Emma looked most immoveably grave, and would not give him the smallest encouragement in his hilarity, whilst Margaret muttered quite audibly:
"What a fool you do make of yourself, to be sure."
"So you are exhibiting your necklace box again," observed he, sarcastically, as he caught a glimpse of the case beside her. "Upon my honor, I do not believe there is another woman so vain of her trinkets between this and Berwick—you are always shewing them to every body."
"Well, and what if I am? I suppose I may if I like—it does nobody any harm that ever I heard of," retorted Margaret, quite angry. "I see no more wonder in a woman's shewing her jewels, than in a man exhibiting his horses, dogs, and guns. I have known instances of that peculiarity in some of my acquaintances, quite as well deserving of ridicule, as my sister's wishing to see my ornaments could be."
"I dare say, the horses and the dogs were much better worth looking at than your trumpery;" replied he, "why, the only things in your assortment worth any thing, are the topaz set which belonged to my mother; all the rest is mere rubbish."
"What those frightful old things! upon my honor, Tom, I am ashamed of wearing such monstrous, heavy, old-fashioned articles—but having once belonged to your mother, of course they must be wonderfully precious."
Emma here interposed to deliver Lady Gordon's message, and to request them to name a day for accepting it. A debate ensued as to the most convenient day on which to fix, which presently branched off into a violent dispute as to whether the invitation in question was intended as a compliment to Tom or his wife; each maintaining the opinion, that the honour of the invitation was all due to themselves.
At length, however, Emma contrived to persuade them to settle the point in question; and two days from that time, was fixed on for the dinner visit, and soon after this point was arranged, Emma took her leave.
Much as she was grieved by what she had witnessed, she could not be surprised at it, when she considered the circumstances under which the union had been formed. Tom was reckless and unkind; Margaret peevish and fretful, without energy of character to make the best of her situation, or strength of mind to bear with patience the evils in which she had involved herself. No doubt, if Tom had loved her, she would have been fond of him, and any sensation beyond her own selfish feelings, would have done her good; but forced into the marriage against his will, love, or any thing resembling it, was not to be expected from him; in consequence, her own partiality could not survive his indifference; and there was a mutual spirit of ill-will cultivated between them, which boded ill for their future peace.
Emma reflected on all this as she drove home, from her very unsatisfactory visit, and was only roused from these unpleasant considerations, by finding the carriage stopped suddenly soon after entering the park. On looking up, she perceived Sir William and Lady Gordon, who enquired if she would like a stroll before dinner, instead of returning at once to the castle. She assented with pleasure, and quitting the carriage, they took a pleasant path through a plantation, the thick shade of which made walking agreeable even in the afternoon of a June day.