Emily only sighed, while Valancourt proceeded to remonstrate and to entreat with all the energy that love and apprehension could inspire. But, as his imagination magnified to her the possible evils she was going to meet, the mists of her own fancy began to dissipate, and allowed her to distinguish the exaggerated images, which imposed on his reason. She considered, that there was no proof of Montoni being the person, whom the stranger had meant; that, even if he was so, the Italian had noticed his character and broken fortunes merely from report; and that, though the countenance of Montoni seemed to give probability to a part of the rumour, it was not by such circumstances that an implicit belief of it could be justified. These considerations would probably not have arisen so distinctly to her mind, at this time, had not the terrors of Valancourt presented to her such obvious exaggerations of her danger, as incited her to distrust the fallacies of passion. But, while she endeavoured in the gentlest manner to convince him of his error, she plunged him into a new one. His voice and countenance changed to an expression of dark despair. “Emily!” said he, “this, this moment is the bitterest that is yet come to me. You do not—cannot love me!—It would be impossible for you to reason thus coolly, thus deliberately, if you did. I, I am torn with anguish at the prospect of our separation, and of the evils that may await you in consequence of it; I would encounter any hazards to prevent it—to save you. No! Emily, no!—you cannot love me.”
“We have now little time to waste in exclamation, or assertion,” said Emily, endeavouring to conceal her emotion: “if you are yet to learn how dear you are, and ever must be, to my heart, no assurances of mine can give you conviction.”
The last words faltered on her lips, and her tears flowed fast. These words and tears brought, once more, and with instantaneous force, conviction of her love to Valancourt. He could only exclaim, “Emily! Emily!” and weep over the hand he pressed to his lips; but she, after some moments, again roused herself from the indulgence of sorrow, and said, “I must leave you; it is late, and my absence from the château may be discovered. Think of me—love me—when I am far away; the belief of this will be my comfort!”
“Think of you!—love you!” exclaimed Valancourt.
“Try to moderate these transports,” said Emily, “for my sake, try.”
“For your sake!”
“Yes, for my sake,” replied Emily, in a tremulous voice, “I cannot leave you thus!”
“Then do not leave me!” said Valancourt, with quickness. “Why should we part, or part for longer than till tomorrow?”
“I am, indeed I am, unequal to these moments,” replied Emily, “you tear my heart, but I never can consent to this hasty, imprudent proposal!”
“If we could command our time, my Emily, it should not be thus hasty; we must submit to circumstances.”