"And so she is really going to marry that man, in spite of his brewery; well, I wish she had more pride—proper pride; I must say I think a clergyman's daughter might have looked higher—and she should consider my feelings a little. I should have been ashamed to marry any one not a gentleman by birth and situation!"
"We have not all the same feelings," replied Emma willing to propitiate; "and I do not wonder at her liking Mr. Millar, he is so excellent a man."
"You think so, I dare say," said Margaret scornfully; "but a girl like you has seen far too little of the world to be any judge of what men are or ought to be. There is nothing so deceptive as their manners in company—I, who must be allowed to have more power of judging, and indeed in every respect to be your superior, never saw anything remarkable in Mr. Millar: a certain coarseness and grossness—a something which irresistibly reminded one of a cask of double X, was much his most distinguishing characteristic."
"I never observed it, and indeed Margaret I think you do him injustice," said Emma with spirit; "I am sure he has nothing coarse about him, either in mind or person."
"I think it is very unbecoming in you to set up your opinion in opposition to me. I have had far more experience, and my position as a matron places me in a much more competent situation for judging of men and manners."
Emma did not again attempt to contradict her, and Margaret, pleased with her supposed victory, enquired with some good nature and more vanity, if her sister would like to see her jewel-box. Emma, aware that she wished to exhibit it, good-naturedly expressed pleasure at the proposal, and was in consequence immediately desired to ring the bell to summon her maid to fetch it.
With much self-complacency, and a considerable wish to make her sister envious, all the new trinkets were exhibited by the happy possessor, and amongst many which owed all their value to being perfectly modern and just in fashion, were some few ornaments which would have been valued anywhere for their intrinsic worth, although antique in their setting, and differing decidedly from the style of ornament then in vogue.
"Those belonged to Tom's mother," observed Margaret, rather contemptuously pushing aside the trinkets in question; "I believe the stones are rather good, and if they were only new set, I should like them very well, but they are monstrous old things now, set as they have been."
Before Emma had time to reply or to express any opinion at all on the subject of the trinkets, the door was violently thrown open, and with a sound which indicated that he was luxuriating in very easy slippers, Tom Musgrove entered the room.
"I say Margery, girl," he began in a loud voice, but stopped on seeing his sister-in-law. "Hey, Emma Watson! why I did not know you were here! By Jove! I am glad to see you."