"Mr. Howard," said Emma, looking up, but making no attempt to withdraw her hand; "I only received that letter yesterday morning; and as I then thought you were dead—you cannot imagine the pain which the receipt of it occasioned me."
She spoke hurriedly, without considering the full value of her words; but he saw the implied meaning—where was the man ever blind to such a compliment. The speech he made on the occasion, was a great deal too rapturous and lover-like to bear transcribing, indeed, when lovers' speeches really come from the heart, they would seldom be sufficiently intelligible to interest general readers. There is so much understood by the pressure of the hands—so much explained by the language of the eyes—and so much made up by other signs well-known to the initiated, but unnecessary to detail to those who have never gone through such an ordeal, that in most cases it seems probable an accurate relation in words would be the most tiresome, the most incomprehensible, the most ridiculous thing in the world to those not taking a principal part in it.
Where the heart takes but a small share in the proceedings, indeed, fine speeches may be made, but where the affections are engaged, the meaning can be perfectly understood without them.
The result of his speech, and Emma's answer, was much more favorable to his happiness, than the reply which she had made the previous day to a similar question from Lord Osborne. She acknowledged that she loved him, and that the dread of being poor, or the desire of being great, would not prevent her promising to become his wife.
When the first effervescence of his joy had subsided, and he was able to speak in a calm and reasonable manner, and consider what was best to be done, he urged her to come out with him into the park, as the first step to securing her company perfectly undisturbed—for, in the library, they were constantly exposed to be interrupted. Here she tried to obtain from him some rational account as to why he had tantalised her so long by deferring an explanation—which, for any thing she could see to the contrary, might just as well, or better, have been made long before. Since he professed he had loved her even before she went to Croydon, why did he take no steps to tell her so; or why, since he ended in writing, did he not write to her there? Was it necessary to go as far as North Wales to find courage for such an epistle.
He told her it was doubt and want of courage kept him silent—then he contradicted himself and said it was really jealousy of Lord Osborne. He had believed the young baron loved her.
So he might, perhaps, was Emma's reply—but what had that to do with it; to make the admiration dangerous, it was necessary that she should return his affection, "and surely, you never suspected me of that?" said she.
"How could I tell? Might you not naturally be dazzled with the idea of a coronet; why, should I have interfered with your advantage or advancement?"
"As if it would be to my advantage to marry a man like Lord Osborne," replied Emma. "I do not wish to say anything derogatory to your friends, or to Lady Gordon's brother, but indeed I think you might have given me credit for rather a different taste at least. I have no wish either to flatter you too much; but I fancy, whether better or worse, our tastes are more consonant than mine and Lord Osborne's."
"But, my dearest Emma, did he not love you?"