"I dare say you created a great sensation in Croydon, did you not?"
"Not that I am aware of, my lord; I never wished to be conspicuous, and I trust, I did not do any thing whilst there, to excite observation amongst my acquaintance."
"You must have done one thing, which you could not help, at any time," replied he, in a very low voice, as if ashamed of himself. "You must have looked pretty; they must all have noticed that."
Emma met Lady Gordon's eyes fixed on her at this moment with an expression which it was impossible to misunderstand; it spoke so plainly of anxiety and mistrust. It did no good, however, for it only made her uncomfortable, and was totally unnoticed by him. He never was an adept at understanding looks—and, at this moment, all his senses were engrossed by his attention to Emma.
Not knowing precisely what to say next, he began to admire her work, a constant resource with young men who are anxious to talk, and rather barren of subjects; but this did not endure very long, and when he could find nothing more to say on this topic, he suddenly started a brilliant idea by enquiring if the ladies did not intend to go out. Emma appealed to Lady Gordon, who declared at first, she was too lazy to stir; but her brother pressed his proposition so very warmly, alternately suggesting riding, driving, or walking, that at last she yielded the point, and consented to allow him to drive them out.
Then followed a long discussion as to the vehicle to be chosen, which terminated in favour of an Irish car—a very favorite mode of conveyance of Lady Gordon's, and one which was by no means disagreeable to him, as he would be quite able to talk to Emma as much as he felt inclined.
The drive which they proposed to take was a very pretty one—through a country partaking of the nature of a forest—and Emma was at first, highly delighted with it. But an accident, which occurred when near the conclusion of their expedition, materially diminished the pleasure of the whole party. In stepping from the seat, in order to ascend a small eminence which commanded a beautiful view, Emma placed her foot on a rolling pebble, which giving way under her, twisted her ankle so severely as to incapacitate her entirely from walking, and occasion her very considerable pain. The concern of her friends on the occasion, was proportionate to their regard for her, and quite in character with their different dispositions. Lady Gordon expressed her sorrow in words—her brother confined his chiefly to looks. They returned home immediately; and Emma was, with the assistance of Sir William, who joined them at the castle porch, conveyed into the mansion and carried up-stairs. It was very painful at first, and she told her friend she could not join their party in the evening; but Lady Gordon expressed so much regret at this, that Emma consented to make an effort, as there was no necessity for ascending or descending stairs, their usual sitting room being on the same floor with her apartments.
Accordingly she spent the evening on a couch near to which Lord Osborne stationed himself, in order to enjoy a good view of her face. It was evident that his love for her had not made him more lively, or more talkative, and to judge from his manners that evening, he had not made much progress in politeness. He allowed all the little offices of civility to be performed by Sir William, never offering to hand her a cup of coffee, nor seeing when it was empty, and requiring removal; never noticing when her reel of silk dropped on the ground, or discovering if her embroidery frame was raised at the proper angle. His total neglect of all this, together with the little conversation he ever attempted to carry on, and the general reserve of his manner, entirely prevented Emma from entertaining the idea, that he was her serious admirer. Had she really supposed it, her manners might have been different, but as it was, she felt as much at ease with him, as with his brother-in-law, and treated him with equal frankness.
She never had thought him particularly agreeable, and it did not enter her head that he would wish to make himself so, for otherwise, he would probably have behaved very differently; at least so she concluded, when she contrasted his manner with that of some others of her acquaintance.
The sprain of her ankle occasioned her great pain all the evening, as Sir William guessed from the paleness of her cheeks, and the shade round her mouth at times; but she did all she could to conceal it, and chatted with him and Lady Gordon as long as they remained together.