After expressing the pleasure it gave him to see her again, he observed:
"Who would have thought, Miss Watson, when we last met, that I should be receiving you in this castle; did you prognosticate such an event?"
"Not precisely," replied Emma, "so far as concerned myself; but as relating to Miss Osborne—I mean Lady Gordon—any one must have foreseen it."
"I assure you, when such things are foreseen, Miss Watson, it most frequently happens that they never come to pass. I have repeatedly seen instances of this kind." He spoke with an arch smile, and a faint idea passed through her mind that she was in his thoughts at the moment; an idea which might, perhaps, have embarrassed her more had it not been swallowed up—annihilated entirely by a more powerful sensation, as the door opened and Lady Gordon entered with Mr. Howard.
It was fortunate that the enquiries of the former—her expressions of pleasure, and her caresses, were an excuse for Emma's not immediately turning to the gentleman—had they been obliged to speak at once, it is probable their dialogue would have been peculiar—interesting but unconnected—as the man said of Johnson's dictionary. As it was, they both had time to collect their thoughts—and when they did turn, were able to go through their interview with tolerable calmness; but Emma had the advantage—as ladies frequently have where circumstances require a ready tact and presence of mind. Indeed, they did not start on fair ground—since she had only one set of sensations to contend with and conceal—he had more—for, besides the emotion which the sight of her occasioned him, he had the double evil of being convinced it was contrary to the requisitions of honour, to feel any extraordinary pleasure in her company. Had not Lord Osborne made him his confidant relative to his attachment, or had Howard boldly owned to his lordship at the time, that he entertained similar views, all would have been right, and he might openly have expressed the interest which he now was compelled carefully to smother. His address was cold and formal—the very contrast to his feelings—and extremely ill done likewise; Emma, chilled by the reception so different to what she had ventured to expect, began to fear her own manners had been too openly indicative of pleasure at the sight of him; and determined to correct this error she almost immediately followed Lady Gordon, who had sauntered towards the conservatory.
"Come here," said the young hostess, linking her arm in Emma's, "let us leave the gentlemen to discuss the parish politics together. Mr. Howard came on business, and Sir William dearly loves meddling with it. Now, you must tell me all the news of Croydon. Have you no scandal to enliven me?—with whom has the lawyer quarrelled? or to whom has the apothecary been making love."
Emma colored and laughed a little. Lady Gordon smilingly watched her.
"To you, I suppose, by your blushes, Miss Watson; well, that gives me a higher idea of his taste, than I have been accustomed to form of country-town doctors. How many lovers have you to boast of? Beginning with Lord Osborne, and ending with this nameless son of Esculapius?—tell me all.
"Indeed, I have no such honors to boast," replied Emma, "no one has sought me, and probably no one ever will:" this was followed by a little sigh.
"Nay, do not be so desponding—a little chill is nothing," cried Lady Gordon, "but I am not going to pry into your secrets. This conservatory has given us enough of trouble in that way already. By the way, you will, of course, like to go over and call on your sister, Mrs. Musgrove—when will it suit you?"