Railroads of Indiana
Railroads of Indiana
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Railroads Of Indiana
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Railroads Of Indiana
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"Oh yes, of course—was it not hard I could not go too? I am
always thwarted and ill-used."
"I wish your sister Emma would come down; she is always shut up
in your father's room; I called here on purpose to see her."
"I dare say she will come presently—do sit down here; I am sure
you ought to rest yourself; you seem to have had a very dirty ride."
"You could not go and call her, I suppose?"
"Oh no, she will come when she has done reading to my father.
Do take something—a biscuit and a glass of wine, or something of
that kind."
"Quite unnecessary, I have but just breakfasted. I do not keep
such gothic hours as some of my friends do. I am able to please
myself—a free and independent man."
"No doubt a happy one. Ah, Mr. Musgrove, you are most
fortunate. You cannot tell the misery, the low spirits, the—the—in
short all we poor helpless women suffer from, how much heart-
breaking sorrow we endure in silence—bitterness of heart of which
the world knows nothing."
Tom only whistled again in reply to this very pathetic address,
then turning round began to examine the ornaments on the
chimney-piece. Even Margaret could not quite blind herself to the
change in his manner since the period when her smiles seemed the
object he most coveted.
Presently he began again.
"Whilst your sisters were at Howard's did they see much of the
Osbornes?"
Before Margaret had time to give an account of the visit to the
Castle, Elizabeth entered the room.
"So I understand, Miss Watson, you have been playing the truant,
and been obliged to be brought back almost by force."
"And are you come to congratulate or condole with me on our
return?"
"I am come to wish you joy about being overwhelmed in the
snow. I little thought when I was last at Osborne Castle we were
such near neighbours."
"When were you there?" cried Elizabeth.
"Let me see—I think it was Thursday. I am there very often, but I
think Thursday was the last day. How droll it would have been had
we met."
"Emma," cried Miss Watson, as her youngest sister just then
entered the room, "Mr. Musgrove says he was at the Castle on
Thursday."
"Oh," said Emma.
"I wonder we did not hear of it," pursued Elizabeth. "Miss Osborne
never mentioned it."
"How do you like Miss Osborne," enquired Tom, who wanted to
appear perfectly well informed as to what had passed, and was,
therefore, ashamed of asking questions which might betray his real
ignorance.
"She seems a very pleasant, amiable young lady," replied
Elizabeth, "don't you think so, Emma."
"Yes," replied she, quietly.
"Did she know you were friends of mine, Miss Watson? Miss
Emma, did she not talk about me?"
"No, indeed," replied Emma, with much satisfaction; "we never
heard your name mentioned the whole time we were in company
with her."
"How did you hear we had been there," enquired Elizabeth.
"I think Osborne mentioned it on Saturday, when I saw him for a
minute," then seating himself by Emma, who was a little apart from
the others, he whispered; "He told me the beautiful, but obdurate
Miss Watson had been at Howard's parsonage. Why do you treat him
with such scorn, Miss Emma? You will drive my poor friend to
despair."
"I should be sorry to think that I merited your accusation, Mr.
Musgrove: scorn cannot be a becoming quality in a young lady."
"Nay, there can be nothing unbecoming which you can do; youth
and beauty have unlimited privileges," whispered he again. "Miss
Osborne vows you eclipse Miss Carr in beauty, and she would rather
have you for a friend. She is dying to be introduced to you."
"It is quite unnecessary to inflict such a death upon her even in
imagination, Mr. Musgrove—for our acquaintance has progressed too
far for that phrase to be at all applicable to it."
"Yes now, I dare say; Osborne told me, but I forget, you went
over the castle I think."
"No, we did not."
"You did not! that was unlucky; I wish I had known you were
going, I would have been there, and I could have suggested it to
Miss Osborne; I dare say she would have shewn you all the rooms."
"She offered to do so, but we put it off till another time; we
thought we should be too hurried."
"It's a pity you did not dine there; its something quite grand to
see all the plate—I quite enjoy it—they give such good dinners."
"You do not seem aware that we did dine there," replied Emma,
"and, as I had seen other large establishments before, I saw nothing
so very astonishing at their table."
"You did dine there—yes—but that was in a family way; the thing
is to see a regular great dinner—twenty people sitting down—that is
what I like."
"I am not fond of large dinner parties; unless one has a very
pleasant neighbour they are apt to be dull."
"Very much so—very much so indeed; I quite agree with you, a
little, quiet, social dinner—where one person can talk and the others
listen, that is pleasant. You get every thing hot and quickly—that's
the thing!"
Emma did not feel called on to answer, and presently he added:
"I should like to have you for a neighbour at such a dinner."
Emma was still obdurately silent, and Mr. Musgrove, to
recompense himself, turned to Elizabeth, and began to talk to her.
As soon as her attention was released Emma left the room, and
throwing on a bonnet and cloak, determined to take refuge in the
garden as the day was fine, and she longed for fresh air. Hardly had
she quitted the entrance, however, when her attention was attracted
by the sound of wheels in the lane, and looking up her cheek
crimsoned with pleasure at perceiving Mr. Howard.
The pleasure was certainly mutual, judging from the alacrity with
which he sprang from the carriage to meet and address her. There
was no mistaking the look and air with which he advanced, it was
the genuine expression of a cordial welcome, met with equal though
more bashful cordiality on her side.
He was come, of course, to redeem his promise of fetching back
his sister's property; she would have come also, but she had a cold
which confined her to the house. But he had another object in his
visit—he was the bearer of an invitation to herself and sisters to
attend a concert at the Castle, which was to take place in the
afternoon, and to be followed by a ball in the evening. Miss Osborne
hoped they would excuse her mother's not having called on them;
she scarcely ever paid visits, never in the winter, or she would have
accompanied her daughter to the Vicarage when they were there.
Emma read the note which was addressed to herself, and felt very
much pleased. It contained, besides the invitation to the ball for
herself and sisters, a most pressing request that she would pay a
lengthened visit at the Castle; over this she pondered long, and then
ended with coming to no conclusion, suddenly remembering that she
was detaining Mr. Howard out of doors, when she ought to have
allowed him to enter the house.
"You will find Mr. Tom Musgrove sitting with my sisters," continued
she; "but if you will be so kind as not to mention the contents of the
note before him, you would greatly oblige me."
"Could I not see Mr. Watson?" replied Mr. Howard; "I wish to call
on him, and perhaps when my visit to him is over your sisters will be
disengaged."
"Certainly; I am sure my father would have great pleasure in
seeing you," said Emma much gratified; "allow me to show you the
way."
She ushered him accordingly to her father's dressing-room, and
having witnessed the very cordial reception which Mr. Watson
offered him, she was about to withdraw, but her father stopped her.
"I am sure you can have nothing particular to do, Emma, so you
may just as well stay and talk to Mr. Howard—I like very much to
hear you, but you know I am not strong enough to converse myself."
"I am sure, my dear father, nobody talks half so well when you are
equal to it, but indeed you must not fancy yourself unwell, or you
will frighten Mr. Howard away."
"When Mr. Howard has reached my age, my dear, and felt half the
pain that I do, from gout and dyspepsia, he will be very glad to set
his daughter to talk for him, my dear; so I beg you will stay."
"I wish I enjoyed the prospect of realizing your picture, my dear
sir; a daughter exactly like Miss Emma Watson would be indeed a
treasure."
"But remember it is to be purchased at the expense of gout, and
you must not look for it these thirty years, Mr. Howard," said Emma
laughing. "When the sacrifice is complete you will talk in a very
different strain."
Mr. Howard looked very incredulous, but said nothing more on that
subject.
Emma then mentioned the note she had received; her father
began to murmur.
"The Osbornes will all turn all your heads with their balls and their
visits, child," said he pettishly. "I wish you had never known them."
Emma looked down.
"I am sure I do not wish to go, if you dislike it," said she, in a
voice which rather trembled.
It was evident to Mr. Howard that she did wish it very much.
Mr. Watson began again.
"What am I to do if you are going away for two or three days? You
are but just come home as it is—I cannot do without you."
"Then I, at all events, can stay with you," replied Emma cheerfully,
"and my sisters can do as they please."
Annoyed at the gentleman's selfishness, Mr. Howard felt inclined
to interpose, but doubted whether he should not do more harm than
good.
Emma knew better, or acted more wisely in not contradicting him,
for like many irritable people, the moment he found himself
unopposed, he began to relent, and said in a more placid voice,
"What's the invitation, read it again, Emma, I am not quite clear
about it."
Emma complied.
"Well, I do not know; she does not want you all to stay over the
ball—and as Elizabeth will be at home, perhaps I could spare you for
a day or two."
"Elizabeth would like to go to the ball too, papa."
"Yes, yes, but then she and Margaret would come home at night,
and I should not be all day alone. I think you might go—you must
have a post-chaise and a pair of horses to take you, I suppose, and
bring your sisters back again. Would you like it, my dear?"
"Very much, sir, if it does not disturb you."
Like it indeed—the words served but coldly to express the
pleasure with which her heart beat at the idea. It was so very kind
of Miss Osborne to think of her in that way, and it was so very
pleasant to see how much consequence Mr. Howard attached to her
acceptance of the offer. She had not dared to look quite at him; but
the first glance she had ventured on, showed in his face an
expression of deep interest, not to be mistaken, and now looking up,
she met his eyes fixed on her with a look which immediately sunk
hers again to the ground, and seemed to call all the blood from her
heart to her cheeks.
"I am sure," cried he, speaking hurriedly to relieve her
embarrassment, "Miss Osborne would have been exceedingly
disappointed had you settled otherwise. I can venture to assert, sir,
that Miss Osborne is very fond of your daughter, and extremely
anxious to cultivate her acquaintance."
"I dare say, I dare say, why should she not; but I hope Emma
does not flatter her to win her good will."
"I hope not, sir," said Emma, "I should despise myself if I did."
"It is impossible that it should be necessary," cried Mr. Howard.
"Miss Osborne is not to be propitiated by flattery, and it would
require, on Miss Emma's part, nothing beyond her natural manners
to produce a wish to carry on the acquaintance."
"I suppose Miss Osborne desired you to make civil speeches for
her," said Mr. Watson, laughing.
"No, I do it of my own free will, my dear sir."
Mr. Howard's visit was long and lively; Mr. Watson was evidently
cheered by it, and pressed him to renew it.
"I am afraid I ask what is not agreeable," continued he; "I dare
say I am dull and unpleasant; but if you knew what a treat it is to
me to see cheerful faces, you would not wonder at my selfish wish.
You, Mr. Howard, and Emma do me good."
There was something very pleasant to Emma's ears in hearing her
name thus connected with Mr. Howard's; and it was not unwelcome
to the young man either, who warmly pressed her father's hand, and
promised readily to come as often as he could.
"And mind, Emma, when he does come, you bring him to me,"
said her father; "it is not every young man that I care to see. Your
Tom Musgroves, and such young dandies, are not at all to my mind;
but a young man who listens to what his elders say, and does not
flout and jeer at them, but shows a proper respect to age and
experience, that's what I like. I shall be happy to see you, Mr.
Howard, whenever you can come."
After renewing his promise to be a regular and frequent visitor, Mr.
Howard was conducted by Emma to the parlour, from whence they
found Tom Musgrove had departed. Her two sisters looked up as if
surprised to see Emma and her companion; but their pleasure much
exceeded their surprise, when they learnt the nature of the embassy
with which he was charged. Margaret especially, who had formed
most exalted ideas of the nature and felicity of a visit to the castle,
was at first in a perfect rapture. She was certain that the whole
affair would be in the most superlative style of excellence; that Miss
Osborne must be a lady of first rate taste and talent; that the
company would be select in an extraordinary degree, and in short
that she should never have known what grandeur, beauty, elegance,
and taste meant, but for Lady Osborne's invitation to the concert
and ball. She determined to do her best to make her court to the
whole family of Osbornes, and had great hopes of becoming an
especial favorite with them all. It was not till after Mr. Howard's
departure, which took place after a visit of about ten minutes, that a
cloud came over her bright vision. She then learnt the sad fact that
Emma was invited to remain at the castle, but that she herself was
to return home.
This discovery made her very angry; she could comprehend no
reason for such a marked preference; why should Miss Osborne
invite Emma who was the youngest, and exclude herself; it really
surpassed her comprehension; it was most extraordinary; she had a
great mind not to go at all; she would let Miss Osborne see that she
was not to be treated with neglect; she was not a person to come
and go at any one's bidding; if Miss Osborne could ask Emma, why
not herself too; she surely had as much claim to attention. Then she
turned to Emma and required her to promise that she would not
accept the invitation. But Emma said she had done so already. She
had written a note which Mr. Howard had charge of; and she was
not to be induced to retract. Margaret grew quite angry, accusing
her of being mean-spirited and servile, fawning on Miss Osborne,
and winning her favor only by her base concessions; she said
everything which an irritated and jealous temper could suggest, and
tormented Emma into tears at her crossness and ill-will.
"I wonder you mind her, Emma," remonstrated Elizabeth, when
she discovered that her sister's eyes were red, and wrung from her
an acknowledgment of the cause. Elizabeth had not been present
when the discussion which pained Emma so much, had taken place.
"It's not the least use fretting about Margaret's ill-temper and
teazing ways—she always was a plague and a torment from a child,
and there's no chance of her being any better. She is so abominably
selfish. But I cannot bear her to make you cry."
"I dare say you think me very foolish," replied Emma, wiping her
eyes, "but I have never been used to be crossly spoken to, and it
quite upsets me."
"No, I don't think you foolish, Emma; you are only much too good
and tender for this situation. I shall be glad when you are married
and safe with Mr. Howard, and nobody to scold you or make you
spoil your beauty by crying."
"Nonsense, Elizabeth."
"It's not nonsense, Emma, I believe he is very good-natured, and I
dare say you will be very happy with him. How long were you tête-à-
tête, with him, before you brought him into the parlour?"
"We came from my father's room then."
"Oh, you need not apologise; I think you were quite right to have
a comfortable chat with him, before bringing him into Margaret's
company. It is but little conversation you can have when she is by. I
saw you with him in the garden."
Emma blushed.
"I assure you we did not stay there five minutes; he came to call
on my father, and we went to him immediately."
Elizabeth only answered by a look; but it was a look which shewed
that she was not in the least convinced by Emma's assertions, but
only wondered that she should think them necessary.
END OF VOL. I.
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