"Never in one, for the loan of which I felt more obliged, I admit," replied she.
"There, I knew it; only add you never had a better charioteer, and then I shall be satisfied. I want a little commendation myself," added Sir William.
"I do not think you do—you seem so uncommonly well satisfied with your own exploits," returned Emma, laughing.
"Do come and have something to eat," interposed Lord Osborne, "I've done mine, but my sister and Miss Carr are in the breakfast-room."
And he laid his hand on Emma's as he spoke, and led her away.
Sir William, after sending for his groom to take home the cart, ran after his companions and joined them at the door of the breakfast-room. Both the young ladies raised their eyes in astonishment and visible curiosity, at their entrance together.
"Been out walking, Miss Watson," cried Miss Carr, "there must be something superlatively delightful in such a morning as this—are you partial to rain?"
"Not at all," replied Emma, "but it did not rain when I left the castle, and I did not think it would."
"Did you walk far?—and are you not wet?" enquired Miss Osborne, rather coldly.
"Where do you think we breakfasted, Miss Osborne?" commenced Sir William, "for I beg to inform you, we, early risers, have had a walk, a breakfast and a drive, this morning, before your finished you first meal."
"Really, I cannot pretend to guess where so eccentric a person as Sir William Gordon takes his breakfast, or what his amusements are."
"Oh, do tell us," cried Miss Carr, "so you and Miss Watson have been visiting together, have you; in some gipsy-camp or where?"
"Not I," replied Miss Carr, pushing back her chair from the breakfast table, "I have no talents for divination. Rosa, I am going to your room to try your harp—will you come when you are at leisure?"
Emma, who had not sat down, declined all breakfast, and proposed to go to her own room to remove her walking dress—enquiring of Miss Osborne where she should find her afterwards.
"I will shew you your way," cried that young lady—then leading her into the hall, "that flight of stairs leads to the gallery where your bed-room is. I will wait for you here, before this fire."
Emma walked slowly up-stairs, and turning her head, she saw Sir William join Miss Osborne and address her. His reception was any thing but gracious—the young lady seemed bitterly offended about something, drew up her head—pouted her under lip, and gave unmistakeable signs of being out of temper with him. Emma did not wait to see whether he succeeded in propitiating her anger, which she suspected arose from the supposition that they had been walking together; and, to allay which, she determined to give an accurate account of their adventure. On descending again to the hall, she found only her friend, the gentleman having disappeared, and with her she proceeded to the sitting room where Miss Osborne usually spent her mornings.