; while the Count,never happier than when he saw her mind engaged by natural and simpleobjects, acquiesced in all her designs, concerning the pavilion.The paintings on the walls and coved ceiling were to be renewed, thecanopies and sofas were to be of light green damask; marble statues ofwood-nymphs, bearing on their heads baskets of living flowers, were toadorn the recesses between the windows, which, descending to the ground,were to admit to every part of the room, and it was of octagonal form,the various landscape. One window opened upon a romantic glade, wherethe eye roved among the woody recesses, and the scene was boundedonly by a lengthened pomp of groves; from another, the woods recedingdisclosed the distant summits of the Pyrenees; a third fronted anavenue, beyond which the grey towers of Chateau-le-Blanc, and apicturesque part of its ruin were seen partially among the foliage;while a fourth gave, between the trees, a glimpse of the green pasturesand villages, that diversify the banks of the Aude. The Mediterranean,with the bold cliffs, that overlooked its shores, were the grand objectsof a fifth window, and the others gave, in different points of view, thewild scenery of the woods.
After wandering, for some time, in these, the party returned to theshore and embarked; and, the beauty of the evening tempting them toextend their excursion, they proceeded further up the bay. A dead calmhad succeeded the light breeze, that wafted them hither, and the mentook to their oars. Around, the waters were spread into one vast expanseof polished mirror, reflecting the grey cliffs and feathery woods, thatover-hung its surface, the glow of the western horizon and the darkclouds, that came slowly from the east. Blanche loved to see the dippingoars imprint the water, and to watch the spreading circles they left,which gave a tremulous motion to the reflected landscape, withoutdestroying the harmony of its features.
Above the darkness of the woods, her eye now caught a cluster of hightowers, touched with the splendour of the setting rays; and, soon after,the horns being then silent, she heard the faint swell of choral voicesfrom a distance.
'What voices are those, upon the air?' said the Count, lookinground, and listening; but the strain had ceased. 'It seemed to be avesper-hymn, which I have often heard in my convent,' said Blanche.
'We are near the monastery, then,' observed the Count; and, the boatsoon after doubling a lofty head-land, the monastery of St. Claireappeared, seated near the margin of the sea, where the cliffs, suddenlysinking, formed a low shore within a small bay, almost encircled withwoods, among which partial features of the edifice were seen;--the greatgate and gothic window of the hall, the cloisters and
the side of achapel more remote; while a venerable arch, which had once led to a partof the fabric, now demolished, stood a majestic ruin detached from themain building, beyond which appeared a grand perspective of the woods.On the grey walls, the moss had fastened, and, round the pointed windowsof the chapel, the ivy and the briony hung in many a fantastic wreath.
All without was silent and forsaken; but, while Blanche gazed withadmiration on this venerable pile, whose effect was heightened by thestrong lights and shadows thrown athwart it by a cloudy sun-set, a soundof many voices, slowly chanting, arose from within. The Count bade hismen rest on their oars. The monks were singing the hymn of vespers, andsome female voices mingled with the strain, which rose by soft degrees,till the high organ and the choral sounds swelled into full and solemnharmony. The strain, soon after, dropped into sudden silence, and wasrenewed in a low and still more solemn key, till, at length, the holychorus died away, and was heard no more.--Blanche sighed, tears trembledin her eyes, and her thoughts seemed wafted with the sounds to heaven.While a rapt stillness prevailed in the boat, a train of friars, andthen of nuns, veiled in white, issued from the cloisters, and passed,under the shade of the woods, to the main body of the edifice.
The Countess was the first of her party to awaken from this pause ofsilence.
'These dismal hymns and friars make one quite melancholy,' said she;'twilight is coming on; pray let us return, or it will be dark before weget home.'
The count, looking up, now perceived, that the twilight of eveningwas anticipated by an approaching storm. In the east a tempest wascollecting; a heavy gloom came on, opposing and contrasting the glowingsplendour of the setting sun. The clamorous sea-fowl skimmed in fleetcircles upon the surface of the sea, dipping their light pinions in thewave, as they fled away in search of shelter. The boatmen pulled hardat their oars; but the thunder, that now muttered at a distance, and theheavy drops, that began to dimple the water, made the Count determineto put back to the monastery for shelter, and the course of the boatwas immediately changed. As the clouds approached the west, their luriddarkness changed to a deep ruddy glow, which, by reflection, seemed tofire the tops of the woods and the shattered towers of the monastery.
The appearance of the heavens alarmed the Countess and MademoiselleBearn, whose expressions of apprehension distressed the Count, andperplexed his men; while Blanche continued silent, now agitated withfear, and now with admiration, as she viewed the grandeur of the clouds,and their effect on the scenery, and listened to the long, long peals ofthunder, that rolled through the air.
The boat having reached the lawn before the monastery, the Count sent aservant to announce his arrival, and to entreat shelter of the Superior,who, soon after, appeared at the great gate, attended by severalmonks, while the servant returned with a message, expressive at once ofhospitality and pride, but of pride disguised in submission. The partyimmediately disembarked, and, having hastily crossed the lawn--for theshower was now heavy--were received at the gate by the Superior, who, asthey entered, stretched forth his hands and gave his blessing; and theypassed into the great hall, where the lady abbess waited, attended byseveral nuns, clothed, like herself, in black, and veiled in white.The veil of the abbess was, however, thrown half back, and discovered acountenance, whose chaste dignity was sweetened by the smile of welcome,with which she addressed the Countess, whom she led, with Blanche andMademoiselle Bearn, into the convent parlour, while the Count and Henriwere conducted by the Superior to the refectory.
The Countess, fatigued and discontented, received the politeness of theabbess with careless haughtiness, and had followed her, with indolentsteps, to the parlour, over which the painted casements and wainscot oflarch-wood threw, at all times, a melancholy shade, and where the gloomof evening now loured almost to darkness.
While the lady abbess ordered refreshment, and conversed with theCountess, Blanche withdrew to a window, the lower panes of which, beingwithout painting, allowed her to observe the progress of the storm overthe Mediterranean, whose dark waves, that had so lately slept, now cameboldly swelling, in long succession, to the shore, where they burst inwhite foam, and threw up a high spray over the rocks. A red sulphureoustint overspread the long line of clouds, that hung above the westernhorizon, beneath whose dark skirts the sun looking out, illumined thedistant shores of Languedoc, as well as the tufted summits of the nearerwoods, and shed a partial gleam on the western waves. The rest of thescene was in deep gloom, except where a sun-beam, darting between theclouds, glanced on the white wings of the sea-fowl, that circled highamong them, or touched the swelling sail of a vessel, which was seenlabouring in the storm. Blanche, for some time, anxiously watched theprogress of the bark, as it threw the waves in foam around it, and, asthe lightnings flashed, looked to the opening heavens, with many a sighfor the fate of the poor mariners.
The sun, at length, set, and the heavy clouds, which had long impended,dropped over the splendour of his course; the vessel, however, wasyet dimly seen, and Blanche continued to observe it, till the quicksuccession of flashes, lighting up the gloom of the whole horizon,warned her to retire from the window, and she joined the Abbess, who,having exhausted all her topics of conversation with the Countess, hadnow leisure to notice her.
But their discourse was interrupted by tremendous peals of thunder;and the bell of the monastery soon after ringing out, summoned theinhabitants to prayer. As Blanche passed the window, she gave anotherlook to the ocean, where, by the momentary flash, that illumined thevast body of the waters, she distinguished the vessel she had observedbefore, amidst a sea of foam, breaking the billows, the mast now bowingto the waves, and then rising high in air.
She sighed fervently as she gazed, and then followed the Lady Abbessand the Countess to the chapel. Meanwhile, some of the Count's servants,having gone by land to the chateau for carriages, returned soon aftervespers had concluded, when, the storm being somewhat abated, the Countand his family returned home. Blanche was surprised to discover how muchthe windings of the shore had deceived her, concerning the distance ofthe chateau from the monastery, whose vesper bell she had heard, on thepreceding evening, from the windows of the west saloon, and whose towersshe would also have seen from thence, had not twilight veiled them.
On their arrival at the chateau, the Countess, affecting more fatigue,than she really felt, withdrew to her apartment, and the Count, withhis daughter and Henri, went to the supper-room, where they had not beenlong, when they heard, in a pause of the gust, a firing of guns, whichthe Count understanding to be signals of distress from some vessel inthe storm, went to a window, that opened towards the Mediterranean, toobserve further; but the sea was now involved in utter darkness, andthe loud howlings of the tempest had again overcome every other sound.Blanche, remembering the bark, which she had before seen, now joined herfather, with trembling anxiety. In a few moments, the report of guns wasagain borne along the wind, and as suddenly wafted away; a tremendousburst of thunder followed, and, in the flash, that had preceded it, andwhich seemed to quiver over the whole surface of the waters, a vesselwas discovered, tossing amidst the white foam of the waves at somedistance from the shore. Impenetrable darkness again involved the scene,but soon a second flash shewed the bark, with one sail unfurled, drivingtowards the coast. Blanche hung upon her father's arm, with looks fullof the agony of united terror and pity, which were unnecessary toawaken the heart of the Count, who gazed upon the sea with a piteousexpression, and, perceiving, that no boat could live in the storm,forbore to send one; but he gave orders to his people to carry torchesout upon the cliffs, hoping they might prove a kind of beacon to thevessel, or, at least, warn the crew of the rocks they were approaching.While Henri went out to direct on what part of the cliffs the lightsshould appear, Blanche remained with her father, at the window,catching, every now and then, as the lightnings flashed, a glimpse ofthe vessel; and she soon saw, with reviving hope, the torches flamingon the blackness of night, and, as they waved over the cliffs, casting ared gleam on the gasping bil
lows. When the firing of guns was repeated,the torches were tossed high in the air, as if answering the signal, andthe firing was then redoubled; but, though the wind bore the sound away,she fancied, as the lightnings glanced, that the vessel was much nearerthe shore.
The Count's servants were now seen, running to and fro, on the rocks;some venturing almost to the point of the crags, and bending over, heldout their torches fastened to long poles; while others, whose stepscould be traced only by the course of the lights, descended the steepand dangerous path, that wound to the margin of the sea, and, with loudhalloos, hailed the mariners, whose shrill whistle, and then feeblevoices, were heard, at intervals, mingling with the storm. Sudden shoutsfrom the people on the rocks increased the anxiety of Blanche to analmost intolerable degree: but her suspense, concerning the fate of themariners, was soon over, when Henri, running breathless into the room,told that the vessel was anchored in the bay below, but in so shattereda condition, that it was feared she would part before the crew coulddisembark. The Count immediately gave orders for his own boats to assistin bringing them to shore, and that such of these unfortunatestrangers as could not be accommodated in the adjacent hamlet shouldbe entertained at the chateau. Among the latter, were Emily St. Aubert,Monsieur Du Pont, Ludovico and Annette, who, having embarked at Leghornand reached Marseilles, were from thence crossing the Gulf of Lyons,when this storm overtook them. They were received by the Count with hisusual benignity, who, though Emily wished to have proceeded immediatelyto the monastery of St. Claire, would not allow her to leave thechateau, that night; and, indeed, the terror and fatigue she hadsuffered would scarcely have permitted her to go farther.
In Monsieur Du Pont the Count discovered an old acquaintance, andmuch joy and congratulation passed between them, after which Emily wasintroduced by name to the Count's family, whose hospitable benevolencedissipated the little embarrassment, which her situation had occasionedher, and the party were soon seated at the supper-table. The unaffectedkindness of Blanche and the lively joy she expressed on the escape ofthe strangers, for whom her pity had been so much interested, graduallyrevived Emily's languid spirits; and Du Pont, relieved from his terrorsfor her and for himself, felt the full contrast, between his latesituation on a dark and tremendous ocean, and his present one, in acheerful mansion, where he was surrounded with plenty, elegance andsmiles of welcome.
Annette, meanwhile, in the servants' hall, was telling of all thedangers she had encountered, and congratulating herself so heartily uponher own and Ludovico's escape, and on her present comforts, thatshe often made all that part of the chateau ring with merrimentand laughter. Ludovico's spirits were as gay as her own, but he haddiscretion enough to restrain them, and tried to check hers, though invain, till her laughter, at length, ascended to MY LADY'S chamber, whosent to enquire what occasioned so much uproar in the chateau, and tocommand silence.
Emily withdrew early to seek the repose she so much required, buther pillow was long a sleepless one. On this her return to her nativecountry, many interesting remembrances were awakened; all the eventsand sufferings she had experienced, since she quitted it, came inlong succession to her fancy, and were chased only by the image ofValancourt, with whom to believe herself once more in the same land,after they had been so long, and so distantly separated, gave heremotions of indescribable joy, but which afterwards yielded to anxietyand apprehension, when she considered the long period, that had elapsed,since any letter had passed between them, and how much might havehappened in this interval to affect her future peace. But the thought,that Valancourt might be now no more, or, if living, might haveforgotten her, was so very terrible to her heart, that she wouldscarcely suffer herself to pause upon the possibility. She determined toinform him, on the following day, of her arrival in France, which it wasscarcely possible he could know but by a letter from herself, and, aftersoothing her spirits with the hope of soon hearing, that he was well,and unchanged in his affections, she, at length, sunk to repose.