as but one home she loved.
"Now go and dress for dinner at once, my child," said Sir Philip, "we
have delayed two hours for you. Be not long."
Nor was Emily long; she could not have been more rapid had she known
that Marlow was waiting eagerly for her appearance. Well pleased,
indeed, was she to see him, when she entered the drawing-room; but for
the first time since she had known him--from some cause or other--a
momentary feeling of embarrassment--of timidity, came upon her; and the
color rose slightly in her cheek. Her eyes spoke, however, more than her
lips could say, and Marlow must have been satisfied, if lovers ever
could be satisfied.
Lady Hastings was lying languidly on a couch, not knowing how to
intimate to her daughter her disapproval of a suit yet unknown to Emily
herself. She could not venture to utter openly one word in opposition;
for Sir Philip Hastings had desired her not to do so, and she had given
a promise to forbear, but she thought it would be perfectly consistent
with that promise, and perfectly fair and right to show in other ways
than by words, that Mr. Marlow was not the man she would have chosen for
her daughter's husband, and even to insinuate objections which she dare
not state directly.
In her manner to Marlow therefore, Lady Hastings, though perfectly
courteous and polite--for such was Sir Philip's pleasure--was as cold as
ice, always added "Sir" to her replies, and never forgot herself so far
as to call him by his name.
Emily remarked this demeanor; but she knew--I should rather have said
she was aware; for it was a matter more of sensation than thought--a
conviction that had grown up in her mind without reflection--she was
aware that her mother was somewhat capricious in her friendships. She
had seen it in the case of servants and of some of the governesses she
had had when she was quite young. One day they would be all that was
estimable and charming in Lady Hastings' eyes, and another, from some
slight offence--some point of demeanor which she did not like--or some
moody turn of her own mind, they would be all that was detestable. It
had often been the same, too, with persons of a higher station; and
therefore it did not in the least surprise her to find that Mr. Marlow,
who had been ever received by Lady Hastings before as a familiar friend,
should now be treated almost as a stranger.
It grieved her, nevertheless, and she thought that Marlow must feel her
mother's conduct
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