"I have no horse," replied Emma, thinking that the shortest way of finishing the subject, and reducing it to the level of his capacity.
"Then your father should keep one for you," observed he.
"My father cannot afford it," said Emma, decidedly; "and I have no wish to act in a way inconsistent with our circumstances."
"Poor is he? how uncomfortable!" said Lord Osborne, "why, what's his income, do you suppose?" continuing in the tone in which he would have questioned a day labourer as to his wages.
"It is a point upon which I never thought myself entitled to enquire," she replied, drawing herself proudly up, and speaking in a tone not to be misunderstood.
Lord Osborne looked at her with surprise, which was gradually converted into admiration at the beautiful effect of the colour which dyed her cheek as she spoke. An idea crossed his mind that, perhaps, he had not been sufficiently civil, and he tried to soften his voice, and put on a more winning manner.
"The hounds meet next Monday about a mile from here, at Upham—will you not come and see them throw off. It's a pretty sight."
"I do not think it will be in my power, my lord."
"I wish you could—did you ever see it?"
"Never."