Very different was the evening her sisters had been passing. Robert was engaged in his office—Margaret engrossed with a new romance that morning procured—and Jane, being tired, and having nothing to amuse her, was more than usually cross to Emma; finding fault with the manner in which she had performed some needle-work, and going on from that to a general charge of indifference, indolence, and constant inattention.
Emma sighed, and could not help throwing back a mournful thought to passed times, when she had felt herself the pet of her dear uncle, and the idol of a whole household; or later, when she had flattered herself with the notion that she was the first object with Mr. Howard. It seemed now, quite like recalling a dream, when she looked back to those happy days; so suddenly, and entirely, had the scene been changed. Then she began to wonder when she should hear from Miss Osborne—and what she would say—how she would bear the idea of being called into a court of justice; whether her family would not be angry at it—and what the result would be. Would Tom Musgrove yield or not?—or would Robert persist in his determination; and in these silent meditations the evening passed heavily away. She was glad when Elizabeth came home; her entrance brought some little diversion to their scene, as she had something new to tell; and Jane, though rather inclined to resent any one having so much enjoyment without her, was too well satisfied with the union which she anticipated between Elizabeth and Mr. Millar, to feel any very strong indignation on this occasion.
Bed time came, and Emma, feeling wretchedly depressed and miserable, could not refrain from the luxury of finishing the evening with a good fit of crying, which relieved her heart, and soothed her to sleep.
Early the next morning Elizabeth went to Emma's room, and began to express to her how very much she was pleased with George Millar, his sister, his children, his house, his farm, and all that belonged to him. Then she declared that, of all situations she had ever seen, she thought she should like the neighbourhood of Croydon for a home,—and, indeed, she should not object to live in the town altogether.
Emma listened and acquiesced in it all; she had not recovered her spirits—and though trying to enter into her sister's hopes and wishes, she could hardly summon energy sufficient to do so.
The morning passed much as usual until post time, when Emma received an answer to her note to Miss Osborne, and Robert at the same time was favored with a letter from Tom Musgrove. The four ladies were in the drawing-room, and Emma was looking over the dispatch from Miss Osborne, when her brother entered and communicated to them all the contents of Tom's letter. It was short and decisive.
"Dear Sir,
"The receipt of your letter of yesterday surprised me a good deal. I am extremely sorry that there should have been any misunderstanding of the sort; but I am sure your amiable sister will at once admit that my attentions to her have always been limited within the bounds of friendship, such as our long acquaintance justifies, and such as I have paid to twenty other young ladies before her eyes. With kind compliments to the ladies of your family, I have the honor to remain,
"Dear Sir,
"Yours faithfully, &c. &c."