“Now, my dear Emma,” said Miss Watson, as soon as they were alone, “you
must talk to me all the rest of the day without stopping, or I shall
not be satisfied. But first of all Nanny shall bring in the dinner.
Poor thing! You will not dine as you did yesterday, for we have nothing
but some fried beef. How nice Mary Edwards looks in her new pelisse!
And now tell me how you like them all, and what I am to say to Sam. I
have begun my letter; Jack Stokes is to call for it to-morrow, for his
uncle is going within a mile of Guildford next day.”
Nanny brought in the dinner.
“We will wait upon ourselves,” continued Elizabeth, “and then we shall
lose no time. And so you would not come home with Tom Musgrave?”
“No. You had said so much against him that I could not wish either for
the obligation or the intimacy which the use of his carriage must have
created. I should not even have liked the appearance of it.”
“You did very right; though I wonder at your forbearance, and I do not
think I could have done it myself. He seemed so eager to fetch you that
I could not say no, though it rather went against me to be throwing
you together, so well as I knew his tricks; but I did long to see you,
and it was a clever way of getting you home. Besides, it won’t do to
be too nice. Nobody could have thought of the Edwards letting you have
their coach, after the horses being out so late. But what am I to say
to Sam?”
“If you are guided by me, you will not encourage him to think of
Miss Edwards. The father is decidedly against him, the mother shows
him no favour, and I doubt his having any interest with Mary. She
danced twice with Captain Hunter, and I think shows him in general
as much encouragement as is consistent with her disposition and the
circumstances she is placed in. She once mentioned Sam, and certainly
with a little confusion--but that was perhaps merely owing to the
consciousness of his liking her, which may very probably have come to
her knowledge.”
“Oh! dear, yes--she has heard enough of _that_ from us all. Poor Sam!
He is out of luck as well as other people. For the life of me, Emma,
I cannot help feeling for those that are crossed in love. Well, now
begin, and give me an account of everything as it happened.”
Emma obeyed her, and Elizabeth listened with very little interruption
till she heard of Mr Howard as a partner.
“Dance with Mr Howard. Good heavens! You don’t say so! Why, he is quite
one of the great and grand ones. Did you not find him very high?”
“His manners are of a kind to give _me_ much more ease and confidence
than Tom Musgrave’s.”
“Well, go on. I should have been frightened out of my wits to have had
anything to do with the Osbornes’ set.”
Emma concluded her narration.
“And so you really did not dance with Tom Musgrave at all? but you must
have liked him--you must have been struck with him altogether.”
“I do _not_ like him, Elizabeth. I allow his person and air to be
good; and that his manner to a certain point--his address rather--is
pleasing. But I see nothing else to admire in him. On the contrary, he
seems very vain, very conceited, absurdly anxious for distinction, and
absolutely contemptible in some of the measures he takes for being so.
There is a ridiculousness about him that entertains me; but his company
gives me no other agreeable emotion.”
“My dearest Emma! You are like nobody else in the world. It is well
Margaret is not by. You do not offend _me_, though I hardly know how to
believe you; but Margaret would never forgive such words.”
“I wish Margaret could have heard him profess his ignorance of her
being out of the country; he declared it seemed only two days since he
had seen her.”
“Aye, that is just like him; and yet this is the man she _will_ fancy
so desperately in love with her. He is no favourite of mine, as you
well know, Emma, but you must think him agreeable. Can you lay your
hand on your heart, and say you do not?”
“Indeed I can, both hands; and spread to their widest extent.”
“I should like to know the man you _do_ think agreeable!”
“His name is Howard.”
“Howard! Dear me; I cannot think of him but as playing cards with Lady
Osborne, and looking proud. I must own, however, that it _is_ a relief
to me to find you can speak as you do of Tom Musgrave; my heart did
misgive me that you would like him too well. You talked so stoutly
beforehand, that I was sadly afraid your brag would be punished.
I only hope it will last, and that he will not come on to pay you
much attention; it is a hard thing for a woman to stand against the
flattering ways of a man when he is bent upon pleasing her.”
As their quietly sociable little meal concluded, Miss Watson could not
help observing how comfortably it had passed.
“It is so delightful to me,” said she, “to have things going on in
peace and good-humour. Nobody can tell how much I hate quarrelling.
Now, though we have had nothing but fried beef, how good it has all
seemed. I wish everybody were as easily satisfied as you; but poor
Margaret is very snappish, and Penelope owns she would rather have
quarrelling going on than nothing at all.”
Mr Watson returned in the evening not the worse for the exertion of
the day, and consequently pleased with what he had done, and glad to
talk of it over his own fireside. Emma had not foreseen any interest
to herself in the occurrences of a visitation; but when she heard Mr
Howard spoken of as the preacher, and as having given them an excellent
sermon, she could not help listening with a quicker ear.
“I do not know when I have heard a discourse more to my mind,”
continued Mr Watson, “or one better delivered. He reads extremely well,
with great propriety, and in a very impressive manner, and at the same
time without any theatrical grimace or violence. I own I do not like
much action in the pulpit; I do not like the studied air and artificial
inflexions of voice which your very popular and most admired preachers
generally have. A simple delivery is much better calculated to inspire
devotion, and shows a much better taste. Mr Howard read like a scholar
and a gentleman.”
“And what had you for dinner, sir?” said his eldest daughter.
He related the dishes, and told what he had ate himself.
“Upon the whole,” he added, “I have had a very comfortable day. My old
friends were quite surprised to see me amongst them, and I must say
that everybody paid me great attention, and seemed to feel for me as an
invalid. They would make me sit near the fire; and as the partridges
were pretty high, Dr Richards would have them sent away to the other
end of the table, ‘that they might not offend Mr Watson,’ which I
thought very kind of him. But what pleased me as much as anything was
Mr Howard’s attention. There is a pretty steep flight of steps up to
the room we dine in, which do not quite agree with my gouty foot, and
Mr Howard walked by me from the bottom to the top, and would make me
take his arm. It struck me as very becoming in so young a man, but I
am sure I had no claim to expect it; for I never saw him before in my
life. By the by, he enquired after one of my daughters, but I do not
know which. I suppose you know among yourselves.”