can music's voice, can beauty's eye, can painting's glowing hand supply a charm so suited to my mind, as blows this hollow gust of wind?
as drops this little weeping rill, soft tinkling down the moss-grown hill;while, through the west, where sinks the crimson day, meek twilight slowly sails, and waves her banners gray?
mason
emily, some time after her return to la vallee, received letters from her aunt, madame cheron, in which, after some common-place condolement and advice, she invited her to tholouse, and added, that, as her late brother had entrusted emily's education to her, she should consider herself bound to overlook her conduct.emily, at this time, wished only to remain at la vallee, in the scenes of her early happiness, now rendered infinitely dear to her, as the late residence of those, whom she had lost for ever, where she could weep unobserved, retrace their steps, and remember each minute particular of their manners.but she was equally anxious to avoid the displeasure of madame cheron.
though her affection would not suffer her to question, even a moment, the propriety of st.aubert's conduct in appointing madame cheron for her guardian, she was sensible, that this step had made her happiness depend, in a great degree, on the humour of her aunt.in her reply, she begged permission to remain, at present, at la vallee, mentioning the extreme dejection of her spirits, and the necessity she felt for quiet and retirement to restore them.these she knew were not to be found at madame cheron's, whose inclinations led her into a life of dissipation, which her ample fortune encouraged; and, having given her answer, she felt somewhat more at ease.