Sir William paused, for Emma had walked away to hide her tears and smother her sobs at the window. The entrance of Miss Carr at the moment, well-dressed, and cheerful looking as usual, tended greatly to compose Emma's spirits, but quite overpowered Sir William.
He escaped instantly out of the room. Miss Carr came up to Emma.
"How miserably uncomfortable everything seems to-day. I cannot imagine why the death of this man—even supposing he is dead—should derange everybody here to such a degree. A thing which happened too some hundreds of miles away, Rosa in bed, and neither Sir William, nor Osborne visible. Don't you think it's too bad?"
"I dare say Lady Gordon will soon recover," replied Emma, "but I cannot wonder if she is indisposed considering everything—the heat, the fatigue, and all the excitement of yesterday."
"Have you breakfasted, Miss Watson?" enquired Miss Carr.
Emma replied she had not.
"Then come with me, and let us get some," said she, passing her hand under Emma's arm. "There is no reason that we should fast, I suppose; for, though Mr. Howard's death is very shocking, I confess it does not take away the appetite quite."
Emma thought it would be the easiest way to consent, and they went accordingly. On entering the breakfast-room, which they had entirely to themselves, they found that, owing probably to the confusion in the household, the letters, by that morning's post, had been laid on the table there, and no one had seen them. Miss Carr immediately began looking them over, and presently exclaimed:
"Here are two—three for you Miss Watson. I wonder there are none for me!"
Emma received them, and glanced at their exteriors to see whether she should open them there. One she saw was from Miss Bridge—one from Elizabeth—and thinking that the occupation of reading them would prevent her hearing Miss Carr's chatter, she broke the seal of the latter, and began to peruse it.