Emma thanked him with a sincerity rather greater, perhaps, than his own, but she could not help heartily wishing that he would demonstrate his interest in some other way than in walking home with her; she was in continual dread of meeting some one who would know her; for, though she really saw no harm in it herself, yet after what Elizabeth had said, she was afraid of being misinterpreted or misjudged. He parted from her at the entrance of the town, and Emma returned in some trepidation homewards.
The whole town of Croydon was, shortly after, thrown into a ferment, by the announcement that George Millar, the rich, the popular, the good-looking George Millar, was engaged—actually engaged to be married to Elizabeth Watson.
It was so extraordinary, so incredible, so unheard of, that a young woman like Elizabeth Watson—not so very young—for she was at least thirty, they said, if not more—who had never been handsome, and was now decidedly faded—without money, for every one knew she was dependent on her brother—in short, with none of the requisites for matrimony, except a pleasing person, an amiable and unselfish disposition, good temper, and a most affectionate heart, that such a girl should have presumed to try for George Millar's hand! and should have had the effrontery to accept him when he offered! She was a stranger, an interloper—and for her to come, and thus carry off in triumph, their best beau, it was too bad; as the oldest Miss Morgan observed to one of her intimate friends, she was sure there was more than they understood in the business; and she should like to know where they were to look for husbands if their fellow townsmen deserted them in that way for strange faces. It was the more hard upon Miss Morgan, because she had been so very kind to the children; she had more than once asked them to drink tea, and often kissed her hand to them from the drawing-room window. Their houses were exactly opposite, and it would be too much to be forced to sit in contemplation of another mistress ruling in the house where she had long expected to reign supreme.
It was the elder young ladies of the neighbourhood who felt the affront most keenly; and were most bitter against Miss Watson. They had long regarded Mr. Millar as the lawful property of one of themselves; ever since the second month after his wife's death; and, unfortunately for their peace of mind, Mrs. Turner's habit of flattering every one, had given rise to hopes in their minds, which it now seemed never would be realised. The younger ladies felt it much less acutely; for, as a widower and a man verging on forty, they regarded George Millar as a little past his youthful and interesting days, but they felt for their friends and their sisters, and sympathised in their indignation. Had Miss Watson been a stranger, in reality, the affair would have been more endurable; had she been married from Winston, for instance, they would have welcomed her to Croydon with tolerable cordiality—nay, perhaps, with absolute enthusiasm. She might have been pictured then in their imaginations with no colours less brilliant than those belonging to a gay wedding, and making her first appearance in new finery, she would probably have won popularity immediately.
But now, the case was very different; it had all passed before their own eyes, so they naturally suspected something quite wrong, and Mrs. Watson was involved in the blame—as it was supposed she must have aided to win the point by some skilful manœuvring.
It was so unnatural, so improbable, that, out of four sisters, three should be engaged to be married, that Miss Morgan declared, over and over again, that she could not, and would not believe it happened in the due course of events. There must be something wrong about those Watsons, and she was determined to find it out.
Elizabeth was very unsuspicious of the storm her engagement had raised, but went about as usual with a smiling face, looking forward to the termination of her residence with her brother, with peculiar satisfaction—and rejoicing especially, because she had a plan in her head for the advantage of Emma. This was no less than that Emma should reside with them; and since she was resolved against spending her life in idleness, that she should consent to superintend the education of Mr. Millar's little girls—for which task, Elizabeth felt she was more competent than herself. In the meantime, she did not mention it to her, until their own plans were arranged with a little more certainty, and the time of their wedding fixed; at present, they could only say that it should not take place for a couple of months at least.
A day or two after this grand event becoming known, Mr. Morgan called on Mrs. Watson and found her little girl in the room. After praising and caressing the child, he asked her if she should like to ride a donkey; and turning to the mother with a winning smile, he added, that he had a very beautiful Spanish donkey, for which, at present, he had no occasion—that it was quite at the service of her charming daughter—for whom, he was convinced, the exercise would be peculiarly salutary. He, therefore, begged she would make use of it as her own. Mrs. Watson gratefully assented; to-morrow Janetta should have a ride—but the little girl cried out for to-day—she would go to-day—aunt Emma must take her out to-day—and she always had her own way with her mother—and as Mr. Morgan was merely following out a concerted plan, she of course, carried her point; and, whilst she went up-stairs to make her aunt get ready for the excursion, the gentleman hurried away to give orders to prepare the donkey. In about half an hour, Janetta had the delight of seeing the promised animal at the door, with a beautiful new saddle and white bridle, and she clapped her hands with ecstasy as the doctor's foot-boy placed her on, hardly sitting sufficiently still to allow him to fasten the strap in front of the Spanish saddle. Emma felt extremely reluctant to go; she feared Mr. Morgan might again join them, and tried hard to persuade Margaret to accompany her; but Margaret "hated walking like a nurse-maid after the child," and Elizabeth being out, Emma had no alternative but to set out alone.
The foot-boy said his master had ordered him to go with them to see how the donkey went, and to save Miss Watson any trouble. Emma rejoiced at this announcement—although it seemed to her, so unreasonable an encroachment on Mr. Morgan's obliging temper, that she half dreaded lest her sister-in-law should decline the lad's services. Mrs. Watson, however, accepted it all as if, in allowing the favour to be confirmed, she were in reality the giver, instead of the receiver of the benefit. She seemed rather to expect that he would be grateful that his donkey had the honour of carrying her little girl.
Emma's anticipations proved perfectly correct, for they met Mr. Morgan again, and he again, uninvited, prepared to accompany them. She resolved that this should not occur another time, as she determined at once to speak to her brother, representing how extremely unpleasant it was for her to be daily sent out walking where she was exposed to be joined by any one in this way, and begging that in future the duty of walking out with Janetta might devolve on one of the maids, when neither of her sisters could accompany her. If it had not been that she feared it was wrong, she would have enjoyed the walk extremely, as the day was fresh and invigorating, whilst her companion was particularly pleasant. She found his conversation both instructive and amusing, and as Janetta, on her donkey, kept a little a-head of them, they were free from the incessant calls on her attention with which the child usually interrupted them.