To what extremes of eloquence his new-found felicity might have led him there is now no means of knowing; he was interrupted before he had committed himself by any very pointed declaration, by the sound of the physician's return, which startled Emma into a sudden recollection that to be found by him, sitting _tête-à-tête_ and side by side on the sofa with the young nobleman, might perhaps not unreasonably surprise him. She therefore told him she should be wanted in the sick room, and quietly withdrew; when he, his pleasant reveries broken off thus suddenly, felt himself unequal to meeting any one else with composure, and likewise quitted the room for a seat in the carriage.
As Emma resumed her seat at her father's bedside, she could not for a moment banish the idea which had suddenly entered her mind, that perhaps after all Mr. Howard's jealousy was not ill-founded, and that Lord Osborne did entertain a more than ordinary partiality towards herself. The notion was accompanied with no feeling of self-exaltation; she was positively ashamed that it had intruded itself at such a time, and she felt that had even the moment been more appropriate, the supposition would have given her no pleasure at all. She did not want him to like her for his own sake, and she was annoyed by it for the sake of Mr. Howard's attachment.
But this was not the time when such reflections could or ought to be indulged; it was her business to think of her father, not of herself, and she roused herself to shake them off. As soon as Dr. Denham had taken his leave, her sisters returned to the sick room to tell her what he had said. He had given them no encouragement; had said there was nothing further to be done, that it was true that while there was breath there was hope, but that Mr. Watson's advanced age and broken health made a recovery most unlikely, and even a temporary return of his intellects extremely improbable.
The next morning brought no alteration in the situation of the patient, but it brought Robert Watson to the house. He came, cool and self-possessed as ever, taken up entirely with facts, not feelings, and looking decidedly as if his mind at least never quitted his office, but was still engrossed with the business there transacting. "Deeds not words," was his motto, but the deeds he delighted in would have been uninteresting to nine-tenths of the world, and seemed rather intended to mystify than benefit mankind.