Emma had often wondered that she had heard no more from Lady Fanny
Allston. She knew she had been ill, but did not apprehend that her
illness was of so serious a nature as necessarily to cause this long
delay. But she was at length surprised one day by receiving from her
ladyship's housekeeper an abrupt and rather uncivil note, completely
breaking off the negotiation. There was something in the tone of the
announcement which hurt her exceedingly, and she was in a very
uncomfortable frame of mind when she walked out that afternoon with
Janetta, for she had lately resumed this custom. She took her little
charge into some meadows to look for primroses and violets on the
sunny banks, and whilst the child was busy plucking all she could
find, Emma herself sat down on the stump of a tree to try and discover
the meaning of this communication. She had nothing, however, to guide
her conjectures; there was no clue in the note, and she was forced to
remain satisfied with the conclusion that her ladyship was capricious
and had changed her mind.
Whilst occupied in considering this subject, she was startled by
footsteps, and she looked up with a sort of fearful expectation that
she should see Mr. Morgan; it was not however the doctor who presented
himself, but Mr. Bridge, the clergyman, whom she had formerly met at
the Millars'. He took off his hat with a very respectful bow, and
addressed her with an air of politeness and courtesy which pleased her
exceedingly. After a slight remark on the bright day and the beauty of
the scenery, he passed on a few steps, and Emma supposed he was going
to leave her; suddenly however he seemed to change his mind, and
surprised her by returning to her side. He enquired if she was
intending to sit there long, as he feared it must be damp and unsafe.
"I do not perceive any damp, sir," replied she; "and it is so pleasant
I am unwilling to think it can be dangerous."
"That is not a rule," he replied smiling a little, and then gravely
shaking his head; "many things extremely agreeable are invisibly
surrounded with risks and dangers. It is a common-place remark I
acknowledge, but one which is as constantly forgotten, as it is
frequently enforced. Young people like yourself are particularly apt
to slight it—but if you would bear with an old man—"
He paused and regarded her with a look of interest, which she noticed,
and finding he hesitated, she ventured to say with warmth and
earnestness,
"Pray go on, sir; if you think me in need of caution, I will listen
with the attention and reverence which is every way your due."
"I have been interested for you, my dear young lady, not only by your
own sweet and ingenuous countenance, your misfortunes and your
unprotected situation, but by the representations of my young friend
Annie Millar, and I feel that whilst you reside under my pastoral
care, I should not be doing my duty were I not to exert myself to save
you from inconveniences which you may perhaps be very innocently
entailing on yourself."
Emma coloured and felt quite astonished at this address, the purport
of which she could not guess, but after a moment's hesitation, she
begged Mr. Bridge to proceed without ceremony; if he had any censure
to bestow on her, she would listen and feel obliged.
"It is not censure, it is only a caution I wish to give you—I mean
with regard to your intimacy with Mr. Morgan: you probably do not know
his character, nor is it necessary that you should learn minute
particulars; I am sure it will be enough for you to hear that he is
not a safe companion for a young woman of your age and appearance."
"I think you must be under some misapprehension," replied Emma
surprised; "there is nothing between us which can warrant the
appellation of intimacy. He visits my sister-in-law, and as her
visitor only I have known him."
"I had hoped," replied Mr. Bridge gravely, "to have met with more
candour from you; I am under a very great mistake, if you have not on
several occasions met him when walking only with that little girl, and
allowed him to walk with you for a long time. Is it not so?"
"That is perfectly true—but the meetings were quite accidental," said
Emma.
"So far as you were concerned, I can believe it; but the world will
only know that you were seen walking _tête-à-tête_ with a man of known
bad principles and immoral conduct; and more than that, he has been
found with you in the drawing-room alone, and you have passed many
hours in his company when visiting in other houses."
"I was not aware," said Emma, perfectly astonished at the charge;
"that my actions could have thus been the subject of comment and
inspection; but what you say, though perfectly true in itself, is
capable of a very different interpretation—will you listen to my
defence?"
"Certainly, my dear child," replied he, pleased at the frank and
respectful manner with which she addressed him.
"I met Mr. Morgan at Mr. Millar's, and there I saw him received into
the society of respectable women—he visited at my sister-in-law's
house, and was, evidently, in her confidence; he proposed to her to
procure me a situation as governess to Lady Fanny Allston's little
girl, and my brother perfectly approved of the negotiation. It was the
interest he took in this plan, which produced the appearance of
intimacy which you reprobate; it was to discuss this subject, that he
joined me in my walks; but, as I did not like the appearance of
clandestine intercourse, I mentioned the occurrence to my brother and
sister-in-law; and to avoid him, I refused, for some time, to walk out
without some other companion than my niece. Latterly, I have seen less
of him; and it is a fortnight or more since we last met out walking.
Had I known him to be a man of bad principles, as you say he is, I
would never have allowed him to interfere in my affairs—but how could
I suspect that, when I found Mrs. Watson treated him with perfect
confidence?—and he was evidently courted and caressed by nearly all
the women of my acquaintance in Croydon."
"Those who know him best, have most reason to say it is unsafe for you
to associate with him; they know of what he is capable, and are most
shocked, of course, at your breach of conventional etiquette. I am
sorry to say that you are right in your assertion that he is courted
and caressed by women in general. In spite of his character, his
manners make him popular, and many weak-minded women encourage him in
conduct which flatters their vanity, by demonstrating admiration for
their mental and personal charms. But those who act thus, are severe
judges of others. But tell me, are you really going to Lady Fanny
Allston's on his recommendation?"
"No—her ladyship has suddenly—and not very civilly—broken off the
negotiation."
"I am glad of it, my dear; it would have been very undesirable that
you should go there, throwing yourself completely in the way of that
man; it must have been his object. Poor girl; any thing would be
better than that."
Emma was silent and thoughtful.
"If you have any resolution and strength of mind," continued he, "I
advise you by every means, to shun the neighbourhood of this dangerous
man. The struggle may be painful, but depend upon it, it will be less
so by far, than the consequences of indulging in your predilection for
him."
"I do not think that the danger you apprehend for me, really exists,"
replied Emma, looking up suddenly.
He shook his head.
"The young are always confident," said he, "but, if you build your
hopes on any degree of affection, which Morgan may have manifested,
believe me you are building on a quicksand, and you will as surely
find yourself deceived as his other victims!"
"You quite misunderstand me," replied Emma, very earnestly; "I would
not dare to boast myself more infallible than other young women, but I
do not think I shall be put to the proof. I never had an idea, for a
moment, that Mr. Morgan entertained towards me any other than such
friendly feelings as you do yourself. It seemed to me very kind in him
to interest himself for an orphan—but it was a kindness which his age
appeared to warrant. For, though not quite so old as yourself, sir, he
is old enough to be my father; and I fancied it was with something of
a paternal feeling that he regarded me. As to my own sentiments
towards him, I certainly felt grateful at first—but latterly, there
has been, I own, once or twice, a something in his manner which made
me suspicious of his principles, and induced me to shun private
intercourse with him. Do I speak in a way to convince you of candour,
or do you mistrust my confession, and doubt my word?"
"I think I will venture to trust you—but I must still repeat my
warning—take care of yourself, and do not allow him to hurt your
reputation. You have enemies in Croydon, my dear."
"I, sir! how is that possible?—and yet, Mr. Morgan hinted the same to
me!"
"There, for once, he spoke truth, whatever may have been his motive.
But you are watched—whether from simple curiosity, malice or envy,
your movements have been traced, and are spitefully commented on. It
was in that way, that I heard of your walks with him; and meeting you
here, I could not resist warning you. I rather wonder we have seen
nothing of him, for I saw him following me as I took this path;
perhaps he is waiting till I leave you."
"Would it be too much trouble for you to see me safe home?" said Emma
anxiously, "I should be so very much obliged if you would."
Mr. Bridge readily assented; and calling Janetta, they turned towards
the town.
At one of the stiles they met the individual in question; he had,
apparently, been watching them; but though, perhaps, disappointed at
the result of their conference, he came forward with a bow and a
smile, the most insinuating, to hand Emma over it. Mr. Bridge observed
gaily, that he feared he was grown too old for gallantry, and he must
not wonder if such agreeable offices were taken out of his hands by
men younger and more alert. The hand which Mr. Morgan held, he seemed
unwilling to relinquish, but drew it under his arm with an appearance
of considering it his right to support and guide her. At another time
she might hardly have noticed this, but with Mr. Bridge's warnings
ringing in her ears, she could not permit it to continue. Resolutely
she drew away her hand and turned towards the stile to enquire whether
the elder gentleman required any assistance. Mr. Morgan fixed his
piercing eyes on her with an enquiring look, as if to demand why his
attentions were thus repulsed; but he could not catch her eye, and he
was forced to content himself with walking quietly by her side.
"I want particularly to speak to you, Miss Watson," said he presently
in a low tone, as if wishing to avoid her companion's notice.
"I am quite at liberty to listen to you," replied Emma turning towards
him.
"It is on your own affairs," said he as if hesitating, and glancing
towards Mr. Bridge; "I do not know how far it might be pleasant for
you to have a third person made conversant with them."
"If it relates to the business with Lady Fanny," answered Emma aloud,
"I have just been talking the matter over with Mr. Bridge, and he can
therefore quite enter into the subject now."
"It does relate to that affair, and I am sorry—exceedingly sorry—that
I should be the means of occasioning you any disappointment, but I
fear your hopes—I might say _our_ hopes in that quarter are all
overthrown."
"I am aware of that, Mr. Morgan," said Emma calmly; "I received a note
to that effect this morning, and your intelligence therefore is no
shock to me; I feel much obliged for the zeal you have shown in my
favour, but on the whole I am as well satisfied that things should be
as they are."
"Satisfied!" cried he looking at her. "You cannot really mean that!
the loss of such a prospect may be nothing to you, but the reason—that
is the evil."
"I had no reason assigned me," replied Emma, "and only concluded that
her ladyship had changed her mind, which of course she had full right
to do."
Mr. Morgan looked at her with an air as if he would penetrate her
brain.
"I am so sorry," said he presently, "so very sorry that I have been
the means of leading you into this very unpleasant situation. But for
me you would never have met this repulse: I am vexed indeed!"
"Do not take it so much to heart," replied Emma more gaily than she
felt, "for after all it is only what any young woman in my situation
might expect—a few repulses will serve to teach me humility."
"Aye, if you needed the lesson; but the reason is so very—"
He stopped abruptly.
"What is the reason?" asked Emma. "I told you I knew of none."
"If you really do not, you had better not force me to say it; though
you cannot for a moment imagine that I believe there is a word of
truth in Lady Fanny's assertion—she must have been so completely
misinformed."
"I really should be obliged to you to be explicit," replied Emma
earnestly; "you admit that you know the reasons—I must insist on
knowing them likewise."
"I am unwilling to pain you, my dear Miss Emma."
"Then you should not have alluded to them at all; you cannot wonder if
I now consider myself entitled to learn what these mysterious reasons
are."
He drew out his pocket-book and took thence a note, which he placed in
her hand, saying,
"If it offends or affronts you, do not blame _me_ for it."
Emma opened and read a short note from Lady Fanny to Mr. Morgan,
stating that having heard various very discreditable reports
concerning the young person he had named to her, she must beg to
decline all further intercourse with her. Emma's cheeks glowed as she
read the lines in question; but she said not a word. Quietly she
re-folded the note and returned it to Mr. Morgan. He was eagerly
watching her, and as he took it from her hand, he detained her fingers
one moment, and stooping whispered,
"You cannot think how grieved I am thus to pain you."
"It is quite as well that I should know it," she replied very calmly;
and then a silence of some minutes ensued. They had reached the garden
gate before any one spoke again: she turned to Mr. Bridge before
entering, and whilst holding out her hand to him, said in a low voice,
"I am _very_ much obliged to you; may I have a little further
conversation with you another day?"
"Certainly, whenever you wish; when can I see you?"
"I should like to see you alone," she replied.
"Then I will manage it—depend on me to-morrow."
He then warmly shook hands, patted Janetta's shoulder and walked off,
concluding that Mr. Morgan would do so too. But here he was mistaken,
that gentleman having no intention of retiring so quickly. He had
opened the gate for Emma and stood leaning against it, till she turned
and prepared to pass, but then he laid his hand on her arm, and whilst
closing the gate upon them both, attempted to draw her a little on one
side where a thick screen of filberts concealed them from the house.
"Come here, my dear girl," said he in a tone of familiarity which
affronted Emma; "I thought that old humbug was never going to leave
us: it's too bad to be beset in that way."
"Have you anything to say to me, Mr. Morgan?" replied Emma in a
freezing tone; "because I must beg, if you have no particular reason,
that you will not detain me here."
"I beg your pardon—I quite forgot," returned he in a very different
tone; "I am taking a liberty which nothing but my interest in you can
excuse." He then withdrew his hand from her arm, but still stood in
her path. "The fact is, my indignation at the slanderous tongues of
our neighbours made me quite forget everything else; do you know the
meaning of that note I showed you—the nature of the reports and their
originator?"
"I know simply what I read there," returned Emma, "and unless the
subject is one of immediate importance, I must decline to discuss
_now_ and _here_ the cause of Lady Fanny's determination."
"Well, perhaps you are right, but I hardly expected that my warnings
to you the other night would so soon be realised; they have not
scrupled to make mischief of our meeting when out walking, and the
report has reached Lady Fanny's ears."
"If that is the case, Mr. Morgan," replied Emma, her face flushing
with indignation, and her voice almost uncontrollably trembling from
emotion, "if you _know_ that to be the case, I wonder that kindness,
courtesy, nay, the common feelings of a gentleman, do not prompt you
to avoid giving countenance to such reports, by forcing yourself on my
privacy, and intruding even here on my home. I command you to let me
pass this instant, and I desire that I may not again be disturbed by a
similar encounter."
He did not dare dispute her command for a moment, as she stood with
her slight and graceful figure drawn up, and her speaking face turned
on him in indignation; he drew aside, and with a very low bow allowed
her to pass, and follow Janetta, who had trotted up towards the house.
He looked after her in an attitude of despair, but it was lost on
Emma, who never turned her head, or cast one relenting glance behind,
but walked straight into the house. In fact she felt very angry, and
her anger increased the more she thought of what had passed: it seemed
to her as if he sought to place her in equivocal situations, and
rather wished that she might compromise her reputation. Compared with
the kindness of Mr. Bridge, his professed friendship and zeal appeared
hollow and unsatisfactory; and now that she found she had another
friend, she looked her difficulties more firmly in the face, and
determined not to endeavour to escape from one set of evils by risking
another. Still, when she thought of the words of Mr. Bridge, so sadly
corroborated by Mr. Morgan himself, she could not help a sigh and a
shudder.
She wished to ask his advice as to what she had better do, but at the
same time she tried to form an opinion for herself, and questioned her
own mind as to what was her duty on this occasion. To avoid all
intercourse with Mr. Morgan, and let the slanders die a natural death
from want of food to sustain them, appeared to her the safest course,
and she hoped Mr. Bridge would agree with her. She would gladly have
left the place had it been possible, but just at present there seemed
no chance of an escape. When the time of her promised visit to Osborne
Castle arrived, what a happiness it would be! She lay awake many hours
that night thinking over all the difficulties in her path, and
planning how she could surmount them. One idea weighed most strongly
in her mind; it was, would Mr. Howard be at all likely to hear any
report concerning her, and would he believe it if he did. She wished
she could imagine he would hear of her at all; only from Miss Osborne
had she received any news of his proceedings, and she feared that
their intercourse was brought to an end for ever. How she might have
viewed Mr. Morgan and his attentions but for her previous acquaintance
with Mr. Howard, she could not tell, but she mentally compared the two
men now, not a little to the disadvantage of the former; and she felt
persuaded that she could never care for another, unless she were to
meet with one who possessed all the good qualities of Mr. Howard, and
was better acquainted with his own mind. For, totally in the dark as
to the reason why Mr. Howard had suddenly withdrawn his attentions,
and recollecting well the many little signs which had escaped him of a
more than ordinary interest, she only concluded that he had, on
further acquaintance, found her different from what he wished, and
that he had changed his mind and views accordingly. She little knew
that at this time he was suffering from a constant, unceasing regret,
and dwelling on their past intercourse as the most precious and
delightful period of his life.
It was with a heavy head, and a heavier heart, that she went through
her daily routine the next morning, hearing Janetta her alphabet,
setting her sewing, and reading to her; she had great difficulty in
getting through with it, and could hardly fix her thoughts for five
minutes on the business on which she was employed. In the course of
the morning, Janetta was sent for to the drawing-room, and returned in
about ten minutes radiant with joy. Emma, who had lain down on the bed
for a few minutes, and was just closing her weary eyes in a doze, was
suddenly roused by the news that Mr. Bridge had come to ask Janetta to
go to see his garden, and that he was now waiting for them to
accompany him home.
Mindful of his promise, he had called on Mrs. Watson, and after
observing that he had met her little girl gathering flowers, he begged
she might come and see some of the beautiful violets and anemonies in
his garden. Mrs. Watson, delighted at the civility to herself, which
she discovered in any attention to her child, assented most readily,
and Emma had now to rouse herself as well as she could to accompany
her young charge.
She felt so totally unequal to any exertion, that even her sense of
the kindness manifested by Mr. Bridge, and the interest he shewed in
her, was hardly sufficient to produce the energy requisite for the
occasion. Her languid movements, and the heavy eyelids immediately
caught the attention of the kind old man; but sensible how little
sympathy her sufferings would probably excite in the mind of her
selfish sister-in-law, he made no comment until they were not only out
of the house, but safely hidden amidst the picturesque shrubberies
which enclosed the parsonage. Then kindly taking her hand and looking
half-smiling, half-sadly in her face, he said:
"I am afraid, poor girl, you have been fretting about what you learnt
yesterday, and that you feel it more deeply than you expected to do."
"I have been thinking a great deal about it, I allow," replied Emma,
"and more about what Mr. Morgan said yesterday after you left me. But
surely you cannot be surprised at my dejection, when you consider the
various difficulties which present themselves in my path."
"I cannot help a small suspicion," replied he, with a sort of cunning
little smile, but which he speedily checked, "that you feel some
regret about Mr. Morgan himself."
"No, you do me injustice; but on such a subject, professions are
perfectly useless, and I shall not attempt to make them. To break off
my intercourse with him will cost me nothing; but what does really
depress and annoy me, is the terrible idea than any slanderous reports
should have been circulated concerning that intercourse. He told me
the story had reached Lady Fanny Allston, and that it was for _that_
reason she had so abruptly concluded all negotiation with me."
"Very likely; her ladyship is the greatest gossip in existence, and
has a regular supply of the town news and scandal, extracted from the
butcher and baker, by her own maid, for her own private amusement."
"But if the story has travelled so far, how much farther may it not
spread—I shall lose my character altogether, and with it all chance of
earning an independent livelihood, and what will become of me?"
Her lip quivered, tears burst from her eyes, and her whole frame was
visibly agitated, to such a degree, that Mr. Bridge feared a fit of
hysterics would ensue. Emma, however, made a determined effort to
conquer her emotion, and after two or three minutes, succeeded so far
as to resume an air of calmness, though it was some time before she
could speak again.
"My dear girl," said the clergyman, compassionately, "you must not
give way to despondency—remember from whence your trials come, and you
will become calmer and stronger in the contemplation. You do not seem
to me at all to blame in what has passed, and whilst your conscience
is clear, you need never despair that your path will be made clear
likewise."
"It is not only the present difficulty which weighs on my mind at this
moment," replied Emma, trying to speak calmly; "but there are times
when all I have lost comes back to my memory, and seems quite to
overpower me. My earliest friends lost to me, and with them the happy
home where I had enjoyed every indulgence, and every pleasure that
affection could procure. Then just as I began to accustom myself to my
new home, and learnt to value the affection and society of my only
parent, that likewise is torn from me, and whilst I am deprived of
parent and fortune, and become dependent on my own exertions, I find
myself robbed, I know not how, even of my good name, and my prospects
blighted in the most mysterious manner. It seems in vain to struggle
against such a complication of evils; what can I expect but to sink
into contempt and disgrace?"
"I admit the greatness of the losses you have sustained," said he; "I
cannot deny that it may be hard to bear; but you have still some
blessings left for which you may be thankful. You possess a healthy
constitution, a sound intellect, and a conscience unoppressed by a
sense of guilt. You might have lost your heart, as well as your
fortune, and that you tell me is not the case."
Emma looked down, and tried to appear quite careless and unconcerned;
but she could not feel quite convinced that she did enjoy the degree
of heart's ease, which Mr. Bridge seemed to imagine. An image of Mr.
Howard flitted across her mind, and she felt that whilst enumerating
her peculiar afflictions, she had omitted one which pressed almost as
deeply as any. She blushed deeply, and could not raise her eyes; he
watched her countenance, and then added, presently—
"What do you mean to do now—have you formed any plan?"
"None at all," replied she; "I feel I cannot—my head is all in
confusion, and I can hardly think connectedly."
She pressed her hand on her forehead as she spoke; he saw she was
looking extremely ill, and feared her mind was over excited.
"My first wish," she continued, "the first object of my life would be
to get away from Croydon, to see no more of those who slander me, or
him who causes the slander to circulate. But this I cannot do; whilst
I have no other refuge, and whilst Margaret's marriage is approaching,
I suppose I must not go. But if I could but leave them all, and have a
little peace and quiet—it is sometimes more than I can bear; the
perpetual worry, and the incessant anxiety to please without
success—and those thoughts that will come back in spite of all that I
can do—thoughts of regret for past happiness, and hopeless pining for
what I may never see again."
"And you are quite sincere in wishing to leave Croydon, and go where
you will see no more of Mr. Morgan? is it no momentary pique that
influences you, no hope of being followed, no expectation of producing
some great effect by your disappearance."
"I wish I could convince you, Mr. Bridge, that whatever the world of
Croydon may impute to me, whatever it may choose to say for me, Mr.
Morgan was never an object of any peculiar interest in my eyes, and
since they have associated our names to my discredit, he is become
positively disagreeable. To shun him altogether is, just now, my first
wish."
"Then, perhaps, I may help you there; I will, at least, try—your
desolate situation interests me deeply—poor girl—you look terribly
worn and flushed—go home, and lie down to rest; try and compose your
mind, and hope for better things. But above all, my child, endeavour
to subdue a repining spirit, and remember that there is One above, who
is the Father of the fatherless, and who has promised never to forsake
those who call upon Him faithfully!"