Emmeline did not immediately look up—an exclamation from Lord Montreville made her take her handkerchief from her eyes.
She arose; tried to conceal the sorrow visible in her countenance yet wet with tears, and assuming as much as she could her native ease and sweetness, she advanced towards his Lordship, who still stood at the door, amazed, and asked him if he would pardon her for desiring him to sit down in a bed-chamber; if not, she would wait on him below. She then went back to the table; threw the papers into the casket that was on it; and placing a chair between that and the fire, again asked him if he would do her the honour to sit down.
Lord Montreville did so, but said nothing. He was ashamed of his precipitancy; yet as Emmeline did not know it, he would not mention it; and was yet too full of the idea to speak of any thing else.
Mrs. Ashwood had left them—Emmeline continued silent.
Lord Montreville, after a long pause, at length said, with a stern and displeased countenance, 'I understand, Miss Mowbray, that my son was here this morning.'
'Yes, my Lord.'
'Pray, do you know where he now is?'
'I do not, indeed. Is he not at your Lordship's house?'
'No; I am told by his servants that he is gone to Mr. Percival's—But you—'(continued he, laying a strong emphasis on the word) 'you, Miss Mowbray, are I dare say better informed of his intentions than any one else.'
'Upon my word, my Lord,' answered Emmeline, astonished, 'I do not know. He said nothing to me of an intention to go any where; on the contrary, he told me he should be here again to-morrow.'