After returning to La Vallée, Emily received a letter from her aunt, Madame Cheron.
Her aunt offered some ordinary words of sympathy and advice, then informed Emily that she wished her to come to Thoulouse.
She also reminded Emily that her late brother, St. Aubert, had entrusted Emily’s education to her care, and therefore she believed it was her duty to supervise Emily’s actions and choices.
Emily wished nothing more than to remain at La Vallée.
The place where she had spent so many happy years now held even greater meaning, because it was the home of those she had lost forever.
There, she could mourn in peace, walk through the rooms where her parents had lived, follow the paths they had once taken, and remember every small detail of their voices, habits, and expressions.
Yet Emily was also afraid of offending Madame Cheron.
She never questioned her father’s decision to appoint her aunt as her guardian, because she trusted St. Aubert completely.
But she understood that this arrangement meant much of her future happiness would depend upon her aunt’s temper and wishes.
In her reply, Emily respectfully asked permission to remain at La Vallée for a little longer.
She explained that her spirits were still deeply depressed and that she needed solitude and quiet in order to recover.
She knew she would not find such peace at Madame Cheron’s home, since her aunt preferred a life of social entertainment and pleasure, made easier by her great wealth.
After sending the letter, Emily felt somewhat calmer.
During the first painful days of her grief, Monsieur Barreaux came to visit her.
He had been a true friend of St. Aubert and mourned his death sincerely.
“I have every reason to grieve for my friend,” he said.
“I shall never meet another man like him.”
“If I had ever found such a person in what the world calls society, I would never have abandoned it.”
Monsieur Barreaux’s deep admiration for her father brought Emily great comfort.
For almost the first time since her loss, she felt relief in speaking about her parents with someone she respected so greatly.
Although Barreaux’s appearance was severe and somewhat unpleasant, Emily discovered that beneath it was a heart full of kindness and a mind filled with delicacy and understanding.
Several weeks passed quietly.
Emily’s first overwhelming sorrow slowly softened into a gentler sadness.
She was finally able to read again the books she had once shared with her father.
She could sit in his chair in the library.
She could look upon the flowers he had planted with his own hands.
She could touch the instrument he had once played and sometimes even perform his favourite music herself.
When the first shock of grief had faded, Emily realized that surrendering completely to sadness would only weaken her mind.
She understood that only activity and purpose could restore her strength.
Therefore, she carefully arranged her days and devoted herself to useful occupations.
Now she truly understood the value of the education her father had given her.
By teaching her to develop her mind, St. Aubert had given her a refuge from loneliness and idleness.
She did not need constant company or meaningless entertainment to fill her life.
Her knowledge, imagination, and understanding provided her with endless sources of comfort and interest.
But her father’s teachings had given her more than intellectual pleasure.
He had also encouraged every generous quality within her heart.
Because of this, Emily’s sympathy extended beyond her own suffering.
She could feel the pain of others and, when she could not remove their troubles, she tried to ease them through kindness and compassion.
Her heart had learned to care for every creature capable of suffering.
Madame Cheron sent no answer to Emily’s letter.
Emily began to hope that she might be allowed to remain at La Vallée for some time longer.
As her strength gradually returned, she finally dared to visit places that brought back the strongest memories of the past.
Among these places was the little fishing-house.
To make the visit even more meaningful, she carried her lute with her, hoping once again to hear the sounds that had once delighted her parents.
She went alone in the quiet hour of evening, when the fading light seemed most suited to reflection and sorrow.
The last time she had visited this place, she had been accompanied by Monsieur and Madame St. Aubert.
It had been only a few days before her mother had fallen into the illness that ended her life.
Now, as Emily entered the woods surrounding the building, memories of those happier days returned with such force that her courage failed for a moment.
She stopped.
She leaned against a tree for support.
Then she wept for several minutes before she could continue.
The small path leading to the fishing-house had become covered with grass.
The flowers St. Aubert had once planted along the edge were almost hidden beneath weeds.
Tall thistles, foxgloves, and nettles had taken over the ground.
Emily often stopped to look at the lonely place.
It seemed abandoned and forgotten.
At last, with trembling hands, she opened the door.
“Ah!” she whispered.
“Everything—everything remains exactly as when I left it last.”
“The last time I left it, I was with those who will never return.”
She walked to the window overlooking the stream.
There she leaned forward, watching the moving water, and soon became lost in sorrowful thoughts.
The lute she had brought lay untouched beside her.
The soft sighing of the wind through the tall pine trees and its gentle whispers among the willow branches sounded more beautiful to her than any human music.
It matched her feelings better than any song could.
It did not awaken painful memories.
Instead, it comforted her heart like the voice of someone sharing her sorrow.
Emily remained there, unaware that evening was approaching.
The last rays of sunlight trembled on the distant hills.
She might have stayed much longer if a sudden sound outside the building had not interrupted her thoughts.
A footstep approached.
Only then did she remember that she was alone and without protection.
The door opened.
A stranger appeared.
When he saw Emily, he stopped and immediately began apologizing for entering the place.
But the moment Emily heard his voice, her fear disappeared, replaced by a stronger emotion.
The sound was familiar.
Even though the darkness prevented her from seeing his face clearly, her heart recognized something she could not doubt.
The stranger apologized again.
Emily answered softly.
Then he stepped forward eagerly.
“Good heavens! Can it really be?”
“Surely I am not mistaken.”
“Mademoiselle St. Aubert—is it truly you?”
“It is indeed,” Emily replied.
She now clearly recognized Valancourt, whose face was bright with the same warmth and energy she remembered.
At once, countless painful memories rushed into her mind.
She tried to remain composed, but the effort only increased her agitation.
Valancourt immediately asked about her health.
He expressed his hope that St. Aubert had benefited from his travels.
But the tears Emily could no longer control revealed the terrible truth.
Her father was dead.
Valancourt gently guided her to a seat and sat beside her.
Emily continued to weep.
He held the hand he had taken without her noticing, and soon it was wet with tears caused by her grief for St. Aubert and his sympathy for her suffering.
At last he spoke.
“I understand,” he said.
“I know that any attempt to comfort you on this subject must be inadequate.”
“I can only grieve with you, because I cannot doubt the reason for your tears.”
“May heaven forgive me if I am wrong.”
Emily could answer only with tears.
After some time, she rose and asked that they leave the sorrowful place.
Valancourt saw how weak and overwhelmed she was, but he did not try to persuade her to remain.
Instead, he offered his arm and led her away from the fishing-house.
They walked silently through the woods.
Valancourt longed to ask about St. Aubert, yet he feared increasing Emily’s pain.
Emily was too distressed to speak.
After a while, however, she gathered enough strength to tell him about her father.
She briefly described the circumstances of his death.
As she spoke, Valancourt’s expression showed deep emotion.
When he learned that St. Aubert had died while travelling and that Emily had been left among strangers, he pressed her hand between his own.
“Why was I not there?” he cried without thinking.
But he immediately controlled himself and returned to speaking about St. Aubert.
Seeing that Emily’s strength was failing, he gradually changed the subject and began talking about his own journey.
Emily learned that after they had separated, Valancourt had wandered for some time along the shores of the Mediterranean.
Later, he travelled back through Languedoc into Gascony, the province where he had been born and where he usually lived.
When Valancourt finished his short account, he became silent.
Emily did not wish to interrupt him.
The silence continued until they reached the gate of the château.
There Valancourt stopped, as though he knew that their walk had to end there.
He told Emily that he intended to return to Estuvière the following day.
Then he asked whether she would allow him to visit and say farewell in the morning.
Emily realized that refusing such a simple courtesy might suggest feelings she did not wish to express.
Therefore, she replied that she would be at home.
That evening Emily remained deeply melancholy.
Everything that had happened since she last saw Valancourt returned vividly to her mind.
The scene of her father’s death seemed as clear as though it had happened only yesterday.
She especially remembered the serious and solemn manner in which St. Aubert had ordered her to destroy his manuscript papers.
Suddenly awakened from the numbness that grief had created within her, Emily was shocked to realize that she had still not obeyed him.
She resolved that another day would not pass with this duty unfinished.