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!"