She looked up with an air of consciousness on his approach, which encouraged him to advance, and draw a seat by her side. He tried to take her hand, but the attempt was made with so much hesitation and awkwardness that she was not even sure whether he intended it; no repulse was requisite, the simple not encouraging it was enough to prevent so daring an act of gallantry. In fact, he had lost the courage which on the previous night had distinguished him; the warmth and animation were gone—he was again himself, labouring under rather more than his usual awkwardness of manner, and quite overpowered by his various sensations. To have expressed all his feelings would have been impossible even for an eloquent man—his love was so mingled with jealousy, his hope with doubt, and his satisfaction with regret.
He sat looking at her for some minutes in silence, which Emma thought particularly disagreeable, until at length she concluded that he expected her to commence the conversation, and looking up with as steady a voice as she could command, she enquired whether he had received any further intelligence from Wales.
"No!" he replied, abruptly, but the question roused him to exertion, and he added,
"You cannot imagine, however much I may think of the unlucky event, that I came here to talk about that to you. I am come to ask, to entreat, to claim an answer to my question last night: for every man has a right to an answer to such a question!"
He paused, and she tried to speak; it was at first with difficulty she could utter a syllable: but her courage rose as she proceeded, and she was able to finish with firmness.
"Lord Osborne, I cannot deny your claim to an answer, but I regret that I should be under the necessity of paining you by that answer; I cannot accept the offer you have made me, but I shall always remember your good opinion, and liberality of sentiment, with gratitude."
"I did not ask for gratitude," replied he reproachfully, "what good will that do me? Besides I do not see that I deserve it."
"You have judged me kindly, my lord; you have given me credit for rectitude, nay you have exerted yourself to prove it, when others might have thought and acted very differently."
"Yes; I dare say—some who did not know you as well, might have judged you harshly, but Emma, dear, beautiful Emma, I knew you could not be wrong. I have loved you so dearly, and I never loved any woman before, it is very hard you will not like me in return."
"I cannot, my lord," said she, her eyes filling with tears, "I have no love to bestow on any one, my heart is—" she stopped abruptly.