But still in the interval of repose, which this occupation necessarily allowed, Emma found her mind continually reverting to past scenes; to the hopes which had once been so pleasant and lively, and the disappointment which had succeeded them. She told herself she must not think of it; she determined that she would not—sometimes she almost persuaded herself that she did not; but she could not regulate her feelings as she wished; and many a time she was unconsciously dwelling on the past, whilst she fancied herself meditating on her present duty.
It was Penelope's turn to remain during dinner with her father, and Emma was once more in company with her repulsive brother. It was really with a sensible reluctance that she sat down to the same table with him—but she struggled against the feeling, aware that it ought to be overcome if there was to be any future peace or comfort for her.
The dinner was more than plain—unfortunately, it was almost entirely cold; but, in the hurry occasioned by the illness of Mr. Watson, the rest of his family might reasonably expect to be less comfortably accommodated than usual. Elizabeth had hardly given the subject a thought; and not at all indeed, until it was too late for amendment, beyond a steak hurriedly cooked for Robert's sake. But this was tough—tough as the table, so Robert said, and he had a particular dislike to cold mutton. His plate was pushed away with an air of uncontrollable disgust—and he sat eyeing the table with gloomy looks, whilst his sister good-humouredly apologised for the hardness of the fare.
"Shall I have the satisfaction of helping you to a little of this cow?" enquired he, balancing his knife and fork in his hand, and pointing with them to the condemned steak. "I recommend you to try it, Elizabeth, and then you may, perhaps, remember another time, and make better provision for such unfortunate individuals as are compelled, through circumstances to become your guests—you ought to be ashamed of yourself, Elizabeth-"
"Upon my word, Robert, I could not help it; I will try and give you a better dinner to-morrow; but it's not my fault entirely, that the steak is tough. I thought, perhaps, it would be; but it was the only thing we could dress—and I thought you would like that better than nothing."