As Emma had held out her hand to the gentleman, she could not follow Lady Gordon in her flight, though looking exceedingly inclined to do so; for he held her with a gentle pressure, and would not let her go. His eyes were so earnestly bent upon hers, that she dared not look up after the one glance she had given him; and she stood, her slender fingers trembling in his grasp, longing to speak, but wanting courage to break the silence.
"I am glad Miss Watson is not to be the only one from whom I hear no word of welcome," said he gently. "If you knew how very grateful I should feel for one sentence of kindness—even one look which evinced interest, could you refuse me?"
"I assure you, Mr. Howard," said she, determined no longer to stand silently blushing like a criminal before him; "I assure you it was not want of interest, or kindly feeling towards you, which kept me silent."
"Thank you—you were glad to see me again?"
"Indeed I was."
"And you guess—you must know and feel why I hurried home?"
"No, indeed," but the words were accompanied by so very deep a blush, that they looked exceedingly like a falsehood.
"There was a letter, which I wrote, but to which I received no answer, which hurried my movements—do you now know what I mean?"
"I believe I do," she uttered in desperation finding he seemed determined she should answer him.
"And though you would not write, you will condescend now to answer that letter by word of mouth," taking her hand in both of his; "I am sure you are too generous wilfully to torment me—and if you had known how much pain your silence gave me, you would not have allowed it to last so long."