"Oh," said she.
At this moment dinner was announced, and whilst the fat gentleman was slowly emerging from his chair to accompany Mrs. Watson to the dining parlour, Emma's new acquaintance was pouring out a voluble strain of nonsense in her ear.
"To think of reasonable and reasoning creatures lowering themselves to an equality with the beasts of the field, by indulging in what is falsely called the pleasures of the table—to think of their voluntarily assembling only to eat; degrading their intellects by sitting down to spend two hours over roast mutton or apple pie—really it is inconceivable—allow me to conduct you, and your fair sister Margaret to the dinner-table. Sweetest Miss Margaret," presenting her his hand as he spoke, "my felicity is beyond expression—I can only equal my situation between you two, to love amongst the roses."
At the dinner-table Mrs. Watson appeared in all her glory. The dinner was really good, and as the favoured guest inhaled the odour of the soup, it was evident from the complacent expression which stole over his features, that he was well satisfied with the prospect now before him. Mrs. Watson's tactics were suited to the occasion; she devoted her attention to helping him to the best things on the table—the most dainty morsel, the epicure's piece, was in every case heaped on his plate. It would have been amusing to an observer to watch the struggle which in some cases occurred between Robert's self-interest and self-love. His appetite was at variance with his policy; it was difficult for him to yield the precedence at his own table to the love of good eating exhibited by another. To see his wife thus liberally disposed to another man was a severe blow, and whilst he acknowledged the justice, prudence and propriety of thus acting, it went to his heart to behold it. Her attentions, her flattery, her winning smiles she was welcome to indulge him with, but the dainty morsel from the cod's head—the largest share from the sweet-bread fricassee, the liver-wing of the spring chicken, these he could not resign without a sigh.
Mr. Alfred Freemantle, however, did not leave Emma much leisure to make remarks; he had seated himself by her side at table, and was paying her an infinite number of what he considered delicate attentions; calling incessantly to the footman to bring her vegetables—urging her to try every dish on the table, helping her to salt, and filling her glass with wine to the very brim, as he asserted all ladies liked bumpers; at the same time pouring into her ears the most common-place nonsense about his devotion to the fair sex, his zeal in performing his devoirs, and sundry other observations of the sort.
Emma gave him no encouragement, but he did not require any; perfectly satisfied with his own charms, and accustomed to consider himself as superior to his ordinary companions, he was well convinced that her shyness, not her dissatisfaction, kept her silent, and never for a moment supposed she could be otherwise than charmed with his conversation and company.
The dinner appeared to her, consequently, very dull, but at last the moment of release came; her sister-in-law gave the signal for departure, and the four ladies returned to the drawing-room. Here they were no sooner assembled than Margaret commenced a violent attack on Emma for her scandalous flirtation with Mr. Freemantle. He used to be a particular admirer of Margaret's, and she could not with patience resign his admiration to another. In fact she had not strength of mind to see with composure any woman engross the attention of a man with whom she was acquainted, all whose words and looks of admiration she wished to appropriate to herself; for having been for a couple of winters the reigning belle of her small neighbourhood, she still fancied her charms supreme, and was quite insensible of the fact, obvious to every one else, that she was now only exhibiting the remains of former beauty. Her bloom had been of short duration; she was too fretful to preserve the plumpness necessary to show her complexion to advantage, and she early lost the glow and the fairness which had formed her greatest charm.
Alfred Freemantle was not now to be won by all her wiles; Emma's newer face, and the sort of wondering indifference with which she heard his compliments, and his ready-prepared jokes formed an irresistible charm to him; he declared her freshness was piquant, her innocence was exquisite, that it was delicious to meet with a pretty girl so perfectly unhacknied in the ways of the world; little suspecting that the simple manner which he took for ignorance of life resulted entirely from her just appreciation of his little talent, and the total want of interest excited by such flattery as he was capable of administering.
But she could make no impression on Margaret by declarations of indifference, or assertions that she had thought him decidedly disagreeable. Her sister considered such words as a mere subterfuge, and would not believe that Mr. Alfred Freemantle was a sort of person to slight one girl for another, a stranger, without some special encouragement to do so.
Jane took up Margaret's cause, as she was always delighted to have an opportunity of finding fault with Emma, of whom she felt a decided jealousy, and a long and serious lecture was the consequence, which was only interrupted by the arrival of some of the evening visitors. The reproaches which were showered on Emma were, it is true, parried in some degree by Elizabeth, who although greatly respecting her sister-in-law, did not feel so much afraid of her as to refrain on that account from expressing her opinion. She vigorously defended Emma to the best of her abilities, and there was no saying how long the dispute might have been carried on but for the arrival of Mr. George Millar and a young lady, his half sister, who accompanied him.