"Only a sprain which incapacitates me from moving," she answered.
"I am exceedingly grieved to hear it," he said with looks of real concern. "I had been thinking only of want of inclination, not want of power, when you declined moving."
"You see in that instance then you misunderstood me, perhaps you do so in others likewise," she replied; an equivocal speech which threw Howard into a fit of abstraction for several minutes whilst pondering on her meaning. Recovering himself he began to enquire the particulars of the accident, which she detailed to him, ending her account with desiring him to deduce some moral from the history.
"Perhaps you would not like the moral I should draw," he replied with a smile; "it might not be flattering or agreeable."
"I dare say, it would not be flattering, Mr. Howard; I should not expect it from you—suppose we all make a moral to the tale, and see if we can think alike. Come, my lord, let us have yours."
"Give me time to think then," said he—for, in spite of his resolution in favor of silence, he could not help yielding to her smiles.
"Five minutes by the watch on the chimney-piece, and in good time—here come Sir William and Lady Gordon to give their opinion of our sentiments."
"I am quite ready to give mine at once," returned Sir William, who heard only the last speech, as he entered through the window from the terrace:
"I have no doubt that yours, Miss Watson, are very severe—Osborne's romantic—and Howard's common place. Will that do?"
"Not at all—you shall be no judge in the matter, since you make up your mind before you hear the cause," cried Emma, "Lady Gordon shall be umpire, and if you like to produce a moral, do so."