Emma had often wondered that she had heard no more from Lady Fanny Allston. She knew she had been ill, but did not apprehend that her illness was of so serious a nature as necessarily to cause this long delay. But she was at length surprised one day by receiving from her ladyship's housekeeper an abrupt and rather uncivil note, completely breaking off the negotiation. There was something in the tone of the announcement which hurt her exceedingly, and she was in a very uncomfortable frame of mind when she walked out that afternoon with Janetta, for she had lately resumed this custom. She took her little charge into some meadows to look for primroses and violets on the sunny banks, and whilst the child was busy plucking all she could find, Emma herself sat down on the stump of a tree to try and discover the meaning of this communication. She had nothing, however, to guide her conjectures; there was no clue in the note, and she was forced to remain satisfied with the conclusion that her ladyship was capricious and had changed her mind.

Whilst occupied in considering this subject, she was startled by footsteps, and she looked up with a sort of fearful expectation that she should see Mr. Morgan; it was not however the doctor who presented himself, but Mr. Bridge, the clergyman, whom she had formerly met at the Millars'. He took off his hat with a very respectful bow, and addressed her with an air of politeness and courtesy which pleased her exceedingly. After a slight remark on the bright day and the beauty of the scenery, he passed on a few steps, and Emma supposed he was going to leave her; suddenly however he seemed to change his mind, and surprised her by returning to her side. He enquired if she was intending to sit there long, as he feared it must be damp and unsafe.

"I do not perceive any damp, sir," replied she; "and it is so pleasant I am unwilling to think it can be dangerous."

"That is not a rule," he replied smiling a little, and then gravely shaking his head; "many things extremely agreeable are invisibly surrounded with risks and dangers. It is a common-place remark I acknowledge, but one which is as constantly forgotten, as it is frequently enforced. Young people like yourself are particularly apt to slight it—but if you would bear with an old man—"

He paused and regarded her with a look of interest, which she noticed, and finding he hesitated, she ventured to say with warmth and earnestness,

"Pray go on, sir; if you think me in need of caution, I will listen with the attention and reverence which is every way your due."

"I have been interested for you, my dear young lady, not only by your own sweet and ingenuous countenance, your misfortunes and your unprotected situation, but by the representations of my young friend Annie Millar, and I feel that whilst you reside under my pastoral care, I should not be doing my duty were I not to exert myself to save you from inconveniences which you may perhaps be very innocently entailing on yourself."

Emma coloured and felt quite astonished at this address, the purport of which she could not guess, but after a moment's hesitation, she begged Mr. Bridge to proceed without ceremony; if he had any censure to bestow on her, she would listen and feel obliged.

"It is not censure, it is only a caution I wish to give you—I mean with regard to your intimacy with Mr. Morgan: you probably do not know his character, nor is it necessary that you should learn minute particulars; I am sure it will be enough for you to hear that he is not a safe companion for a young woman of your age and appearance."

"I think you must be under some misapprehension," replied Emma surprised; "there is nothing between us which can warrant the appellation of intimacy. He visits my sister-in-law, and as her visitor only I have known him."

"I had hoped," replied Mr. Bridge gravely, "to have met with more candour from you; I am under a very great mistake, if you have not on several occasions met him when walking only with that little girl, and allowed him to walk with you for a long time. Is it not so?"

"That is perfectly true—but the meetings were quite accidental," said Emma.

"So far as you were concerned, I can believe it; but the world will only know that you were seen walking tÊte-À-tÊte with a man of known bad principles and immoral conduct; and more than that, he has been found with you in the drawing-room alone, and you have passed many hours in his company when visiting in other houses."

"I was not aware," said Emma, perfectly astonished at the charge; "that my actions could have thus been the subject of comment and inspection; but what you say, though perfectly true in itself, is capable of a very different interpretation—will you listen to my defence?"

"Certainly, my dear child," replied he, pleased at the frank and respectful manner with which she addressed him.

"I met Mr. Morgan at Mr. Millar's, and there I saw him received into the society of respectable women—he visited at my sister-in-law's house, and was, evidently, in her confidence; he proposed to her to procure me a situation as governess to Lady Fanny Allston's little girl, and my brother perfectly approved of the negotiation. It was the interest he took in this plan, which produced the appearance of intimacy which you reprobate; it was to discuss this subject, that he joined me in my walks; but, as I did not like the appearance of clandestine intercourse, I mentioned the occurrence to my brother and sister-in-law; and to avoid him, I refused, for some time, to walk out without some other companion than my niece. Latterly, I have seen less of him; and it is a fortnight or more since we last met out walking. Had I known him to be a man of bad principles, as you say he is, I would never have allowed him to interfere in my affairs—but how could I suspect that, when I found Mrs. Watson treated him with perfect confidence?—and he was evidently courted and caressed by nearly all the women of my acquaintance in Croydon."

"Those who know him best, have most reason to say it is unsafe for you to associate with him; they know of what he is capable, and are most shocked, of course, at your breach of conventional etiquette. I am sorry to say that you are right in your assertion that he is courted and caressed by women in general. In spite of his character, his manners make him popular, and many weak-minded women encourage him in conduct which flatters their vanity, by demonstrating admiration for their mental and personal charms. But those who act thus, are severe judges of others. But tell me, are you really going to Lady Fanny Allston's on his recommendation?"

"No—her ladyship has suddenly—and not very civilly—broken off the negotiation."

"I am glad of it, my dear; it would have been very undesirable that you should go there, throwing yourself completely in the way of that man; it must have been his object. Poor girl; any thing would be better than that."

Emma was silent and thoughtful.

"If you have any resolution and strength of mind," continued he, "I advise you by every means, to shun the neighbourhood of this dangerous man. The struggle may be painful, but depend upon it, it will be less so by far, than the consequences of indulging in your predilection for him."

"I do not think that the danger you apprehend for me, really exists," replied Emma, looking up suddenly.

He shook his head.

"The young are always confident," said he, "but, if you build your hopes on any degree of affection, which Morgan may have manifested, believe me you are building on a quicksand, and you will as surely find yourself deceived as his other victims!"

"You quite misunderstand me," replied Emma, very earnestly; "I would not dare to boast myself more infallible than other young women, but I do not think I shall be put to the proof. I never had an idea, for a moment, that Mr. Morgan entertained towards me any other than such friendly feelings as you do yourself. It seemed to me very kind in him to interest himself for an orphan—but it was a kindness which his age appeared to warrant. For, though not quite so old as yourself, sir, he is old enough to be my father; and I fancied it was with something of a paternal feeling that he regarded me. As to my own sentiments towards him, I certainly felt grateful at first—but latterly, there has been, I own, once or twice, a something in his manner which made me suspicious of his principles, and induced me to shun private intercourse with him. Do I speak in a way to convince you of candour, or do you mistrust my confession, and doubt my word?"

"I think I will venture to trust you—but I must still repeat my warning—take care of yourself, and do not allow him to hurt your reputation. You have enemies in Croydon, my dear."

"I, sir! how is that possible?—and yet, Mr. Morgan hinted the same to me!"

"There, for once, he spoke truth, whatever may have been his motive. But you are watched—whether from simple curiosity, malice or envy, your movements have been traced, and are spitefully commented on. It was in that way, that I heard of your walks with him; and meeting you here, I could not resist warning you. I rather wonder we have seen nothing of him, for I saw him following me as I took this path; perhaps he is waiting till I leave you."

"Would it be too much trouble for you to see me safe home?" said Emma anxiously, "I should be so very much obliged if you would."

Mr. Bridge readily assented; and calling Janetta, they turned towards the town.

At one of the stiles they met the individual in question; he had, apparently, been watching them; but though, perhaps, disappointed at the result of their conference, he came forward with a bow and a smile, the most insinuating, to hand Emma over it. Mr. Bridge observed gaily, that he feared he was grown too old for gallantry, and he must not wonder if such agreeable offices were taken out of his hands by men younger and more alert. The hand which Mr. Morgan held, he seemed unwilling to relinquish, but drew it under his arm with an appearance of considering it his right to support and guide her. At another time she might hardly have noticed this, but with Mr. Bridge's warnings ringing in her ears, she could not permit it to continue. Resolutely she drew away her hand and turned towards the stile to enquire whether the elder gentleman required any assistance. Mr. Morgan fixed his piercing eyes on her with an enquiring look, as if to demand why his attentions were thus repulsed; but he could not catch her eye, and he was forced to content himself with walking quietly by her side.

"I want particularly to speak to you, Miss Watson," said he presently in a low tone, as if wishing to avoid her companion's notice.

"I am quite at liberty to listen to you," replied Emma turning towards him.

"It is on your own affairs," said he as if hesitating, and glancing towards Mr. Bridge; "I do not know how far it might be pleasant for you to have a third person made conversant with them."

"If it relates to the business with Lady Fanny," answered Emma aloud, "I have just been talking the matter over with Mr. Bridge, and he can therefore quite enter into the subject now."

"It does relate to that affair, and I am sorry—exceedingly sorry—that I should be the means of occasioning you any disappointment, but I fear your hopes—I might say our hopes in that quarter are all overthrown."

"I am aware of that, Mr. Morgan," said Emma calmly; "I received a note to that effect this morning, and your intelligence therefore is no shock to me; I feel much obliged for the zeal you have shown in my favour, but on the whole I am as well satisfied that things should be as they are."

"Satisfied!" cried he looking at her. "You cannot really mean that! the loss of such a prospect may be nothing to you, but the reason—that is the evil."

"I had no reason assigned me," replied Emma, "and only concluded that her ladyship had changed her mind, which of course she had full right to do."

Mr. Morgan looked at her with an air as if he would penetrate her brain.

"I am so sorry," said he presently, "so very sorry that I have been the means of leading you into this very unpleasant situation. But for me you would never have met this repulse: I am vexed indeed!"

"Do not take it so much to heart," replied Emma more gaily than she felt, "for after all it is only what any young woman in my situation might expect—a few repulses will serve to teach me humility."

"Aye, if you needed the lesson; but the reason is so very—"

He stopped abruptly.

"What is the reason?" asked Emma. "I told you I knew of none."

"If you really do not, you had better not force me to say it; though you cannot for a moment imagine that I believe there is a word of truth in Lady Fanny's assertion—she must have been so completely misinformed."

"I really should be obliged to you to be explicit," replied Emma earnestly; "you admit that you know the reasons—I must insist on knowing them likewise."

"I am unwilling to pain you, my dear Miss Emma."

"Then you should not have alluded to them at all; you cannot wonder if I now consider myself entitled to learn what these mysterious reasons are."

He drew out his pocket-book and took thence a note, which he placed in her hand, saying,

"If it offends or affronts you, do not blame me for it."

Emma opened and read a short note from Lady Fanny to Mr. Morgan, stating that having heard various very discreditable reports concerning the young person he had named to her, she must beg to decline all further intercourse with her. Emma's cheeks glowed as she read the lines in question; but she said not a word. Quietly she re-folded the note and returned it to Mr. Morgan. He was eagerly watching her, and as he took it from her hand, he detained her fingers one moment, and stooping whispered,

"You cannot think how grieved I am thus to pain you."

"It is quite as well that I should know it," she replied very calmly; and then a silence of some minutes ensued. They had reached the garden gate before any one spoke again: she turned to Mr. Bridge before entering, and whilst holding out her hand to him, said in a low voice, "I am very much obliged to you; may I have a little further conversation with you another day?"

"Certainly, whenever you wish; when can I see you?"

"I should like to see you alone," she replied.

"Then I will manage it—depend on me to-morrow."

He then warmly shook hands, patted Janetta's shoulder and walked off, concluding that Mr. Morgan would do so too. But here he was mistaken, that gentleman having no intention of retiring so quickly. He had opened the gate for Emma and stood leaning against it, till she turned and prepared to pass, but then he laid his hand on her arm, and whilst closing the gate upon them both, attempted to draw her a little on one side where a thick screen of filberts concealed them from the house.

"Come here, my dear girl," said he in a tone of familiarity which affronted Emma; "I thought that old humbug was never going to leave us: it's too bad to be beset in that way."

"Have you anything to say to me, Mr. Morgan?" replied Emma in a freezing tone; "because I must beg, if you have no particular reason, that you will not detain me here."

"I beg your pardon—I quite forgot," returned he in a very different tone; "I am taking a liberty which nothing but my interest in you can excuse." He then withdrew his hand from her arm, but still stood in her path. "The fact is, my indignation at the slanderous tongues of our neighbours made me quite forget everything else; do you know the meaning of that note I showed you—the nature of the reports and their originator?"

"I know simply what I read there," returned Emma, "and unless the subject is one of immediate importance, I must decline to discuss now and here the cause of Lady Fanny's determination."

"Well, perhaps you are right, but I hardly expected that my warnings to you the other night would so soon be realised; they have not scrupled to make mischief of our meeting when out walking, and the report has reached Lady Fanny's ears."

"If that is the case, Mr. Morgan," replied Emma, her face flushing with indignation, and her voice almost uncontrollably trembling from emotion, "if you know that to be the case, I wonder that kindness, courtesy, nay, the common feelings of a gentleman, do not prompt you to avoid giving countenance to such reports, by forcing yourself on my privacy, and intruding even here on my home. I command you to let me pass this instant, and I desire that I may not again be disturbed by a similar encounter."

He did not dare dispute her command for a moment, as she stood with her slight and graceful figure drawn up, and her speaking face turned on him in indignation; he drew aside, and with a very low bow allowed her to pass, and follow Janetta, who had trotted up towards the house. He looked after her in an attitude of despair, but it was lost on Emma, who never turned her head, or cast one relenting glance behind, but walked straight into the house. In fact she felt very angry, and her anger increased the more she thought of what had passed: it seemed to her as if he sought to place her in equivocal situations, and rather wished that she might compromise her reputation. Compared with the kindness of Mr. Bridge, his professed friendship and zeal appeared hollow and unsatisfactory; and now that she found she had another friend, she looked her difficulties more firmly in the face, and determined not to endeavour to escape from one set of evils by risking another. Still, when she thought of the words of Mr. Bridge, so sadly corroborated by Mr. Morgan himself, she could not help a sigh and a shudder.

She wished to ask his advice as to what she had better do, but at the same time she tried to form an opinion for herself, and questioned her own mind as to what was her duty on this occasion. To avoid all intercourse with Mr. Morgan, and let the slanders die a natural death from want of food to sustain them, appeared to her the safest course, and she hoped Mr. Bridge would agree with her. She would gladly have left the place had it been possible, but just at present there seemed no chance of an escape. When the time of her promised visit to Osborne Castle arrived, what a happiness it would be! She lay awake many hours that night thinking over all the difficulties in her path, and planning how she could surmount them. One idea weighed most strongly in her mind; it was, would Mr. Howard be at all likely to hear any report concerning her, and would he believe it if he did. She wished she could imagine he would hear of her at all; only from Miss Osborne had she received any news of his proceedings, and she feared that their intercourse was brought to an end for ever. How she might have viewed Mr. Morgan and his attentions but for her previous acquaintance with Mr. Howard, she could not tell, but she mentally compared the two men now, not a little to the disadvantage of the former; and she felt persuaded that she could never care for another, unless she were to meet with one who possessed all the good qualities of Mr. Howard, and was better acquainted with his own mind. For, totally in the dark as to the reason why Mr. Howard had suddenly withdrawn his attentions, and recollecting well the many little signs which had escaped him of a more than ordinary interest, she only concluded that he had, on further acquaintance, found her different from what he wished, and that he had changed his mind and views accordingly. She little knew that at this time he was suffering from a constant, unceasing regret, and dwelling on their past intercourse as the most precious and delightful period of his life.

It was with a heavy head, and a heavier heart, that she went through her daily routine the next morning, hearing Janetta her alphabet, setting her sewing, and reading to her; she had great difficulty in getting through with it, and could hardly fix her thoughts for five minutes on the business on which she was employed. In the course of the morning, Janetta was sent for to the drawing-room, and returned in about ten minutes radiant with joy. Emma, who had lain down on the bed for a few minutes, and was just closing her weary eyes in a doze, was suddenly roused by the news that Mr. Bridge had come to ask Janetta to go to see his garden, and that he was now waiting for them to accompany him home.

Mindful of his promise, he had called on Mrs. Watson, and after observing that he had met her little girl gathering flowers, he begged she might come and see some of the beautiful violets and anemonies in his garden. Mrs. Watson, delighted at the civility to herself, which she discovered in any attention to her child, assented most readily, and Emma had now to rouse herself as well as she could to accompany her young charge.

She felt so totally unequal to any exertion, that even her sense of the kindness manifested by Mr. Bridge, and the interest he shewed in her, was hardly sufficient to produce the energy requisite for the occasion. Her languid movements, and the heavy eyelids immediately caught the attention of the kind old man; but sensible how little sympathy her sufferings would probably excite in the mind of her selfish sister-in-law, he made no comment until they were not only out of the house, but safely hidden amidst the picturesque shrubberies which enclosed the parsonage. Then kindly taking her hand and looking half-smiling, half-sadly in her face, he said:

"I am afraid, poor girl, you have been fretting about what you learnt yesterday, and that you feel it more deeply than you expected to do."

"I have been thinking a great deal about it, I allow," replied Emma, "and more about what Mr. Morgan said yesterday after you left me. But surely you cannot be surprised at my dejection, when you consider the various difficulties which present themselves in my path."

"I cannot help a small suspicion," replied he, with a sort of cunning little smile, but which he speedily checked, "that you feel some regret about Mr. Morgan himself."

"No, you do me injustice; but on such a subject, professions are perfectly useless, and I shall not attempt to make them. To break off my intercourse with him will cost me nothing; but what does really depress and annoy me, is the terrible idea than any slanderous reports should have been circulated concerning that intercourse. He told me the story had reached Lady Fanny Allston, and that it was for that reason she had so abruptly concluded all negotiation with me."

"Very likely; her ladyship is the greatest gossip in existence, and has a regular supply of the town news and scandal, extracted from the butcher and baker, by her own maid, for her own private amusement."

"But if the story has travelled so far, how much farther may it not spread—I shall lose my character altogether, and with it all chance of earning an independent livelihood, and what will become of me?"

Her lip quivered, tears burst from her eyes, and her whole frame was visibly agitated, to such a degree, that Mr. Bridge feared a fit of hysterics would ensue. Emma, however, made a determined effort to conquer her emotion, and after two or three minutes, succeeded so far as to resume an air of calmness, though it was some time before she could speak again.

"My dear girl," said the clergyman, compassionately, "you must not give way to despondency—remember from whence your trials come, and you will become calmer and stronger in the contemplation. You do not seem to me at all to blame in what has passed, and whilst your conscience is clear, you need never despair that your path will be made clear likewise."

"It is not only the present difficulty which weighs on my mind at this moment," replied Emma, trying to speak calmly; "but there are times when all I have lost comes back to my memory, and seems quite to overpower me. My earliest friends lost to me, and with them the happy home where I had enjoyed every indulgence, and every pleasure that affection could procure. Then just as I began to accustom myself to my new home, and learnt to value the affection and society of my only parent, that likewise is torn from me, and whilst I am deprived of parent and fortune, and become dependent on my own exertions, I find myself robbed, I know not how, even of my good name, and my prospects blighted in the most mysterious manner. It seems in vain to struggle against such a complication of evils; what can I expect but to sink into contempt and disgrace?"

"I admit the greatness of the losses you have sustained," said he; "I cannot deny that it may be hard to bear; but you have still some blessings left for which you may be thankful. You possess a healthy constitution, a sound intellect, and a conscience unoppressed by a sense of guilt. You might have lost your heart, as well as your fortune, and that you tell me is not the case."

Emma looked down, and tried to appear quite careless and unconcerned; but she could not feel quite convinced that she did enjoy the degree of heart's ease, which Mr. Bridge seemed to imagine. An image of Mr. Howard flitted across her mind, and she felt that whilst enumerating her peculiar afflictions, she had omitted one which pressed almost as deeply as any. She blushed deeply, and could not raise her eyes; he watched her countenance, and then added, presently—

"What do you mean to do now—have you formed any plan?"

"None at all," replied she; "I feel I cannot—my head is all in confusion, and I can hardly think connectedly."

She pressed her hand on her forehead as she spoke; he saw she was looking extremely ill, and feared her mind was over excited.

"My first wish," she continued, "the first object of my life would be to get away from Croydon, to see no more of those who slander me, or him who causes the slander to circulate. But this I cannot do; whilst I have no other refuge, and whilst Margaret's marriage is approaching, I suppose I must not go. But if I could but leave them all, and have a little peace and quiet—it is sometimes more than I can bear; the perpetual worry, and the incessant anxiety to please without success—and those thoughts that will come back in spite of all that I can do—thoughts of regret for past happiness, and hopeless pining for what I may never see again."

"And you are quite sincere in wishing to leave Croydon, and go where you will see no more of Mr. Morgan? is it no momentary pique that influences you, no hope of being followed, no expectation of producing some great effect by your disappearance."

"I wish I could convince you, Mr. Bridge, that whatever the world of Croydon may impute to me, whatever it may choose to say for me, Mr. Morgan was never an object of any peculiar interest in my eyes, and since they have associated our names to my discredit, he is become positively disagreeable. To shun him altogether is, just now, my first wish."

"Then, perhaps, I may help you there; I will, at least, try—your desolate situation interests me deeply—poor girl—you look terribly worn and flushed—go home, and lie down to rest; try and compose your mind, and hope for better things. But above all, my child, endeavour to subdue a repining spirit, and remember that there is One above, who is the Father of the fatherless, and who has promised never to forsake those who call upon Him faithfully!"