"Yes I did love him—how can I listen to your suit?"
He looked down intently, and taking up one of her embroidery needles thrust it backwards and forwards through the corner of her work, for some minutes, with an energy which ended in breaking the needle itself—then again addressing her he said in a feeling tone.
"Poor fellow, he did not live to know that, I am sorry for him!"
There was something in the manner of this very unexpected admission which quite overpowered Emma's heroism; it was so different from what she had expected; she covered her face and burst into tears.
He sat looking at her, then said, "Don't Miss Watson, pray don't cry—it makes me so very uncomfortable; but indeed I do pity our poor friend, and the more so because loving you so very much myself, I feel what he has lost; and I am so sorry for you too; you must have felt it—the shock of his death I mean."
Emma's sobs quite prevented her speaking, but she struggled to suppress her tears, and presently succeeded in mastering her agitation.
"Did you know he loved you?" asked Lord Osborne suddenly.
"I did, but not till this very morning," answered she, hardly conscious of what she was saying.
He was again silent for a good while, but ended with saying firmly,
"With such feelings, I cannot expect you to listen to my suit, and will not torment you with it. Remember you have not a sincerer friend in the world than myself, or one who would do more to prove his good opinion. And I do not say it merely to be thanked—as I mean to shew you whenever I can."