St.Aubert was impatient to reach Perpignan, where he expected letters from M.Quesnel; and it was the expectation of these letters, that had induced him to leave Colioure, for his feeble frame had required immediate rest.After travelling a few miles, he fell asleep; and Emily, who had put two or three books into the carriage, on leaving La Vallee, had now the leisure for looking into them.She sought for one, in which Valancourt had been reading the day before, and hoped for the pleasure of re-tracing a page, over which the eyes of a beloved friend had lately passed, of dwelling on the passages, which he had admired, and of permitting them to speak to her in the language of his own mind, and to bring himself to her presence.On searching for the book, she could find it no where, but in its stead perceived a volume of Petrarch's poems, that had belonged to Valancourt, whose name was written in it, and from which he had frequently read passages to her, with all the pathetic expression, that characterized the feelings of the author.She hesitated in believing, what would have been sufficiently apparent to almost any other person, that he had purposely left this book, instead of the one she had lost, and that love had prompted the exchange; but, having opened it with impatient pleasure, and observed the lines of his pencil drawn along the various passages he had read aloud, and under others more descriptive of delicate tenderness than he had dared to trust his voice with, the conviction came, at length, to her mind.For some moments she was conscious only of being beloved;then, a recollection of all the variations of tone and countenance, with which he had recited these sonnets, and of the soul, which spoke in their expression, pressed to her memory, and she wept over the memorial of his affection.
They arrived at Perpignan soon after sunset, where St.Aubert found, as he had expected, letters from M.Quesnel, the contents of which so evidently and grievously affected him, that Emily was alarmed, and pressed him, as far as her delicacy would permit, to disclose the occasion of his concern; but he answered her only by tears, and immediately began to talk on other topics.Emily, though she forbore to press the one most interesting to her, was greatly affected by her father's manner, and passed a night of sleepless solicitude.
In the morning they pursued their journey along the coast towards Leucate, another town on the Mediterranean, situated on the borders of Languedoc and Rousillon.On the way, Emily renewed the subject of the preceding night, and appeared so deeply affected by St.Aubert's silence and dejection, that he relaxed from his reserve.'I was unwilling, my dear Emily,' said he, 'to throw a cloud over the pleasure you receive from these scenes, and meant, therefore, to conceal, for the present, some circumstances, with which, however, you must at length have been made acquainted.But your anxiety has defeated my purpose; you suffer as much from this, perhaps, as you will do from a knowledge of the facts I have to relate.M.Quesnel's visit proved an unhappy one to me; he came to tell me part of the news he has now confirmed.You may have heard me mention a M.
Motteville, of Paris, but you did not know that the chief of my personal property was invested in his hands.I had great confidence in him, and I am yet willing to believe, that he is not wholly unworthy of my esteem.A variety of circumstances have concurred to ruin him, and--I am ruined with him.'
St.Aubert paused to conceal his emotion.
'The letters I have just received from M.Quesnel,' resumed he, struggling to speak with firmness, 'enclosed others from Motteville, which confirmed all I dreaded.'
'Must we then quit La Vallee?' said Emily, after a long pause of silence.'That is yet uncertain,' replied St.Aubert, 'it will depend upon the compromise Motteville is able to make with his creditors.My income, you know, was never large, and now it will be reduced to little indeed! It is for you, Emily, for you, my child, that I am most afflicted.' His last words faltered; Emily smiled tenderly upon him through her tears, and then, endeavouring to overcome her emotion, 'My dear father,' said she, 'do not grieve for me, or for yourself; we may yet be happy;--if La Vallee remains for us, we must be happy.We will retain only one servant, and you shall scarcely perceive the change in your income.Be comforted, my dear sir; we shall not feel the want of those luxuries, which others value so highly, since we never had a taste for them; and poverty cannot deprive us of many consolations.It cannot rob us of the affection we have for each other, or degrade us in our own opinion, or in that of any person, whose opinion we ought to value.'
St.Aubert concealed his face with his handkerchief, and was unable to speak; but Emily continued to urge to her father the truths, which himself had impressed upon her mind.
'Besides, my dear sir, poverty cannot deprive us of intellectual delights.It cannot deprive you of the comfort of affording me examples of fortitude and benevolence; nor me of the delight of consoling a beloved parent.It cannot deaden our taste for the grand, and the beautiful, or deny us the means of indulging it; for the scenes of nature--those sublime spectacles, so infinitely superior to all artificial luxuries! are open for the enjoyment of the poor, as well as of the rich.Of what, then, have we to complain, so long as we are not in want of necessaries? Pleasures, such as wealth cannot buy, will still be ours.We retain, then, the sublime luxuries of nature, and lose only the frivolous ones of art.'
St.Aubert could not reply: he caught Emily to his bosom, their tears flowed together, but--they were not tears of sorrow.After this language of the heart, all other would have been feeble, and they remained silent for some time.Then, St.Aubert conversed as before; for, if his mind had not recovered its natural tranquillity, it at least assumed the appearance of it.