CHAPTER V.

Whilst Lord Osborne was thus hopefully planning, and Mr. Howard despondingly meditating, a very different termination to Emma's visit was impending over her. She was roused from a late and heavy slumber, natural after the sleeplessness of the preceding night, by the receipt of a note from Winston, sent over by a special messenger. Its contents were as follows:—

"Dear Emma,

"I am sadly grieved to have to tell you such bad news, but our father has been taken very ill, he had a seizure last night, up to which time he seemed quite well, and has not recovered his senses since: nor does the doctor lead us to hope that he will. I need not say come home, for I am sure that will be your first wish; I dare say they can send you, as our man is gone down to the village to fetch something for my father's use, and I cannot, therefore, send the pony-chaise.

"Yours, etc.,

"E. Watson."

E. Watson

Starting up in the greatest dismay, Emma instantly sent an imploring message to Miss Osborne to request an interview with her, and in the meantime hurried over her dressing and other necessary preparations with the greatest possible despatch. Miss Osborne did not make her wait long, showed the most friendly sympathy in her distress, instantly ordered a carriage to take her home, and insisted on her allowing her own maid to arrange Emma's things, whilst she attempted to take some breakfast.

To satisfy her Emma made an effort to eat, but could scarcely swallow a cup of coffee; and as the coachman did not keep her long waiting, in less than an hour from her receiving Elizabeth's note, she was on her way home. Wrapped up in fearful anticipations of what would meet her there, she had been almost unconscious of what was passing before her eyes; she had an impression that Miss Osborne had been very kind, that just at last her brother had been there also, that he had squeezed her hand at parting, with much warmth, and had said something which she did not understand about wishing to help her; she thought of it for a moment only, and then her mind again reverted to her father's situation, and her sister's distress.

The rapidity with which the journey was now performed, was a most important comfort, very different from the creeping jog-trot of their old horse, and she felt quite thankful that Elizabeth had spared her such torture as would have been 

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