To return to the party at the parsonage, whom we left discussing the point, Elizabeth suddenly turned to her sister and exclaimed,

"By the bye Emma, you have given no opinion on the subject—yet you are as much interested as the rest of us. What do you think of going—should you like it?"

"Yes, I think I should," replied Emma honestly and boldly. "I like what I have seen of Miss Osborne better than I expected, and really have rather a curiosity to see the inside of the Castle."

"Ah, Emma, I am glad you have come down from your proud indifference, and condescended to be curious like the rest of us," cried her sister.

"Did you think I affected indifference, Elizabeth?"

"I suspected it. For my part I have no scruple in owning my wishes, and should like extremely to surprise Tom Musgrove by my acquaintance with the manners, amusements and ideas prevalent in Osborne Castle, of which he talks so much."

"Then I may conclude it a settled affair," observed Mrs. Willis; "and Charles shall run up to the Castle with the note immediately. That shall be his share of the amusement."

At six o'clock the party started from the Parsonage. Elizabeth in a flutter between curiosity and fear, which made her pleasure in the undertaking rather doubtful to herself. Emma would have thought more about it had she not been engrossed with meditations on the change in Mr. Howard's manners, which rather perplexed her. He had been different all the afternoon from what he had appeared in the morning; his prolonged absence from their company seemed unaccordant with Charles's declaration of his haste to join them, and there was a coldness in his tone when he addressed her, quite at variance with his former warmth and frankness. This pained her; she was constantly fancying that she had done or said something to lessen herself in his esteem, but she could not imagine what it was. Occupied with these thoughts she scarcely noticed the grandeur of the Hall, the magnificent staircase, the elegance of the ante-rooms as they approached, and was only roused from her reverie by the overpowering blaze of light in the drawing-room. Lady Osborne was alone in the room, seated on a sofa from which she did not rise to receive them, but graciously extended her thin and richly jewelled hand to Mrs. Willis, and bowed courteously to her companions.

Overawed by her near approach to such magnificence, Elizabeth drew back rather hastily, and after nearly upsetting Emma by inadvertently treading on her toe, she dropped into the chair which seemed most out of sight, and endeavoured to recover her breath and composure.

Lady Osborne desired the other ladies to find seats, and then observing that Mr. Howard likewise drew back, and seemed to meditate a retreat to one of the windows, she dropped the elegant screen she had been holding in her hand. It was not well managed, however; Mrs. Willis was so near that she restored her ladyship's screen before her brother had time to interfere. But Lady Osborne was not to be baffled, she addressed a few civil words to Mrs. Willis, and then suddenly observed,

"You have no footstool Mrs. Willis, take mine—I daresay Mr. Howard will bring me another."

Thus appealed to the gentleman was forced to approach, and immediately with eager civility was offered a seat on the sofa by herself.

Emma meantime was contemplating their hostess with some interest, and more wonder. Lady Osborne had been a celebrated beauty, and her dress showed that she had by no means given up all pretensions to her former claims. Jewels and flowers were mingled in her hair which was still remarkably abundant; her neck and shoulders were a good deal uncovered, her arms and hands were heavily hung with ornaments, and she smoothed down her rich dress with a hand which though thin was still white and delicate-looking. There was something in her manner to Mr. Howard which particularly struck Emma—a sort of consciousness and wish to attract and engage him, that seemed very much at variance with her age and station. Not that she was an old woman—Emma had learned from "The Peerage" that she was not more than forty-five, and she looked less. But she was the mother of a grown-up son and daughter, and the widow of a peer; and a grave and gentle deportment, stately but serene, would have seemed more becoming in Emma's eyes, and given her a higher idea of her character. She had not however very long to make these observations as Miss Osborne's entrance gave her another subject for her thoughts. This young lady presented a remarkable contrast to her mother, from the studied plainness of her dress. She was entirely without ornament, except some beautiful flowers, and had evidently sought in her toilette to assimilate her appearance as nearly as was suitable to what she knew her guests must present. She took a seat between the two strangers, and entered readily into conversation with Emma; but before many sentences had been exchanged, their party was completed by the appearance of Miss Carr at one door, as the young master of the house entered at another.

He paid his compliments to them all by a short bow, and a muttered, "Glad to see you," then walked towards his mother's sofa, and stationed himself by the end of it, nearest Emma, where leaning against the elbow, he could resume his apparently favorite amusement of staring at her face. Miss Carr, meanwhile, had approached the fender, and stood fluttering over the fire for some minutes, then advancing nearer to Lady Osborne, addressed to her some trifling question, which diverted her attention from Mr. Howard, to his evident relief. He immediately rose, and resigned his seat in her favor. Lady Osborne looked displeased, but to that Miss Carr was indifferent, she had secured a position at Lord Osborne's elbow, which was her own object, and broken short her lady hostess's attempts at flirtation with the clergyman which she knew would please her friend.

Her position, however advantageous, was not long tenable: the summons to dinner was given before she had time to utter more than one remark to Lord Osborne, cutting off his answer, which, short as he usually made his replies, there was now no opportunity to utter. Lady Osborne rose in great state, and giving her hand to Mr. Howard, proceeded to the dining room, through a long range of ante-rooms, where large glasses were so arranged as to exhibit before her, her stately figure, and glance back the lustre of her diamond ornaments. As Elizabeth and Emma followed Miss Osborne and her friend, they could not help wondering at the self-admiration which made it agreeable thus to see nothing but self.

"How dingy we look compared to her ladyship and Miss Carr," whispered Elizabeth to her sister. "I really feel quite ashamed of myself."

"I trust I shall be a little sheltered from her son's eyes," rejoined Emma, in a similar tone, "his stare is quite overpowering; why does he not, sometimes, look at you."

"Thank you, I do not wish it—gracious—six footmen—what can they all find to do in waiting," this ejaculation was uttered almost inaudibly—they having reached the dining-room, where Elizabeth was too much awed to speak.

Lady Osborne did not sit at the head of her own table, and her two young visitors were seated on either hand of Miss Osborne on the opposite side of her ladyship. Immediately that she perceived how they were about to be arranged, Emma contrived to seat herself as far as possible from their host, and by that means became the neighbour of Mr. Howard. She fancied he perceived the object of her manoeuvres, for a sort of half smile passed over his face, and he looked either amused or pleased, she could not tell which. He did not address her, however, and as Miss Osborne turned to converse with Elizabeth she sat for some time silent. But as dinner advanced, just as her ladyship was detailing to Mrs. Willis some events in the village which required superintendence, and whilst Miss Carr was making a lively attack on Lord Osborne—about his absence of mind during the dinner, Mr. Howard enquired whether her curiosity was gratified. Pleasure that he should once more resume a tone of friendship, brought a lively colour to her cheeks, and so sweet a smile to her lips, that he must have been very insensible to admiration of beauty, had he been able to resist the attraction. He continued the conversation as long as Lady Osborne's narrative served as a screen to them, and though, when that drew to a close, he found himself compelled to transfer his attention to their hostess, the impressions left by his look and tone were so very pleasing, as quite to rescue the dinner from a charge of stupidity which Emma had previously been meditating to bring against it. It was lucky that she had this little diversion, for otherwise her share of amusement would have been small. There was not a great deal said at dinner, and of that little comparatively a small portion fell to her lot.

It was over however at last, and when they had reached the drawing-room to which they were ushered, in almost as much form as they left it, though their conductor was now only the groom of the chambers, Emma hoped she might find some little relief from insipidity: nor was she disappointed; whilst Lady Osborne was sipping coffee, and prosing to Mrs. Willis, her daughter drew her younger guests into a smaller room, which she assured them was her own particular domain; here establishing themselves comfortably round the ample fire, they fell into a lively and pleasant chat, such as any three girls might be expected to do; presently they were joined by Miss Carr.

"Your lady-mother," said she, "is so deep in village politics with Mrs. Willis, that I am sure I must be de trop there, and I have, therefore, absconded here."

She seated herself as she spoke in the chimney corner on a low ottoman, and spreading out her hands to the fire; she said—

"Don't let me stop you unless you were talking of me, Miss Emma Watson, it is your turn—what do you think?"

"Think of what?" enquired Emma, rather startled by the keen eyes fixed on her—it seemed always her fate to be stared at unmercifully.

"Think, oh, of anything—of Mr. Howard for instance—what do you think of him?"

"That he carves very well," returned Emma laughing.

"Well, that is something—a good quality in the master of a house; I commend it seriously to your attention."

"I should think the gentlemen would not sit very long," observed Miss Osborne, "and when they come we must all adjourn to the drawing-room, for mama will wish to sit down to cards. I hope you can play cards."

Her visitors assented, Elizabeth asserting that she was very fond of them.

"And you, Miss Emma Watson," cried Miss Carr, "do you not delight in cards—you answer with a degree of coldness that speaks rather of indifference on the subject."

"I can play if necessary," replied Emma, "but there are many occupations I prefer."

"But you shall not be obliged to make martyrs of yourselves," said Miss Osborne good-humouredly. "If you prefer it you shall sit here, either or both of you, but we do not play high."

Nothing remarkable occurred during the rest of the evening; a dull, leaden state seemed to pervade everything, and both the Miss Watsons felt an inclination to yawn, which they dared not indulge in so august a presence. They were very glad when the time for taking leave arrived, and the enlivening bustle of putting on cloaks and fur boots quite aroused them. Lord Osborne looked on whilst Mr. Howard was wrapping up Emma, with a degree of attention which held out fair hopes of his soon learning such a lesson by heart.

"I shall come down and see you to-morrow," said he.

"It seems warmer to-night," observed Emma, "don't you think we are going to have a thaw? perhaps we may get home to-morrow."

"I hope you are not weary of us," said Mr. Howard, in a cordial voice; "if the weather does not change till we wish it, we shall keep you prisoner some days yet."

"Thank you," said she—she wanted to say something more but did not know exactly what, and they reached the carriage before she had made up her mind.

The bright fire which was burning in the comfortable little drawing room at the parsonage, irresistably invited them to enter and draw round it, before separating for the night. Their drive had dispelled their sleepiness, and they were all four in good spirits: it was just the time, the situation, when reserve seems naturally cast aside, and friendly chat and the merry laugh go round unrestrained.

"Well, Miss Watson," said Mrs. Willis, "is your curiosity gratified? how do you like the Castle? are you envious of their state?"

"No, I think not," answered Elizabeth reflectingly, "there are some things I should like, but much that would be troublesome. I dare say Lady Osborne has no worry about housekeeping, but then I should feel the responsibility of having so many dependent on me."

"And what part would you chose of her ladyship's manner of living?" asked Mr. Howard, "her jewels perhaps—or her six footmen?"

"Neither," replied Elizabeth, laughing a little; "I am used to wait on myself, and should feel it a great restraint to be obliged to wait whilst others waited on me. I could not help thinking of what my father used to say, when Lady Osborne's maid was so long bringing her ladyship a shawl. 'If you want to be served, send—if you want to be well served, go.' That was his motto—and though he never acted on it himself, I think I do—and would rather run up three pair of stairs myself, than wait whilst another does it."

"I admire the activity and independence of your spirit, Miss Watson," replied Mr. Howard; "but you have not yet told me what it is you do envy."

"No, and I do not mean to do it," replied she; "be satisfied with your own conjectures."

"I must if you will say no more. And you, Miss Emma, how were you pleased with your evening?"

"Very much—I have come back much wiser than I went; I have made up my mind that the more elevated the situation the less pleasant it would be unless one had been brought up to it."

"Then you would not change places with Lady Osborne?" said he, fixing a pair of very penetrating eyes on her. As she had noticed Lord Osborne's looks without the remotest idea of his meaning anything but to put her out of countenance, and formed no airy speculations as to the possibility of succeeding to the dominion at the Castle, she attached no peculiar meaning to his question.

"I think the supposition hardly a reasonable one," was her answer; "could you suppose I should wish to exchange with a woman old enough to be my mother—give up five and twenty years of life to be a wealthy middle-aged dowager in claret-coloured satin and diamonds."

Mr. Howard smiled.

"Remember," continued Emma as if retracting, "I mean no disparagement to your friend, who I have no doubt may be a very excellent and amiable woman, but I was speaking merely as she appeared to me to-day."

"There have been young Lady Osbornes," said he almost in a whisper, and as if rather doubtful whether or not to speak the words.

"I suppose so," replied Emma coolly, without the smallest embarrassment, but with a slight shade of reserve in her manner. She never allowed jesting on the topic of matrimony. He saw it immediately.

"Then what do you think you require to make you happy?" said he, to escape from the other subject.

"A very comprehensive question—I should like to know whether you expect a serious answer," replied she gaily.

"A true one, if you please."

"To be with those I love, and have money in my purse—I think that is sufficient: no—I think I should like a house too—"

"Very reasonable and moderate."

"But preserve me from the slavery of living en grande dame; I was not brought up to it—and nothing but habit could make such bonds sit light and gracefully."

"I believe you are right, and you must certainly be wise."

He looked at her with unmistakable admiration; she could not meet his eye, but coloured and fixed hers on the fender. In spite of her embarrassment, however, she felt a real pleasure in the friendly tone he had assumed, and hoped sincerely that the morning would not see him cold and formal again.

"Emma," said Elizabeth after they had retired for the night, "I am certain that Lord Osborne admires you very much."

Emma only smiled in reply.

"What do you think about it?" continued Miss Watson.

"That I wish he would find some pleasanter way of testifying his admiration," said Emma. "I do not know whether he is the only man who ever admired me, but he is certainly the only one who ever looked at me so much."

"Oh, we must not expect everything arranged just to our taste," replied Elizabeth; "and whilst you enjoy so much of his attention, you must not complain if he is not the most sprightly of admirers—the honour itself should suffice you. His rank is higher, if his wit is not brighter than Mr. Howard's."

"To mention them in the same breath!" cried Emma; "they are the antipodes of each other—as different in sense as in rank—what a pity their position cannot be reversed!"

"Oh, then your objection to being Lady Osborne is not after all to the rank but the man," cried Elizabeth, "and you are less philosophic than you pretended to be. But if Mr. Howard had been a peer, perhaps you would never have known him."

"Very likely not," said Emma calmly, "but I do not see what that has to do with it."

"Now don't pretend to be so very innocent and simple-minded, Emma; you know, as well as I do, that the two men are both in love with you, and you, ambitious monkey, not content with things as they are, and choosing between worth and rank, wish to have every advantage combined in one, for your own special acceptance."

"How can you talk such nonsense, Elizabeth?" said Emma coloring.

"I deny the accusation stoutly; it is you who are unreasonable, whilst I am talking in the most matter-of-fact way imaginable."

Emma was silent, and after waiting a minute, her sister began again:

"I wonder what Tom Musgrove will say when he hears we have dined at the Castle?"

"Some nonsense I dare say," replied Emma; "I believe his boastings were at the bottom of your curiosity to go there; you wished to surprise him."

"Yes I think I did—but was it like what you expected? it was all so grand and formal that I felt quite uncomfortable. I am glad to have been, and still more glad that I have come away."

"It was not the first time I have been in a large house," said Emma, "and I was not surprised at anything I saw; except that Lady Osborne should take the trouble of wearing so many jewels, and dress in so very juvenile a style."

"Were you not jealous, Emma? Did you not notice how she flirted with Mr. Howard?"

"For shame, Elizabeth, to say such things of our hostess."

"Nay, indeed it is only truth—I think he had much better marry her. I dare say she has a good jointure, and she may not be very disagreeable to him perhaps! what would you say to that?"

"That he must be a very different Mr. Howard from what I fancy him, if he can be induced to marry for the sake of a jointure," replied Emma firmly.

"But perhaps he is in love with her," persisted Miss Watson.

"That alters the case," said Emma who did not believe anything of the kind.

"I rather think he must be," continued her sister, "he looked so much pleased at her calling him to the sofa. Or I will tell you another idea that struck me, perhaps he is attached to Miss Osborne, and pays his court to her mother to gain her good word."

"My dear Elizabeth," cried Emma rather impatiently, "you have within the last five minutes, concluded Mr. Howard in love with three different people. Some of your conjectures cannot be right, but they may all be wrong—pray leave off guessing, since you cannot arrive at any conclusion."

"I like Miss Osborne," said Elizabeth, after a moment's pause.

"So do I," replied her sister.

"Better than Miss Carr," continued Miss Watson, "I have a little fear of Miss Carr; but, Emma, I wonder how my father and Margaret get on, I am afraid he will find it very dull; she does not like backgammon or reading out loud—and this snow will prevent his getting the newspaper, or seeing any one to amuse him."

"Yes, I am afraid so," sighed Emma, "it is very pleasant here, but I wish we were home again."

"I wish home were like this," continued Miss Watson, "as airy and cheerful, and elegant-looking—what a nice room this is—we have not such a room in our house—and I am sure our furniture never looks so well, take what care I can of it. You had better take this for your own room when you are Mrs. Howard."

"I really wish you would not talk in that way, Elizabeth," remonstrated Emma, "it can do no good, and it will make me feel very uncomfortable."

"I beg your pardon, I will try not," said her sister laughing.

Long after her sister was asleep, Emma herself was thinking over the events of the morning, and recalling to memory every tone and word and look of Mr. Howard. She weighed them all, and tried to comprehend the cause of the changes which seemed to her rather sudden. She could hardly suppose it a caprice—she did not think him guilty of that—but why vary so completely.

She wished to be liked by him; she was pleased with the society both of himself and his sister, and he feared if she did not approve of her manners, or disliked her conversation, his sister likewise would draw back from the friendship which seemed to have begun so prosperously, and she should lose the pleasantest acquaintance she had found since returning to her father's house.