"Which have you been flirting with?" said Elizabeth taking her sister's hand, and closely examining her countenance. "The peer or the parson, which of your two admirers do you prefer?"
"How can you ask such an unnecessary question?" returned Emma, blushing and laughing, yet struggling to disengage herself, "would you hesitate yourself—is not Lord Osborne the most captivating, elegant, lively, fascinating young nobleman who ever made rank gracious and desirable. Would you not certainly accept him?"
"Why yes, I think I should—it would be something to be Lady Osborne—mistress of all those rooms and servants, carriages and horses. I think I should like it, but then I shall never have the choice!"
"So far as I am concerned, I do not think I shall interfere with your power of accepting him—if he makes you an offer, do not refuse it on my account."
"Very well—and when I am Lady Osborne, I will be very kind to Mrs. Howard—I will send and ask her to dine with me most Sundays, and some week days too."
"I hope she will like it."
"I will give her a new gown at Easter, and a pelisse or bonnet at Christmas!"
"Your liberality is most exemplary, but in the midst of your kind intentions to Mrs. Howard, I fear you are forgetting Mrs. Willis and her dinner. If you do not finish your dressing quickly you will keep them waiting."
Elizabeth took her sister's advice, and finished her toilette with all possible despatch. It was singular that though invariably consuming double the time that sufficed for Emma, the result of her efforts in adjusting her clothes was much less satisfactory. She never looked finished. Her hair was certain to fall down too low; or her gown burst open, or her petticoat peeped out from underneath: she was always finding a string, or a button, or a loop wanting, just when such a loss was particularly inconvenient—always in a hurry, always behind hand, always good-naturedly sorry, but always as far from amendment.
The evening was spent in quiet comfort, far removed from the stately grandeur of the yester-night's scene—they closed round the fire, chatting and laughing, cracking nuts and eating home-baked cakes with a zest which Osborne Castle and its lordly halls could not rival. They talked of the snow melting, and Charles and his uncle too persisted in the greatest incredulity on that subject. A hundred other things were discussed, made charming by the ease and good-humour with which they were canvassed, and then a book was produced. Shakespeare was placed in Mr. Howard's hands, and he read with a degree of feeling and taste, which made it very delightful to his listeners. Thus the evening passed peacefully and quickly, and when they separated for the night, it was with encreased good will and affection between the parties.