Emily's surprise, for a moment, overcame her grief, and she ventured to ask, why this must be? St.Aubert replied, that, if it had been right for him to explain his reasons, her late promise would have been unnecessarily exacted.'It is sufficient for you, my love, to have a deep sense of the importance of observing me in this instance.' St.Aubert proceeded.'Under that board you will also find about two hundred louis d'ors, wrapped in a silk purse; indeed, it was to secure whatever money might be in the chateau, that this secret place was contrived, at a time when the province was over-run by troops of men, who took advantage of the tumults, and became plunderers.
'But I have yet another promise to receive from you, which is--that you will never, whatever may be your future circumstances, SELL the chateau.' St.Aubert even enjoined her, whenever she might marry, to make it an article in the contract, that the chateau should always be hers.He then gave her a more minute account of his present circumstances than he had yet done, adding, 'The two hundred louis, with what money you will now find in my purse, is all the ready money I have to leave you.I have told you how I am circumstanced with M.
Motteville, at Paris.Ah, my child! I leave you poor--but not destitute,' he added, after a long pause.Emily could make no reply to any thing he now said, but knelt at the bed-side, with her face upon the quilt, weeping over the hand she held there.
After this conversation, the mind of St.Aubert appeared to be much more at ease; but, exhausted by the effort of speaking, he sunk into a kind of doze, and Emily continued to watch and weep beside him, till a gentle tap at the chamber-door roused her.It was La Voisin, come to say, that a confessor from the neighbouring convent was below, ready to attend St.Aubert.Emily would not suffer her father to be disturbed, but desired, that the priest might not leave the cottage.When St.Aubert awoke from this doze, his senses were confused, and it was some moments before he recovered them sufficiently to know, that it was Emily who sat beside him.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.