"Now do not be satirical, Mr. Howard," said she in a lively tone; "I never was, and I hope I never shall be converted into a fashionable fine lady, and my lying on the sofa has nothing to do with indolence or inclination."
"Indeed!" he replied, with a provoking air of incredulity.
"Yes, indeed and indeed—I assure you it is a downright punishment to me, only alleviated by the kindness of my friends in trying to amuse me."
Mr. Howard glanced at Lord Osborne, as if he attributed the friendship and the amusement alike to him.
"No, you are wrong there—I dare say his lordship is afraid I should be spoilt if I had too much indulgence, so he contents himself with disarranging my flowers and contradicting my opinions: I really must trouble you, my lord, for the bud you stole," she added turning to him; "I cannot do without it."
"And I cannot possibly let you have it," replied he abruptly; "it's gone, I shall not tell you where."
"Now is not that too provoking!" cried Emma; "with all his conservatories and gardens at command, to envy me my single sprig which Sir William took so much trouble in procuring me. I had a particular value for it on his account, and having sketched it into this group: I must have it, or the whole will be spoilt."
"Will you promise me the drawing, if I give it back to you?" asked he.
"No indeed—it is for your sister. Mr. Howard, will you not take my part? I am exposed, without the power of resisting, to his depredations; he knows I cannot move from this sofa."
"But do tell me what is the matter?" enquired Mr. Howard seriously; "have you really met with an accident?"