“And at what a time, at what a cruel time for me, did Mad. de Coulanges choose to express her desire to leave my house--at the moment when my whole soul was intent upon a scheme for the happiness of her daughter! Yes, Emilie, for your happiness!--and, my dear, your mother’s conduct shall change nothing in my views. You I have always found uniformly kind, gentle, grateful--I will say no more--I have found in you, Emilie, real magnanimity. I have tried your temper much--sometimes too much--but I have always found you proof against these petty trials. Your character is suited to mine. I love you, as if you were my daughter, and I wish you to be my daughter.--Now you know my whole mind, Emilie. My son--my _eldest_ son, I should with emphasis say, if I were speaking to Mad. de Coulanges--will be here in a few days: read this letter. How happy I shall be if you find him--or if you will make him--such as you can entirely approve and love! You will have power over him--your influence will do what his mother’s never could accomplish. But whatever reasons I may have to complain of him, this is not the time to state them--you will connect him with me. At all events, he is a man of honour and a gentleman; and as he is not, thank Heaven! under the debasing necessity of considering fortune in the choice of a wife, he is, at least in this respect, worthy of my dear and high-minded Emilie.” Mrs. Somers paused, and fixed her eyes eagerly on Emilie, impatient for her answer, and already half provoked by not seeing the sudden transition of countenance which she had pictured in her imagination. With a mixture of dignity and affectionate gratitude in her manner, Emilie was beginning to thank Mrs. Somers for the generous kindness of her intention; but this susceptible lady interrupted her, and exclaimed, “Spare me your thanks, Mlle. de Coulanges, and tell me at once what is passing in your mind; for something very extraordinary is certainly passing there, which I cannot comprehend. Surely you cannot for a moment imagine that your mother will insist upon your now accepting of M. de Brisac; or, if she does, surely you would not have the weakness to yield. I must have some proof of strength of mind from my friends. You must judge for yourself, Emilie, or you are not the person I take you for. You will have full opportunity of judging in a few days. Will you promise me that you will decide entirely for yourself, and that you will keep your mind unbiassed? Will you promise me this? And will you speak, at all events, my dear, that I may understand you?”