CHAPTER XIII.
The next morning was ushered in with less of domestic tempest than the last; Mrs. Watson was tired of her own room, and quite ready to come down stairs and mix in the world; she was perfectly amiable to-day, with only the drawback of being a little sulky to her husband, and exceedingly snappish to his sisters, except to Emma, whom she did not condescend to address at all. Emma thought this silence decidedly better than the form of invective which was the usual address to her, so that on the whole, the day passed with tolerable comfort and peace to those concerned.
That afternoon, Mrs. Watson having occasion to send a note to an acquaintance residing nearly a mile from the town, she chose to employ Emma as a messenger, ordering her at the same time, to be sure and not allow Janetta to over fatigue herself, but to carry her if the poor child was tired.
The way led them through pleasant fields, and as the aunt and niece were quietly sauntering along, the little girl filling her hands with daisies, or stopping to watch the birds flitting in the hedgerow, they were again overtaken by Mr. Morgan, who seemed prepared to join their walk. Emma coloured deeply, and was considerably embarrassed by the recollection of what Elizabeth had said about him. They had passed his house on their way, and she could not but suspect that his joining them was the result of design, not accident. With the vanity common to men, he completely misinterpreted the blushes and embarrassment of the pretty girl who interested him so much, and he fancied he was giving her peculiar pleasure, when, after enquiring how far they were going, he assured her that his way led in the same direction, and that he should be most happy to escort her. Had she not been charged with the note from Jane, she would immediately have turned back, but she had no recourse, and as she had not courage to desire him to leave her, she saw nothing to be done but to submit in as quiet and unconcerned a manner as possible.
"I hope," said he presently, "you do not feel any the worse for the excitement and agitation which you went through yesterday."
She thanked him rather coldly, and replied she was very well. But he was not to be so repulsed. He was bent on making himself agreeable to her, and with a quick perception of the readiest means, long practice, and no scruples on the subject, it was no wonder that he succeeded. There was just the proper air of interest, joined to a respectful deference, at the same time that he showed by his intimate knowledge of the family concerns, that he was completely in the confidence of her sister-in-law, and deserving to be treated as a friend of the family. The sympathy which he seemed endeavouring vainly to suppress, and the knowledge of her situation and difficulties, which he allowed her to discover he possessed, all tended to throw her off her guard, and to abate the cold indifference with which she meant to have treated him. He was so kind—so considerately and properly kind—and then both her brother and sister had allowed him to be so much connected with their affairs, that it was impossible to repulse him, and gradually, she hardly knew how, she found herself led on to speak to him with openness, which he in reality little deserved.
Mr. Morgan was a man of no principles, whose ruling passion was vanity—and this passion with him took one particular turn; he liked to be beloved by all the women of his acquaintance. The self-complacency excited by the worship of a woman, was to him the most agreeable feeling in the world. He did not flirt merely for an idle amusement, like Tom Musgrove, with an entire indifference to the feelings he excited; but he made downright serious, but clandestine love to nearly all the good-looking women with whom his practice brought him acquainted. He liked of all things to watch the gradual growth of an ardent love in the unsuspecting heart, and more than one interesting girl had had occasion to rue the day when illness had first brought her acquainted with Mr. Morgan—more than one young wife had been hurried abruptly from the neighbourhood, as was whispered, because her husband thought her too fond of the Doctor. Yet so well had he managed, and so general was the admiration he excited, that he never bore a fraction of the blame which was unsparingly bestowed on the victims of his arts. This was the man, who struck by Emma's beauty, and seeing her helpless situation, had formed a deliberate plan to gain her affections, though what was to follow when she was thus added to his list of triumphs, he had not quite determined. One thing was certain, he did not mean to marry her; but the necessary evils to which he saw she was exposed, laid her he imagined, peculiarly open to temptation, and he certainly indulged in hopes and speculations, for which even the phlegmatic Robert would have kicked him out of the house, had they chanced to come to his knowledge. One great object in his attempt to remove her to Lady Fanny Allston's was, that it would give him so great an advantage over her. Lady Fanny and her daughter were both invalides, and he was in the habit of visiting them every day. This, could he place Emma there, was an important step, as it would bring him in the most advantageous position before her eyes. She would see no one else. Shut up for weeks together with an ailing child, her only recreation being an hour's drive in the pony chaise every morning, she would soon learn to look forward to his visit as the great event of the day. He should see her eyes sparkle at his approach, and feel her hand gently tremble as he pressed it. Such had been the case with her predecessor, and now that the poor girl had lost her health and spirits from disappointed affections and heart-sickening anxiety, he was coldly turning to seek another to supply her place. Little did Emma, as she listened to his sentiments of sympathy, his professions of philosophy, or his insinuations of warm interest, suspect the real motive of his actions and his friendship. His age, so much greater than hers, prevented her supposing he would feel attachment, and her own preference for Mr. Howard was a safeguard to her own affections.
After conversing some time with great apparent interest on the subject of education, as appropriate to her peculiar calling, he gradually turned it in an almost imperceptible way to the scene of yesterday. The necessity of subduing passion, and the dreadful effects of it when unrestrained, naturally brought on a comment on the conduct of her sister-in-law. It was shocking, he protested, to think of such violence; it made his heart bleed to imagine what a mild and gentle-tempered girl must undergo when dependent on such a relative. Hers was a heavy hand as he had experienced; he was delighted that he had warded off one blow from her, he only wished he could more effectually protect her from the other hardships of her lot.
Emma assured him that such a scene had never occurred before, and probably would never do so again; that he greatly magnified the evils of her situation, and that she really did not require such intense sympathy as he seemed inclined to bestow on her. This, so far from stopping him, only brought on a more decided eulogium upon the sweetness of temper which could endure such tyranny, and the self-denial which must be practised daily to live in peace with one who could practise it. How much farther his compliments would have carried him is not known, as they arrived at the lodge-gate, and Emma was obliged to interrupt him to deliver the note which formed her errand. Now she expected to part company, but to her great surprise, she found on turning her steps homewards, that he was still at her elbow, and that he seemed resolved to continue the conversation as well as the walk. What was still more provoking, Janetta claimed his assistance to carry her again, and Emma had no alternative but to continue with him; and as he caught up the child with glee, and an appearance of positive enjoyment.
"This, my dear Miss Emma," said he, "is a trouble which, I trust, you will not long have to endure; at Lady Fanny's you will not be expected to do any thing which would be more properly entrusted to a servant. You will be Miss Alston's companion, not her slave; and I shall, indeed, rejoice to see it so."