The collection was really a very good one, and Emma was delighted. Miss Osborne looked at two or three, then sauntered about the room—looked out of the window—and, at length, returning to her companions, said:
"I have just recollected an engagement, for which I must leave you—I will be back as soon as I can; but don't hurry, and don't wait for me. You may be quite comfortable here, nobody will disturb you."
She then left them to another protracted tête-à-tête; a particularly pleasant circumstance to Mr. Howard, who found an increasing charm in Emma's conversation.
When tired of walking about and straining their eyes upwards, they sat down on a comfortable sofa in a recess, where they could at once enjoy the view of a beautiful landscape, and converse comfortably.
"You surely must have been used to look at good paintings," said Mr. Howard, "It is a taste that requires as much cultivation as any other art. You evidently know how to look at a picture, and how to appreciate its merit."
"I do not pretend to be a connoisseur, I assure you," said Emma.
"There is no occasion that you should—you have an eye and a taste, which, lead your judgment right, and I can perceive that you are well acquainted with the styles as well as the names of great artists."
"I almost suspect you of quizzing me," replied Emma, blushing, "have I been saying or affecting more than you think I felt."
"You are unjust to us both in such an idea," cried he, "I should not take such a liberty; and you are in no danger of tempting me."
"My kind uncle was extremely fond of the art," said Emma, "and he took me to every good collection and exhibition within our reach. He likewise took great pains to form and correct my taste; so that I ought rather to blush at knowing so little, than receive compliments on the subject."