"Then procure me an interview with Emma—I cannot find her any where, and I cannot exist longer in suspense. Dear Lady Gordon, do pray have pity on me!"
"Yes!" replied she, affecting to look very grave, "I have pity on you; and since you wish so much for an interview, I will try and procure one, that is if Emma is not absolutely bent on refusing to hear you. But are you prepared—can you stand the shock which awaits you?"
"Good Heavens! what do you mean, Lady Gordon?" cried he, catching her hand in his with an accent of alarm.
"Why, what do you expect?" said she, withdrawing her hand, "but that she will refuse you; what else can you anticipate?"
"Refuse me, why—do not torment me—I am not afraid—" he added, trying to smile.
"Upon my word, a very modest speech!" exclaimed she, "so you feel no alarm—tranquil self-confidence possesses your soul. Emma will be intensely gratified!"
"Dear Lady Gordon—" said he, pleadingly; but she would not listen.
"So I am to call Miss Watson down to you, persuading her to come with an assurance, that you feel so confident of what her answer will be that you entertain no anxiety, no alarm. Is that what I am to say?"
"Say anything you please, Lady Gordon," exclaimed he, in desperation, "only procure me the sight of Miss Watson, and the opportunity to speak to her."
"Very well, go to the library, and I will bring her there."