Very different was the evening her sisters had been passing. Robert was engaged in his office—Margaret engrossed with a new romance that morning procured—and Jane, being tired, and having nothing to amuse her, was more than usually cross to Emma; finding fault with the manner in which she had performed some needle-work, and going on from that to a general charge of indifference, indolence, and constant inattention.

Emma sighed, and could not help throwing back a mournful thought to passed times, when she had felt herself the pet of her dear uncle, and the idol of a whole household; or later, when she had flattered herself with the notion that she was the first object with Mr. Howard. It seemed now, quite like recalling a dream, when she looked back to those happy days; so suddenly, and entirely, had the scene been changed. Then she began to wonder when she should hear from Miss Osborne—and what she would say—how she would bear the idea of being called into a court of justice; whether her family would not be angry at it—and what the result would be. Would Tom Musgrove yield or not?—or would Robert persist in his determination; and in these silent meditations the evening passed heavily away. She was glad when Elizabeth came home; her entrance brought some little diversion to their scene, as she had something new to tell; and Jane, though rather inclined to resent any one having so much enjoyment without her, was too well satisfied with the union which she anticipated between Elizabeth and Mr. Millar, to feel any very strong indignation on this occasion.

Bed time came, and Emma, feeling wretchedly depressed and miserable, could not refrain from the luxury of finishing the evening with a good fit of crying, which relieved her heart, and soothed her to sleep.

Early the next morning Elizabeth went to Emma's room, and began to express to her how very much she was pleased with George Millar, his sister, his children, his house, his farm, and all that belonged to him. Then she declared that, of all situations she had ever seen, she thought she should like the neighbourhood of Croydon for a home,—and, indeed, she should not object to live in the town altogether.

Emma listened and acquiesced in it all; she had not recovered her spirits—and though trying to enter into her sister's hopes and wishes, she could hardly summon energy sufficient to do so.

The morning passed much as usual until post time, when Emma received an answer to her note to Miss Osborne, and Robert at the same time was favored with a letter from Tom Musgrove. The four ladies were in the drawing-room, and Emma was looking over the dispatch from Miss Osborne, when her brother entered and communicated to them all the contents of Tom's letter. It was short and decisive.

"Dear Sir,

"The receipt of your letter of yesterday surprised me a good deal. I am extremely sorry that there should have been any misunderstanding of the sort; but I am sure your amiable sister will at once admit that my attentions to her have always been limited within the bounds of friendship, such as our long acquaintance justifies, and such as I have paid to twenty other young ladies before her eyes. With kind compliments to the ladies of your family, I have the honor to remain,

"Dear Sir,

"Yours faithfully, &c. &c."

Margaret thought it incumbent on her immediately to go off in a fit of hysterics on hearing this read, sobbing out between whiles, that he was a cruel, cruel man, and she never meant to care more about him.

"Do have done with that confounded noise," said Robert impatiently, "for there's no getting a word of sense from a woman when she's in that state, and heaven knows it's little enough one can reasonably expect at any time."

Margaret's sobs did not cease at this gentle request, and Robert grew more angry.

"By Jove, Margaret, if you don't stop, I'll leave you to make the best of your own matters, and neither meddle nor make any more in it."

Afraid that he might really keep his word, she ceased at last, and he then enquired what Emma had heard from Miss Osborne. Emma read the passage in which Miss Osborne replied to her assurance that Margaret still considered Mr. Musgrove engaged to her; it merely thanked her for the information, stated that she would warn her friend, and wished Miss Margaret a happy termination to her engagement. The rest of the letter was about subjects quite unconnected with Tom Musgrove, and uninteresting to any one but Emma. Miss Osborne mentioned one thing which gave her peculiar pleasure; her marriage with Sir William was to take place after Easter, and they were going down to spend the spring and summer months at Osborne Castle, which her brother had lent to them, whilst Sir William Gordon was determining on the plan and elevation of a new mansion, which he intended to build on his property. Miss Osborne earnestly hoped that Emma would once more visit there, and declared she quite looked forward with impatience to a future meeting.

She did not wish to read this aloud, as she shrunk from the appearance of boasting about her grand acquaintance, but neither Jane nor Margaret would allow her to rest in peace until she had made known the principal contents of her letter; and a sentence containing the information that they had seen Mr. Howard, who had spent a few days in town lately, was the only information she eventually kept to herself.

Margaret's curiosity having materially aided in restoring her composure, she was soon able to enquire of her brother what he intended to do. He repeated all he had formerly asserted, and Emma heard it with horror; she escaped from in the room to consider what she had better do, and after much thought, decided on writing at once to Miss Osborne, informing her of what was threatened. She sat down and wrote accordingly:

"Dear Miss Osborne,

"I hope you will not consider me in any way to blame, if the information I have to communicate is disagreeable to you. I am sorry to say that Mr. Musgrove has been so unprincipled as entirely to deny the engagement, which we know subsisted between him and my sister; and what grieves me still more is, that my brother, convinced that there actually was an engagement, declares he will bring an action against Mr. Musgrove, unless he immediately fulfils it. The idea that we shall have to appear in a court of justice, frightens me very much, and I thought it right to give you early notice of his intention that you might not be taken by surprise. My brother is so fixed in his resolution, that I cannot see the smallest probability of an escape for us, unless Mr. Musgrove can be persuaded to act up to his promise. I know Lord Osborne has great influence with him, and for the sake of your family, and his own character and respectability, he might perhaps be persuaded by him to do so; but with a man of such a character, my sister's chance of happiness would be small, and I cannot wish for their marriage, even to save myself from what I so greatly dread. I feel I am wrong and selfish in shrinking from an exertion which I suppose is my duty, and perhaps after all, when there are so many troubles in life, one difficulty more or less ought not to disturb me so much. I am truly rejoiced at your bright prospects, and shall indeed have great pleasure at any time you name, in witnessing your domestic happiness; I assure you that your kind invitation has given me more pleasure than anything I have lately experienced.

"Believe me, dear Miss Osborne,

"Very truly yours, &c. &c."

We must follow this letter to London, and describe the effect which it produced on the parties concerned, and the results which arose from it. Miss Osborne was sitting in the breakfast-room in Portman Square when it was brought to her. Sir William Gordon was beside her on the sofa, assisting at her late breakfast, in the English sense of the word, and playfully telling her that he never meant to wait so long for his, when he was settled at home. As she looked at the address.

"Here is a letter," she observed, "from that charming Emma Watson with whom you were pleased to carry on such a flirtation just before you proposed to me."

"I flirt with Emma Watson," exclaimed he, "I deny it entirely—I never flirted with any girl in my life."

"What have you forgotten it all—did you not take a walk with her in the park—a sketch in a cottage—and a drive in a cart? do you mean to deny all that?"

"By no means, I only deny entirely all flirtation whatever—what time—what spirits—what inclination could I have to flirt with her, when I was doing hard service to win your most intractable and hard-hearted self."

"Not so very hard-hearted, I think, Sir William," said she, blushing.

"Stern enough to drive an ordinary man to despair, Rosa," replied he, looking admiringly at her; "and had I not been as obstinate as yourself, we never should have been sitting as we now are."

"Well, you may as well let my hand alone, I think, for I want the use of it to open my letter," and accordingly the young lady broke the seal, as soon as she could get possession of her hand.

"Let me look over you," said he, leaning forward with his cheek close to hers.

She repulsed him, and placed herself in the corner of the sofa, where he was forced to be satisfied with watching her face. He saw her cheek glow, and her eye flash, whilst her brow contracted with repressed indignation, and she seemed on the point of tearing the letter in two. She did not, however, but dropped her hands in her lap, and sat for a minute looking upwards earnestly, as if trying to recall some past event, then frowned again. Her lover extended his hand towards her, and exclaimed—

"My dear Rosa, what is the matter, your looks quite frighten me—do let me see this letter."

"Take it," said she, "and see what intolerable impertinence is threatened me."

He read it attentively, then said—

"I am quite bewildered—completely mystified—what have you got to do with all this—and what does it mean?"

"Ah, you may well be astonished," she replied; "don't you see what is threatened? imagine me, a peer's daughter, dragged into the Assize Court as a witness in an action between Margaret Watson and Thomas Musgrove, for a breach of promise of marriage. Can you realise the scene? It would be novel and interesting, I think."

"Extremely so, and I do not see why you should mind it: you will, of course, be treated with all proper respect and consideration, and justice must be done. Don't make yourself unhappy about that."

"You are joking, Sir William; and I shall be angry presently."

"No, don't pray; I should not like that—but tell me how you happened to become the confidante of this charming Margaret; I did not know your friendship extended to the whole family."

"Neither does it—it is only Emma I care for," replied she; and she then proceeded to explain to Sir William all the circumstances attending their involuntary audience of Musgrove's courtship, and her reason for keeping it quiet.

"Caught listening, eh!" ejaculated Sir William; "I do not wonder that you shrink from being called on to avow it in public. What a pity that you did not start out and cry 'bo!' to them both; from all accounts they deserved it."

"That's all very well, and you may amuse yourself with laughing at me, if you like; but tell me how can I avoid this difficulty—must I appear in court?"

"Certainly, if you are subpoened to appear—there is no help for that."

"How coolly you treat it—why is it not you instead of me it has happened to?"

"Only because I was not one of the eavesdroppers."

"I assure you, Sir William, if you go on laughing at my distress, I will punish you for it."

"I am excessively sorry for your distress, my dear Rosa, but I must think it quite unfounded."

"Well, there's one thing certain, I warn you: if I have to appear in this business, we must defer our marriage; I could not appear as a bride and a witness during the same month."

Sir William started up from the cushion where he was lounging, and looking fixedly at her, exclaimed—

"You are not serious."

"Perfectly so, Sir William; and I see you are so now," replied Miss Osborne.

"Then you shall have no occasion to put your threat in execution," said he, with an air of determination; "let us talk the matter over seriously, Rosa."

"Ah, I am glad I have brought you to your senses, at last; now consider, if we could do as Emma advises, and persuade this Mr. Musgrove to marry, as he ought, there would be an end of all trouble in the affair."

"To you, perhaps, but not to Miss Margaret; I dare say her amiable husband would beat her every day."

"Now don't relax into your indifference again, and be provoking! Oh, here comes Osborne; let's explain the case to him, and see what he says on the subject."

Lord Osborne, at the moment, entered the room, and his sister tried to make him comprehend the facts that had occurred.

"I think," said he, after hearing her story, "that Musgrove has behaved very ill—very ill, indeed."

"No doubt of that, my dear brother," replied she; "but what do you think of this Mr. Watson's proposal?"

"Just what we might expect from a lawyer, that he would go to law; it's his business, Rosa," replied her brother.

"But it's not my business to be obliged to appear in public is a witness in this ridiculous matter. If he likes to make his sister's affaires de coeur the subject for conversation and coarse jokes through the county, it is all very well, but I cannot see why I am to be implicated in a transaction which reflects nothing but discredit on all the parties," said Miss Osborne, with encreasing dissatisfaction.

"Especially to those who are detected in listening, Rosa," suggested Sir William Gordon.

"And poor Emma too," continued she, pretending not to hear him, "she evidently dreads the threatened exposure; I am quite concerned about it for her."

"Naturally enough," said the lover, in the same tormenting tone; "it makes every one sorry to be found out."

"Really, Sir William Gordon," said Miss Osborne, drawing up her slight figure with an air of great indignation, "if you can suggest nothing that is more agreeable than such reflections, we shall be better without you; and I recommend you to leave us to take care of ourselves."

It was haughtily said—for her quick temper was roused; he knew her well, and did not mean that she should obtain a sovereign rule over him. He loved her for her spirit—but he was determined not to crouch to it—and rising, he made her a grave bow, and left the room. She looked after him anxiously, expecting he would return, or at least, give her one more glance, but he did not, and the door closed before she could make up her mind to speak again.

"What do you want me to do, Rosa?" said her brother, "I think it will be easy to prevent all this, if it plagues you and your friend so much; I will speak to Tom myself, and see if I cannot persuade him to keep his promise."

"Ah! do, if you can, Osborne; of course the girl wants to marry him; and if he will do that, we shall be left in peace. Poor Emma seems very unhappy—look at her letter."

Lord Osborne received it eagerly and read it through.

"Poor thing," said he, quite compassionately, "how soon, Rosa, may girls marry after their father's death?"

"Oh! that's a matter of taste! and I don't think it signifies in this matter at all. If we could only get Mr. Musgrove to acknowledge his engagement, he may take his own time for marrying."

Her brother was on the point of saying that he was not thinking of him, but he let it pass—and, after a moment's consideration, added:

"Then you think there would be no harm in engaging a girl, even if she could not marry immediately."

"Oh! I don't know, this engagement was formed before old Mr. Watson died, and that makes a difference. Perhaps, if people are very particular, they might not like to commence a courtship under such circumstances."

"Well, what can I do?"

"Find Mr. Musgrove—tiresome man that he is—and tell him that, as the fact of his engagement is known, and, consequently, he is as certain to have a verdict against him, as this Mr. Watson is determined to try for it, the only thing for him to do, to avoid such a result, is to act like a man of honor. If he refuses, and by that means draws me into any thing so repugnant to my feelings as appearing in a court, he can never expect to be noticed by us again; and if we set the example, every one will throw him off—he will be scouted in the neighbourhood, and can never dare to shew his face again at home. Tell him this, and if I do not greatly mistake the man he will yield."

"I will try what I can do, Rosa, but I wish Gordon had undertaken it—he has so many more words than I have?"

"And if you cannot succeed with him, we must have recourse to Mr. Watson, the attorney, and try what we can do to stop his proceedings," continued Rosa. "Perhaps a little bribery, judiciously applied, might induce him to relinquish his intention, and save any further trouble."

"We shall see about that," replied he, "but, in the meantime, I will look for Musgrove, and try my skill on him."

"Could you find Sir William, Osborne," said Rosa, blushing, "and tell him that I should like to speak to him—or no, perhaps, if you tell him only what you are going to do, it will be better."

"I heard him leave the house, Rosa," said Lord Osborne, quite innocently, "but, if I see him at the club, I will tell him what you say."

Miss Osborne bit her lip and made no reply; she did not like to shew the empire which Sir William had over her feelings—nor would she readily have acknowledged the anxiety she could not avoid entertaining with regard to his quitting her so gravely. She had discovered that he would not be played with and tormented for her amusement, and she dared not attempt to trifle with him as she might have done with a less resolute man. Her brother left her and she spent the rest of the morning alone, and very uneasy. She was in no humour to receive visitors, and was entirely disinclined for any occupation. She kept on telling herself it was not because Sir William was absent that she was dissatisfied, it was only because she herself was threatened with a disagreeable incident; then she fell into a train of wondering thought as to what Sir William intended to do, where he was gone, and whether he would soon return to Portman Square. Her heart beat every time she heard the knocker, though she knew his hand too well to be deceived in that. At length, a note was brought to her with an assurance that the bearer was waiting. It was in his handwriting, and she opened it with trepidation. The style surprised her.

"Sir William Gordon's compliments to Miss Osborne, and he has the happiness of informing her that affairs are placed on a satisfactory footing with regard to Mr. Musgrove; but, as Sir W., has undertaken to communicate the result of the interview to Miss Watson and her sister, he wishes to know whether Miss Osborne would recommend him to go in person to Croydon—and if so, whether she has any commands for him."

Rosa read the note over three times before she could make up her mind to the answer she should return. She felt it deeply; the tone, the meaning, all conveyed a sort of covert reproach to her. She was sorry and angry at the same moment; and she was quite undecided whether to yield to or resent his conduct. After much deliberation she hastily wrote:

"Miss Osborne's compliments to Sir William Gordon, and as she finds it impossible to give an opinion without understanding more of the circumstances, she begs he will favor her with a call this afternoon, to explain what arrangements he has made."

No sooner was this note despatched than she bitterly regretted having sent such a one, and felt she would have given anything in the world to recall it, when too late. She could think of nothing else, of course, and being quite indisposed for any amusement she refused to accompany her mother in the afternoon drive, but remained sitting alone in the drawing-room. Engrossed with her own thoughts, she did not hear him enter, and was not aware of his presence till he spoke, and gravely observed,

"I am here, Miss Osborne, according to your commands; may I request you will let me know your further wishes."

"You are still offended, Sir William," replied she, looking up at him; "I thought you would have recovered yourself by this time."

"I cannot so soon forget the repulse I received; and I presume you intended it to be remembered."

"Nay, now don't look like that, I cannot bear it, I was wrong;" said she extending her hand to him. "Forgive me and sit down."

Miss Osborne had not to say she was wrong twice over, nor to repeat the request for forgiveness. He was not tyrannical, though he could not submit to slavery, and a reconciliation was soon effected. When they were able to talk of anything besides themselves, he described to her his interview with Tom Musgrove. He had found him insolent and angry—disposed to resent Mr. Watson's threats as insulting, and Sir William's interference as uncalled-for. His tone, however, was considerably lowered when he ascertained for the first time that his conversation with Margaret had been overheard by two who were quite able to prove the fact. Sir William told him he was authorized by the family of one young lady—indeed as her affianced husband he considered himself bound to step forward and endeavour to prevent the necessity of her appearing as a witness in a public court: should she, in consequence of Mr. Musgrove's persevering in denying the truth, be compelled to perform so unpleasant a task, it would bring down on him the enmity of the noble family of which the lady was a member, and the universal contempt of the county; whereas, whilst affairs stood as they did at present, the fact of his inconstancy being known to so few, it was evident the whole business might be hushed up, and when he and Miss Watson were married, they might be certain of the countenance and favour of the family at Osborne Castle, and all their connexions.

Tom had hesitated much, and evidently deeply repented the unguarded conduct which had placed him in such an unpleasant predicament; and though he had yielded at last to a conviction of the necessity of the thing, it was with a reluctance which augured ill for the domestic felicity of the future Mrs. Musgrove. Indeed he had told Sir William, with an oath, that if she really compelled him to marry her, Margaret Watson should rue the day; so that upon the whole Sir William was of opinion that the young lady had much better not persist in her claim, if she had any value for a quiet home.

"I dare say he will not be worse than other men," replied Rosa saucily; "I have a notion that they are all tyrants to women at heart, only some wear a mask in courtship and some do not take that trouble. But they are all alike in the end, no doubt."

"Very possibly, Rosa; suppose you were to carry out your theory and change places with Miss Margaret."

"Thank you; your liberality is overpowering; but though they may be all alike in temper, they are so neither in person nor name—and in neither of these particulars does Mr. Musgrove please me."

It was then settled that Rosa should write to her friend and inform her how matters were going on—it being understood that Tom Musgrove was by the same post to assert his claim to Miss Margaret Watson's hand in a letter to her brother.