Mr. Howard's countenance betrayed that he was feeling much; but of what nature Emma could not exactly decide. He answered evidently with an effort,
"I assure you, you quite misunderstood me; I never intended to give you the impression that Clara was jealous of Miss Osborne. Your mutual friendship need not exclude you from intimacy with others—friendship is not like love—it should not—it certainly need not be encumbered by jealousy. But, Miss Watson, there is a feeling, a sentiment—a species of friendship, which will not bear a rival; an affection which is covetous of the smiles bestowed on others; which can only be satisfied by an entire return—" he paused a moment, and then added, "I beg your pardon, I have said too much, and I cannot expect you to understand me. We are going in a few days to some distance, and, perhaps, I may not see you again—I wish you every happiness—may you never have reason to do otherwise than rejoice in the friendships you contract," he stopped very abruptly, and after a momentary hesitation hastily quitted the room.
Emma was left alone to try and comprehend, as well as she could, the meaning and object of his very desultory conversation. There began to dawn upon her mind a new idea: he was jealous of Lord Osborne. It was undoubtedly the fact; but her own feelings were in such a state of confusion that she hardly comprehended whether it gave her more pain than pleasure to think this.
It was a very great pleasure to feel that he really cared for her. Jealousy by its existence proved love, and after her doubts as to his feelings and wishes this unexpected manifestation of his mind was at first very welcome. Certainly his going away was unfortunate and, in her opinion, ill-judged—it was resigning without a struggle—it was leaving the field open to his rival—it was, for anything he knew to the contrary, losing all chance of success, absolutely throwing away the opportunity. Did this look like a very ardent or determined affection—she feared not—to run away without necessity seemed rather to indicate a wish to give up the contest—perhaps he loved her against his will, his judgment, his sense of duty; but no—then he would not have waited for the appearance of a rival to teach him the necessity of avoiding her presence. Perhaps he only wished to give her time to know her own wishes—and form her own judgment of Lord Osborne, to allow him an open and undisputed field; and when he found his fears were visionary and groundless he would return. This she hoped to be the case.
As to his lordship, she never entertained a serious idea about him till this moment; and now, but for Mr. Howard's superior knowledge of his disposition, she should certainly have supposed that there was no risk of his making any one jealous by his attentions.
She could not suppose the idea of allying himself with a family plain and undistinguished like hers could possibly have entered his head; nor could she easily imagine any one who in person, habits, and taste would be less tempting to her. There was no credit due to her for not liking him—the absence of all ambition to become a baroness seemed so perfectly natural when the rank must be shared with such an individual. Superiority of station could not weigh a moment in her estimation, against superiority of intellect; her ambition did not prompt her to wish for distinction and honor only possessed because they were hereditary—but for the distinction of talent—the honor of virtue and worth: this was what had charms for her above all the gold, the splendour, the rank which the baron could offer.
Yet seriously she never expected to have the opportunity of proving her entire disinterestedness; the choice would never lie in her power; Lord Osborne could not seriously contemplate such a mesalliance, nor could his mother and sister possibly countenance it if he did. The idea carried absurdity and contradiction with itself: he certainly looked at her a good deal; but she could not build a substantial edifice of hope on so narrow a foundation in reality. He probably had looked at twenty girls before in the same way; and as to any other attentions, they were not so marked as to have raised any speculations in her own mind.
It was true Elizabeth had laughingly accused her of captivating him—but Elizabeth was only in joke—she could not have really imagined it possible. This idea raised a new dilemma in her mind.
Suppose Mr. Howard should have retired only to make way for the passive admiration of Lord Osborne; suppose he was waiting till his lordship left off looking at her; and suppose he never should do that—that his devotion should never proceed beyond a look—no expression escape him—but the expression which his eyes might chance to convey, what should she do, to show her indifference to his looks, and the absence of all speculation on their meaning which she really felt. She could not tell how to repulse him into a state of inoffensive acquiescence, or how to convince Mr. Howard, under such circumstances, that there was nothing to fear from his rivalry. Besides she was not to see him again for a long time. How very unkind of him to go away and leave her merely because Lord Osborne had such a fancy for looking at her.
Mr. Howard had paid her more attention, had shown more interest in her, had made a much deeper impression on her feelings than any one she had ever known, and now he was voluntarily leaving her. It was unkind—unjust—ungenerous—it was all sorts of bad things; she began to look on it in a new light—to get almost angry with him, to think him unreasonable—capricious—not worth caring about—for five minutes, at least, she was quite indignant, and resolute not to interest herself any more about him.