"What can be the matter," said he, "shall I go and see—sit down, do not alarm yourself."
She really was obliged to seat herself, for she could not stand; he went a few steps, where he was met by Sir William.
"For Heaven's sake Osborne come here and send off all these people, your sister is in a fit, and I am almost as bad from horror."
"What in the world is the matter," cried he, struck by the agitated tone and look of his brother-in-law.
"A report has been brought from Wales that Howard is dead," said Sir William, "killed by a fall from a horse amongst the mountains, and Rosa heard it suddenly—and I am afraid—"
"Killed—Howard—dead—good Heavens," instinctively he was turning to the spot where Emma sat, but Sir William impatiently seized his arm and hurried him away unconscious that she was near.
She was left alone to her feelings, and how the next half hour passed she never knew. She could neither think nor move; to feel was too much, for a confused murmur rang in her ears; a sound of suppressed voices, and hurried footsteps, and rolling wheels, and then all seemed still again. How long she sat there she could not calculate, horror-struck and immoveable, she seemed unconscious of everything but the one thought that he was dead. And so suddenly, so awfully—it could not be!—and yet it must be true; she shivered with horror, and then she seemed again to become insensible to everything, closing her eyes to the gay lights and gaudy flowers which appeared to mock her when she gazed at them.
She was just beginning to recover, but still unable to move, when she heard Sir William's voice enquiring,
"Where is Emma—Osborne, have you seen her? she was not in the ball-room."
"She was with me in the conservatory," replied his companion.