Emma was not present when Lady Gordon made known her wishes on the subject of acting to her husband; but in the dusk of the evening, as she was sitting in the conservatory, she became aware, by a conversation she had with Sir William Gordon, that the request had been made. He came to her, and placing himself on a low stool at her feet, he began by telling her, in an under tone,

"I wish you had not put that idea into Rosa's head, Miss Watson, about acting: I don't like it at all."

"I am exceedingly sorry then," replied Emma; "but no doubt Lady Gordon will readily give it up if you wish it."

"I hate to contradict her," said the husband; "ever since she has taken to doing as I wish when I ask, I cannot bear to thwart her at all."

"You seem to regret her complaisance, Sir William; would you prefer having to reproach and quarrel with her?"

"I feel much more inclined to reproach and quarrel with you, Miss Watson. I begin to think you are a dangerous companion for my wife. Who would have expected such a wild scheme from you?"

"Really I hardly know what to say to your reproaches, because perhaps you may think I am trying to throw the blame from myself; but my idea and Lady Gordon's plans were so totally different, that they hardly seem as if they had the same origin. It was quite a vague notion on my part, suggested by the beauty of the forest scenery, and certainly neither comprehending company nor marquees, publicity nor expense."

"You do not suppose, my dear Miss Watson, that I meant seriously to blame you!" said Sir William half rising at her tone. "Rosa explained to me all about it in reality. But now she has set her heart upon the thing, I do not know what to do. She will never see any difficulties in the way of her wishes, and her enthusiasm is the most difficult thing in the world to resist. If she put herself in a passion about it, I should mind opposing her a great deal less. What do you recommend, Miss Watson?"

"Don't ask me," said Emma; "I should probably advise something wild and unheard of—such as either letting her have her own way, or putting a decided negative on the whole affair at once."

"I believe I must do that. It is so very unreasonable a plan; in this country picnics and fÊte-champÊtres for ladies and gentlemen are almost quite certain to end in rain, spoilt bonnets, wet feet, and bad colds; besides, I do not approve of her acting, or yours, or any lady's, and shall certainly not countenance it with my assistance. But Rosa did wish it so very much, I am sure I shall not have the courage to refuse her."

"You do injustice to your own strength of mind and firmness of purpose, Sir William," said Emma laughingly; "you can be as positive and decided as any one, when you please, though you take so much credit to yourself for your amiable softness."

"And you recommend me to enforce my authority?"

"And you expect me to give an opinion between man and wife—one which would make you both my enemies; I am not quite so wild as that!"

"Did you see Osborne out riding to-day? I presume he went off with you, as he would not come with us."

"He overtook us," said Emma, "and rode a little way with us; what a pretty horse he rides."

"He wants you to mount that—shall you have courage or strength to-morrow?"

Emma rather demurred.

"It is very gentle, you need not be afraid, I know it well; but you need not do it if you do not like. Have you been used to horse exercise?"

"A year or two ago I rode a great deal; but I have not made up my mind about accepting his offer yet, even if he makes it."

"Have you not?" said Sir William quickly; "you had better, for it will certainly come, and it will be most convenient to know your own mind on the subject."

"Then I shall take the night to think of it, and be ready by the morning; give me your advice, Sir William—which do you recommend, aye or no?"

"The affirmative, certainly; it will give me great pleasure to see you added to our party, and to enjoy so much of your society."

"How long have you been studying such extremely complimentary speeches?" laughed Emma; "but however, I cannot wait here for you to explain to me, as really it is time to return to the drawing-room."

"Let me assist you," exclaimed Sir William placing her hand under his arm; "you are hardly yet strong enough to walk quite alone, I am sure."

"I must say, Rosa," said Miss Carr, to her friend the next day, "that I think you are the most complaisant of wives—much more than I should be."

"I am glad you approve of me, Fanny. What particular good quality has excited your admiration to-day?"

"The calmness with which you look on and witness the flirtation of your husband with that pretty Emma Watson. I wonder you like it," said Miss Carr, balancing her eye-glass on her chain between her two hands as she spoke.

"You give me more credit than I deserve a great deal, Fanny; I see nothing of the sort, and, therefore, my complaisance and calmness are not tried."

"Why surely with half an eye any one may see how much they are together—you cannot deny it."

"No, or that you are likewise a great deal with him," said Lady Gordon, calmly.

"Or how much she talks to him," persisted Fanny.

"Not more than you do, I think," retorted her friend.

"Were you aware of the long interview they had last night in the dark in the conservatory? She was sitting in the corner, and he almost leaning on her lap."

"I am glad you put in the almost, it makes an important difference, Fanny."

"Do you know what they were talking of, Rosa?"

"No, do you?"

"A great deal of it was complaints of you, he was saying he could not manage you, and she was giving him advice on the subject. Then they said a great deal more about another subject, which I shall just tell you. You are of course aware that she intends to marry your brother."

"No, indeed, I am no such thing."

"Well, she does, I assure you, I heard them coolly canvassing the subject, he was recommending her to make up her mind as Osborne would certainly make her an offer, and he said it would be inconvenient to be in doubt when the proposal was made."

"I am sure you must have very much misunderstood, Fanny, for I cannot believe Sir William, or Miss Watson either, were discussing any such subject. Nor can I at all comprehend how you came to learn all that you detail to me—were they talking before you?"

"No, not exactly—they were in the conservatory, and so was I, but very likely they did not see me."

"I wonder you remained there then as a listener to their conversation," said Lady Gordon, with an air of cool disdain.

"How could I suppose that your husband and your friend had any secrets to discuss, I am sure such an idea never entered my head; and you take it so coolly, I really quite admire you, Rosa."

"I do not see anything to agitate myself about, Fanny, unless you could persuade me to distrust my husband, a thing which I should conclude can be no more in your wish than it is in your power."

"I would not say anything if I did not know that Emma Watson to be a dangerous flirt, one who is artful and unscrupulous, and who made herself so conspicuous at Croydon that she was obliged to leave the place."

"How can you talk in that way, Fanny, I am positively ashamed of you," exclaimed Lady Gordon, quite indignantly.

"I assure you, upon my word, I am saying nothing but the most positive truth," asseverated Miss Carr, "I dare say she never told you anything about it, but I heard it all when I was at Lady Allston's, and can tell you the whole history about it."

"I really have no wish to hear country-town gossip," replied Lady Gordon.

Whilst she was speaking Lord Osborne entered the room, and hearing her last words, exclaimed,

"Ah, pray let us have it, Miss Carr: it would be a pity to defraud a young lady of an opportunity of repeating a bit of scandal."

"I think it only fair to tell you, Rosa," continued Miss Carr, "fair to you, and equally so to your friend, if it gives her the opportunity of explaining away the evil surmises set afloat about her."

"Oh, it's about Emma Watson you are gossiping," observed Lord Osborne turning away; and taking up a newspaper, he threw himself into a chair, and concealing his face behind the folio pages, he added, "Pray go on, and do not mind me."

"Well," said Miss Carr, "you know I dare say Miss Emma was left without a farthing of her own, and quite dependent on her brother, who is a shabby attorney at Croydon: this did not suit her—the wife was cross and mean, like most attorneys' wives I suppose, and Emma is what is called very high-spirited; and as they could not agree it was settled that Emma should go as governess some where. Lady Fanny was just parting with hers, and who should be recommended to her but my old acquaintance Emma Watson; I remembered the name directly; was it not odd?"

"Yes, rather," replied Lady Gordon, "because I know you seldom remember what does not concern you. I cannot comprehend how all this history became fixed in your mind, for really it seems of so little interest to any but Emma's friends. I knew much of it before."

"It amused me so much, to think of the girl whom I remembered flirting at Osborne Castle, making her appearance in a new character. But who do you think recommended her; my cousin's doctor, Mr. Morgan!"

Here Lord Osborne's newspaper rustled very much as he changed the position of his elbows, and Fanny looked round. His face was still invisible, so she had nothing to do but continue her narrative.

"Now you must know my cousin is in delicate health, nervous and excitable, and of course, like all such ladies, takes the English substitute for a cavalier-servante, namely a doctor. Her doctor, this Mr. Morgan, is reckoned a very clever man, and so I think he must be, for all ladies he attends, old and young, are, from half in love, to the greatest extreme of the tender passion. I believe his character is not quite sans tache et sans reproche, which decidedly renders him a more interesting object; and his manners are so exceedingly devoted and tender, that really I felt inclined to fall ill, that I might be attended by him. He proposed Emma Watson as governess, recommended her highly, and carried on the negotiation very successfully, when somehow or other, my cousin took alarm about the extraordinary interest of his manner, and having discovered that Emma was reckoned handsome, began to think it would not do. However, as she is very kind and candid, she would not condemn her without some enquiry; she has some inferior acquaintance in the town—I used to wonder why she kept them up—some old young ladies, great gossips; but I have found out now the use of them: when she wants a cook, or a nurse, or a governess, or a tiresome piece of work done, or a charitable collection made in her name, she turns over all the trouble to these Miss Jenkins or some such name, (one cannot recollect their plebeian denominations,) and they are only too proud and happy to fuss about for dear Lady Fanny, who in return invites them sometimes to tea, and asks her governess to meet them. Well, these amiable and obliging virgins were quite scandalized that the dear Lady Fanny should have been so nearly led into a grievous scrape by hiring the said Emma Watson, who besides sundry other offences, had been guilty of carrying on a very discreditable acquaintance with this very Mr. Morgan. Clandestine meetings, and private conversations in dark rooms, long walks in solitary lanes, and all that sort of thing. Now he is certainly not a man to be trusted in any other capacity than a doctor—nobody has a word to say against him in that particular—but certainly not the man to be safe in a tÊte-À-tÊte with a girl he admired—at least so far as her character was concerned; and Lady Fanny, quite scandalized, settled the matter at once by an instant rupture of the negotiation. I dare say," added the narrator laughing, "she did not want a rival so near her own person."

"And that is your narrative, is it?" said Lady Gordon; "it seems to me to reflect much more discredit on your cousin than on my friend."

"Upon my word, Rosa, you are rather free in your remarks on my relatives," exclaimed Fanny very indignantly.

"I beg your pardon; I have not complained of what you have been saying of my friend and guest."

"But what is there remarkable in Lady Fanny's proceedings to strike you with wonder? I think it was quite natural; setting aside any jealousy of Emma, she was surely right not to bring into her house, as governess to her daughter, a girl who had anything like a slur on her character."

"Excuse my saying that if Lady Fanny did not object to employing the man in question as a physician, she had no right to take umbrage if another permitted him as a companion."

"But I understood there was something quite improper in the way in which she commenced and carried on the acquaintance—quite clandestine and against her sister's known opinion. In fact, the whole affair was so shocking that no one would speak to Emma at Croydon, and she was obliged to leave the town in disgrace. In short, her reputation there was completely mise en piÈce."

"I am perfectly persuaded," replied Lady Gordon, "that you have been exceedingly deceived in this affair. As to believing Emma Watson guilty of anything deserving censure, I cannot until it is proved."

"I should have thought my authority good enough," said Miss Carr.

"You speak only on hear-say evidence, Fanny: you heard from Lady Fanny what was told her by certain professed gossips, who must either have been acting as spies themselves, or have been the collectors and bearers of the slanders of other individuals. No, there is no authority for your assertions—no testimony which would stand in a court of justice."

"You are determined neither to see nor understand, Rosa, or you could not talk in that, way," retorted Fanny quite angrily.

"We shall never agree, so we had better not discuss the subject further," replied Lady Gordon, "suppose we go to luncheon."

The riding party had again been under discussion, and it was decided that they should all five take an excursion on horse-back, Emma being to mount the quiet and gentle animal so strongly recommended by Sir William Gordon.

Just as they were starting, their party was joined by another young man, a neighbour, who was coming to pay a morning visit, and whom Lady Gordon invited to accompany them. Whether for the sake of a fresh object, or in hopes of pique by contrast, or from some other cause unknown, Miss Carr fastened on him as a victim, and wherever the width of the road required a division, they two kept side by side. This was a peculiarly agreeable arrangement to the others, as allowing of two conversations deeply interesting to some of the parties at least. Lady Gordon wanted to have a private conference with her husband, on the subject which Miss Carr had been discussing, and she took this opportunity of belonging to a party of six to commence it. She told him everything straight-forward, from the accusation of a flirtation with him, down to the asserted loss of character. Sir William heard her gravely, and with fixed attention, without interrupting her eloquent narrative by a remark or a question. She concluded her story before he opened his lips, and then turning full towards her, he enquired:

"Well, and have you determined to turn her out of the house?"

"I really feel much inclined to do so, I assure you, the attempt to make dissension between us is so unpardonable."

"You should first be quite convinced that the attempt has been made," said Sir William very coolly.

"My dear William, what else can you call her accusation that Emma flirted with you? She could not make me jealous, but it was most ill-natured of her to say so; for were the scandal to come to Emma's ears, it would of course make her very uncomfortable."

"I beg your pardon, Rosa," replied her husband with a smile, "we were speaking of different individuals; you, I presume, understood my question as applying to Miss Carr, whilst I really referred to Miss Watson, and I own your answer rather surprised me."

"So it well might. Could you suppose me capable of resenting to Emma what Fanny might say. I thought you would have known me better. I shall take no notice of all the Croydon scandal, except by being kinder to poor Emma, and as to yourself, I must beg you will do so too. Talk to her, walk with her as much as you like, I am not afraid for either of you."

Sir William's eyes expressed far more than his brief answer seemed to convey, she could read their language, and therefore—"Thank you, I hope we shall neither of us abuse your confidence!"—was quite satisfactory to her.

In the meantime Lord Osborne was compelling Emma to undergo a catechism, the purpose of which she could not comprehend. He began by enquiring where she had been staying previous to her visit to his sister, made himself quite master of the connection of Miss Bridge with Croydon, and ascertained that Mr. Bridge was a friend of hers. He then informed himself whether she had any relatives still in the town, learnt with evident satisfaction that her eldest sister, whom he remembered, was still there, and also that her brother was settled in the place. Emma even told him that her sister was speedily to be married to a very respectable brewer in the town, quite heedless whether such a piece of information was likely to invalidate her claims on his regard. He seemed exceedingly well pleased with the result of his investigation, but no explanation followed as to the object of all his enquiries. As she thought one was certainly her due, she at length took the step of asking to what all these questions tended, if she might make so bold as to demand it.

He hesitated a good deal, and then said flatly he should not tell her, so it was no use her asking him; at least now, though she would very likely know it by and bye; he then added in a confidential tone, that he was going to leave home for a short time; but that he hoped in a few days to return to her with pleasure. She could not compliment him by pretending to be sorry at his departure, as she really cared very little about it; but she enquired, by way of making some kind of answer, whether his sister was acquainted with his plans. He told her she was not yet, but that he intended to tell her the first opportunity, as he had not yet had time to tell her, his project had been so suddenly formed; it originated solely in some news he had heard that morning.

Emma was too indifferent about him, to feel any curiosity as to the reason of his journey or its object—for she little suspected that it nearly concerned herself; the fact being that, in consequence of the scandal that Fanny Carr had repeated in the morning, he had resolved to go over to Croydon and exert himself to trace and confute, what he was certain were only base calumnies, and when he had succeeded in triumphantly proving her innocence, he meant to lay at her feet his title and his fortune. He was perfectly delighted at the prospect of proving his devotion to her by this piece of knight-errantry,—which, he flattered himself, would render him quite irresistible in her eyes; indeed, he had serious thoughts, if the original fabricator of these lies was a man, of challenging him—a step which he firmly believed would not fail to secure the heart of any woman, for whom the duel was fought.

His ideas on this subject were rather derived from the old-fashioned novels, where the hero invariably fights at least three duels, to clear the character of his lady-love.

Very soon after imparting this information to Emma, there came a division in the party; Lady Gordon having persuaded her husband to change places with her brother for several reasons. One of the motives that actuated her, was a wish to converse with Lord Osborne on the reports relative to Emma, and learn what he thought of Miss Carr's stories. But she rather wished likewise to separate him from Emma—with whom she thought he had been enjoying too long a tÊte-À-tÊte; and she was, moreover, determined to prove the entire absence of all jealousy as a wife, notwithstanding the insinuations of her friend.

Emma was always pleased with Sir William's company and conversation, and enjoyed this part of her ride much more than the first. She had the pleasant conviction in her mind that Sir William liked her; a feeling which made their intercourse very agreeable—and, as to the scandal which Miss Carr had tried to insinuate on that subject—she was so perfectly ignorant of it, that it never occurred to her that an exception to their being together could possibly be taken.

All Lady Gordon's eloquence and persuasive powers—seconded by the strongest curiosity, failed to draw from her brother an acknowledgement of his purpose in leaving home, or a definite opinion as to his belief, or otherwise, in Miss Carr's stories. On this subject, indeed, he was particularly impracticable, only exclaiming—

"Pshaw! don't ask me, Rosa, about any thing she says—you know I never listen to her."

One thing which greatly excited her curiosity, was the manner of her brother's journey; she had questioned him as to how he intended to travel, and he only told her to guess. In vain she attempted to do so. His carriages were all enumerated in vain—his horses, his servants, were not to accompany him; she concluded that he must be going on foot, and the object of his journey became more mysterious than ever.

He piqued himself on his discretion, and was delighted to torment her, until she was obliged to own herself fairly puzzled, and then he told her to console her—"Time would show."

In fact Lord Osborne left the Castle the next morning in a gig, with a single attendant, who only accompanied him a couple of miles, and then returned home, leaving his lordship and his portmanteau at a small road-side public house. Further than this, nothing was to be extracted by the most adroit questioning of Lady Gordon's woman, who well knew how curious her mistress was on the subject. But although his expedition was a secret to his relatives and friends, it is none to the reader, and we shall, therefore, without ceremony leave him at the public-house in question, until the stage-coach through Croydon passed, and picking him up transported him the rest of the journey.