Chapter: CHAPTER II



 Come, weep with me;--past hope, past cure, past help!
     ROMEO AND JULIET

Valancourt, meanwhile, suffered the tortures of remorse and despair.
The sight of Emily had renewed all the ardour, with which he first loved
her, and which had suffered a temporary abatement from absence and the
passing scenes of busy life. When, on the receipt of her letter, he set
out for Languedoc, he then knew, that his own folly had involved him in
ruin, and it was no part of his design to conceal this from her. But
he lamented only the delay which his ill-conduct must give to their
marriage, and did not foresee, that the information could induce her to
break their connection forever. While the prospect of this separation
overwhelmed his mind, before stung with self-reproach, he awaited their
second interview, in a state little short of distraction, yet was still
inclined to hope, that his pleadings might prevail upon her not to exact
it. In the morning, he sent to know at what hour she would see him;
and his note arrived, when she was with the Count, who had sought an
opportunity of again conversing with her of Valancourt; for he perceived
the extreme distress of her mind, and feared, more than ever, that her
fortitude would desert her. Emily having dismissed the messenger, the
Count returned to the subject of their late conversation, urging his
fear of Valancourt's entreaties, and again pointing out to her the
lengthened misery, that must ensue, if she should refuse to encounter
some present uneasiness. His repeated arguments could, indeed, alone
have protected her from the affection she still felt for Valancourt, and
she resolved to be governed by them.

The hour of interview, at length, arrived. Emily went to it, at least,
with composure of manner, but Valancourt was so much agitated, that
he could not speak, for several minutes, and his first words were
alternately those of lamentation, entreaty, and self-reproach.
Afterward, he said, 'Emily, I have loved you--I do love you, better than
my life; but I am ruined by my own conduct. Yet I would seek to entangle
you in a connection, that must be miserable for you, rather than subject
myself to the punishment, which is my due, the loss of you. I am a
wretch, but I will be a villain no longer.--I will not endeavour to
shake your resolution by the pleadings of a selfish passion. I resign
you, Emily, and will endeavour to find consolation in considering, that,
though I am miserable, you, at least, may be happy. The merit of the
sacrifice is, indeed, not my own, for I should never have attained
strength of mind to surrender you, if your prudence had not demanded
it.'

He paused a moment, while Emily attempted to conceal the tears, which
came to her eyes. She would have said, 'You speak now, as you were wont
to do,' but she checked herself.--'Forgive me, Emily,' said he, 'all the
sufferings I have occasioned you, and, sometimes, when you think of the
wretched Valancourt, remember, that his only consolation would be to
believe, that you are no longer unhappy by his folly.' The tears now
fell fast upon her cheek, and he was relapsing into the phrensy of
despair, when Emily endeavoured to recall her fortitude and to terminate
an interview, which only seemed to increase the distress of both.
Perceiving her tears and that she was rising to go, Valancourt
struggled, once more, to overcome his own feelings and to sooth hers.
'The remembrance of this sorrow,' said he, 'shall in future be my
protection. O! never again will example, or temptation have power to
seduce me to evil, exalted as I shall be by the recollection of your
grief for me.'

Emily was somewhat comforted by this assurance. 'We are now parting for
ever,' said she; 'but, if my happiness is dear to you, you will always
remember, that nothing can contribute to it more, than to believe, that
you have recovered your own esteem.' Valancourt took her hand;--his eyes
were covered with tears, and the farewell he would have spoken was lost
in sighs. After a few moments, Emily said, with difficulty and emotion,
'Farewell, Valancourt, may you be happy!' She repeated her 'farewell,'
and attempted to withdraw her hand, but he still held it and bathed
it with his tears. 'Why prolong these moments?' said Emily, in a voice
scarcely audible, 'they are too painful to us both.' 'This is too--too
much,' exclaimed Valancourt, resigning her hand and throwing himself
into a chair, where he covered his face with his hands and was overcome,
for some moments, by convulsive sighs. After a long pause, during which
Emily wept in silence, and Valancourt seemed struggling with his grief,
she again rose to take leave of him. Then, endeavouring to recover his
composure, 'I am again afflicting you,' said he, 'but let the anguish I
suffer plead for me.' He then added, in a solemn voice, which frequently
trembled with the agitation of his heart, 'Farewell, Emily, you will
always be the only object of my tenderness. Sometimes you will think of
the unhappy Valancourt, and it will be with pity, though it may not be
with esteem. O! what is the whole world to me, without you--without your
esteem!' He checked himself--'I am falling again into the error I have
just lamented. I must not intrude longer upon your patience, or I shall
relapse into despair.'

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.

 Oh yeah, did we mention that Em agreed to see Valancourt one more time? They meet again and continue to lament their fates. Em can't marry Valancourt because he screwed up big-time, and Valancourt can't marry Em because he isn't worth the scum on her shoes. The pair promises to part forever. Looks like Emmencourt wasn't meant to be.

