“But, when M. Quesnel let the château, I thought it would have broke the Chevalier’s heart.”
“Theresa,” said Emily seriously, “you must name the Chevalier no more!”
“Not name him, mademoiselle!” cried Theresa: “what times are come up now? Why, I love the Chevalier next to my old master and you, mademoiselle.”
“Perhaps your love was not well bestowed, then,” replied Emily, trying to conceal her tears; “but, however that might be, we shall meet no more.”
“Meet no more!—not well bestowed!” exclaimed Theresa. “What do I hear? No, mademoiselle, my love was well bestowed, for it was the Chevalier Valancourt, who gave me this cottage, and has supported me in my old age, ever since M. Quesnel turned me from my master’s house.”
“The Chevalier Valancourt!” said Emily, trembling extremely.
“Yes, mademoiselle, he himself, though he made me promise not to tell; but how could one help, when one heard him ill spoken of? Ah! dear young lady, you may well weep, if you have behaved unkindly to him, for a more tender heart than his never young gentleman had. He found me out in my distress, when you were too far off to help me; and M. Quesnel refused to do so, and bade me go to service again—Alas! I was too old for that!—The Chevalier found me, and bought me this cottage, and gave me money to furnish it, and bade me seek out another poor woman to live with me; and he ordered his brother’s steward to pay me, every quarter, that which has supported me in comfort. Think then, mademoiselle, whether I have not reason to speak well of the Chevalier. And there are others, who could have afforded it better than he: and I am afraid he has hurt himself by his generosity, for quarter day is gone by long since, and no money for me! But do not weep so, mademoiselle: you are not sorry surely to hear of the poor Chevalier’s goodness?”
“Sorry!” said Emily, and wept the more. “But how long is it since you have seen him?”
“Not this many a day, mademoiselle.”
“When did you hear of him?” enquired Emily, with increased emotion.