“How can I what, Alice?” said Emma, impatiently. “You know I can’t let him come here, for Mr. Dashwood is always here.” “But why say you are going to Mrs. Haight’s?” “Oh, Alice, how tiresome you are? Because, if I had said I was going to Ellen’s, of course, Mr. Dashwood would have offered to go, or call for me. Now, he knows Mrs. Haight never receives any one but our family; so that matter is settled.” “But suppose he finds it out?” persisted Alice. “Oh, he wont find it out,” returned Emma, who was always confident in any expedient that saved her for the time being. In the evening, it so happened, that one or two gentlemen called also at Miss Pearsall’s; and the circle was so small, that the conversation being general, as they sat round Miss Pearsall’s tea-table, Emma had no opportunity of effecting the object she came for; and she returned home quite provoked, and out of spirits. But it so happened, that one of the young men who had chanced to be there, on his way home, went into the very club-room where Mr. Dashwood was sitting. “You are a very pretty fellow, are you not!” exclaimed the young man, gayly, as he saw Dashwood. “And this is your engagement, is it? ’Pon my word, I think Miss Percival is very good to make your apologies in this way, and let you come off to a club-room.” “What are you talking of?” said Dashwood, looking up surprised. “Why, of your letting Miss Percival go alone to Miss Pearsall, saying you were engaged. She has just gone home with her brother, while her most devoted of lovers sits smoking his cigar in a club-room.” Mr. Dashwood could scarcely believe his senses. He doubted, for the moment, whether he was smoking—whether he was in a club-room—whether he was sitting or standing. But, too proud and reserved to betray his emotions to a casual acquaintance, he asked no questions; and observing that the room was cold, buttoned up his coat, and left the house. The next day he said to Emma, “Did not you tell me you were going last evening to Mrs. Haight’s with your mother?” “Yes,” she replied, “mamma and I went early to an old-fashioned cup of tea.” “Hawthorn told me,” he said, bending his eyes upon her with an expression that brought her heart to her lips in an instant, “that he met you at Mrs. Pearsall’s.” “Yes,” she replied, with a presence of mind worthy of a better cause—for she felt it was what is vulgarly called “neck or nothing”—“yes, it was so dull, that I could not bear it long. All my humanity and kindness for poor old Mrs. Haight could not stand her prosing; so I left mamma there, and went into Ellen’s—they live next door, you know.” “Hawthorn said you apologized for me, saying I was engaged,” he continued, not yet quite satisfied. “I said nothing of the kind,” she said, feeling that her only resource was to deny this _in toto_. “What could Mr. Hawthorn be thinking of? I said you were going to the club.”