She paused, and Mr. Howard hesitated a moment how to answer, then firmly but respectfully replied,
"If I understand your ladyship aright, and I think I cannot now misunderstand, you pay me the highest compliment, but one which is quite undeserved by me. Highly as I feel honoured, however, I cannot change my feelings, or alter the sentiments which I have already expressed. My mind was made known to you, before yours was to me, and to vary now from what I then said might well cause you to doubt my sincerity, and could give no satisfaction to your ladyship."
He stopped abruptly; he wanted to say something indicative of gratitude and respect; but the disgust which he felt at her proceedings, prevented the words coming naturally. She, the mother of a married daughter and a grown up son, to be making proposals to a man so much her junior in age, and in every way unsuited for her—really, he could not command the expressions which, perhaps, politeness and a sense of the compliment paid him required. He rose and appeared about to leave her, but she rose likewise, and said with a look which betrayed indignation struggling with other feelings:
"No, do not leave me thus—reflect before you thus madly throw away the advantages I offer you—consider the enmity you provoke—calculate the depth of my wrath and the extent of my power. Refuse me, and there is no effort to injure you which I will not practise to revenge myself—you shall bitterly rue this day, if you affront me thus!"
"I cannot vary from my answer; your ladyship may excite my gratitude by your kindness but neither my love nor my fears are to be raised by promises or menaces. On this subject I must be, apparently, ungrateful; but when the temporary delusion which now influences you has passed away, you will, doubtless, rejoice that I am firm to-day. I must leave you."
"Leave me, then; and let me never see that insidious face again, ungrateful monster; to throw my benefits from you—to reject my advances. Is my condescension to be thus rewarded? But I debase myself by talking to you—leave me—begone!—and take only my enmity with you as your portion."
The lady seemed struggling with vehement emotions, which almost choked her; and knowing she was occasionally attacked with dangerous fits, Mr. Howard hesitated about leaving her alone. By a gesture of her hand, however, she repulsed his offer to approach her; he therefore, slowly withdrew, and his mind was relieved of anxiety for her by seeing her maid enter the room before he had descended the stairs. He then hurried away, and tried, by walking very quickly through the most retired paths in Kensington Gardens, to soothe his feelings and tranquillize his mind.
Had there been no Emma Watson in the world, or had she been, as he feared she would soon be, married to Lord Osborne, he must still have refused the proposal which had just been made to him. It never could have presented itself as a temptation to his mind. But under present circumstances, with a heart full of her memory, all the more precious, the more dwelt on, because he feared she would never be more to him, it was more than impossible, it was entirely repulsive. If he must love her in vain, as he told himself he should, that was no reason he should marry another; and if she were to become Lady Osborne as he feared, her mother-in-law would be the last person he would be tempted to accept. Step-father to her husband—oh, impossible! rather would he remove a thousand miles than voluntarily bring himself into contact with that charming girl in that relationship. If he could not have her, he would remain single for her and for his sister's sake, and his nephew should hold the place of son to him. These were his resolutions, and a further determination to avoid all intercourse at present with the dowager was the only other idea which could find any resting place in his troubled brain. He returned the next day to his Vicarage, and there, with his sister, his garden and his parochial duties, he sought alike to forget the pleasures and the pains of the past.
CHAPTER VI.
A month of tranquillity and peace of mind, passed in the society of Miss Bridge, was sufficient to restore Emma Watson to all her former health and more than her former beauty. When Lady Gordon wrote to remind her of the promised visit, she was almost sorry to go. Yet her heart would flutter a little at the notion of again visiting Osborne Castle—of being again in the vicinity of Mr. Howard, of seeing, hearing, meeting him again. It was very foolish to care so much about it—extremely so when he had so completely shown his own indifference, and yet she could not help feeling a good deal at the idea of meeting.