"Indeed I do."

"Then I think you most unkind and ungenerous; I always understood it was a brother's duty to fight with every man who insulted his sister or broke an engagement to her."

"But, allowing us such high privileges, my dear Margaret, I think I am justified in requiring proof; first, that the engagement was made; secondly, that it has been broken. I am not clear yet on either of these points."

"I see what it is, you are determined not to help me; and I think it very ill-natured and cowardly of you to stand by and see your sister insulted and robbed of her best affections, and not interfere the least for her sake."

"Indeed, my dear Margaret, I cannot see that my interference has the least chance of doing any good; if Tom was serious and sober, he will need no intervention of mine to remind him of his promises; if he was drunk and did not know what he was saying, the less that is publicly known of such a transaction, the better in every respect for your dignity."

"I see you will not take my part—you are no use at all; I shall just take my own way, and see if I consult you in a hurry again."

Whilst the silence and indifference of Margaret's lover, gave her so much concern—the attention and assiduity of Emma's, occasioned almost as much excitement in the mind of the latter. Not a day had Passed without Lord Osborne either calling himself at the door, or sending a groom with a joint message of inquiry from his sister and himself; several kind little notes had been received from the young lady, expressing concern and sympathy, and it was quite evident that they did not wish to drop the acquaintance. Nothing had been seen of Mr. Howard; but a note from Mrs. Willis, assured Emma that they had heard every day through Lord Osborne or they would have sent more frequently to enquire for her welfare.

This was consolotary, as serving to convince her that she was not forgotten at the parsonage: but she could not help murmuring a little to herself, that Mr. Howard should have so entirely withdrawn from personal intercourse. Sam had received from her, a minute history of her acquaintances at the Castle and Parsonage; and when he subsequently became aware of the visits of Lord Osborne, he immediately formed the very natural conclusion that the young peer must be in love with his sister.

Emma appeared to him so pretty and so amiable, that her being loved was the most simple and probable event; and he only wished that Lord Osborne had been more worthy of her; but the peerage and fortune of the supposed lover, did not quite blind the brother's eyes to the fact, that their owner was not distinguished by any characteristic worthy of his high birth; and Sam could not wish his sister to sacrifice domestic happiness for the glitter of a coronet, or the harmony of a title. She must have a husband who united mental and moral qualifications to those of birth, wealth and station; and if he possessed the means of advancing Sam himself in his profession, it would be so much the better.

"Did you ever, in your life, see such a fool as Margaret makes of herself, Sam?" was Penelope's observation one day, when the whole family were sitting together. "She will persist in asserting that she is engaged to Tom Musgrove, though I have taken the trouble of ascertaining that he has left home, and the servants are not sure whether he is gone to London or Bath. I asked the baker's boy to enquire, in order to set her mind at ease. I must say, I think her story very incompatible with facts."