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Lady Emily and Colonel Talbot had proposed being present; but Lady Emily's health, when the day approached, was found inadequate to the journey.
Emily's mind longed and craved to annex itself to all things fervent, deep, and real. As she walked on the common grass, she thought the better of it because the feet of Christ had trodden it also. There were things which she as the angels "desired to look into;" but she wanted also to do the right thing, and to love the doing of it.
Emily's hand, the tiny hand that was so unexpectedly firm, tightened its hold on his, and his crushed the absurd fingers until she winced with pain. That was the beginning of the end, and they knew it. Emily wasn't the kind of girl who would be left to pine.
Her life at Haworth is part of Emily's life; it partakes of the immortality of the unforgotten dead. London and Thackeray, the Smiths, Mrs. Gaskell, and Miss Martineau, Sir John and Lady Kay-Shuttleworth, her celebrity and the little train of cheerful, unfamiliar circumstances, all these things sink into insignificance beside it. They are all extraneous somehow, and out of keeping. It was Mrs.
Saratoga is very crowded at this season; there were seven thousand strangers in the town yesterday." The doctor thanked his unknown friend, and summoned the ladies to enjoy their good fortune. "Why, now, ain't we lucky?" said Mrs. Jeremy, as she glanced around the comfortable room allotted to herself, and then she took a survey of Emily's and Gertrude's apartment.
He was, in truth, too sincerely anxious and distressed to be capable of commanding his customary resources of ready-made sentiment and fluently-pious philosophy. Emily's influence had awakened the only earnest and true feeling which had ever ennobled the popular preacher's life. Toward evening, the long-expected telegram was received at last.
'Does your brother keep him there to scare away the tramps? Emily's countenance was a study. The subject of brasses was unfolded to Lawrence Frith, and before the end of the week he had spent an entire day on his hands and knees, scrubbing away with the waxy black compound at a figure in the Cathedral the office-work, as we declared, which Clarence gave him to do.
As the carriage-wheels rolled heavily under the portcullis, Emily's heart sunk, and she seemed, as if she was going into her prison; the gloomy court, into which she passed, served to confirm the idea, and her imagination, ever awake to circumstance, suggested even more terrors, than her reason could justify.
His imagination, as is commonly the case, was only strong in the direction of his wishes; neglecting Emily's avowed attachment to an accepted lover whose shadowiness made him difficult to realise even as an obstacle he dwelt persistently on the thought of Hood's position, and found it impossible to imagine a refusal on Emily's part to avert from her father the direst of calamities.
"Miss Jethro left me," he said, "with the intention quite openly expressed of trying to prevent you from accepting Mr. Wyvil's invitation. Did she make the attempt?" Mirabel admitted that she had made the attempt. "But," he added, "without mentioning Miss Emily's name. I was asked to postpone my visit, as a favor to herself, because she had her own reasons for wishing it.
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