Emma complied, and related, as minutely as possible, all the events of the preceding evening. Elizabeth's surprise on hearing it was extreme.
"Good gracious!" cried she, much agitated; "dance with Mr. Howard? Well, Emma, how could you venture? were you not frightened out of your wits? Dance with the man who plays at cards with old Lady Osborne!—whom she seems so fond of—well, you are the boldest little thing possible! And you say you were not afraid?"
"No, really," said Emma, "why should I be—he was quite the gentleman, I assure you."
"Oh, yes!" said Miss Watson, "a gentleman, of course he is; but, why should that prevent your being afraid? Did you talk to him? How did you know what to say?"
"There was no difficulty about that," replied Emma, "he was very agreeable and we had a great deal of conversation."
"Well, I am glad you were so noticed, Emma," said her sister, kindly; "I knew you must be admired; and, really, am rejoiced that you have made so good a beginning. Dance with Mr. Howard—refuse Tom Musgrove—and come home in Mrs. Edwards' coach! I wonder what you will do next!"
"Come home in my own, we will hope," said Emma, laughing; "like a good girl in a fairy story—very grand in a gilt coach and four."
Elizabeth then proceeded to enquire about Mary Edwards and Captain Hunter; and the inference which she deduced from Emma's narrative, was extremely unfavorable to her brother's prospects. She declared she would write to Sam that evening, and tell him he had no hope.
"But here comes Jenny with the dinner. Poor Emma! you will not dine as well as you did yesterday. There is only fried beef—for, as my father was gone out, and I hardly expected you, I did not think it worth while to get any thing more. If I had been sure of your coming, I would have got you a chop."
"Quite unnecessary, dear Elizabeth, I do not care what I eat," replied Emma, as she moved her chair to the table.