He was right. Wrapt in a furred mantle which might almost have defied the cold of a Siberian winter, Miss Osborne made her entry, on purpose to call on Miss Emma Watson, as she declared immediately. Emma observed her with some curiosity. She was a small, young woman, with lively manners, a quick, dark eye, and good humoured expression. Quite pretty enough, considering her birth, to be called beautiful, though had she been without the advantages of rank, fashion and dress—had she, in fact, been a Miss Watson, and not a Miss Osborne, she would not, probably, have been noticed a second time. She was extremely courteous and agreeable in her manners, chatting with volubility and animation, as if it was a relief to her to escape from the state apartments of her mother's house, to the unrestrained warmth and good-nature of the parsonage.
"Where's your brother to-day, Mrs. Willis," said she presently, "has he run away from me; does he fancy we are charged with lectures for his desertion of our drawing-room last night. He need not be afraid. I think he was very excusable."
"He was here just now. I do not think his conscience seems very uneasy—he is probably engaged in some business at present—I will let him know you are here."
"Oh no, pray don't disturb him; I have too much regard for his credit, and the good of his parishioners. What should I say if my intrusion broke in on an argument, or put to flight a beautiful figure of speech. How could I answer for such mischief. Let him write his sermon in peace."
Mrs. Willis assented. Probably Miss Osborne did not expect she would, for she presently added:
"I don't know, however, but that on the whole you had better summon him, because then he can give us his opinion on the proposal that I am charged to make, being nothing less than that you should all come and dine at the Castle this evening."
It would not be easy for words to convey an accurate idea of the look and feelings of Elizabeth Watson on hearing this proposal. To say she was astonished, is to tell but a small part of her sensations. The idea that she should have lived to see the day which brought about such an invitation was so perfectly overwhelming, that she seemed to herself until that moment never to have been surprised before. But to accept it was impossible: she felt an instantaneous conviction that it must be refused; for besides not knowing how to conduct herself under such circumstances, she had no dress to go in. Their visit to the parsonage having been entirely unpremeditated, it followed, of course, that there had been no preparations made; their best dresses, inferior as they were to what the visitors at Osborne Castle might be expected to produce, were reposing in quietness in Elizabeth's wardrobe.
Miss Osborne's proposal was followed by a short, hesitating silence amongst those to whom it was addressed.
"Perhaps," cried she perceiving this, "you will like a moment's consideration. I do not wish to hurry for an answer. Pray deliberate on the case, Mrs. Willis, but if you can, persuade your friends to conclude their deliberations in our favour."
"I am afraid," said Elizabeth, urged by the desperate nature of her feelings to some immediate exertion, "I am afraid we cannot have the pleasure—do ourselves the honor I believe I ought to say—but indeed we were not prepared—we have no dress at all suitable for the occasion"—she stopped, afraid that she might have done wrong in exposing the real state of the case.