"Those belonged to Tom's mother," observed Margaret, rather contemptuously pushing aside the trinkets in question; "I believe the stones are rather good, and if they were only new set, I should like them very well, but they are monstrous old things now, set as they have been."
Before Emma had time to reply or to express any opinion at all on the subject of the trinkets, the door was violently thrown open, and with a sound which indicated that he was luxuriating in very easy slippers, Tom Musgrove entered the room.
"I say Margery, girl," he began in a loud voice, but stopped on seeing his sister-in-law. "Hey, Emma Watson! why I did not know you were here! By Jove! I am glad to see you."
He advanced towards her, and not satisfied with taking the hand which she extended to him, he saluted her on the cheek with considerable warmth, and detaining her hand, he stared her in the face with a look of admiration which was quite offensive to her.
"Upon my word, Emma, you are looking more lovely than ever, blooming and fresh. I need not ask how you are—those bright eyes and roses speak volumes. I am glad to see you, indeed I am."
"Thank you," said Emma, turning away her head and struggling to release the hand which he retained with a most decided grasp; "I am glad to see you and Margaret looking so well."
"Oh! Margery there—yes, I dare say, she is well enough—but, as for me, I am sure it must be something miraculous, if I am any thing remarkable in that way"—he glanced at his wife and shrugged his shoulders with an air that excited disgust, not pity, in Emma.
"And so you are come to enliven us, Emma,—that's monstrous good of you, 'pon my honor. I hope you are going to stay here some time."
"You are very kind," replied she, "but I am staying with Lady Gordon, and only came over here for a short visit to Margaret."
"So there, you see," cried Mrs. Musgrove, "my relations are as much noticed at the castle as you are; so you need not plume yourself so much on that head, Tom!"