"You are not angry with me?" said he enquiringly.
"I think not; it depends partly on your motive, but on the whole I am inclined to forgive you."
"A hundred thanks, but if you do forgive me—give me your hand!"
She extended one finger towards him, saying with a smile her whole hand was too much at once: but he did not listen to her words; her hand was caught and pressed in his, and raised to his lips before she could release it from the unexpected thraldom. Then mustering all his courage and becoming eloquent under an emotion which makes many an eloquent man silent, he added,
"It was for your hand I did it, to earn a claim on that, that I travelled and met strangers, and wrangled with and coaxed them. It was because I could not bear a blot on your fair fame—you whom I love so very much: dear Emma—you who are so kind, so good-natured, will you not love me!"
"Lord Osborne," said she with profound gravity, "cease I beg; this species of conversation becomes neither your station nor mine. If I own myself obliged by your exertions for my sake, do not annul the obligation by words which never should have been spoken. Let me go!"
But he stood before her, and would not let her pass; whilst saying in a low, deep voice,
"You must misunderstand me, Miss Watson, or you would not speak thus. Have I not as much right as any one, to love what is fair and excellent—if I am plain and awkward myself, can that make my love an insult—and you—are you not deserving to be loved, worshipped, idolised by every man who comes near you. Have you not everything that I want—everything that would grace a far higher title, a much larger fortune than mine. But because I have none of these things is that any reason I should not admire, and love them, or offer my coronet to one who would so well become it. It is yours if you will but accept it; hand, fortune, title, everything—do give me an answer."
But before Emma could find voice to answer, or arrange her ideas, they were startled by a scream from the ball-room—the music stopped completely, and a sudden stillness for a moment prevailed, seeming awful by the contrast to what preceded: then came a murmur, like a hundred whispers in one, which seemed to gather and increase.
Emma had started up at the scream, and now stood suspended, with a beating heart and unsteady breath.