-\r
-EMMA\r
-\r
-By Jane Austen\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-VOLUME I\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER I\r
-\r
-\r
-Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home\r
-and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of\r
-existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very\r
-little to distress or vex her.\r
-\r
-She was the youngest of the two daughters of a most affectionate,\r
-indulgent father; and had, in consequence of her sister’s marriage, been\r
-mistress of his house from a very early period. Her mother had died\r
-too long ago for her to have more than an indistinct remembrance of\r
-her caresses; and her place had been supplied by an excellent woman as\r
-governess, who had fallen little short of a mother in affection.\r
-\r
-Sixteen years had Miss Taylor been in Mr. Woodhouse’s family, less as a\r
-governess than a friend, very fond of both daughters, but particularly\r
-of Emma. Between _them_ it was more the intimacy of sisters. Even before\r
-Miss Taylor had ceased to hold the nominal office of governess, the\r
-mildness of her temper had hardly allowed her to impose any restraint;\r
-and the shadow of authority being now long passed away, they had been\r
-living together as friend and friend very mutually attached, and Emma\r
-doing just what she liked; highly esteeming Miss Taylor’s judgment, but\r
-directed chiefly by her own.\r
-\r
-The real evils, indeed, of Emma’s situation were the power of having\r
-rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too\r
-well of herself; these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to\r
-her many enjoyments. The danger, however, was at present so unperceived,\r
-that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes with her.\r
-\r
-Sorrow came--a gentle sorrow--but not at all in the shape of any\r
-disagreeable consciousness.--Miss Taylor married. It was Miss Taylor’s\r
-loss which first brought grief. It was on the wedding-day of this\r
-beloved friend that Emma first sat in mournful thought of any\r
-continuance. The wedding over, and the bride-people gone, her father and\r
-herself were left to dine together, with no prospect of a third to cheer\r
-a long evening. Her father composed himself to sleep after dinner, as\r
-usual, and she had then only to sit and think of what she had lost.\r
-\r
-The event had every promise of happiness for her friend. Mr. Weston\r
-was a man of unexceptionable character, easy fortune, suitable age, and\r
-pleasant manners; and there was some satisfaction in considering\r
-with what self-denying, generous friendship she had always wished and\r
-promoted the match; but it was a black morning’s work for her. The want\r
-of Miss Taylor would be felt every hour of every day. She recalled her\r
-past kindness--the kindness, the affection of sixteen years--how she had\r
-taught and how she had played with her from five years old--how she had\r
-devoted all her powers to attach and amuse her in health--and how\r
-nursed her through the various illnesses of childhood. A large debt of\r
-gratitude was owing here; but the intercourse of the last seven\r
-years, the equal footing and perfect unreserve which had soon followed\r
-Isabella’s marriage, on their being left to each other, was yet a\r
-dearer, tenderer recollection. She had been a friend and companion such\r
-as few possessed: intelligent, well-informed, useful, gentle, knowing\r
-all the ways of the family, interested in all its concerns, and\r
-peculiarly interested in herself, in every pleasure, every scheme of\r
-hers--one to whom she could speak every thought as it arose, and who had\r
-such an affection for her as could never find fault.\r
-\r
-How was she to bear the change?--It was true that her friend was going\r
-only half a mile from them; but Emma was aware that great must be the\r
-difference between a Mrs. Weston, only half a mile from them, and a Miss\r
-Taylor in the house; and with all her advantages, natural and domestic,\r
-she was now in great danger of suffering from intellectual solitude. She\r
-dearly loved her father, but he was no companion for her. He could not\r
-meet her in conversation, rational or playful.\r
-\r
-The evil of the actual disparity in their ages (and Mr. Woodhouse had\r
-not married early) was much increased by his constitution and habits;\r
-for having been a valetudinarian all his life, without activity of\r
-mind or body, he was a much older man in ways than in years; and though\r
-everywhere beloved for the friendliness of his heart and his amiable\r
-temper, his talents could not have recommended him at any time.\r
-\r
-Her sister, though comparatively but little removed by matrimony, being\r
-settled in London, only sixteen miles off, was much beyond her daily\r
-reach; and many a long October and November evening must be struggled\r
-through at Hartfield, before Christmas brought the next visit from\r
-Isabella and her husband, and their little children, to fill the house,\r
-and give her pleasant society again.\r
-\r
-Highbury, the large and populous village, almost amounting to a town,\r
-to which Hartfield, in spite of its separate lawn, and shrubberies, and\r
-name, did really belong, afforded her no equals. The Woodhouses\r
-were first in consequence there. All looked up to them. She had many\r
-acquaintance in the place, for her father was universally civil, but\r
-not one among them who could be accepted in lieu of Miss Taylor for even\r
-half a day. It was a melancholy change; and Emma could not but sigh over\r
-it, and wish for impossible things, till her father awoke, and made it\r
-necessary to be cheerful. His spirits required support. He was a nervous\r
-man, easily depressed; fond of every body that he was used to, and\r
-hating to part with them; hating change of every kind. Matrimony, as the\r
-origin of change, was always disagreeable; and he was by no means yet\r
-reconciled to his own daughter’s marrying, nor could ever speak of her\r
-but with compassion, though it had been entirely a match of affection,\r
-when he was now obliged to part with Miss Taylor too; and from his\r
-habits of gentle selfishness, and of being never able to suppose that\r
-other people could feel differently from himself, he was very much\r
-disposed to think Miss Taylor had done as sad a thing for herself as for\r
-them, and would have been a great deal happier if she had spent all the\r
-rest of her life at Hartfield. Emma smiled and chatted as cheerfully\r
-as she could, to keep him from such thoughts; but when tea came, it was\r
-impossible for him not to say exactly as he had said at dinner,\r
-\r
-“Poor Miss Taylor!--I wish she were here again. What a pity it is that\r
-Mr. Weston ever thought of her!”\r
-\r
-“I cannot agree with you, papa; you know I cannot. Mr. Weston is such\r
-a good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man, that he thoroughly deserves\r
-a good wife;--and you would not have had Miss Taylor live with us for\r
-ever, and bear all my odd humours, when she might have a house of her\r
-own?”\r
-\r
-“A house of her own!--But where is the advantage of a house of her own?\r
-This is three times as large.--And you have never any odd humours, my\r
-dear.”\r
-\r
-“How often we shall be going to see them, and they coming to see us!--We\r
-shall be always meeting! _We_ must begin; we must go and pay wedding\r
-visit very soon.”\r
-\r
-“My dear, how am I to get so far? Randalls is such a distance. I could\r
-not walk half so far.”\r
-\r
-“No, papa, nobody thought of your walking. We must go in the carriage,\r
-to be sure.”\r
-\r
-“The carriage! But James will not like to put the horses to for such a\r
-little way;--and where are the poor horses to be while we are paying our\r
-visit?”\r
-\r
-“They are to be put into Mr. Weston’s stable, papa. You know we have\r
-settled all that already. We talked it all over with Mr. Weston last\r
-night. And as for James, you may be very sure he will always like going\r
-to Randalls, because of his daughter’s being housemaid there. I only\r
-doubt whether he will ever take us anywhere else. That was your doing,\r
-papa. You got Hannah that good place. Nobody thought of Hannah till you\r
-mentioned her--James is so obliged to you!”\r
-\r
-“I am very glad I did think of her. It was very lucky, for I would not\r
-have had poor James think himself slighted upon any account; and I am\r
-sure she will make a very good servant: she is a civil, pretty-spoken\r
-girl; I have a great opinion of her. Whenever I see her, she always\r
-curtseys and asks me how I do, in a very pretty manner; and when you\r
-have had her here to do needlework, I observe she always turns the lock\r
-of the door the right way and never bangs it. I am sure she will be an\r
-excellent servant; and it will be a great comfort to poor Miss Taylor\r
-to have somebody about her that she is used to see. Whenever James goes\r
-over to see his daughter, you know, she will be hearing of us. He will\r
-be able to tell her how we all are.”\r
-\r
-Emma spared no exertions to maintain this happier flow of ideas, and\r
-hoped, by the help of backgammon, to get her father tolerably\r
-through the evening, and be attacked by no regrets but her own. The\r
-backgammon-table was placed; but a visitor immediately afterwards walked\r
-in and made it unnecessary.\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley, a sensible man about seven or eight-and-thirty, was not\r
-only a very old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly\r
-connected with it, as the elder brother of Isabella’s husband. He lived\r
-about a mile from Highbury, was a frequent visitor, and always welcome,\r
-and at this time more welcome than usual, as coming directly from their\r
-mutual connexions in London. He had returned to a late dinner, after\r
-some days’ absence, and now walked up to Hartfield to say that all were\r
-well in Brunswick Square. It was a happy circumstance, and animated\r
-Mr. Woodhouse for some time. Mr. Knightley had a cheerful manner, which\r
-always did him good; and his many inquiries after “poor Isabella” and\r
-her children were answered most satisfactorily. When this was over, Mr.\r
-Woodhouse gratefully observed, “It is very kind of you, Mr. Knightley,\r
-to come out at this late hour to call upon us. I am afraid you must have\r
-had a shocking walk.”\r
-\r
-“Not at all, sir. It is a beautiful moonlight night; and so mild that I\r
-must draw back from your great fire.”\r
-\r
-“But you must have found it very damp and dirty. I wish you may not\r
-catch cold.”\r
-\r
-“Dirty, sir! Look at my shoes. Not a speck on them.”\r
-\r
-“Well! that is quite surprising, for we have had a vast deal of rain\r
-here. It rained dreadfully hard for half an hour while we were at\r
-breakfast. I wanted them to put off the wedding.”\r
-\r
-“By the bye--I have not wished you joy. Being pretty well aware of what\r
-sort of joy you must both be feeling, I have been in no hurry with my\r
-congratulations; but I hope it all went off tolerably well. How did you\r
-all behave? Who cried most?”\r
-\r
-“Ah! poor Miss Taylor! ‘Tis a sad business.”\r
-\r
-“Poor Mr. and Miss Woodhouse, if you please; but I cannot possibly say\r
-‘poor Miss Taylor.’ I have a great regard for you and Emma; but when it\r
-comes to the question of dependence or independence!--At any rate, it\r
-must be better to have only one to please than two.”\r
-\r
-“Especially when _one_ of those two is such a fanciful, troublesome\r
-creature!” said Emma playfully. “That is what you have in your head, I\r
-know--and what you would certainly say if my father were not by.”\r
-\r
-“I believe it is very true, my dear, indeed,” said Mr. Woodhouse, with a\r
-sigh. “I am afraid I am sometimes very fanciful and troublesome.”\r
-\r
-“My dearest papa! You do not think I could mean _you_, or suppose Mr.\r
-Knightley to mean _you_. What a horrible idea! Oh no! I meant only\r
-myself. Mr. Knightley loves to find fault with me, you know--in a\r
-joke--it is all a joke. We always say what we like to one another.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley, in fact, was one of the few people who could see faults\r
-in Emma Woodhouse, and the only one who ever told her of them: and\r
-though this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself, she knew\r
-it would be so much less so to her father, that she would not have him\r
-really suspect such a circumstance as her not being thought perfect by\r
-every body.\r
-\r
-“Emma knows I never flatter her,” said Mr. Knightley, “but I meant no\r
-reflection on any body. Miss Taylor has been used to have two persons\r
-to please; she will now have but one. The chances are that she must be a\r
-gainer.”\r
-\r
-“Well,” said Emma, willing to let it pass--“you want to hear about\r
-the wedding; and I shall be happy to tell you, for we all behaved\r
-charmingly. Every body was punctual, every body in their best looks: not\r
-a tear, and hardly a long face to be seen. Oh no; we all felt that we\r
-were going to be only half a mile apart, and were sure of meeting every\r
-day.”\r
-\r
-“Dear Emma bears every thing so well,” said her father. “But, Mr.\r
-Knightley, she is really very sorry to lose poor Miss Taylor, and I am\r
-sure she _will_ miss her more than she thinks for.”\r
-\r
-Emma turned away her head, divided between tears and smiles. “It\r
-is impossible that Emma should not miss such a companion,” said Mr.\r
-Knightley. “We should not like her so well as we do, sir, if we could\r
-suppose it; but she knows how much the marriage is to Miss Taylor’s\r
-advantage; she knows how very acceptable it must be, at Miss Taylor’s\r
-time of life, to be settled in a home of her own, and how important to\r
-her to be secure of a comfortable provision, and therefore cannot allow\r
-herself to feel so much pain as pleasure. Every friend of Miss Taylor\r
-must be glad to have her so happily married.”\r
-\r
-“And you have forgotten one matter of joy to me,” said Emma, “and a very\r
-considerable one--that I made the match myself. I made the match, you\r
-know, four years ago; and to have it take place, and be proved in the\r
-right, when so many people said Mr. Weston would never marry again, may\r
-comfort me for any thing.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley shook his head at her. Her father fondly replied, “Ah!\r
-my dear, I wish you would not make matches and foretell things, for\r
-whatever you say always comes to pass. Pray do not make any more\r
-matches.”\r
-\r
-“I promise you to make none for myself, papa; but I must, indeed, for\r
-other people. It is the greatest amusement in the world! And after such\r
-success, you know!--Every body said that Mr. Weston would never marry\r
-again. Oh dear, no! Mr. Weston, who had been a widower so long, and who\r
-seemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife, so constantly occupied\r
-either in his business in town or among his friends here, always\r
-acceptable wherever he went, always cheerful--Mr. Weston need not spend\r
-a single evening in the year alone if he did not like it. Oh no! Mr.\r
-Weston certainly would never marry again. Some people even talked of a\r
-promise to his wife on her deathbed, and others of the son and the\r
-uncle not letting him. All manner of solemn nonsense was talked on the\r
-subject, but I believed none of it.\r
-\r
-“Ever since the day--about four years ago--that Miss Taylor and I met\r
-with him in Broadway Lane, when, because it began to drizzle, he darted\r
-away with so much gallantry, and borrowed two umbrellas for us from\r
-Farmer Mitchell’s, I made up my mind on the subject. I planned the match\r
-from that hour; and when such success has blessed me in this instance,\r
-dear papa, you cannot think that I shall leave off match-making.”\r
-\r
-“I do not understand what you mean by ‘success,’” said Mr. Knightley.\r
-“Success supposes endeavour. Your time has been properly and delicately\r
-spent, if you have been endeavouring for the last four years to bring\r
-about this marriage. A worthy employment for a young lady’s mind! But\r
-if, which I rather imagine, your making the match, as you call it, means\r
-only your planning it, your saying to yourself one idle day, ‘I think it\r
-would be a very good thing for Miss Taylor if Mr. Weston were to marry\r
-her,’ and saying it again to yourself every now and then afterwards, why\r
-do you talk of success? Where is your merit? What are you proud of? You\r
-made a lucky guess; and _that_ is all that can be said.”\r
-\r
-“And have you never known the pleasure and triumph of a lucky guess?--I\r
-pity you.--I thought you cleverer--for, depend upon it a lucky guess is\r
-never merely luck. There is always some talent in it. And as to my\r
-poor word ‘success,’ which you quarrel with, I do not know that I am so\r
-entirely without any claim to it. You have drawn two pretty pictures;\r
-but I think there may be a third--a something between the do-nothing and\r
-the do-all. If I had not promoted Mr. Weston’s visits here, and given\r
-many little encouragements, and smoothed many little matters, it might\r
-not have come to any thing after all. I think you must know Hartfield\r
-enough to comprehend that.”\r
-\r
-“A straightforward, open-hearted man like Weston, and a rational,\r
-unaffected woman like Miss Taylor, may be safely left to manage their\r
-own concerns. You are more likely to have done harm to yourself, than\r
-good to them, by interference.”\r
-\r
-“Emma never thinks of herself, if she can do good to others,” rejoined\r
-Mr. Woodhouse, understanding but in part. “But, my dear, pray do not\r
-make any more matches; they are silly things, and break up one’s family\r
-circle grievously.”\r
-\r
-“Only one more, papa; only for Mr. Elton. Poor Mr. Elton! You like Mr.\r
-Elton, papa,--I must look about for a wife for him. There is nobody in\r
-Highbury who deserves him--and he has been here a whole year, and has\r
-fitted up his house so comfortably, that it would be a shame to have him\r
-single any longer--and I thought when he was joining their hands to-day,\r
-he looked so very much as if he would like to have the same kind office\r
-done for him! I think very well of Mr. Elton, and this is the only way I\r
-have of doing him a service.”\r
-\r
-“Mr. Elton is a very pretty young man, to be sure, and a very good young\r
-man, and I have a great regard for him. But if you want to shew him any\r
-attention, my dear, ask him to come and dine with us some day. That will\r
-be a much better thing. I dare say Mr. Knightley will be so kind as to\r
-meet him.”\r
-\r
-“With a great deal of pleasure, sir, at any time,” said Mr. Knightley,\r
-laughing, “and I agree with you entirely, that it will be a much better\r
-thing. Invite him to dinner, Emma, and help him to the best of the fish\r
-and the chicken, but leave him to chuse his own wife. Depend upon it, a\r
-man of six or seven-and-twenty can take care of himself.”\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER II\r
-\r
-\r
-Mr. Weston was a native of Highbury, and born of a respectable family,\r
-which for the last two or three generations had been rising into\r
-gentility and property. He had received a good education, but, on\r
-succeeding early in life to a small independence, had become indisposed\r
-for any of the more homely pursuits in which his brothers were engaged,\r
-and had satisfied an active, cheerful mind and social temper by entering\r
-into the militia of his county, then embodied.\r
-\r
-Captain Weston was a general favourite; and when the chances of his\r
-military life had introduced him to Miss Churchill, of a great Yorkshire\r
-family, and Miss Churchill fell in love with him, nobody was surprized,\r
-except her brother and his wife, who had never seen him, and who were\r
-full of pride and importance, which the connexion would offend.\r
-\r
-Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command of her\r
-fortune--though her fortune bore no proportion to the family-estate--was\r
-not to be dissuaded from the marriage, and it took place, to the\r
-infinite mortification of Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, who threw her off with\r
-due decorum. It was an unsuitable connexion, and did not produce much\r
-happiness. Mrs. Weston ought to have found more in it, for she had a\r
-husband whose warm heart and sweet temper made him think every thing due\r
-to her in return for the great goodness of being in love with him;\r
-but though she had one sort of spirit, she had not the best. She had\r
-resolution enough to pursue her own will in spite of her brother,\r
-but not enough to refrain from unreasonable regrets at that brother’s\r
-unreasonable anger, nor from missing the luxuries of her former home.\r
-They lived beyond their income, but still it was nothing in comparison\r
-of Enscombe: she did not cease to love her husband, but she wanted at\r
-once to be the wife of Captain Weston, and Miss Churchill of Enscombe.\r
-\r
-Captain Weston, who had been considered, especially by the Churchills,\r
-as making such an amazing match, was proved to have much the worst of\r
-the bargain; for when his wife died, after a three years’ marriage, he\r
-was rather a poorer man than at first, and with a child to maintain.\r
-From the expense of the child, however, he was soon relieved. The boy\r
-had, with the additional softening claim of a lingering illness of his\r
-mother’s, been the means of a sort of reconciliation; and Mr. and Mrs.\r
-Churchill, having no children of their own, nor any other young creature\r
-of equal kindred to care for, offered to take the whole charge of the\r
-little Frank soon after her decease. Some scruples and some reluctance\r
-the widower-father may be supposed to have felt; but as they were\r
-overcome by other considerations, the child was given up to the care and\r
-the wealth of the Churchills, and he had only his own comfort to seek,\r
-and his own situation to improve as he could.\r
-\r
-A complete change of life became desirable. He quitted the militia and\r
-engaged in trade, having brothers already established in a good way in\r
-London, which afforded him a favourable opening. It was a concern which\r
-brought just employment enough. He had still a small house in Highbury,\r
-where most of his leisure days were spent; and between useful occupation\r
-and the pleasures of society, the next eighteen or twenty years of his\r
-life passed cheerfully away. He had, by that time, realised an easy\r
-competence--enough to secure the purchase of a little estate adjoining\r
-Highbury, which he had always longed for--enough to marry a woman as\r
-portionless even as Miss Taylor, and to live according to the wishes of\r
-his own friendly and social disposition.\r
-\r
-It was now some time since Miss Taylor had begun to influence his\r
-schemes; but as it was not the tyrannic influence of youth on youth,\r
-it had not shaken his determination of never settling till he could\r
-purchase Randalls, and the sale of Randalls was long looked forward to;\r
-but he had gone steadily on, with these objects in view, till they were\r
-accomplished. He had made his fortune, bought his house, and obtained\r
-his wife; and was beginning a new period of existence, with every\r
-probability of greater happiness than in any yet passed through. He had\r
-never been an unhappy man; his own temper had secured him from that,\r
-even in his first marriage; but his second must shew him how delightful\r
-a well-judging and truly amiable woman could be, and must give him the\r
-pleasantest proof of its being a great deal better to choose than to be\r
-chosen, to excite gratitude than to feel it.\r
-\r
-He had only himself to please in his choice: his fortune was his own;\r
-for as to Frank, it was more than being tacitly brought up as his\r
-uncle’s heir, it had become so avowed an adoption as to have him assume\r
-the name of Churchill on coming of age. It was most unlikely, therefore,\r
-that he should ever want his father’s assistance. His father had no\r
-apprehension of it. The aunt was a capricious woman, and governed her\r
-husband entirely; but it was not in Mr. Weston’s nature to imagine that\r
-any caprice could be strong enough to affect one so dear, and, as he\r
-believed, so deservedly dear. He saw his son every year in London, and\r
-was proud of him; and his fond report of him as a very fine young man\r
-had made Highbury feel a sort of pride in him too. He was looked on as\r
-sufficiently belonging to the place to make his merits and prospects a\r
-kind of common concern.\r
-\r
-Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a lively\r
-curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so little\r
-returned that he had never been there in his life. His coming to visit\r
-his father had been often talked of but never achieved.\r
-\r
-Now, upon his father’s marriage, it was very generally proposed, as a\r
-most proper attention, that the visit should take place. There was not a\r
-dissentient voice on the subject, either when Mrs. Perry drank tea with\r
-Mrs. and Miss Bates, or when Mrs. and Miss Bates returned the visit. Now\r
-was the time for Mr. Frank Churchill to come among them; and the hope\r
-strengthened when it was understood that he had written to his new\r
-mother on the occasion. For a few days, every morning visit in Highbury\r
-included some mention of the handsome letter Mrs. Weston had received.\r
-“I suppose you have heard of the handsome letter Mr. Frank Churchill\r
-has written to Mrs. Weston? I understand it was a very handsome letter,\r
-indeed. Mr. Woodhouse told me of it. Mr. Woodhouse saw the letter, and\r
-he says he never saw such a handsome letter in his life.”\r
-\r
-It was, indeed, a highly prized letter. Mrs. Weston had, of course,\r
-formed a very favourable idea of the young man; and such a pleasing\r
-attention was an irresistible proof of his great good sense, and a most\r
-welcome addition to every source and every expression of congratulation\r
-which her marriage had already secured. She felt herself a most\r
-fortunate woman; and she had lived long enough to know how fortunate\r
-she might well be thought, where the only regret was for a partial\r
-separation from friends whose friendship for her had never cooled, and\r
-who could ill bear to part with her.\r
-\r
-She knew that at times she must be missed; and could not think, without\r
-pain, of Emma’s losing a single pleasure, or suffering an hour’s ennui,\r
-from the want of her companionableness: but dear Emma was of no feeble\r
-character; she was more equal to her situation than most girls would\r
-have been, and had sense, and energy, and spirits that might be hoped\r
-would bear her well and happily through its little difficulties and\r
-privations. And then there was such comfort in the very easy distance of\r
-Randalls from Hartfield, so convenient for even solitary female walking,\r
-and in Mr. Weston’s disposition and circumstances, which would make the\r
-approaching season no hindrance to their spending half the evenings in\r
-the week together.\r
-\r
-Her situation was altogether the subject of hours of gratitude to Mrs.\r
-Weston, and of moments only of regret; and her satisfaction--her more\r
-than satisfaction--her cheerful enjoyment, was so just and so apparent,\r
-that Emma, well as she knew her father, was sometimes taken by surprize\r
-at his being still able to pity ‘poor Miss Taylor,’ when they left her\r
-at Randalls in the centre of every domestic comfort, or saw her go away\r
-in the evening attended by her pleasant husband to a carriage of her\r
-own. But never did she go without Mr. Woodhouse’s giving a gentle sigh,\r
-and saying, “Ah, poor Miss Taylor! She would be very glad to stay.”\r
-\r
-There was no recovering Miss Taylor--nor much likelihood of ceasing to\r
-pity her; but a few weeks brought some alleviation to Mr. Woodhouse.\r
-The compliments of his neighbours were over; he was no longer teased by\r
-being wished joy of so sorrowful an event; and the wedding-cake, which\r
-had been a great distress to him, was all eat up. His own stomach\r
-could bear nothing rich, and he could never believe other people to be\r
-different from himself. What was unwholesome to him he regarded as unfit\r
-for any body; and he had, therefore, earnestly tried to dissuade them\r
-from having any wedding-cake at all, and when that proved vain, as\r
-earnestly tried to prevent any body’s eating it. He had been at the\r
-pains of consulting Mr. Perry, the apothecary, on the subject. Mr. Perry\r
-was an intelligent, gentlemanlike man, whose frequent visits were one\r
-of the comforts of Mr. Woodhouse’s life; and upon being applied to, he\r
-could not but acknowledge (though it seemed rather against the bias\r
-of inclination) that wedding-cake might certainly disagree with\r
-many--perhaps with most people, unless taken moderately. With such an\r
-opinion, in confirmation of his own, Mr. Woodhouse hoped to influence\r
-every visitor of the newly married pair; but still the cake was eaten;\r
-and there was no rest for his benevolent nerves till it was all gone.\r
-\r
-There was a strange rumour in Highbury of all the little Perrys being\r
-seen with a slice of Mrs. Weston’s wedding-cake in their hands: but Mr.\r
-Woodhouse would never believe it.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER III\r
-\r
-\r
-Mr. Woodhouse was fond of society in his own way. He liked very much to\r
-have his friends come and see him; and from various united causes, from\r
-his long residence at Hartfield, and his good nature, from his fortune,\r
-his house, and his daughter, he could command the visits of his\r
-own little circle, in a great measure, as he liked. He had not much\r
-intercourse with any families beyond that circle; his horror of late\r
-hours, and large dinner-parties, made him unfit for any acquaintance but\r
-such as would visit him on his own terms. Fortunately for him, Highbury,\r
-including Randalls in the same parish, and Donwell Abbey in the parish\r
-adjoining, the seat of Mr. Knightley, comprehended many such. Not\r
-unfrequently, through Emma’s persuasion, he had some of the chosen and\r
-the best to dine with him: but evening parties were what he preferred;\r
-and, unless he fancied himself at any time unequal to company, there\r
-was scarcely an evening in the week in which Emma could not make up a\r
-card-table for him.\r
-\r
-Real, long-standing regard brought the Westons and Mr. Knightley; and by\r
-Mr. Elton, a young man living alone without liking it, the privilege\r
-of exchanging any vacant evening of his own blank solitude for the\r
-elegancies and society of Mr. Woodhouse’s drawing-room, and the smiles\r
-of his lovely daughter, was in no danger of being thrown away.\r
-\r
-After these came a second set; among the most come-at-able of whom were\r
-Mrs. and Miss Bates, and Mrs. Goddard, three ladies almost always at\r
-the service of an invitation from Hartfield, and who were fetched and\r
-carried home so often, that Mr. Woodhouse thought it no hardship for\r
-either James or the horses. Had it taken place only once a year, it\r
-would have been a grievance.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Bates, the widow of a former vicar of Highbury, was a very old\r
-lady, almost past every thing but tea and quadrille. She lived with her\r
-single daughter in a very small way, and was considered with all the\r
-regard and respect which a harmless old lady, under such untoward\r
-circumstances, can excite. Her daughter enjoyed a most uncommon degree\r
-of popularity for a woman neither young, handsome, rich, nor married.\r
-Miss Bates stood in the very worst predicament in the world for having\r
-much of the public favour; and she had no intellectual superiority to\r
-make atonement to herself, or frighten those who might hate her into\r
-outward respect. She had never boasted either beauty or cleverness. Her\r
-youth had passed without distinction, and her middle of life was devoted\r
-to the care of a failing mother, and the endeavour to make a small\r
-income go as far as possible. And yet she was a happy woman, and a woman\r
-whom no one named without good-will. It was her own universal good-will\r
-and contented temper which worked such wonders. She loved every body,\r
-was interested in every body’s happiness, quicksighted to every body’s\r
-merits; thought herself a most fortunate creature, and surrounded with\r
-blessings in such an excellent mother, and so many good neighbours\r
-and friends, and a home that wanted for nothing. The simplicity and\r
-cheerfulness of her nature, her contented and grateful spirit, were a\r
-recommendation to every body, and a mine of felicity to herself. She was\r
-a great talker upon little matters, which exactly suited Mr. Woodhouse,\r
-full of trivial communications and harmless gossip.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Goddard was the mistress of a School--not of a seminary, or an\r
-establishment, or any thing which professed, in long sentences of\r
-refined nonsense, to combine liberal acquirements with elegant morality,\r
-upon new principles and new systems--and where young ladies for enormous\r
-pay might be screwed out of health and into vanity--but a real,\r
-honest, old-fashioned Boarding-school, where a reasonable quantity of\r
-accomplishments were sold at a reasonable price, and where girls might\r
-be sent to be out of the way, and scramble themselves into a little\r
-education, without any danger of coming back prodigies. Mrs. Goddard’s\r
-school was in high repute--and very deservedly; for Highbury was\r
-reckoned a particularly healthy spot: she had an ample house and garden,\r
-gave the children plenty of wholesome food, let them run about a great\r
-deal in the summer, and in winter dressed their chilblains with her own\r
-hands. It was no wonder that a train of twenty young couple now walked\r
-after her to church. She was a plain, motherly kind of woman, who\r
-had worked hard in her youth, and now thought herself entitled to the\r
-occasional holiday of a tea-visit; and having formerly owed much to Mr.\r
-Woodhouse’s kindness, felt his particular claim on her to leave her neat\r
-parlour, hung round with fancy-work, whenever she could, and win or lose\r
-a few sixpences by his fireside.\r
-\r
-These were the ladies whom Emma found herself very frequently able to\r
-collect; and happy was she, for her father’s sake, in the power; though,\r
-as far as she was herself concerned, it was no remedy for the absence of\r
-Mrs. Weston. She was delighted to see her father look comfortable, and\r
-very much pleased with herself for contriving things so well; but the\r
-quiet prosings of three such women made her feel that every evening so\r
-spent was indeed one of the long evenings she had fearfully anticipated.\r
-\r
-As she sat one morning, looking forward to exactly such a close of the\r
-present day, a note was brought from Mrs. Goddard, requesting, in most\r
-respectful terms, to be allowed to bring Miss Smith with her; a most\r
-welcome request: for Miss Smith was a girl of seventeen, whom Emma knew\r
-very well by sight, and had long felt an interest in, on account of\r
-her beauty. A very gracious invitation was returned, and the evening no\r
-longer dreaded by the fair mistress of the mansion.\r
-\r
-Harriet Smith was the natural daughter of somebody. Somebody had placed\r
-her, several years back, at Mrs. Goddard’s school, and somebody\r
-had lately raised her from the condition of scholar to that of\r
-parlour-boarder. This was all that was generally known of her history.\r
-She had no visible friends but what had been acquired at Highbury, and\r
-was now just returned from a long visit in the country to some young\r
-ladies who had been at school there with her.\r
-\r
-She was a very pretty girl, and her beauty happened to be of a sort\r
-which Emma particularly admired. She was short, plump, and fair, with a\r
-fine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features, and a look of great\r
-sweetness, and, before the end of the evening, Emma was as much pleased\r
-with her manners as her person, and quite determined to continue the\r
-acquaintance.\r
-\r
-She was not struck by any thing remarkably clever in Miss Smith’s\r
-conversation, but she found her altogether very engaging--not\r
-inconveniently shy, not unwilling to talk--and yet so far from pushing,\r
-shewing so proper and becoming a deference, seeming so pleasantly\r
-grateful for being admitted to Hartfield, and so artlessly impressed\r
-by the appearance of every thing in so superior a style to what she had\r
-been used to, that she must have good sense, and deserve encouragement.\r
-Encouragement should be given. Those soft blue eyes, and all those\r
-natural graces, should not be wasted on the inferior society of Highbury\r
-and its connexions. The acquaintance she had already formed were\r
-unworthy of her. The friends from whom she had just parted, though very\r
-good sort of people, must be doing her harm. They were a family of the\r
-name of Martin, whom Emma well knew by character, as renting a large\r
-farm of Mr. Knightley, and residing in the parish of Donwell--very\r
-creditably, she believed--she knew Mr. Knightley thought highly of\r
-them--but they must be coarse and unpolished, and very unfit to be the\r
-intimates of a girl who wanted only a little more knowledge and elegance\r
-to be quite perfect. _She_ would notice her; she would improve her; she\r
-would detach her from her bad acquaintance, and introduce her into good\r
-society; she would form her opinions and her manners. It would be an\r
-interesting, and certainly a very kind undertaking; highly becoming her\r
-own situation in life, her leisure, and powers.\r
-\r
-She was so busy in admiring those soft blue eyes, in talking and\r
-listening, and forming all these schemes in the in-betweens, that the\r
-evening flew away at a very unusual rate; and the supper-table, which\r
-always closed such parties, and for which she had been used to sit and\r
-watch the due time, was all set out and ready, and moved forwards to the\r
-fire, before she was aware. With an alacrity beyond the common impulse\r
-of a spirit which yet was never indifferent to the credit of doing every\r
-thing well and attentively, with the real good-will of a mind delighted\r
-with its own ideas, did she then do all the honours of the meal, and\r
-help and recommend the minced chicken and scalloped oysters, with an\r
-urgency which she knew would be acceptable to the early hours and civil\r
-scruples of their guests.\r
-\r
-Upon such occasions poor Mr. Woodhouse’s feelings were in sad warfare.\r
-He loved to have the cloth laid, because it had been the fashion of his\r
-youth, but his conviction of suppers being very unwholesome made him\r
-rather sorry to see any thing put on it; and while his hospitality would\r
-have welcomed his visitors to every thing, his care for their health\r
-made him grieve that they would eat.\r
-\r
-Such another small basin of thin gruel as his own was all that he could,\r
-with thorough self-approbation, recommend; though he might constrain\r
-himself, while the ladies were comfortably clearing the nicer things, to\r
-say:\r
-\r
-“Mrs. Bates, let me propose your venturing on one of these eggs. An egg\r
-boiled very soft is not unwholesome. Serle understands boiling an egg\r
-better than any body. I would not recommend an egg boiled by any body\r
-else; but you need not be afraid, they are very small, you see--one of\r
-our small eggs will not hurt you. Miss Bates, let Emma help you to a\r
-_little_ bit of tart--a _very_ little bit. Ours are all apple-tarts. You\r
-need not be afraid of unwholesome preserves here. I do not advise the\r
-custard. Mrs. Goddard, what say you to _half_ a glass of wine? A\r
-_small_ half-glass, put into a tumbler of water? I do not think it could\r
-disagree with you.”\r
-\r
-Emma allowed her father to talk--but supplied her visitors in a much\r
-more satisfactory style, and on the present evening had particular\r
-pleasure in sending them away happy. The happiness of Miss Smith was\r
-quite equal to her intentions. Miss Woodhouse was so great a personage\r
-in Highbury, that the prospect of the introduction had given as much\r
-panic as pleasure; but the humble, grateful little girl went off with\r
-highly gratified feelings, delighted with the affability with which Miss\r
-Woodhouse had treated her all the evening, and actually shaken hands\r
-with her at last!\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER IV\r
-\r
-\r
-Harriet Smith’s intimacy at Hartfield was soon a settled thing. Quick\r
-and decided in her ways, Emma lost no time in inviting, encouraging, and\r
-telling her to come very often; and as their acquaintance increased, so\r
-did their satisfaction in each other. As a walking companion, Emma had\r
-very early foreseen how useful she might find her. In that respect\r
-Mrs. Weston’s loss had been important. Her father never went beyond the\r
-shrubbery, where two divisions of the ground sufficed him for his long\r
-walk, or his short, as the year varied; and since Mrs. Weston’s marriage\r
-her exercise had been too much confined. She had ventured once alone to\r
-Randalls, but it was not pleasant; and a Harriet Smith, therefore,\r
-one whom she could summon at any time to a walk, would be a valuable\r
-addition to her privileges. But in every respect, as she saw more of\r
-her, she approved her, and was confirmed in all her kind designs.\r
-\r
-Harriet certainly was not clever, but she had a sweet, docile, grateful\r
-disposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring to be\r
-guided by any one she looked up to. Her early attachment to herself\r
-was very amiable; and her inclination for good company, and power of\r
-appreciating what was elegant and clever, shewed that there was no\r
-want of taste, though strength of understanding must not be expected.\r
-Altogether she was quite convinced of Harriet Smith’s being exactly the\r
-young friend she wanted--exactly the something which her home required.\r
-Such a friend as Mrs. Weston was out of the question. Two such could\r
-never be granted. Two such she did not want. It was quite a different\r
-sort of thing, a sentiment distinct and independent. Mrs. Weston was the\r
-object of a regard which had its basis in gratitude and esteem. Harriet\r
-would be loved as one to whom she could be useful. For Mrs. Weston there\r
-was nothing to be done; for Harriet every thing.\r
-\r
-Her first attempts at usefulness were in an endeavour to find out who\r
-were the parents, but Harriet could not tell. She was ready to tell\r
-every thing in her power, but on this subject questions were vain. Emma\r
-was obliged to fancy what she liked--but she could never believe that in\r
-the same situation _she_ should not have discovered the truth. Harriet\r
-had no penetration. She had been satisfied to hear and believe just what\r
-Mrs. Goddard chose to tell her; and looked no farther.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Goddard, and the teachers, and the girls and the affairs of\r
-the school in general, formed naturally a great part of the\r
-conversation--and but for her acquaintance with the Martins of\r
-Abbey-Mill Farm, it must have been the whole. But the Martins occupied\r
-her thoughts a good deal; she had spent two very happy months with them,\r
-and now loved to talk of the pleasures of her visit, and describe\r
-the many comforts and wonders of the place. Emma encouraged her\r
-talkativeness--amused by such a picture of another set of beings,\r
-and enjoying the youthful simplicity which could speak with so much\r
-exultation of Mrs. Martin’s having “_two_ parlours, two very good\r
-parlours, indeed; one of them quite as large as Mrs. Goddard’s\r
-drawing-room; and of her having an upper maid who had lived\r
-five-and-twenty years with her; and of their having eight cows, two of\r
-them Alderneys, and one a little Welch cow, a very pretty little Welch\r
-cow indeed; and of Mrs. Martin’s saying as she was so fond of it,\r
-it should be called _her_ cow; and of their having a very handsome\r
-summer-house in their garden, where some day next year they were all to\r
-drink tea:--a very handsome summer-house, large enough to hold a dozen\r
-people.”\r
-\r
-For some time she was amused, without thinking beyond the immediate\r
-cause; but as she came to understand the family better, other feelings\r
-arose. She had taken up a wrong idea, fancying it was a mother and\r
-daughter, a son and son’s wife, who all lived together; but when it\r
-appeared that the Mr. Martin, who bore a part in the narrative, and was\r
-always mentioned with approbation for his great good-nature in doing\r
-something or other, was a single man; that there was no young Mrs.\r
-Martin, no wife in the case; she did suspect danger to her poor little\r
-friend from all this hospitality and kindness, and that, if she were not\r
-taken care of, she might be required to sink herself forever.\r
-\r
-With this inspiriting notion, her questions increased in number and\r
-meaning; and she particularly led Harriet to talk more of Mr. Martin,\r
-and there was evidently no dislike to it. Harriet was very ready to\r
-speak of the share he had had in their moonlight walks and merry evening\r
-games; and dwelt a good deal upon his being so very good-humoured and\r
-obliging. He had gone three miles round one day in order to bring her\r
-some walnuts, because she had said how fond she was of them, and in\r
-every thing else he was so very obliging. He had his shepherd’s son into\r
-the parlour one night on purpose to sing to her. She was very fond\r
-of singing. He could sing a little himself. She believed he was very\r
-clever, and understood every thing. He had a very fine flock, and, while\r
-she was with them, he had been bid more for his wool than any body in\r
-the country. She believed every body spoke well of him. His mother and\r
-sisters were very fond of him. Mrs. Martin had told her one day (and\r
-there was a blush as she said it,) that it was impossible for any body\r
-to be a better son, and therefore she was sure, whenever he married, he\r
-would make a good husband. Not that she _wanted_ him to marry. She was\r
-in no hurry at all.\r
-\r
-“Well done, Mrs. Martin!” thought Emma. “You know what you are about.”\r
-\r
-“And when she had come away, Mrs. Martin was so very kind as to send\r
-Mrs. Goddard a beautiful goose--the finest goose Mrs. Goddard had ever\r
-seen. Mrs. Goddard had dressed it on a Sunday, and asked all the three\r
-teachers, Miss Nash, and Miss Prince, and Miss Richardson, to sup with\r
-her.”\r
-\r
-“Mr. Martin, I suppose, is not a man of information beyond the line of\r
-his own business? He does not read?”\r
-\r
-“Oh yes!--that is, no--I do not know--but I believe he has read a\r
-good deal--but not what you would think any thing of. He reads the\r
-Agricultural Reports, and some other books that lay in one of the window\r
-seats--but he reads all _them_ to himself. But sometimes of an evening,\r
-before we went to cards, he would read something aloud out of the\r
-Elegant Extracts, very entertaining. And I know he has read the Vicar of\r
-Wakefield. He never read the Romance of the Forest, nor The Children of\r
-the Abbey. He had never heard of such books before I mentioned them, but\r
-he is determined to get them now as soon as ever he can.”\r
-\r
-The next question was--\r
-\r
-“What sort of looking man is Mr. Martin?”\r
-\r
-“Oh! not handsome--not at all handsome. I thought him very plain at\r
-first, but I do not think him so plain now. One does not, you know,\r
-after a time. But did you never see him? He is in Highbury every now and\r
-then, and he is sure to ride through every week in his way to Kingston.\r
-He has passed you very often.”\r
-\r
-“That may be, and I may have seen him fifty times, but without having\r
-any idea of his name. A young farmer, whether on horseback or on foot,\r
-is the very last sort of person to raise my curiosity. The yeomanry are\r
-precisely the order of people with whom I feel I can have nothing to do.\r
-A degree or two lower, and a creditable appearance might interest me;\r
-I might hope to be useful to their families in some way or other. But\r
-a farmer can need none of my help, and is, therefore, in one sense, as\r
-much above my notice as in every other he is below it.”\r
-\r
-“To be sure. Oh yes! It is not likely you should ever have observed him;\r
-but he knows you very well indeed--I mean by sight.”\r
-\r
-“I have no doubt of his being a very respectable young man. I know,\r
-indeed, that he is so, and, as such, wish him well. What do you imagine\r
-his age to be?”\r
-\r
-“He was four-and-twenty the 8th of last June, and my birthday is the\r
-23rd just a fortnight and a day’s difference--which is very odd.”\r
-\r
-“Only four-and-twenty. That is too young to settle. His mother is\r
-perfectly right not to be in a hurry. They seem very comfortable as they\r
-are, and if she were to take any pains to marry him, she would probably\r
-repent it. Six years hence, if he could meet with a good sort of young\r
-woman in the same rank as his own, with a little money, it might be very\r
-desirable.”\r
-\r
-“Six years hence! Dear Miss Woodhouse, he would be thirty years old!”\r
-\r
-“Well, and that is as early as most men can afford to marry, who are not\r
-born to an independence. Mr. Martin, I imagine, has his fortune entirely\r
-to make--cannot be at all beforehand with the world. Whatever money he\r
-might come into when his father died, whatever his share of the family\r
-property, it is, I dare say, all afloat, all employed in his stock, and\r
-so forth; and though, with diligence and good luck, he may be rich in\r
-time, it is next to impossible that he should have realised any thing\r
-yet.”\r
-\r
-“To be sure, so it is. But they live very comfortably. They have no\r
-indoors man, else they do not want for any thing; and Mrs. Martin talks\r
-of taking a boy another year.”\r
-\r
-“I wish you may not get into a scrape, Harriet, whenever he does\r
-marry;--I mean, as to being acquainted with his wife--for though his\r
-sisters, from a superior education, are not to be altogether objected\r
-to, it does not follow that he might marry any body at all fit for you\r
-to notice. The misfortune of your birth ought to make you particularly\r
-careful as to your associates. There can be no doubt of your being a\r
-gentleman’s daughter, and you must support your claim to that station by\r
-every thing within your own power, or there will be plenty of people who\r
-would take pleasure in degrading you.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, to be sure, I suppose there are. But while I visit at Hartfield,\r
-and you are so kind to me, Miss Woodhouse, I am not afraid of what any\r
-body can do.”\r
-\r
-“You understand the force of influence pretty well, Harriet; but I would\r
-have you so firmly established in good society, as to be independent\r
-even of Hartfield and Miss Woodhouse. I want to see you permanently\r
-well connected, and to that end it will be advisable to have as few odd\r
-acquaintance as may be; and, therefore, I say that if you should still\r
-be in this country when Mr. Martin marries, I wish you may not be drawn\r
-in by your intimacy with the sisters, to be acquainted with the wife,\r
-who will probably be some mere farmer’s daughter, without education.”\r
-\r
-“To be sure. Yes. Not that I think Mr. Martin would ever marry any body\r
-but what had had some education--and been very well brought up. However,\r
-I do not mean to set up my opinion against yours--and I am sure I shall\r
-not wish for the acquaintance of his wife. I shall always have a great\r
-regard for the Miss Martins, especially Elizabeth, and should be very\r
-sorry to give them up, for they are quite as well educated as me. But\r
-if he marries a very ignorant, vulgar woman, certainly I had better not\r
-visit her, if I can help it.”\r
-\r
-Emma watched her through the fluctuations of this speech, and saw no\r
-alarming symptoms of love. The young man had been the first admirer, but\r
-she trusted there was no other hold, and that there would be no serious\r
-difficulty, on Harriet’s side, to oppose any friendly arrangement of her\r
-own.\r
-\r
-They met Mr. Martin the very next day, as they were walking on the\r
-Donwell road. He was on foot, and after looking very respectfully at\r
-her, looked with most unfeigned satisfaction at her companion. Emma was\r
-not sorry to have such an opportunity of survey; and walking a few\r
-yards forward, while they talked together, soon made her quick eye\r
-sufficiently acquainted with Mr. Robert Martin. His appearance was very\r
-neat, and he looked like a sensible young man, but his person had no\r
-other advantage; and when he came to be contrasted with gentlemen,\r
-she thought he must lose all the ground he had gained in Harriet’s\r
-inclination. Harriet was not insensible of manner; she had voluntarily\r
-noticed her father’s gentleness with admiration as well as wonder. Mr.\r
-Martin looked as if he did not know what manner was.\r
-\r
-They remained but a few minutes together, as Miss Woodhouse must not be\r
-kept waiting; and Harriet then came running to her with a smiling face,\r
-and in a flutter of spirits, which Miss Woodhouse hoped very soon to\r
-compose.\r
-\r
-“Only think of our happening to meet him!--How very odd! It was quite\r
-a chance, he said, that he had not gone round by Randalls. He did not\r
-think we ever walked this road. He thought we walked towards Randalls\r
-most days. He has not been able to get the Romance of the Forest yet.\r
-He was so busy the last time he was at Kingston that he quite forgot it,\r
-but he goes again to-morrow. So very odd we should happen to meet! Well,\r
-Miss Woodhouse, is he like what you expected? What do you think of him?\r
-Do you think him so very plain?”\r
-\r
-“He is very plain, undoubtedly--remarkably plain:--but that is nothing\r
-compared with his entire want of gentility. I had no right to expect\r
-much, and I did not expect much; but I had no idea that he could be so\r
-very clownish, so totally without air. I had imagined him, I confess, a\r
-degree or two nearer gentility.”\r
-\r
-“To be sure,” said Harriet, in a mortified voice, “he is not so genteel\r
-as real gentlemen.”\r
-\r
-“I think, Harriet, since your acquaintance with us, you have been\r
-repeatedly in the company of some such very real gentlemen, that you\r
-must yourself be struck with the difference in Mr. Martin. At Hartfield,\r
-you have had very good specimens of well educated, well bred men. I\r
-should be surprized if, after seeing them, you could be in company\r
-with Mr. Martin again without perceiving him to be a very inferior\r
-creature--and rather wondering at yourself for having ever thought him\r
-at all agreeable before. Do not you begin to feel that now? Were not\r
-you struck? I am sure you must have been struck by his awkward look and\r
-abrupt manner, and the uncouthness of a voice which I heard to be wholly\r
-unmodulated as I stood here.”\r
-\r
-“Certainly, he is not like Mr. Knightley. He has not such a fine air and\r
-way of walking as Mr. Knightley. I see the difference plain enough. But\r
-Mr. Knightley is so very fine a man!”\r
-\r
-“Mr. Knightley’s air is so remarkably good that it is not fair to\r
-compare Mr. Martin with _him_. You might not see one in a hundred with\r
-_gentleman_ so plainly written as in Mr. Knightley. But he is not the\r
-only gentleman you have been lately used to. What say you to Mr. Weston\r
-and Mr. Elton? Compare Mr. Martin with either of _them_. Compare their\r
-manner of carrying themselves; of walking; of speaking; of being silent.\r
-You must see the difference.”\r
-\r
-“Oh yes!--there is a great difference. But Mr. Weston is almost an old\r
-man. Mr. Weston must be between forty and fifty.”\r
-\r
-“Which makes his good manners the more valuable. The older a person\r
-grows, Harriet, the more important it is that their manners should not\r
-be bad; the more glaring and disgusting any loudness, or coarseness, or\r
-awkwardness becomes. What is passable in youth is detestable in later\r
-age. Mr. Martin is now awkward and abrupt; what will he be at Mr.\r
-Weston’s time of life?”\r
-\r
-“There is no saying, indeed,” replied Harriet rather solemnly.\r
-\r
-“But there may be pretty good guessing. He will be a completely gross,\r
-vulgar farmer, totally inattentive to appearances, and thinking of\r
-nothing but profit and loss.”\r
-\r
-“Will he, indeed? That will be very bad.”\r
-\r
-“How much his business engrosses him already is very plain from the\r
-circumstance of his forgetting to inquire for the book you recommended.\r
-He was a great deal too full of the market to think of any thing\r
-else--which is just as it should be, for a thriving man. What has he to\r
-do with books? And I have no doubt that he _will_ thrive, and be a very\r
-rich man in time--and his being illiterate and coarse need not disturb\r
-_us_.”\r
-\r
-“I wonder he did not remember the book”--was all Harriet’s answer, and\r
-spoken with a degree of grave displeasure which Emma thought might be\r
-safely left to itself. She, therefore, said no more for some time. Her\r
-next beginning was,\r
-\r
-“In one respect, perhaps, Mr. Elton’s manners are superior to Mr.\r
-Knightley’s or Mr. Weston’s. They have more gentleness. They might be\r
-more safely held up as a pattern. There is an openness, a quickness,\r
-almost a bluntness in Mr. Weston, which every body likes in _him_,\r
-because there is so much good-humour with it--but that would not do to\r
-be copied. Neither would Mr. Knightley’s downright, decided, commanding\r
-sort of manner, though it suits _him_ very well; his figure, and look,\r
-and situation in life seem to allow it; but if any young man were to set\r
-about copying him, he would not be sufferable. On the contrary, I think\r
-a young man might be very safely recommended to take Mr. Elton as a\r
-model. Mr. Elton is good-humoured, cheerful, obliging, and gentle.\r
-He seems to me to be grown particularly gentle of late. I do not know\r
-whether he has any design of ingratiating himself with either of us,\r
-Harriet, by additional softness, but it strikes me that his manners are\r
-softer than they used to be. If he means any thing, it must be to please\r
-you. Did not I tell you what he said of you the other day?”\r
-\r
-She then repeated some warm personal praise which she had drawn from Mr.\r
-Elton, and now did full justice to; and Harriet blushed and smiled, and\r
-said she had always thought Mr. Elton very agreeable.\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton was the very person fixed on by Emma for driving the young\r
-farmer out of Harriet’s head. She thought it would be an excellent\r
-match; and only too palpably desirable, natural, and probable, for her\r
-to have much merit in planning it. She feared it was what every body\r
-else must think of and predict. It was not likely, however, that any\r
-body should have equalled her in the date of the plan, as it had\r
-entered her brain during the very first evening of Harriet’s coming to\r
-Hartfield. The longer she considered it, the greater was her sense\r
-of its expediency. Mr. Elton’s situation was most suitable, quite the\r
-gentleman himself, and without low connexions; at the same time, not of\r
-any family that could fairly object to the doubtful birth of Harriet.\r
-He had a comfortable home for her, and Emma imagined a very sufficient\r
-income; for though the vicarage of Highbury was not large, he was known\r
-to have some independent property; and she thought very highly of him\r
-as a good-humoured, well-meaning, respectable young man, without any\r
-deficiency of useful understanding or knowledge of the world.\r
-\r
-She had already satisfied herself that he thought Harriet a beautiful\r
-girl, which she trusted, with such frequent meetings at Hartfield, was\r
-foundation enough on his side; and on Harriet’s there could be little\r
-doubt that the idea of being preferred by him would have all the usual\r
-weight and efficacy. And he was really a very pleasing young man, a\r
-young man whom any woman not fastidious might like. He was reckoned very\r
-handsome; his person much admired in general, though not by her,\r
-there being a want of elegance of feature which she could not dispense\r
-with:--but the girl who could be gratified by a Robert Martin’s riding\r
-about the country to get walnuts for her might very well be conquered by\r
-Mr. Elton’s admiration.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER V\r
-\r
-\r
-“I do not know what your opinion may be, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr.\r
-Knightley, “of this great intimacy between Emma and Harriet Smith, but I\r
-think it a bad thing.”\r
-\r
-“A bad thing! Do you really think it a bad thing?--why so?”\r
-\r
-“I think they will neither of them do the other any good.”\r
-\r
-“You surprize me! Emma must do Harriet good: and by supplying her with a\r
-new object of interest, Harriet may be said to do Emma good. I have been\r
-seeing their intimacy with the greatest pleasure. How very differently\r
-we feel!--Not think they will do each other any good! This will\r
-certainly be the beginning of one of our quarrels about Emma, Mr.\r
-Knightley.”\r
-\r
-“Perhaps you think I am come on purpose to quarrel with you, knowing\r
-Weston to be out, and that you must still fight your own battle.”\r
-\r
-“Mr. Weston would undoubtedly support me, if he were here, for he thinks\r
-exactly as I do on the subject. We were speaking of it only yesterday,\r
-and agreeing how fortunate it was for Emma, that there should be such a\r
-girl in Highbury for her to associate with. Mr. Knightley, I shall not\r
-allow you to be a fair judge in this case. You are so much used to live\r
-alone, that you do not know the value of a companion; and, perhaps no\r
-man can be a good judge of the comfort a woman feels in the society of\r
-one of her own sex, after being used to it all her life. I can imagine\r
-your objection to Harriet Smith. She is not the superior young woman\r
-which Emma’s friend ought to be. But on the other hand, as Emma wants\r
-to see her better informed, it will be an inducement to her to read more\r
-herself. They will read together. She means it, I know.”\r
-\r
-“Emma has been meaning to read more ever since she was twelve years old.\r
-I have seen a great many lists of her drawing-up at various times of\r
-books that she meant to read regularly through--and very good lists\r
-they were--very well chosen, and very neatly arranged--sometimes\r
-alphabetically, and sometimes by some other rule. The list she drew\r
-up when only fourteen--I remember thinking it did her judgment so much\r
-credit, that I preserved it some time; and I dare say she may have made\r
-out a very good list now. But I have done with expecting any course of\r
-steady reading from Emma. She will never submit to any thing\r
-requiring industry and patience, and a subjection of the fancy to the\r
-understanding. Where Miss Taylor failed to stimulate, I may safely\r
-affirm that Harriet Smith will do nothing.--You never could persuade her\r
-to read half so much as you wished.--You know you could not.”\r
-\r
-“I dare say,” replied Mrs. Weston, smiling, “that I thought so\r
-_then_;--but since we have parted, I can never remember Emma’s omitting\r
-to do any thing I wished.”\r
-\r
-“There is hardly any desiring to refresh such a memory as _that_,”--said\r
-Mr. Knightley, feelingly; and for a moment or two he had done. “But I,”\r
- he soon added, “who have had no such charm thrown over my senses, must\r
-still see, hear, and remember. Emma is spoiled by being the cleverest\r
-of her family. At ten years old, she had the misfortune of being able to\r
-answer questions which puzzled her sister at seventeen. She was always\r
-quick and assured: Isabella slow and diffident. And ever since she\r
-was twelve, Emma has been mistress of the house and of you all. In her\r
-mother she lost the only person able to cope with her. She inherits her\r
-mother’s talents, and must have been under subjection to her.”\r
-\r
-“I should have been sorry, Mr. Knightley, to be dependent on _your_\r
-recommendation, had I quitted Mr. Woodhouse’s family and wanted another\r
-situation; I do not think you would have spoken a good word for me to\r
-any body. I am sure you always thought me unfit for the office I held.”\r
-\r
-“Yes,” said he, smiling. “You are better placed _here_; very fit for a\r
-wife, but not at all for a governess. But you were preparing yourself to\r
-be an excellent wife all the time you were at Hartfield. You might\r
-not give Emma such a complete education as your powers would seem to\r
-promise; but you were receiving a very good education from _her_, on the\r
-very material matrimonial point of submitting your own will, and doing\r
-as you were bid; and if Weston had asked me to recommend him a wife, I\r
-should certainly have named Miss Taylor.”\r
-\r
-“Thank you. There will be very little merit in making a good wife to\r
-such a man as Mr. Weston.”\r
-\r
-“Why, to own the truth, I am afraid you are rather thrown away, and that\r
-with every disposition to bear, there will be nothing to be borne. We\r
-will not despair, however. Weston may grow cross from the wantonness of\r
-comfort, or his son may plague him.”\r
-\r
-“I hope not _that_.--It is not likely. No, Mr. Knightley, do not\r
-foretell vexation from that quarter.”\r
-\r
-“Not I, indeed. I only name possibilities. I do not pretend to Emma’s\r
-genius for foretelling and guessing. I hope, with all my heart, the\r
-young man may be a Weston in merit, and a Churchill in fortune.--But\r
-Harriet Smith--I have not half done about Harriet Smith. I think her the\r
-very worst sort of companion that Emma could possibly have. She knows\r
-nothing herself, and looks upon Emma as knowing every thing. She is a\r
-flatterer in all her ways; and so much the worse, because undesigned.\r
-Her ignorance is hourly flattery. How can Emma imagine she has any\r
-thing to learn herself, while Harriet is presenting such a delightful\r
-inferiority? And as for Harriet, I will venture to say that _she_ cannot\r
-gain by the acquaintance. Hartfield will only put her out of conceit\r
-with all the other places she belongs to. She will grow just refined\r
-enough to be uncomfortable with those among whom birth and circumstances\r
-have placed her home. I am much mistaken if Emma’s doctrines give any\r
-strength of mind, or tend at all to make a girl adapt herself rationally\r
-to the varieties of her situation in life.--They only give a little\r
-polish.”\r
-\r
-“I either depend more upon Emma’s good sense than you do, or am more\r
-anxious for her present comfort; for I cannot lament the acquaintance.\r
-How well she looked last night!”\r
-\r
-“Oh! you would rather talk of her person than her mind, would you? Very\r
-well; I shall not attempt to deny Emma’s being pretty.”\r
-\r
-“Pretty! say beautiful rather. Can you imagine any thing nearer perfect\r
-beauty than Emma altogether--face and figure?”\r
-\r
-“I do not know what I could imagine, but I confess that I have seldom\r
-seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers. But I am a partial\r
-old friend.”\r
-\r
-“Such an eye!--the true hazle eye--and so brilliant! regular features,\r
-open countenance, with a complexion! oh! what a bloom of full health,\r
-and such a pretty height and size; such a firm and upright figure!\r
-There is health, not merely in her bloom, but in her air, her head, her\r
-glance. One hears sometimes of a child being ‘the picture of health;’\r
-now, Emma always gives me the idea of being the complete picture of\r
-grown-up health. She is loveliness itself. Mr. Knightley, is not she?”\r
-\r
-“I have not a fault to find with her person,” he replied. “I think her\r
-all you describe. I love to look at her; and I will add this praise,\r
-that I do not think her personally vain. Considering how very handsome\r
-she is, she appears to be little occupied with it; her vanity lies\r
-another way. Mrs. Weston, I am not to be talked out of my dislike of\r
-Harriet Smith, or my dread of its doing them both harm.”\r
-\r
-“And I, Mr. Knightley, am equally stout in my confidence of its not\r
-doing them any harm. With all dear Emma’s little faults, she is an\r
-excellent creature. Where shall we see a better daughter, or a kinder\r
-sister, or a truer friend? No, no; she has qualities which may be\r
-trusted; she will never lead any one really wrong; she will make no\r
-lasting blunder; where Emma errs once, she is in the right a hundred\r
-times.”\r
-\r
-“Very well; I will not plague you any more. Emma shall be an angel, and\r
-I will keep my spleen to myself till Christmas brings John and Isabella.\r
-John loves Emma with a reasonable and therefore not a blind affection,\r
-and Isabella always thinks as he does; except when he is not quite\r
-frightened enough about the children. I am sure of having their opinions\r
-with me.”\r
-\r
-“I know that you all love her really too well to be unjust or unkind;\r
-but excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if I take the liberty (I consider myself,\r
-you know, as having somewhat of the privilege of speech that Emma’s\r
-mother might have had) the liberty of hinting that I do not think any\r
-possible good can arise from Harriet Smith’s intimacy being made a\r
-matter of much discussion among you. Pray excuse me; but supposing any\r
-little inconvenience may be apprehended from the intimacy, it cannot be\r
-expected that Emma, accountable to nobody but her father, who perfectly\r
-approves the acquaintance, should put an end to it, so long as it is a\r
-source of pleasure to herself. It has been so many years my province to\r
-give advice, that you cannot be surprized, Mr. Knightley, at this little\r
-remains of office.”\r
-\r
-“Not at all,” cried he; “I am much obliged to you for it. It is very\r
-good advice, and it shall have a better fate than your advice has often\r
-found; for it shall be attended to.”\r
-\r
-“Mrs. John Knightley is easily alarmed, and might be made unhappy about\r
-her sister.”\r
-\r
-“Be satisfied,” said he, “I will not raise any outcry. I will keep my\r
-ill-humour to myself. I have a very sincere interest in Emma. Isabella\r
-does not seem more my sister; has never excited a greater interest;\r
-perhaps hardly so great. There is an anxiety, a curiosity in what one\r
-feels for Emma. I wonder what will become of her!”\r
-\r
-“So do I,” said Mrs. Weston gently, “very much.”\r
-\r
-“She always declares she will never marry, which, of course, means just\r
-nothing at all. But I have no idea that she has yet ever seen a man she\r
-cared for. It would not be a bad thing for her to be very much in love\r
-with a proper object. I should like to see Emma in love, and in some\r
-doubt of a return; it would do her good. But there is nobody hereabouts\r
-to attach her; and she goes so seldom from home.”\r
-\r
-“There does, indeed, seem as little to tempt her to break her resolution\r
-at present,” said Mrs. Weston, “as can well be; and while she is so\r
-happy at Hartfield, I cannot wish her to be forming any attachment which\r
-would be creating such difficulties on poor Mr. Woodhouse’s account. I\r
-do not recommend matrimony at present to Emma, though I mean no slight\r
-to the state, I assure you.”\r
-\r
-Part of her meaning was to conceal some favourite thoughts of her own\r
-and Mr. Weston’s on the subject, as much as possible. There were wishes\r
-at Randalls respecting Emma’s destiny, but it was not desirable to\r
-have them suspected; and the quiet transition which Mr. Knightley soon\r
-afterwards made to “What does Weston think of the weather; shall we have\r
-rain?” convinced her that he had nothing more to say or surmise about\r
-Hartfield.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER VI\r
-\r
-\r
-Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet’s fancy a proper\r
-direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity to a very good\r
-purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr.\r
-Elton’s being a remarkably handsome man, with most agreeable manners;\r
-and as she had no hesitation in following up the assurance of his\r
-admiration by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of creating\r
-as much liking on Harriet’s side, as there could be any occasion for.\r
-She was quite convinced of Mr. Elton’s being in the fairest way of\r
-falling in love, if not in love already. She had no scruple with regard\r
-to him. He talked of Harriet, and praised her so warmly, that she could\r
-not suppose any thing wanting which a little time would not add. His\r
-perception of the striking improvement of Harriet’s manner, since her\r
-introduction at Hartfield, was not one of the least agreeable proofs of\r
-his growing attachment.\r
-\r
-“You have given Miss Smith all that she required,” said he; “you have\r
-made her graceful and easy. She was a beautiful creature when she\r
-came to you, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added are\r
-infinitely superior to what she received from nature.”\r
-\r
-“I am glad you think I have been useful to her; but Harriet only wanted\r
-drawing out, and receiving a few, very few hints. She had all the\r
-natural grace of sweetness of temper and artlessness in herself. I have\r
-done very little.”\r
-\r
-“If it were admissible to contradict a lady,” said the gallant Mr.\r
-Elton--\r
-\r
-“I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character, have\r
-taught her to think on points which had not fallen in her way before.”\r
-\r
-“Exactly so; that is what principally strikes me. So much superadded\r
-decision of character! Skilful has been the hand!”\r
-\r
-“Great has been the pleasure, I am sure. I never met with a disposition\r
-more truly amiable.”\r
-\r
-“I have no doubt of it.” And it was spoken with a sort of sighing\r
-animation, which had a vast deal of the lover. She was not less pleased\r
-another day with the manner in which he seconded a sudden wish of hers,\r
-to have Harriet’s picture.\r
-\r
-“Did you ever have your likeness taken, Harriet?” said she: “did you\r
-ever sit for your picture?”\r
-\r
-Harriet was on the point of leaving the room, and only stopt to say,\r
-with a very interesting naivete,\r
-\r
-“Oh! dear, no, never.”\r
-\r
-No sooner was she out of sight, than Emma exclaimed,\r
-\r
-“What an exquisite possession a good picture of her would be! I would\r
-give any money for it. I almost long to attempt her likeness myself.\r
-You do not know it I dare say, but two or three years ago I had a great\r
-passion for taking likenesses, and attempted several of my friends, and\r
-was thought to have a tolerable eye in general. But from one cause or\r
-another, I gave it up in disgust. But really, I could almost venture,\r
-if Harriet would sit to me. It would be such a delight to have her\r
-picture!”\r
-\r
-“Let me entreat you,” cried Mr. Elton; “it would indeed be a delight!\r
-Let me entreat you, Miss Woodhouse, to exercise so charming a talent\r
-in favour of your friend. I know what your drawings are. How could\r
-you suppose me ignorant? Is not this room rich in specimens of your\r
-landscapes and flowers; and has not Mrs. Weston some inimitable\r
-figure-pieces in her drawing-room, at Randalls?”\r
-\r
-Yes, good man!--thought Emma--but what has all that to do with taking\r
-likenesses? You know nothing of drawing. Don’t pretend to be in raptures\r
-about mine. Keep your raptures for Harriet’s face. “Well, if you give me\r
-such kind encouragement, Mr. Elton, I believe I shall try what I can do.\r
-Harriet’s features are very delicate, which makes a likeness difficult;\r
-and yet there is a peculiarity in the shape of the eye and the lines\r
-about the mouth which one ought to catch.”\r
-\r
-“Exactly so--The shape of the eye and the lines about the mouth--I have\r
-not a doubt of your success. Pray, pray attempt it. As you will do it,\r
-it will indeed, to use your own words, be an exquisite possession.”\r
-\r
-“But I am afraid, Mr. Elton, Harriet will not like to sit. She thinks\r
-so little of her own beauty. Did not you observe her manner of answering\r
-me? How completely it meant, ‘why should my picture be drawn?’”\r
-\r
-“Oh! yes, I observed it, I assure you. It was not lost on me. But still\r
-I cannot imagine she would not be persuaded.”\r
-\r
-Harriet was soon back again, and the proposal almost immediately made;\r
-and she had no scruples which could stand many minutes against the\r
-earnest pressing of both the others. Emma wished to go to work directly,\r
-and therefore produced the portfolio containing her various attempts at\r
-portraits, for not one of them had ever been finished, that they might\r
-decide together on the best size for Harriet. Her many beginnings were\r
-displayed. Miniatures, half-lengths, whole-lengths, pencil, crayon, and\r
-water-colours had been all tried in turn. She had always wanted to do\r
-every thing, and had made more progress both in drawing and music than\r
-many might have done with so little labour as she would ever submit to.\r
-She played and sang;--and drew in almost every style; but steadiness\r
-had always been wanting; and in nothing had she approached the degree of\r
-excellence which she would have been glad to command, and ought not to\r
-have failed of. She was not much deceived as to her own skill either\r
-as an artist or a musician, but she was not unwilling to have others\r
-deceived, or sorry to know her reputation for accomplishment often\r
-higher than it deserved.\r
-\r
-There was merit in every drawing--in the least finished, perhaps the\r
-most; her style was spirited; but had there been much less, or had there\r
-been ten times more, the delight and admiration of her two companions\r
-would have been the same. They were both in ecstasies. A likeness\r
-pleases every body; and Miss Woodhouse’s performances must be capital.\r
-\r
-“No great variety of faces for you,” said Emma. “I had only my own\r
-family to study from. There is my father--another of my father--but the\r
-idea of sitting for his picture made him so nervous, that I could only\r
-take him by stealth; neither of them very like therefore. Mrs. Weston\r
-again, and again, and again, you see. Dear Mrs. Weston! always my\r
-kindest friend on every occasion. She would sit whenever I asked her.\r
-There is my sister; and really quite her own little elegant figure!--and\r
-the face not unlike. I should have made a good likeness of her, if she\r
-would have sat longer, but she was in such a hurry to have me draw\r
-her four children that she would not be quiet. Then, here come all my\r
-attempts at three of those four children;--there they are, Henry and\r
-John and Bella, from one end of the sheet to the other, and any one of\r
-them might do for any one of the rest. She was so eager to have them\r
-drawn that I could not refuse; but there is no making children of three\r
-or four years old stand still you know; nor can it be very easy to take\r
-any likeness of them, beyond the air and complexion, unless they are\r
-coarser featured than any of mama’s children ever were. Here is my\r
-sketch of the fourth, who was a baby. I took him as he was sleeping on\r
-the sofa, and it is as strong a likeness of his cockade as you would\r
-wish to see. He had nestled down his head most conveniently. That’s very\r
-like. I am rather proud of little George. The corner of the sofa is very\r
-good. Then here is my last,”--unclosing a pretty sketch of a gentleman\r
-in small size, whole-length--“my last and my best--my brother, Mr. John\r
-Knightley.--This did not want much of being finished, when I put it away\r
-in a pet, and vowed I would never take another likeness. I could not\r
-help being provoked; for after all my pains, and when I had really made\r
-a very good likeness of it--(Mrs. Weston and I were quite agreed in\r
-thinking it _very_ like)--only too handsome--too flattering--but\r
-that was a fault on the right side”--after all this, came poor dear\r
-Isabella’s cold approbation of--“Yes, it was a little like--but to be\r
-sure it did not do him justice. We had had a great deal of trouble\r
-in persuading him to sit at all. It was made a great favour of; and\r
-altogether it was more than I could bear; and so I never would finish\r
-it, to have it apologised over as an unfavourable likeness, to every\r
-morning visitor in Brunswick Square;--and, as I said, I did then\r
-forswear ever drawing any body again. But for Harriet’s sake, or rather\r
-for my own, and as there are no husbands and wives in the case _at_\r
-_present_, I will break my resolution now.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton seemed very properly struck and delighted by the idea, and was\r
-repeating, “No husbands and wives in the case at present indeed, as\r
-you observe. Exactly so. No husbands and wives,” with so interesting a\r
-consciousness, that Emma began to consider whether she had not better\r
-leave them together at once. But as she wanted to be drawing, the\r
-declaration must wait a little longer.\r
-\r
-She had soon fixed on the size and sort of portrait. It was to be\r
-a whole-length in water-colours, like Mr. John Knightley’s, and was\r
-destined, if she could please herself, to hold a very honourable station\r
-over the mantelpiece.\r
-\r
-The sitting began; and Harriet, smiling and blushing, and afraid of not\r
-keeping her attitude and countenance, presented a very sweet mixture of\r
-youthful expression to the steady eyes of the artist. But there was no\r
-doing any thing, with Mr. Elton fidgeting behind her and watching every\r
-touch. She gave him credit for stationing himself where he might gaze\r
-and gaze again without offence; but was really obliged to put an end to\r
-it, and request him to place himself elsewhere. It then occurred to her\r
-to employ him in reading.\r
-\r
-“If he would be so good as to read to them, it would be a kindness\r
-indeed! It would amuse away the difficulties of her part, and lessen the\r
-irksomeness of Miss Smith’s.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton was only too happy. Harriet listened, and Emma drew in peace.\r
-She must allow him to be still frequently coming to look; any thing less\r
-would certainly have been too little in a lover; and he was ready at the\r
-smallest intermission of the pencil, to jump up and see the progress,\r
-and be charmed.--There was no being displeased with such an encourager,\r
-for his admiration made him discern a likeness almost before it\r
-was possible. She could not respect his eye, but his love and his\r
-complaisance were unexceptionable.\r
-\r
-The sitting was altogether very satisfactory; she was quite enough\r
-pleased with the first day’s sketch to wish to go on. There was no want\r
-of likeness, she had been fortunate in the attitude, and as she meant\r
-to throw in a little improvement to the figure, to give a little more\r
-height, and considerably more elegance, she had great confidence of\r
-its being in every way a pretty drawing at last, and of its filling\r
-its destined place with credit to them both--a standing memorial of the\r
-beauty of one, the skill of the other, and the friendship of both;\r
-with as many other agreeable associations as Mr. Elton’s very promising\r
-attachment was likely to add.\r
-\r
-Harriet was to sit again the next day; and Mr. Elton, just as he ought,\r
-entreated for the permission of attending and reading to them again.\r
-\r
-“By all means. We shall be most happy to consider you as one of the\r
-party.”\r
-\r
-The same civilities and courtesies, the same success and satisfaction,\r
-took place on the morrow, and accompanied the whole progress of the\r
-picture, which was rapid and happy. Every body who saw it was pleased,\r
-but Mr. Elton was in continual raptures, and defended it through every\r
-criticism.\r
-\r
-“Miss Woodhouse has given her friend the only beauty she\r
-wanted,”--observed Mrs. Weston to him--not in the least suspecting that\r
-she was addressing a lover.--“The expression of the eye is most correct,\r
-but Miss Smith has not those eyebrows and eyelashes. It is the fault of\r
-her face that she has them not.”\r
-\r
-“Do you think so?” replied he. “I cannot agree with you. It appears\r
-to me a most perfect resemblance in every feature. I never saw such a\r
-likeness in my life. We must allow for the effect of shade, you know.”\r
-\r
-“You have made her too tall, Emma,” said Mr. Knightley.\r
-\r
-Emma knew that she had, but would not own it; and Mr. Elton warmly\r
-added,\r
-\r
-“Oh no! certainly not too tall; not in the least too tall. Consider, she\r
-is sitting down--which naturally presents a different--which in short\r
-gives exactly the idea--and the proportions must be preserved, you know.\r
-Proportions, fore-shortening.--Oh no! it gives one exactly the idea of\r
-such a height as Miss Smith’s. Exactly so indeed!”\r
-\r
-“It is very pretty,” said Mr. Woodhouse. “So prettily done! Just as your\r
-drawings always are, my dear. I do not know any body who draws so well\r
-as you do. The only thing I do not thoroughly like is, that she seems\r
-to be sitting out of doors, with only a little shawl over her\r
-shoulders--and it makes one think she must catch cold.”\r
-\r
-“But, my dear papa, it is supposed to be summer; a warm day in summer.\r
-Look at the tree.”\r
-\r
-“But it is never safe to sit out of doors, my dear.”\r
-\r
-“You, sir, may say any thing,” cried Mr. Elton, “but I must confess that\r
-I regard it as a most happy thought, the placing of Miss Smith out of\r
-doors; and the tree is touched with such inimitable spirit! Any other\r
-situation would have been much less in character. The naivete of Miss\r
-Smith’s manners--and altogether--Oh, it is most admirable! I cannot keep\r
-my eyes from it. I never saw such a likeness.”\r
-\r
-The next thing wanted was to get the picture framed; and here were a few\r
-difficulties. It must be done directly; it must be done in London; the\r
-order must go through the hands of some intelligent person whose taste\r
-could be depended on; and Isabella, the usual doer of all commissions,\r
-must not be applied to, because it was December, and Mr. Woodhouse\r
-could not bear the idea of her stirring out of her house in the fogs of\r
-December. But no sooner was the distress known to Mr. Elton, than it\r
-was removed. His gallantry was always on the alert. “Might he be trusted\r
-with the commission, what infinite pleasure should he have in executing\r
-it! he could ride to London at any time. It was impossible to say how\r
-much he should be gratified by being employed on such an errand.”\r
-\r
-“He was too good!--she could not endure the thought!--she would not give\r
-him such a troublesome office for the world,”--brought on the desired\r
-repetition of entreaties and assurances,--and a very few minutes settled\r
-the business.\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton was to take the drawing to London, chuse the frame, and give\r
-the directions; and Emma thought she could so pack it as to ensure its\r
-safety without much incommoding him, while he seemed mostly fearful of\r
-not being incommoded enough.\r
-\r
-“What a precious deposit!” said he with a tender sigh, as he received\r
-it.\r
-\r
-“This man is almost too gallant to be in love,” thought Emma. “I should\r
-say so, but that I suppose there may be a hundred different ways of\r
-being in love. He is an excellent young man, and will suit Harriet\r
-exactly; it will be an ‘Exactly so,’ as he says himself; but he does\r
-sigh and languish, and study for compliments rather more than I could\r
-endure as a principal. I come in for a pretty good share as a second.\r
-But it is his gratitude on Harriet’s account.”\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER VII\r
-\r
-\r
-The very day of Mr. Elton’s going to London produced a fresh occasion\r
-for Emma’s services towards her friend. Harriet had been at Hartfield,\r
-as usual, soon after breakfast; and, after a time, had gone home to\r
-return again to dinner: she returned, and sooner than had been\r
-talked of, and with an agitated, hurried look, announcing something\r
-extraordinary to have happened which she was longing to tell. Half a\r
-minute brought it all out. She had heard, as soon as she got back to\r
-Mrs. Goddard’s, that Mr. Martin had been there an hour before, and\r
-finding she was not at home, nor particularly expected, had left a\r
-little parcel for her from one of his sisters, and gone away; and on\r
-opening this parcel, she had actually found, besides the two songs which\r
-she had lent Elizabeth to copy, a letter to herself; and this letter was\r
-from him, from Mr. Martin, and contained a direct proposal of marriage.\r
-“Who could have thought it? She was so surprized she did not know what\r
-to do. Yes, quite a proposal of marriage; and a very good letter,\r
-at least she thought so. And he wrote as if he really loved her very\r
-much--but she did not know--and so, she was come as fast as she could to\r
-ask Miss Woodhouse what she should do.--” Emma was half-ashamed of her\r
-friend for seeming so pleased and so doubtful.\r
-\r
-“Upon my word,” she cried, “the young man is determined not to lose any\r
-thing for want of asking. He will connect himself well if he can.”\r
-\r
-“Will you read the letter?” cried Harriet. “Pray do. I’d rather you\r
-would.”\r
-\r
-Emma was not sorry to be pressed. She read, and was surprized. The style\r
-of the letter was much above her expectation. There were not merely no\r
-grammatical errors, but as a composition it would not have disgraced a\r
-gentleman; the language, though plain, was strong and unaffected, and\r
-the sentiments it conveyed very much to the credit of the writer. It was\r
-short, but expressed good sense, warm attachment, liberality, propriety,\r
-even delicacy of feeling. She paused over it, while Harriet stood\r
-anxiously watching for her opinion, with a “Well, well,” and was at last\r
-forced to add, “Is it a good letter? or is it too short?”\r
-\r
-“Yes, indeed, a very good letter,” replied Emma rather slowly--“so\r
-good a letter, Harriet, that every thing considered, I think one of his\r
-sisters must have helped him. I can hardly imagine the young man whom\r
-I saw talking with you the other day could express himself so well, if\r
-left quite to his own powers, and yet it is not the style of a woman;\r
-no, certainly, it is too strong and concise; not diffuse enough for a\r
-woman. No doubt he is a sensible man, and I suppose may have a natural\r
-talent for--thinks strongly and clearly--and when he takes a pen in\r
-hand, his thoughts naturally find proper words. It is so with some men.\r
-Yes, I understand the sort of mind. Vigorous, decided, with sentiments\r
-to a certain point, not coarse. A better written letter, Harriet\r
-(returning it,) than I had expected.”\r
-\r
-“Well,” said the still waiting Harriet;--“well--and--and what shall I\r
-do?”\r
-\r
-“What shall you do! In what respect? Do you mean with regard to this\r
-letter?”\r
-\r
-“Yes.”\r
-\r
-“But what are you in doubt of? You must answer it of course--and\r
-speedily.”\r
-\r
-“Yes. But what shall I say? Dear Miss Woodhouse, do advise me.”\r
-\r
-“Oh no, no! the letter had much better be all your own. You will express\r
-yourself very properly, I am sure. There is no danger of your not\r
-being intelligible, which is the first thing. Your meaning must be\r
-unequivocal; no doubts or demurs: and such expressions of gratitude\r
-and concern for the pain you are inflicting as propriety requires, will\r
-present themselves unbidden to _your_ mind, I am persuaded. You need\r
-not be prompted to write with the appearance of sorrow for his\r
-disappointment.”\r
-\r
-“You think I ought to refuse him then,” said Harriet, looking down.\r
-\r
-“Ought to refuse him! My dear Harriet, what do you mean? Are you in any\r
-doubt as to that? I thought--but I beg your pardon, perhaps I have been\r
-under a mistake. I certainly have been misunderstanding you, if you feel\r
-in doubt as to the _purport_ of your answer. I had imagined you were\r
-consulting me only as to the wording of it.”\r
-\r
-Harriet was silent. With a little reserve of manner, Emma continued:\r
-\r
-“You mean to return a favourable answer, I collect.”\r
-\r
-“No, I do not; that is, I do not mean--What shall I do? What would you\r
-advise me to do? Pray, dear Miss Woodhouse, tell me what I ought to do.”\r
-\r
-“I shall not give you any advice, Harriet. I will have nothing to do\r
-with it. This is a point which you must settle with your feelings.”\r
-\r
-“I had no notion that he liked me so very much,” said Harriet,\r
-contemplating the letter. For a little while Emma persevered in her\r
-silence; but beginning to apprehend the bewitching flattery of that\r
-letter might be too powerful, she thought it best to say,\r
-\r
-“I lay it down as a general rule, Harriet, that if a woman _doubts_ as\r
-to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought to refuse\r
-him. If she can hesitate as to ‘Yes,’ she ought to say ‘No’ directly.\r
-It is not a state to be safely entered into with doubtful feelings, with\r
-half a heart. I thought it my duty as a friend, and older than yourself,\r
-to say thus much to you. But do not imagine that I want to influence\r
-you.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! no, I am sure you are a great deal too kind to--but if you would\r
-just advise me what I had best do--No, no, I do not mean that--As\r
-you say, one’s mind ought to be quite made up--One should not be\r
-hesitating--It is a very serious thing.--It will be safer to say ‘No,’\r
-perhaps.--Do you think I had better say ‘No?’”\r
-\r
-“Not for the world,” said Emma, smiling graciously, “would I advise you\r
-either way. You must be the best judge of your own happiness. If you\r
-prefer Mr. Martin to every other person; if you think him the most\r
-agreeable man you have ever been in company with, why should you\r
-hesitate? You blush, Harriet.--Does any body else occur to you at\r
-this moment under such a definition? Harriet, Harriet, do not deceive\r
-yourself; do not be run away with by gratitude and compassion. At this\r
-moment whom are you thinking of?”\r
-\r
-The symptoms were favourable.--Instead of answering, Harriet turned away\r
-confused, and stood thoughtfully by the fire; and though the letter was\r
-still in her hand, it was now mechanically twisted about without regard.\r
-Emma waited the result with impatience, but not without strong hopes. At\r
-last, with some hesitation, Harriet said--\r
-\r
-“Miss Woodhouse, as you will not give me your opinion, I must do as well\r
-as I can by myself; and I have now quite determined, and really almost\r
-made up my mind--to refuse Mr. Martin. Do you think I am right?”\r
-\r
-“Perfectly, perfectly right, my dearest Harriet; you are doing just\r
-what you ought. While you were at all in suspense I kept my feelings to\r
-myself, but now that you are so completely decided I have no hesitation\r
-in approving. Dear Harriet, I give myself joy of this. It would\r
-have grieved me to lose your acquaintance, which must have been the\r
-consequence of your marrying Mr. Martin. While you were in the smallest\r
-degree wavering, I said nothing about it, because I would not influence;\r
-but it would have been the loss of a friend to me. I could not have\r
-visited Mrs. Robert Martin, of Abbey-Mill Farm. Now I am secure of you\r
-for ever.”\r
-\r
-Harriet had not surmised her own danger, but the idea of it struck her\r
-forcibly.\r
-\r
-“You could not have visited me!” she cried, looking aghast. “No, to be\r
-sure you could not; but I never thought of that before. That would have\r
-been too dreadful!--What an escape!--Dear Miss Woodhouse, I would not\r
-give up the pleasure and honour of being intimate with you for any thing\r
-in the world.”\r
-\r
-“Indeed, Harriet, it would have been a severe pang to lose you; but it\r
-must have been. You would have thrown yourself out of all good society.\r
-I must have given you up.”\r
-\r
-“Dear me!--How should I ever have borne it! It would have killed me\r
-never to come to Hartfield any more!”\r
-\r
-“Dear affectionate creature!--_You_ banished to Abbey-Mill Farm!--_You_\r
-confined to the society of the illiterate and vulgar all your life! I\r
-wonder how the young man could have the assurance to ask it. He must\r
-have a pretty good opinion of himself.”\r
-\r
-“I do not think he is conceited either, in general,” said Harriet, her\r
-conscience opposing such censure; “at least, he is very good natured,\r
-and I shall always feel much obliged to him, and have a great regard\r
-for--but that is quite a different thing from--and you know, though\r
-he may like me, it does not follow that I should--and certainly I must\r
-confess that since my visiting here I have seen people--and if one comes\r
-to compare them, person and manners, there is no comparison at all,\r
-_one_ is so very handsome and agreeable. However, I do really think Mr.\r
-Martin a very amiable young man, and have a great opinion of him; and\r
-his being so much attached to me--and his writing such a letter--but as\r
-to leaving you, it is what I would not do upon any consideration.”\r
-\r
-“Thank you, thank you, my own sweet little friend. We will not be\r
-parted. A woman is not to marry a man merely because she is asked, or\r
-because he is attached to her, and can write a tolerable letter.”\r
-\r
-“Oh no;--and it is but a short letter too.”\r
-\r
-Emma felt the bad taste of her friend, but let it pass with a “very\r
-true; and it would be a small consolation to her, for the clownish\r
-manner which might be offending her every hour of the day, to know that\r
-her husband could write a good letter.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! yes, very. Nobody cares for a letter; the thing is, to be always\r
-happy with pleasant companions. I am quite determined to refuse him. But\r
-how shall I do? What shall I say?”\r
-\r
-Emma assured her there would be no difficulty in the answer, and advised\r
-its being written directly, which was agreed to, in the hope of her\r
-assistance; and though Emma continued to protest against any assistance\r
-being wanted, it was in fact given in the formation of every sentence.\r
-The looking over his letter again, in replying to it, had such a\r
-softening tendency, that it was particularly necessary to brace her up\r
-with a few decisive expressions; and she was so very much concerned at\r
-the idea of making him unhappy, and thought so much of what his mother\r
-and sisters would think and say, and was so anxious that they should not\r
-fancy her ungrateful, that Emma believed if the young man had come in\r
-her way at that moment, he would have been accepted after all.\r
-\r
-This letter, however, was written, and sealed, and sent. The business\r
-was finished, and Harriet safe. She was rather low all the evening, but\r
-Emma could allow for her amiable regrets, and sometimes relieved them by\r
-speaking of her own affection, sometimes by bringing forward the idea of\r
-Mr. Elton.\r
-\r
-“I shall never be invited to Abbey-Mill again,” was said in rather a\r
-sorrowful tone.\r
-\r
-“Nor, if you were, could I ever bear to part with you, my Harriet. You\r
-are a great deal too necessary at Hartfield to be spared to Abbey-Mill.”\r
-\r
-“And I am sure I should never want to go there; for I am never happy but\r
-at Hartfield.”\r
-\r
-Some time afterwards it was, “I think Mrs. Goddard would be very much\r
-surprized if she knew what had happened. I am sure Miss Nash would--for\r
-Miss Nash thinks her own sister very well married, and it is only a\r
-linen-draper.”\r
-\r
-“One should be sorry to see greater pride or refinement in the teacher\r
-of a school, Harriet. I dare say Miss Nash would envy you such an\r
-opportunity as this of being married. Even this conquest would appear\r
-valuable in her eyes. As to any thing superior for you, I suppose she\r
-is quite in the dark. The attentions of a certain person can hardly be\r
-among the tittle-tattle of Highbury yet. Hitherto I fancy you and I\r
-are the only people to whom his looks and manners have explained\r
-themselves.”\r
-\r
-Harriet blushed and smiled, and said something about wondering that\r
-people should like her so much. The idea of Mr. Elton was certainly\r
-cheering; but still, after a time, she was tender-hearted again towards\r
-the rejected Mr. Martin.\r
-\r
-“Now he has got my letter,” said she softly. “I wonder what they are all\r
-doing--whether his sisters know--if he is unhappy, they will be unhappy\r
-too. I hope he will not mind it so very much.”\r
-\r
-“Let us think of those among our absent friends who are more cheerfully\r
-employed,” cried Emma. “At this moment, perhaps, Mr. Elton is shewing\r
-your picture to his mother and sisters, telling how much more beautiful\r
-is the original, and after being asked for it five or six times,\r
-allowing them to hear your name, your own dear name.”\r
-\r
-“My picture!--But he has left my picture in Bond-street.”\r
-\r
-“Has he so!--Then I know nothing of Mr. Elton. No, my dear little modest\r
-Harriet, depend upon it the picture will not be in Bond-street till\r
-just before he mounts his horse to-morrow. It is his companion all this\r
-evening, his solace, his delight. It opens his designs to his family,\r
-it introduces you among them, it diffuses through the party those\r
-pleasantest feelings of our nature, eager curiosity and warm\r
-prepossession. How cheerful, how animated, how suspicious, how busy\r
-their imaginations all are!”\r
-\r
-Harriet smiled again, and her smiles grew stronger.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER VIII\r
-\r
-\r
-Harriet slept at Hartfield that night. For some weeks past she had been\r
-spending more than half her time there, and gradually getting to have\r
-a bed-room appropriated to herself; and Emma judged it best in every\r
-respect, safest and kindest, to keep her with them as much as possible\r
-just at present. She was obliged to go the next morning for an hour or\r
-two to Mrs. Goddard’s, but it was then to be settled that she should\r
-return to Hartfield, to make a regular visit of some days.\r
-\r
-While she was gone, Mr. Knightley called, and sat some time with Mr.\r
-Woodhouse and Emma, till Mr. Woodhouse, who had previously made up his\r
-mind to walk out, was persuaded by his daughter not to defer it, and was\r
-induced by the entreaties of both, though against the scruples of his\r
-own civility, to leave Mr. Knightley for that purpose. Mr. Knightley,\r
-who had nothing of ceremony about him, was offering by his short,\r
-decided answers, an amusing contrast to the protracted apologies and\r
-civil hesitations of the other.\r
-\r
-“Well, I believe, if you will excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if you will not\r
-consider me as doing a very rude thing, I shall take Emma’s advice and\r
-go out for a quarter of an hour. As the sun is out, I believe I had\r
-better take my three turns while I can. I treat you without ceremony,\r
-Mr. Knightley. We invalids think we are privileged people.”\r
-\r
-“My dear sir, do not make a stranger of me.”\r
-\r
-“I leave an excellent substitute in my daughter. Emma will be happy to\r
-entertain you. And therefore I think I will beg your excuse and take my\r
-three turns--my winter walk.”\r
-\r
-“You cannot do better, sir.”\r
-\r
-“I would ask for the pleasure of your company, Mr. Knightley, but I am a\r
-very slow walker, and my pace would be tedious to you; and, besides, you\r
-have another long walk before you, to Donwell Abbey.”\r
-\r
-“Thank you, sir, thank you; I am going this moment myself; and I think\r
-the sooner _you_ go the better. I will fetch your greatcoat and open the\r
-garden door for you.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Woodhouse at last was off; but Mr. Knightley, instead of being\r
-immediately off likewise, sat down again, seemingly inclined for more\r
-chat. He began speaking of Harriet, and speaking of her with more\r
-voluntary praise than Emma had ever heard before.\r
-\r
-“I cannot rate her beauty as you do,” said he; “but she is a\r
-pretty little creature, and I am inclined to think very well of her\r
-disposition. Her character depends upon those she is with; but in good\r
-hands she will turn out a valuable woman.”\r
-\r
-“I am glad you think so; and the good hands, I hope, may not be\r
-wanting.”\r
-\r
-“Come,” said he, “you are anxious for a compliment, so I will tell you\r
-that you have improved her. You have cured her of her school-girl’s\r
-giggle; she really does you credit.”\r
-\r
-“Thank you. I should be mortified indeed if I did not believe I had been\r
-of some use; but it is not every body who will bestow praise where they\r
-may. _You_ do not often overpower me with it.”\r
-\r
-“You are expecting her again, you say, this morning?”\r
-\r
-“Almost every moment. She has been gone longer already than she\r
-intended.”\r
-\r
-“Something has happened to delay her; some visitors perhaps.”\r
-\r
-“Highbury gossips!--Tiresome wretches!”\r
-\r
-“Harriet may not consider every body tiresome that you would.”\r
-\r
-Emma knew this was too true for contradiction, and therefore said\r
-nothing. He presently added, with a smile,\r
-\r
-“I do not pretend to fix on times or places, but I must tell you that\r
-I have good reason to believe your little friend will soon hear of\r
-something to her advantage.”\r
-\r
-“Indeed! how so? of what sort?”\r
-\r
-“A very serious sort, I assure you;” still smiling.\r
-\r
-“Very serious! I can think of but one thing--Who is in love with her?\r
-Who makes you their confidant?”\r
-\r
-Emma was more than half in hopes of Mr. Elton’s having dropt a hint.\r
-Mr. Knightley was a sort of general friend and adviser, and she knew Mr.\r
-Elton looked up to him.\r
-\r
-“I have reason to think,” he replied, “that Harriet Smith will soon have\r
-an offer of marriage, and from a most unexceptionable quarter:--Robert\r
-Martin is the man. Her visit to Abbey-Mill, this summer, seems to have\r
-done his business. He is desperately in love and means to marry her.”\r
-\r
-“He is very obliging,” said Emma; “but is he sure that Harriet means to\r
-marry him?”\r
-\r
-“Well, well, means to make her an offer then. Will that do? He came to\r
-the Abbey two evenings ago, on purpose to consult me about it. He knows\r
-I have a thorough regard for him and all his family, and, I believe,\r
-considers me as one of his best friends. He came to ask me whether\r
-I thought it would be imprudent in him to settle so early; whether\r
-I thought her too young: in short, whether I approved his choice\r
-altogether; having some apprehension perhaps of her being considered\r
-(especially since _your_ making so much of her) as in a line of society\r
-above him. I was very much pleased with all that he said. I never hear\r
-better sense from any one than Robert Martin. He always speaks to the\r
-purpose; open, straightforward, and very well judging. He told me every\r
-thing; his circumstances and plans, and what they all proposed doing in\r
-the event of his marriage. He is an excellent young man, both as son and\r
-brother. I had no hesitation in advising him to marry. He proved to me\r
-that he could afford it; and that being the case, I was convinced he\r
-could not do better. I praised the fair lady too, and altogether sent\r
-him away very happy. If he had never esteemed my opinion before, he\r
-would have thought highly of me then; and, I dare say, left the house\r
-thinking me the best friend and counsellor man ever had. This happened\r
-the night before last. Now, as we may fairly suppose, he would not allow\r
-much time to pass before he spoke to the lady, and as he does not appear\r
-to have spoken yesterday, it is not unlikely that he should be at Mrs.\r
-Goddard’s to-day; and she may be detained by a visitor, without thinking\r
-him at all a tiresome wretch.”\r
-\r
-“Pray, Mr. Knightley,” said Emma, who had been smiling to herself\r
-through a great part of this speech, “how do you know that Mr. Martin\r
-did not speak yesterday?”\r
-\r
-“Certainly,” replied he, surprized, “I do not absolutely know it; but it\r
-may be inferred. Was not she the whole day with you?”\r
-\r
-“Come,” said she, “I will tell you something, in return for what\r
-you have told me. He did speak yesterday--that is, he wrote, and was\r
-refused.”\r
-\r
-This was obliged to be repeated before it could be believed; and Mr.\r
-Knightley actually looked red with surprize and displeasure, as he stood\r
-up, in tall indignation, and said,\r
-\r
-“Then she is a greater simpleton than I ever believed her. What is the\r
-foolish girl about?”\r
-\r
-“Oh! to be sure,” cried Emma, “it is always incomprehensible to a man\r
-that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. A man always\r
-imagines a woman to be ready for any body who asks her.”\r
-\r
-“Nonsense! a man does not imagine any such thing. But what is the\r
-meaning of this? Harriet Smith refuse Robert Martin? madness, if it is\r
-so; but I hope you are mistaken.”\r
-\r
-“I saw her answer!--nothing could be clearer.”\r
-\r
-“You saw her answer!--you wrote her answer too. Emma, this is your\r
-doing. You persuaded her to refuse him.”\r
-\r
-“And if I did, (which, however, I am far from allowing) I should not\r
-feel that I had done wrong. Mr. Martin is a very respectable young man,\r
-but I cannot admit him to be Harriet’s equal; and am rather surprized\r
-indeed that he should have ventured to address her. By your account, he\r
-does seem to have had some scruples. It is a pity that they were ever\r
-got over.”\r
-\r
-“Not Harriet’s equal!” exclaimed Mr. Knightley loudly and warmly; and\r
-with calmer asperity, added, a few moments afterwards, “No, he is\r
-not her equal indeed, for he is as much her superior in sense as in\r
-situation. Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you. What are\r
-Harriet Smith’s claims, either of birth, nature or education, to any\r
-connexion higher than Robert Martin? She is the natural daughter of\r
-nobody knows whom, with probably no settled provision at all, and\r
-certainly no respectable relations. She is known only as parlour-boarder\r
-at a common school. She is not a sensible girl, nor a girl of any\r
-information. She has been taught nothing useful, and is too young and\r
-too simple to have acquired any thing herself. At her age she can have\r
-no experience, and with her little wit, is not very likely ever to have\r
-any that can avail her. She is pretty, and she is good tempered, and\r
-that is all. My only scruple in advising the match was on his account,\r
-as being beneath his deserts, and a bad connexion for him. I felt that,\r
-as to fortune, in all probability he might do much better; and that as\r
-to a rational companion or useful helpmate, he could not do worse. But I\r
-could not reason so to a man in love, and was willing to trust to there\r
-being no harm in her, to her having that sort of disposition, which, in\r
-good hands, like his, might be easily led aright and turn out very well.\r
-The advantage of the match I felt to be all on her side; and had not the\r
-smallest doubt (nor have I now) that there would be a general cry-out\r
-upon her extreme good luck. Even _your_ satisfaction I made sure of.\r
-It crossed my mind immediately that you would not regret your friend’s\r
-leaving Highbury, for the sake of her being settled so well. I remember\r
-saying to myself, ‘Even Emma, with all her partiality for Harriet, will\r
-think this a good match.’”\r
-\r
-“I cannot help wondering at your knowing so little of Emma as to say any\r
-such thing. What! think a farmer, (and with all his sense and all his\r
-merit Mr. Martin is nothing more,) a good match for my intimate friend!\r
-Not regret her leaving Highbury for the sake of marrying a man whom\r
-I could never admit as an acquaintance of my own! I wonder you should\r
-think it possible for me to have such feelings. I assure you mine are\r
-very different. I must think your statement by no means fair. You are\r
-not just to Harriet’s claims. They would be estimated very differently\r
-by others as well as myself; Mr. Martin may be the richest of the two,\r
-but he is undoubtedly her inferior as to rank in society.--The sphere in\r
-which she moves is much above his.--It would be a degradation.”\r
-\r
-“A degradation to illegitimacy and ignorance, to be married to a\r
-respectable, intelligent gentleman-farmer!”\r
-\r
-“As to the circumstances of her birth, though in a legal sense she may\r
-be called Nobody, it will not hold in common sense. She is not to pay\r
-for the offence of others, by being held below the level of those with\r
-whom she is brought up.--There can scarcely be a doubt that her father\r
-is a gentleman--and a gentleman of fortune.--Her allowance is\r
-very liberal; nothing has ever been grudged for her improvement or\r
-comfort.--That she is a gentleman’s daughter, is indubitable to me; that\r
-she associates with gentlemen’s daughters, no one, I apprehend, will\r
-deny.--She is superior to Mr. Robert Martin.”\r
-\r
-“Whoever might be her parents,” said Mr. Knightley, “whoever may have\r
-had the charge of her, it does not appear to have been any part of\r
-their plan to introduce her into what you would call good society. After\r
-receiving a very indifferent education she is left in Mrs. Goddard’s\r
-hands to shift as she can;--to move, in short, in Mrs. Goddard’s line,\r
-to have Mrs. Goddard’s acquaintance. Her friends evidently thought\r
-this good enough for her; and it _was_ good enough. She desired nothing\r
-better herself. Till you chose to turn her into a friend, her mind had\r
-no distaste for her own set, nor any ambition beyond it. She was as\r
-happy as possible with the Martins in the summer. She had no sense of\r
-superiority then. If she has it now, you have given it. You have been no\r
-friend to Harriet Smith, Emma. Robert Martin would never have proceeded\r
-so far, if he had not felt persuaded of her not being disinclined to\r
-him. I know him well. He has too much real feeling to address any\r
-woman on the haphazard of selfish passion. And as to conceit, he is\r
-the farthest from it of any man I know. Depend upon it he had\r
-encouragement.”\r
-\r
-It was most convenient to Emma not to make a direct reply to this\r
-assertion; she chose rather to take up her own line of the subject\r
-again.\r
-\r
-“You are a very warm friend to Mr. Martin; but, as I said before,\r
-are unjust to Harriet. Harriet’s claims to marry well are not so\r
-contemptible as you represent them. She is not a clever girl, but she\r
-has better sense than you are aware of, and does not deserve to have her\r
-understanding spoken of so slightingly. Waiving that point, however, and\r
-supposing her to be, as you describe her, only pretty and good-natured,\r
-let me tell you, that in the degree she possesses them, they are not\r
-trivial recommendations to the world in general, for she is, in fact, a\r
-beautiful girl, and must be thought so by ninety-nine people out of an\r
-hundred; and till it appears that men are much more philosophic on the\r
-subject of beauty than they are generally supposed; till they do fall\r
-in love with well-informed minds instead of handsome faces, a girl, with\r
-such loveliness as Harriet, has a certainty of being admired and sought\r
-after, of having the power of chusing from among many, consequently a\r
-claim to be nice. Her good-nature, too, is not so very slight a claim,\r
-comprehending, as it does, real, thorough sweetness of temper and\r
-manner, a very humble opinion of herself, and a great readiness to\r
-be pleased with other people. I am very much mistaken if your sex in\r
-general would not think such beauty, and such temper, the highest claims\r
-a woman could possess.”\r
-\r
-“Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have, is almost\r
-enough to make me think so too. Better be without sense, than misapply\r
-it as you do.”\r
-\r
-“To be sure!” cried she playfully. “I know _that_ is the feeling of\r
-you all. I know that such a girl as Harriet is exactly what every\r
-man delights in--what at once bewitches his senses and satisfies his\r
-judgment. Oh! Harriet may pick and chuse. Were you, yourself, ever to\r
-marry, she is the very woman for you. And is she, at seventeen, just\r
-entering into life, just beginning to be known, to be wondered at\r
-because she does not accept the first offer she receives? No--pray let\r
-her have time to look about her.”\r
-\r
-“I have always thought it a very foolish intimacy,” said Mr. Knightley\r
-presently, “though I have kept my thoughts to myself; but I now perceive\r
-that it will be a very unfortunate one for Harriet. You will puff her up\r
-with such ideas of her own beauty, and of what she has a claim to, that,\r
-in a little while, nobody within her reach will be good enough for her.\r
-Vanity working on a weak head, produces every sort of mischief. Nothing\r
-so easy as for a young lady to raise her expectations too high. Miss\r
-Harriet Smith may not find offers of marriage flow in so fast, though\r
-she is a very pretty girl. Men of sense, whatever you may chuse to\r
-say, do not want silly wives. Men of family would not be very fond of\r
-connecting themselves with a girl of such obscurity--and most prudent\r
-men would be afraid of the inconvenience and disgrace they might be\r
-involved in, when the mystery of her parentage came to be revealed. Let\r
-her marry Robert Martin, and she is safe, respectable, and happy for\r
-ever; but if you encourage her to expect to marry greatly, and teach her\r
-to be satisfied with nothing less than a man of consequence and large\r
-fortune, she may be a parlour-boarder at Mrs. Goddard’s all the rest\r
-of her life--or, at least, (for Harriet Smith is a girl who will marry\r
-somebody or other,) till she grow desperate, and is glad to catch at the\r
-old writing-master’s son.”\r
-\r
-“We think so very differently on this point, Mr. Knightley, that there\r
-can be no use in canvassing it. We shall only be making each other more\r
-angry. But as to my _letting_ her marry Robert Martin, it is impossible;\r
-she has refused him, and so decidedly, I think, as must prevent any\r
-second application. She must abide by the evil of having refused him,\r
-whatever it may be; and as to the refusal itself, I will not pretend to\r
-say that I might not influence her a little; but I assure you there\r
-was very little for me or for any body to do. His appearance is so much\r
-against him, and his manner so bad, that if she ever were disposed to\r
-favour him, she is not now. I can imagine, that before she had seen\r
-any body superior, she might tolerate him. He was the brother of her\r
-friends, and he took pains to please her; and altogether, having seen\r
-nobody better (that must have been his great assistant) she might not,\r
-while she was at Abbey-Mill, find him disagreeable. But the case\r
-is altered now. She knows now what gentlemen are; and nothing but a\r
-gentleman in education and manner has any chance with Harriet.”\r
-\r
-“Nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever was talked!” cried Mr.\r
-Knightley.--“Robert Martin’s manners have sense, sincerity, and\r
-good-humour to recommend them; and his mind has more true gentility than\r
-Harriet Smith could understand.”\r
-\r
-Emma made no answer, and tried to look cheerfully unconcerned, but was\r
-really feeling uncomfortable and wanting him very much to be gone. She\r
-did not repent what she had done; she still thought herself a better\r
-judge of such a point of female right and refinement than he could be;\r
-but yet she had a sort of habitual respect for his judgment in general,\r
-which made her dislike having it so loudly against her; and to have him\r
-sitting just opposite to her in angry state, was very disagreeable.\r
-Some minutes passed in this unpleasant silence, with only one attempt\r
-on Emma’s side to talk of the weather, but he made no answer. He was\r
-thinking. The result of his thoughts appeared at last in these words.\r
-\r
-“Robert Martin has no great loss--if he can but think so; and I hope it\r
-will not be long before he does. Your views for Harriet are best known\r
-to yourself; but as you make no secret of your love of match-making, it\r
-is fair to suppose that views, and plans, and projects you have;--and as\r
-a friend I shall just hint to you that if Elton is the man, I think it\r
-will be all labour in vain.”\r
-\r
-Emma laughed and disclaimed. He continued,\r
-\r
-“Depend upon it, Elton will not do. Elton is a very good sort of man,\r
-and a very respectable vicar of Highbury, but not at all likely to make\r
-an imprudent match. He knows the value of a good income as well as any\r
-body. Elton may talk sentimentally, but he will act rationally. He is\r
-as well acquainted with his own claims, as you can be with Harriet’s.\r
-He knows that he is a very handsome young man, and a great favourite\r
-wherever he goes; and from his general way of talking in unreserved\r
-moments, when there are only men present, I am convinced that he does\r
-not mean to throw himself away. I have heard him speak with great\r
-animation of a large family of young ladies that his sisters are\r
-intimate with, who have all twenty thousand pounds apiece.”\r
-\r
-“I am very much obliged to you,” said Emma, laughing again. “If I had\r
-set my heart on Mr. Elton’s marrying Harriet, it would have been very\r
-kind to open my eyes; but at present I only want to keep Harriet to\r
-myself. I have done with match-making indeed. I could never hope to\r
-equal my own doings at Randalls. I shall leave off while I am well.”\r
-\r
-“Good morning to you,”--said he, rising and walking off abruptly. He was\r
-very much vexed. He felt the disappointment of the young man, and was\r
-mortified to have been the means of promoting it, by the sanction he had\r
-given; and the part which he was persuaded Emma had taken in the affair,\r
-was provoking him exceedingly.\r
-\r
-Emma remained in a state of vexation too; but there was more\r
-indistinctness in the causes of her’s, than in his. She did not always\r
-feel so absolutely satisfied with herself, so entirely convinced that\r
-her opinions were right and her adversary’s wrong, as Mr. Knightley. He\r
-walked off in more complete self-approbation than he left for her. She\r
-was not so materially cast down, however, but that a little time and\r
-the return of Harriet were very adequate restoratives. Harriet’s staying\r
-away so long was beginning to make her uneasy. The possibility of the\r
-young man’s coming to Mrs. Goddard’s that morning, and meeting with\r
-Harriet and pleading his own cause, gave alarming ideas. The dread\r
-of such a failure after all became the prominent uneasiness; and when\r
-Harriet appeared, and in very good spirits, and without having any\r
-such reason to give for her long absence, she felt a satisfaction which\r
-settled her with her own mind, and convinced her, that let Mr.\r
-Knightley think or say what he would, she had done nothing which woman’s\r
-friendship and woman’s feelings would not justify.\r
-\r
-He had frightened her a little about Mr. Elton; but when she considered\r
-that Mr. Knightley could not have observed him as she had done, neither\r
-with the interest, nor (she must be allowed to tell herself, in spite of\r
-Mr. Knightley’s pretensions) with the skill of such an observer on such\r
-a question as herself, that he had spoken it hastily and in anger, she\r
-was able to believe, that he had rather said what he wished resentfully\r
-to be true, than what he knew any thing about. He certainly might have\r
-heard Mr. Elton speak with more unreserve than she had ever done, and\r
-Mr. Elton might not be of an imprudent, inconsiderate disposition as to\r
-money matters; he might naturally be rather attentive than otherwise\r
-to them; but then, Mr. Knightley did not make due allowance for the\r
-influence of a strong passion at war with all interested motives. Mr.\r
-Knightley saw no such passion, and of course thought nothing of its\r
-effects; but she saw too much of it to feel a doubt of its overcoming\r
-any hesitations that a reasonable prudence might originally suggest; and\r
-more than a reasonable, becoming degree of prudence, she was very sure\r
-did not belong to Mr. Elton.\r
-\r
-Harriet’s cheerful look and manner established hers: she came back, not\r
-to think of Mr. Martin, but to talk of Mr. Elton. Miss Nash had been\r
-telling her something, which she repeated immediately with great\r
-delight. Mr. Perry had been to Mrs. Goddard’s to attend a sick child,\r
-and Miss Nash had seen him, and he had told Miss Nash, that as he was\r
-coming back yesterday from Clayton Park, he had met Mr. Elton, and\r
-found to his great surprize, that Mr. Elton was actually on his road\r
-to London, and not meaning to return till the morrow, though it was the\r
-whist-club night, which he had been never known to miss before; and Mr.\r
-Perry had remonstrated with him about it, and told him how shabby it\r
-was in him, their best player, to absent himself, and tried very much to\r
-persuade him to put off his journey only one day; but it would not\r
-do; Mr. Elton had been determined to go on, and had said in a _very_\r
-_particular_ way indeed, that he was going on business which he would\r
-not put off for any inducement in the world; and something about a\r
-very enviable commission, and being the bearer of something exceedingly\r
-precious. Mr. Perry could not quite understand him, but he was very sure\r
-there must be a _lady_ in the case, and he told him so; and Mr. Elton\r
-only looked very conscious and smiling, and rode off in great spirits.\r
-Miss Nash had told her all this, and had talked a great deal more about\r
-Mr. Elton; and said, looking so very significantly at her, “that she did\r
-not pretend to understand what his business might be, but she only\r
-knew that any woman whom Mr. Elton could prefer, she should think the\r
-luckiest woman in the world; for, beyond a doubt, Mr. Elton had not his\r
-equal for beauty or agreeableness.”\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER IX\r
-\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley might quarrel with her, but Emma could not quarrel with\r
-herself. He was so much displeased, that it was longer than usual before\r
-he came to Hartfield again; and when they did meet, his grave looks\r
-shewed that she was not forgiven. She was sorry, but could not repent.\r
-On the contrary, her plans and proceedings were more and more justified\r
-and endeared to her by the general appearances of the next few days.\r
-\r
-The Picture, elegantly framed, came safely to hand soon after Mr.\r
-Elton’s return, and being hung over the mantelpiece of the common\r
-sitting-room, he got up to look at it, and sighed out his half sentences\r
-of admiration just as he ought; and as for Harriet’s feelings, they were\r
-visibly forming themselves into as strong and steady an attachment as\r
-her youth and sort of mind admitted. Emma was soon perfectly satisfied\r
-of Mr. Martin’s being no otherwise remembered, than as he furnished a\r
-contrast with Mr. Elton, of the utmost advantage to the latter.\r
-\r
-Her views of improving her little friend’s mind, by a great deal of\r
-useful reading and conversation, had never yet led to more than a few\r
-first chapters, and the intention of going on to-morrow. It was much\r
-easier to chat than to study; much pleasanter to let her imagination\r
-range and work at Harriet’s fortune, than to be labouring to enlarge\r
-her comprehension or exercise it on sober facts; and the only literary\r
-pursuit which engaged Harriet at present, the only mental provision she\r
-was making for the evening of life, was the collecting and transcribing\r
-all the riddles of every sort that she could meet with, into a thin\r
-quarto of hot-pressed paper, made up by her friend, and ornamented with\r
-ciphers and trophies.\r
-\r
-In this age of literature, such collections on a very grand scale are\r
-not uncommon. Miss Nash, head-teacher at Mrs. Goddard’s, had written out\r
-at least three hundred; and Harriet, who had taken the first hint of it\r
-from her, hoped, with Miss Woodhouse’s help, to get a great many more.\r
-Emma assisted with her invention, memory and taste; and as Harriet wrote\r
-a very pretty hand, it was likely to be an arrangement of the first\r
-order, in form as well as quantity.\r
-\r
-Mr. Woodhouse was almost as much interested in the business as the\r
-girls, and tried very often to recollect something worth their putting\r
-in. “So many clever riddles as there used to be when he was young--he\r
-wondered he could not remember them! but he hoped he should in time.”\r
- And it always ended in “Kitty, a fair but frozen maid.”\r
-\r
-His good friend Perry, too, whom he had spoken to on the subject,\r
-did not at present recollect any thing of the riddle kind; but he\r
-had desired Perry to be upon the watch, and as he went about so much,\r
-something, he thought, might come from that quarter.\r
-\r
-It was by no means his daughter’s wish that the intellects of Highbury\r
-in general should be put under requisition. Mr. Elton was the only one\r
-whose assistance she asked. He was invited to contribute any really good\r
-enigmas, charades, or conundrums that he might recollect; and she had\r
-the pleasure of seeing him most intently at work with his recollections;\r
-and at the same time, as she could perceive, most earnestly careful that\r
-nothing ungallant, nothing that did not breathe a compliment to the\r
-sex should pass his lips. They owed to him their two or three politest\r
-puzzles; and the joy and exultation with which at last he recalled, and\r
-rather sentimentally recited, that well-known charade,\r
-\r
- My first doth affliction denote,\r
- Which my second is destin’d to feel\r
- And my whole is the best antidote\r
- That affliction to soften and heal.--\r
-\r
-made her quite sorry to acknowledge that they had transcribed it some\r
-pages ago already.\r
-\r
-“Why will not you write one yourself for us, Mr. Elton?” said she; “that\r
-is the only security for its freshness; and nothing could be easier to\r
-you.”\r
-\r
-“Oh no! he had never written, hardly ever, any thing of the kind in his\r
-life. The stupidest fellow! He was afraid not even Miss Woodhouse”--he\r
-stopt a moment--“or Miss Smith could inspire him.”\r
-\r
-The very next day however produced some proof of inspiration. He\r
-called for a few moments, just to leave a piece of paper on the table\r
-containing, as he said, a charade, which a friend of his had addressed\r
-to a young lady, the object of his admiration, but which, from his\r
-manner, Emma was immediately convinced must be his own.\r
-\r
-“I do not offer it for Miss Smith’s collection,” said he. “Being my\r
-friend’s, I have no right to expose it in any degree to the public eye,\r
-but perhaps you may not dislike looking at it.”\r
-\r
-The speech was more to Emma than to Harriet, which Emma could\r
-understand. There was deep consciousness about him, and he found\r
-it easier to meet her eye than her friend’s. He was gone the next\r
-moment:--after another moment’s pause,\r
-\r
-“Take it,” said Emma, smiling, and pushing the paper towards\r
-Harriet--“it is for you. Take your own.”\r
-\r
-But Harriet was in a tremor, and could not touch it; and Emma, never\r
-loth to be first, was obliged to examine it herself.\r
-\r
- To Miss--\r
-\r
- CHARADE.\r
-\r
- My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,\r
- Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease.\r
- Another view of man, my second brings,\r
- Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!\r
-\r
- But ah! united, what reverse we have!\r
- Man’s boasted power and freedom, all are flown;\r
- Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave,\r
- And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.\r
-\r
- Thy ready wit the word will soon supply,\r
- May its approval beam in that soft eye!\r
-\r
-She cast her eye over it, pondered, caught the meaning, read it through\r
-again to be quite certain, and quite mistress of the lines, and then\r
-passing it to Harriet, sat happily smiling, and saying to herself, while\r
-Harriet was puzzling over the paper in all the confusion of hope and\r
-dulness, “Very well, Mr. Elton, very well indeed. I have read worse\r
-charades. _Courtship_--a very good hint. I give you credit for it. This\r
-is feeling your way. This is saying very plainly--‘Pray, Miss Smith,\r
-give me leave to pay my addresses to you. Approve my charade and my\r
-intentions in the same glance.’\r
-\r
- May its approval beam in that soft eye!\r
-\r
-Harriet exactly. Soft is the very word for her eye--of all epithets, the\r
-justest that could be given.\r
-\r
- Thy ready wit the word will soon supply.\r
-\r
-Humph--Harriet’s ready wit! All the better. A man must be very much in\r
-love, indeed, to describe her so. Ah! Mr. Knightley, I wish you had the\r
-benefit of this; I think this would convince you. For once in your life\r
-you would be obliged to own yourself mistaken. An excellent charade\r
-indeed! and very much to the purpose. Things must come to a crisis soon\r
-now.”\r
-\r
-She was obliged to break off from these very pleasant observations,\r
-which were otherwise of a sort to run into great length, by the\r
-eagerness of Harriet’s wondering questions.\r
-\r
-“What can it be, Miss Woodhouse?--what can it be? I have not an idea--I\r
-cannot guess it in the least. What can it possibly be? Do try to find\r
-it out, Miss Woodhouse. Do help me. I never saw any thing so hard. Is it\r
-kingdom? I wonder who the friend was--and who could be the young lady.\r
-Do you think it is a good one? Can it be woman?\r
-\r
- And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.\r
-\r
-Can it be Neptune?\r
-\r
- Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!\r
-\r
-Or a trident? or a mermaid? or a shark? Oh, no! shark is only one\r
-syllable. It must be very clever, or he would not have brought it. Oh!\r
-Miss Woodhouse, do you think we shall ever find it out?”\r
-\r
-“Mermaids and sharks! Nonsense! My dear Harriet, what are you thinking\r
-of? Where would be the use of his bringing us a charade made by a friend\r
-upon a mermaid or a shark? Give me the paper and listen.\r
-\r
-For Miss ------, read Miss Smith.\r
-\r
- My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,\r
- Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease.\r
-\r
-That is _court_.\r
-\r
- Another view of man, my second brings;\r
- Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!\r
-\r
-That is _ship_;--plain as it can be.--Now for the cream.\r
-\r
- But ah! united, (_courtship_, you know,) what reverse we have!\r
- Man’s boasted power and freedom, all are flown.\r
- Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave,\r
- And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.\r
-\r
-A very proper compliment!--and then follows the application, which\r
-I think, my dear Harriet, you cannot find much difficulty in\r
-comprehending. Read it in comfort to yourself. There can be no doubt of\r
-its being written for you and to you.”\r
-\r
-Harriet could not long resist so delightful a persuasion. She read\r
-the concluding lines, and was all flutter and happiness. She could not\r
-speak. But she was not wanted to speak. It was enough for her to feel.\r
-Emma spoke for her.\r
-\r
-“There is so pointed, and so particular a meaning in this compliment,”\r
- said she, “that I cannot have a doubt as to Mr. Elton’s intentions. You\r
-are his object--and you will soon receive the completest proof of it. I\r
-thought it must be so. I thought I could not be so deceived; but now, it\r
-is clear; the state of his mind is as clear and decided, as my wishes on\r
-the subject have been ever since I knew you. Yes, Harriet, just so long\r
-have I been wanting the very circumstance to happen that has happened.\r
-I could never tell whether an attachment between you and Mr. Elton were\r
-most desirable or most natural. Its probability and its eligibility have\r
-really so equalled each other! I am very happy. I congratulate you, my\r
-dear Harriet, with all my heart. This is an attachment which a woman may\r
-well feel pride in creating. This is a connexion which offers nothing\r
-but good. It will give you every thing that you want--consideration,\r
-independence, a proper home--it will fix you in the centre of all your\r
-real friends, close to Hartfield and to me, and confirm our intimacy\r
-for ever. This, Harriet, is an alliance which can never raise a blush in\r
-either of us.”\r
-\r
-“Dear Miss Woodhouse!”--and “Dear Miss Woodhouse,” was all that Harriet,\r
-with many tender embraces could articulate at first; but when they did\r
-arrive at something more like conversation, it was sufficiently clear to\r
-her friend that she saw, felt, anticipated, and remembered just as she\r
-ought. Mr. Elton’s superiority had very ample acknowledgment.\r
-\r
-“Whatever you say is always right,” cried Harriet, “and therefore I\r
-suppose, and believe, and hope it must be so; but otherwise I could not\r
-have imagined it. It is so much beyond any thing I deserve. Mr. Elton,\r
-who might marry any body! There cannot be two opinions about _him_. He\r
-is so very superior. Only think of those sweet verses--‘To Miss ------.’\r
-Dear me, how clever!--Could it really be meant for me?”\r
-\r
-“I cannot make a question, or listen to a question about that. It is a\r
-certainty. Receive it on my judgment. It is a sort of prologue to\r
-the play, a motto to the chapter; and will be soon followed by\r
-matter-of-fact prose.”\r
-\r
-“It is a sort of thing which nobody could have expected. I am sure,\r
-a month ago, I had no more idea myself!--The strangest things do take\r
-place!”\r
-\r
-“When Miss Smiths and Mr. Eltons get acquainted--they do indeed--and\r
-really it is strange; it is out of the common course that what is so\r
-evidently, so palpably desirable--what courts the pre-arrangement of\r
-other people, should so immediately shape itself into the proper form.\r
-You and Mr. Elton are by situation called together; you belong to one\r
-another by every circumstance of your respective homes. Your marrying\r
-will be equal to the match at Randalls. There does seem to be a\r
-something in the air of Hartfield which gives love exactly the right\r
-direction, and sends it into the very channel where it ought to flow.\r
-\r
- The course of true love never did run smooth--\r
-\r
-A Hartfield edition of Shakespeare would have a long note on that\r
-passage.”\r
-\r
-“That Mr. Elton should really be in love with me,--me, of all people,\r
-who did not know him, to speak to him, at Michaelmas! And he, the very\r
-handsomest man that ever was, and a man that every body looks up to,\r
-quite like Mr. Knightley! His company so sought after, that every body\r
-says he need not eat a single meal by himself if he does not chuse it;\r
-that he has more invitations than there are days in the week. And so\r
-excellent in the Church! Miss Nash has put down all the texts he has\r
-ever preached from since he came to Highbury. Dear me! When I look back\r
-to the first time I saw him! How little did I think!--The two Abbots and\r
-I ran into the front room and peeped through the blind when we heard he\r
-was going by, and Miss Nash came and scolded us away, and staid to look\r
-through herself; however, she called me back presently, and let me\r
-look too, which was very good-natured. And how beautiful we thought he\r
-looked! He was arm-in-arm with Mr. Cole.”\r
-\r
-“This is an alliance which, whoever--whatever your friends may be, must\r
-be agreeable to them, provided at least they have common sense; and we\r
-are not to be addressing our conduct to fools. If they are anxious to\r
-see you _happily_ married, here is a man whose amiable character gives\r
-every assurance of it;--if they wish to have you settled in the same\r
-country and circle which they have chosen to place you in, here it will\r
-be accomplished; and if their only object is that you should, in the\r
-common phrase, be _well_ married, here is the comfortable fortune, the\r
-respectable establishment, the rise in the world which must satisfy\r
-them.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, very true. How nicely you talk; I love to hear you. You understand\r
-every thing. You and Mr. Elton are one as clever as the other. This\r
-charade!--If I had studied a twelvemonth, I could never have made any\r
-thing like it.”\r
-\r
-“I thought he meant to try his skill, by his manner of declining it\r
-yesterday.”\r
-\r
-“I do think it is, without exception, the best charade I ever read.”\r
-\r
-“I never read one more to the purpose, certainly.”\r
-\r
-“It is as long again as almost all we have had before.”\r
-\r
-“I do not consider its length as particularly in its favour. Such things\r
-in general cannot be too short.”\r
-\r
-Harriet was too intent on the lines to hear. The most satisfactory\r
-comparisons were rising in her mind.\r
-\r
-“It is one thing,” said she, presently--her cheeks in a glow--“to have\r
-very good sense in a common way, like every body else, and if there is\r
-any thing to say, to sit down and write a letter, and say just what you\r
-must, in a short way; and another, to write verses and charades like\r
-this.”\r
-\r
-Emma could not have desired a more spirited rejection of Mr. Martin’s\r
-prose.\r
-\r
-“Such sweet lines!” continued Harriet--“these two last!--But how shall I\r
-ever be able to return the paper, or say I have found it out?--Oh! Miss\r
-Woodhouse, what can we do about that?”\r
-\r
-“Leave it to me. You do nothing. He will be here this evening, I dare\r
-say, and then I will give it him back, and some nonsense or other will\r
-pass between us, and you shall not be committed.--Your soft eyes shall\r
-chuse their own time for beaming. Trust to me.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what a pity that I must not write this beautiful\r
-charade into my book! I am sure I have not got one half so good.”\r
-\r
-“Leave out the two last lines, and there is no reason why you should not\r
-write it into your book.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! but those two lines are”--\r
-\r
---“The best of all. Granted;--for private enjoyment; and for private\r
-enjoyment keep them. They are not at all the less written you know,\r
-because you divide them. The couplet does not cease to be, nor does its\r
-meaning change. But take it away, and all _appropriation_ ceases, and a\r
-very pretty gallant charade remains, fit for any collection. Depend upon\r
-it, he would not like to have his charade slighted, much better than his\r
-passion. A poet in love must be encouraged in both capacities, or\r
-neither. Give me the book, I will write it down, and then there can be\r
-no possible reflection on you.”\r
-\r
-Harriet submitted, though her mind could hardly separate the parts,\r
-so as to feel quite sure that her friend were not writing down a\r
-declaration of love. It seemed too precious an offering for any degree\r
-of publicity.\r
-\r
-“I shall never let that book go out of my own hands,” said she.\r
-\r
-“Very well,” replied Emma; “a most natural feeling; and the longer it\r
-lasts, the better I shall be pleased. But here is my father coming: you\r
-will not object to my reading the charade to him. It will be giving him\r
-so much pleasure! He loves any thing of the sort, and especially any\r
-thing that pays woman a compliment. He has the tenderest spirit of\r
-gallantry towards us all!--You must let me read it to him.”\r
-\r
-Harriet looked grave.\r
-\r
-“My dear Harriet, you must not refine too much upon this charade.--You\r
-will betray your feelings improperly, if you are too conscious and too\r
-quick, and appear to affix more meaning, or even quite all the meaning\r
-which may be affixed to it. Do not be overpowered by such a little\r
-tribute of admiration. If he had been anxious for secrecy, he would not\r
-have left the paper while I was by; but he rather pushed it towards me\r
-than towards you. Do not let us be too solemn on the business. He has\r
-encouragement enough to proceed, without our sighing out our souls over\r
-this charade.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! no--I hope I shall not be ridiculous about it. Do as you please.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Woodhouse came in, and very soon led to the subject again, by the\r
-recurrence of his very frequent inquiry of “Well, my dears, how does\r
-your book go on?--Have you got any thing fresh?”\r
-\r
-“Yes, papa; we have something to read you, something quite fresh. A\r
-piece of paper was found on the table this morning--(dropt, we suppose,\r
-by a fairy)--containing a very pretty charade, and we have just copied\r
-it in.”\r
-\r
-She read it to him, just as he liked to have any thing read, slowly and\r
-distinctly, and two or three times over, with explanations of every\r
-part as she proceeded--and he was very much pleased, and, as she had\r
-foreseen, especially struck with the complimentary conclusion.\r
-\r
-“Aye, that’s very just, indeed, that’s very properly said. Very true.\r
-‘Woman, lovely woman.’ It is such a pretty charade, my dear, that I\r
-can easily guess what fairy brought it.--Nobody could have written so\r
-prettily, but you, Emma.”\r
-\r
-Emma only nodded, and smiled.--After a little thinking, and a very\r
-tender sigh, he added,\r
-\r
-“Ah! it is no difficulty to see who you take after! Your dear mother\r
-was so clever at all those things! If I had but her memory! But I can\r
-remember nothing;--not even that particular riddle which you have\r
-heard me mention; I can only recollect the first stanza; and there are\r
-several.\r
-\r
- Kitty, a fair but frozen maid,\r
- Kindled a flame I yet deplore,\r
- The hood-wink’d boy I called to aid,\r
- Though of his near approach afraid,\r
- So fatal to my suit before.\r
-\r
-And that is all that I can recollect of it--but it is very clever all\r
-the way through. But I think, my dear, you said you had got it.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, papa, it is written out in our second page. We copied it from the\r
-Elegant Extracts. It was Garrick’s, you know.”\r
-\r
-“Aye, very true.--I wish I could recollect more of it.\r
-\r
- Kitty, a fair but frozen maid.\r
-\r
-The name makes me think of poor Isabella; for she was very near being\r
-christened Catherine after her grandmama. I hope we shall have her here\r
-next week. Have you thought, my dear, where you shall put her--and what\r
-room there will be for the children?”\r
-\r
-“Oh! yes--she will have her own room, of course; the room she always\r
-has;--and there is the nursery for the children,--just as usual, you\r
-know. Why should there be any change?”\r
-\r
-“I do not know, my dear--but it is so long since she was here!--not\r
-since last Easter, and then only for a few days.--Mr. John Knightley’s\r
-being a lawyer is very inconvenient.--Poor Isabella!--she is sadly taken\r
-away from us all!--and how sorry she will be when she comes, not to see\r
-Miss Taylor here!”\r
-\r
-“She will not be surprized, papa, at least.”\r
-\r
-“I do not know, my dear. I am sure I was very much surprized when I\r
-first heard she was going to be married.”\r
-\r
-“We must ask Mr. and Mrs. Weston to dine with us, while Isabella is\r
-here.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, my dear, if there is time.--But--(in a very depressed tone)--she\r
-is coming for only one week. There will not be time for any thing.”\r
-\r
-“It is unfortunate that they cannot stay longer--but it seems a case of\r
-necessity. Mr. John Knightley must be in town again on the 28th, and we\r
-ought to be thankful, papa, that we are to have the whole of the time\r
-they can give to the country, that two or three days are not to be taken\r
-out for the Abbey. Mr. Knightley promises to give up his claim this\r
-Christmas--though you know it is longer since they were with him, than\r
-with us.”\r
-\r
-“It would be very hard, indeed, my dear, if poor Isabella were to be\r
-anywhere but at Hartfield.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Woodhouse could never allow for Mr. Knightley’s claims on his\r
-brother, or any body’s claims on Isabella, except his own. He sat musing\r
-a little while, and then said,\r
-\r
-“But I do not see why poor Isabella should be obliged to go back so\r
-soon, though he does. I think, Emma, I shall try and persuade her to\r
-stay longer with us. She and the children might stay very well.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! papa--that is what you never have been able to accomplish, and I\r
-do not think you ever will. Isabella cannot bear to stay behind her\r
-husband.”\r
-\r
-This was too true for contradiction. Unwelcome as it was, Mr. Woodhouse\r
-could only give a submissive sigh; and as Emma saw his spirits affected\r
-by the idea of his daughter’s attachment to her husband, she immediately\r
-led to such a branch of the subject as must raise them.\r
-\r
-“Harriet must give us as much of her company as she can while my brother\r
-and sister are here. I am sure she will be pleased with the children.\r
-We are very proud of the children, are not we, papa? I wonder which she\r
-will think the handsomest, Henry or John?”\r
-\r
-“Aye, I wonder which she will. Poor little dears, how glad they will be\r
-to come. They are very fond of being at Hartfield, Harriet.”\r
-\r
-“I dare say they are, sir. I am sure I do not know who is not.”\r
-\r
-“Henry is a fine boy, but John is very like his mama. Henry is the\r
-eldest, he was named after me, not after his father. John, the second,\r
-is named after his father. Some people are surprized, I believe, that\r
-the eldest was not, but Isabella would have him called Henry, which I\r
-thought very pretty of her. And he is a very clever boy, indeed. They\r
-are all remarkably clever; and they have so many pretty ways. They will\r
-come and stand by my chair, and say, ‘Grandpapa, can you give me a bit\r
-of string?’ and once Henry asked me for a knife, but I told him knives\r
-were only made for grandpapas. I think their father is too rough with\r
-them very often.”\r
-\r
-“He appears rough to you,” said Emma, “because you are so very gentle\r
-yourself; but if you could compare him with other papas, you would not\r
-think him rough. He wishes his boys to be active and hardy; and if\r
-they misbehave, can give them a sharp word now and then; but he is an\r
-affectionate father--certainly Mr. John Knightley is an affectionate\r
-father. The children are all fond of him.”\r
-\r
-“And then their uncle comes in, and tosses them up to the ceiling in a\r
-very frightful way!”\r
-\r
-“But they like it, papa; there is nothing they like so much. It is such\r
-enjoyment to them, that if their uncle did not lay down the rule of\r
-their taking turns, whichever began would never give way to the other.”\r
-\r
-“Well, I cannot understand it.”\r
-\r
-“That is the case with us all, papa. One half of the world cannot\r
-understand the pleasures of the other.”\r
-\r
-Later in the morning, and just as the girls were going to separate\r
-in preparation for the regular four o’clock dinner, the hero of this\r
-inimitable charade walked in again. Harriet turned away; but Emma could\r
-receive him with the usual smile, and her quick eye soon discerned in\r
-his the consciousness of having made a push--of having thrown a die;\r
-and she imagined he was come to see how it might turn up. His ostensible\r
-reason, however, was to ask whether Mr. Woodhouse’s party could be made\r
-up in the evening without him, or whether he should be in the smallest\r
-degree necessary at Hartfield. If he were, every thing else must give\r
-way; but otherwise his friend Cole had been saying so much about his\r
-dining with him--had made such a point of it, that he had promised him\r
-conditionally to come.\r
-\r
-Emma thanked him, but could not allow of his disappointing his friend\r
-on their account; her father was sure of his rubber. He re-urged--she\r
-re-declined; and he seemed then about to make his bow, when taking the\r
-paper from the table, she returned it--\r
-\r
-“Oh! here is the charade you were so obliging as to leave with us; thank\r
-you for the sight of it. We admired it so much, that I have ventured\r
-to write it into Miss Smith’s collection. Your friend will not take it\r
-amiss I hope. Of course I have not transcribed beyond the first eight\r
-lines.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton certainly did not very well know what to say. He looked rather\r
-doubtingly--rather confused; said something about “honour,”--glanced at\r
-Emma and at Harriet, and then seeing the book open on the table, took\r
-it up, and examined it very attentively. With the view of passing off an\r
-awkward moment, Emma smilingly said,\r
-\r
-“You must make my apologies to your friend; but so good a charade\r
-must not be confined to one or two. He may be sure of every woman’s\r
-approbation while he writes with such gallantry.”\r
-\r
-“I have no hesitation in saying,” replied Mr. Elton, though hesitating\r
-a good deal while he spoke; “I have no hesitation in saying--at least\r
-if my friend feels at all as _I_ do--I have not the smallest doubt that,\r
-could he see his little effusion honoured as _I_ see it, (looking at the\r
-book again, and replacing it on the table), he would consider it as the\r
-proudest moment of his life.”\r
-\r
-After this speech he was gone as soon as possible. Emma could not think\r
-it too soon; for with all his good and agreeable qualities, there was\r
-a sort of parade in his speeches which was very apt to incline her to\r
-laugh. She ran away to indulge the inclination, leaving the tender and\r
-the sublime of pleasure to Harriet’s share.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER X\r
-\r
-\r
-Though now the middle of December, there had yet been no weather to\r
-prevent the young ladies from tolerably regular exercise; and on the\r
-morrow, Emma had a charitable visit to pay to a poor sick family, who\r
-lived a little way out of Highbury.\r
-\r
-Their road to this detached cottage was down Vicarage Lane, a lane\r
-leading at right angles from the broad, though irregular, main street of\r
-the place; and, as may be inferred, containing the blessed abode of Mr.\r
-Elton. A few inferior dwellings were first to be passed, and then, about\r
-a quarter of a mile down the lane rose the Vicarage, an old and not\r
-very good house, almost as close to the road as it could be. It had\r
-no advantage of situation; but had been very much smartened up by the\r
-present proprietor; and, such as it was, there could be no possibility\r
-of the two friends passing it without a slackened pace and observing\r
-eyes.--Emma’s remark was--\r
-\r
-“There it is. There go you and your riddle-book one of these\r
-days.”--Harriet’s was--\r
-\r
-“Oh, what a sweet house!--How very beautiful!--There are the yellow\r
-curtains that Miss Nash admires so much.”\r
-\r
-“I do not often walk this way _now_,” said Emma, as they proceeded, “but\r
-_then_ there will be an inducement, and I shall gradually get intimately\r
-acquainted with all the hedges, gates, pools and pollards of this part\r
-of Highbury.”\r
-\r
-Harriet, she found, had never in her life been inside the Vicarage,\r
-and her curiosity to see it was so extreme, that, considering exteriors\r
-and probabilities, Emma could only class it, as a proof of love, with\r
-Mr. Elton’s seeing ready wit in her.\r
-\r
-“I wish we could contrive it,” said she; “but I cannot think of any\r
-tolerable pretence for going in;--no servant that I want to inquire\r
-about of his housekeeper--no message from my father.”\r
-\r
-She pondered, but could think of nothing. After a mutual silence of some\r
-minutes, Harriet thus began again--\r
-\r
-“I do so wonder, Miss Woodhouse, that you should not be married, or\r
-going to be married! so charming as you are!”--\r
-\r
-Emma laughed, and replied,\r
-\r
-“My being charming, Harriet, is not quite enough to induce me to marry;\r
-I must find other people charming--one other person at least. And I\r
-am not only, not going to be married, at present, but have very little\r
-intention of ever marrying at all.”\r
-\r
-“Ah!--so you say; but I cannot believe it.”\r
-\r
-“I must see somebody very superior to any one I have seen yet, to be\r
-tempted; Mr. Elton, you know, (recollecting herself,) is out of the\r
-question: and I do _not_ wish to see any such person. I would rather not\r
-be tempted. I cannot really change for the better. If I were to marry, I\r
-must expect to repent it.”\r
-\r
-“Dear me!--it is so odd to hear a woman talk so!”--\r
-\r
-“I have none of the usual inducements of women to marry. Were I to fall\r
-in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! but I never have been in\r
-love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall.\r
-And, without love, I am sure I should be a fool to change such a\r
-situation as mine. Fortune I do not want; employment I do not want;\r
-consequence I do not want: I believe few married women are half as much\r
-mistress of their husband’s house as I am of Hartfield; and never, never\r
-could I expect to be so truly beloved and important; so always first and\r
-always right in any man’s eyes as I am in my father’s.”\r
-\r
-“But then, to be an old maid at last, like Miss Bates!”\r
-\r
-“That is as formidable an image as you could present, Harriet; and if\r
-I thought I should ever be like Miss Bates! so silly--so satisfied--so\r
-smiling--so prosing--so undistinguishing and unfastidious--and so apt\r
-to tell every thing relative to every body about me, I would marry\r
-to-morrow. But between _us_, I am convinced there never can be any\r
-likeness, except in being unmarried.”\r
-\r
-“But still, you will be an old maid! and that’s so dreadful!”\r
-\r
-“Never mind, Harriet, I shall not be a poor old maid; and it is poverty\r
-only which makes celibacy contemptible to a generous public! A single\r
-woman, with a very narrow income, must be a ridiculous, disagreeable old\r
-maid! the proper sport of boys and girls, but a single woman, of good\r
-fortune, is always respectable, and may be as sensible and pleasant\r
-as any body else. And the distinction is not quite so much against the\r
-candour and common sense of the world as appears at first; for a very\r
-narrow income has a tendency to contract the mind, and sour the temper.\r
-Those who can barely live, and who live perforce in a very small, and\r
-generally very inferior, society, may well be illiberal and cross. This\r
-does not apply, however, to Miss Bates; she is only too good natured and\r
-too silly to suit me; but, in general, she is very much to the taste\r
-of every body, though single and though poor. Poverty certainly has not\r
-contracted her mind: I really believe, if she had only a shilling in the\r
-world, she would be very likely to give away sixpence of it; and nobody\r
-is afraid of her: that is a great charm.”\r
-\r
-“Dear me! but what shall you do? how shall you employ yourself when you\r
-grow old?”\r
-\r
-“If I know myself, Harriet, mine is an active, busy mind, with a great\r
-many independent resources; and I do not perceive why I should be more\r
-in want of employment at forty or fifty than one-and-twenty. Woman’s\r
-usual occupations of hand and mind will be as open to me then as they\r
-are now; or with no important variation. If I draw less, I shall read\r
-more; if I give up music, I shall take to carpet-work. And as for\r
-objects of interest, objects for the affections, which is in truth the\r
-great point of inferiority, the want of which is really the great evil\r
-to be avoided in _not_ marrying, I shall be very well off, with all the\r
-children of a sister I love so much, to care about. There will be enough\r
-of them, in all probability, to supply every sort of sensation that\r
-declining life can need. There will be enough for every hope and every\r
-fear; and though my attachment to none can equal that of a parent, it\r
-suits my ideas of comfort better than what is warmer and blinder. My\r
-nephews and nieces!--I shall often have a niece with me.”\r
-\r
-“Do you know Miss Bates’s niece? That is, I know you must have seen her\r
-a hundred times--but are you acquainted?”\r
-\r
-“Oh! yes; we are always forced to be acquainted whenever she comes to\r
-Highbury. By the bye, _that_ is almost enough to put one out of conceit\r
-with a niece. Heaven forbid! at least, that I should ever bore people\r
-half so much about all the Knightleys together, as she does about Jane\r
-Fairfax. One is sick of the very name of Jane Fairfax. Every letter from\r
-her is read forty times over; her compliments to all friends go round\r
-and round again; and if she does but send her aunt the pattern of a\r
-stomacher, or knit a pair of garters for her grandmother, one hears of\r
-nothing else for a month. I wish Jane Fairfax very well; but she tires\r
-me to death.”\r
-\r
-They were now approaching the cottage, and all idle topics were\r
-superseded. Emma was very compassionate; and the distresses of the poor\r
-were as sure of relief from her personal attention and kindness, her\r
-counsel and her patience, as from her purse. She understood their ways,\r
-could allow for their ignorance and their temptations, had no romantic\r
-expectations of extraordinary virtue from those for whom education had\r
-done so little; entered into their troubles with ready sympathy, and\r
-always gave her assistance with as much intelligence as good-will. In\r
-the present instance, it was sickness and poverty together which she\r
-came to visit; and after remaining there as long as she could give\r
-comfort or advice, she quitted the cottage with such an impression of\r
-the scene as made her say to Harriet, as they walked away,\r
-\r
-“These are the sights, Harriet, to do one good. How trifling they make\r
-every thing else appear!--I feel now as if I could think of nothing but\r
-these poor creatures all the rest of the day; and yet, who can say how\r
-soon it may all vanish from my mind?”\r
-\r
-“Very true,” said Harriet. “Poor creatures! one can think of nothing\r
-else.”\r
-\r
-“And really, I do not think the impression will soon be over,” said\r
-Emma, as she crossed the low hedge, and tottering footstep which ended\r
-the narrow, slippery path through the cottage garden, and brought them\r
-into the lane again. “I do not think it will,” stopping to look once\r
-more at all the outward wretchedness of the place, and recall the still\r
-greater within.\r
-\r
-“Oh! dear, no,” said her companion.\r
-\r
-They walked on. The lane made a slight bend; and when that bend was\r
-passed, Mr. Elton was immediately in sight; and so near as to give Emma\r
-time only to say farther,\r
-\r
-“Ah! Harriet, here comes a very sudden trial of our stability in good\r
-thoughts. Well, (smiling,) I hope it may be allowed that if compassion\r
-has produced exertion and relief to the sufferers, it has done all that\r
-is truly important. If we feel for the wretched, enough to do all we can\r
-for them, the rest is empty sympathy, only distressing to ourselves.”\r
-\r
-Harriet could just answer, “Oh! dear, yes,” before the gentleman joined\r
-them. The wants and sufferings of the poor family, however, were the\r
-first subject on meeting. He had been going to call on them. His visit\r
-he would now defer; but they had a very interesting parley about\r
-what could be done and should be done. Mr. Elton then turned back to\r
-accompany them.\r
-\r
-“To fall in with each other on such an errand as this,” thought Emma;\r
-“to meet in a charitable scheme; this will bring a great increase\r
-of love on each side. I should not wonder if it were to bring on the\r
-declaration. It must, if I were not here. I wish I were anywhere else.”\r
-\r
-Anxious to separate herself from them as far as she could, she soon\r
-afterwards took possession of a narrow footpath, a little raised on one\r
-side of the lane, leaving them together in the main road. But she had\r
-not been there two minutes when she found that Harriet’s habits of\r
-dependence and imitation were bringing her up too, and that, in short,\r
-they would both be soon after her. This would not do; she immediately\r
-stopped, under pretence of having some alteration to make in the lacing\r
-of her half-boot, and stooping down in complete occupation of the\r
-footpath, begged them to have the goodness to walk on, and she would\r
-follow in half a minute. They did as they were desired; and by the time\r
-she judged it reasonable to have done with her boot, she had the comfort\r
-of farther delay in her power, being overtaken by a child from the\r
-cottage, setting out, according to orders, with her pitcher, to fetch\r
-broth from Hartfield. To walk by the side of this child, and talk to\r
-and question her, was the most natural thing in the world, or would have\r
-been the most natural, had she been acting just then without design;\r
-and by this means the others were still able to keep ahead, without\r
-any obligation of waiting for her. She gained on them, however,\r
-involuntarily: the child’s pace was quick, and theirs rather slow;\r
-and she was the more concerned at it, from their being evidently in\r
-a conversation which interested them. Mr. Elton was speaking with\r
-animation, Harriet listening with a very pleased attention; and Emma,\r
-having sent the child on, was beginning to think how she might draw back\r
-a little more, when they both looked around, and she was obliged to join\r
-them.\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton was still talking, still engaged in some interesting detail;\r
-and Emma experienced some disappointment when she found that he was only\r
-giving his fair companion an account of the yesterday’s party at his\r
-friend Cole’s, and that she was come in herself for the Stilton cheese,\r
-the north Wiltshire, the butter, the celery, the beet-root, and all the\r
-dessert.\r
-\r
-“This would soon have led to something better, of course,” was her\r
-consoling reflection; “any thing interests between those who love; and\r
-any thing will serve as introduction to what is near the heart. If I\r
-could but have kept longer away!”\r
-\r
-They now walked on together quietly, till within view of the vicarage\r
-pales, when a sudden resolution, of at least getting Harriet into the\r
-house, made her again find something very much amiss about her boot, and\r
-fall behind to arrange it once more. She then broke the lace off short,\r
-and dexterously throwing it into a ditch, was presently obliged to\r
-entreat them to stop, and acknowledged her inability to put herself to\r
-rights so as to be able to walk home in tolerable comfort.\r
-\r
-“Part of my lace is gone,” said she, “and I do not know how I am to\r
-contrive. I really am a most troublesome companion to you both, but I\r
-hope I am not often so ill-equipped. Mr. Elton, I must beg leave to stop\r
-at your house, and ask your housekeeper for a bit of ribband or string,\r
-or any thing just to keep my boot on.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton looked all happiness at this proposition; and nothing could\r
-exceed his alertness and attention in conducting them into his house and\r
-endeavouring to make every thing appear to advantage. The room they were\r
-taken into was the one he chiefly occupied, and looking forwards; behind\r
-it was another with which it immediately communicated; the door between\r
-them was open, and Emma passed into it with the housekeeper to receive\r
-her assistance in the most comfortable manner. She was obliged to leave\r
-the door ajar as she found it; but she fully intended that Mr. Elton\r
-should close it. It was not closed, however, it still remained ajar; but\r
-by engaging the housekeeper in incessant conversation, she hoped to make\r
-it practicable for him to chuse his own subject in the adjoining\r
-room. For ten minutes she could hear nothing but herself. It could be\r
-protracted no longer. She was then obliged to be finished, and make her\r
-appearance.\r
-\r
-The lovers were standing together at one of the windows. It had a most\r
-favourable aspect; and, for half a minute, Emma felt the glory of having\r
-schemed successfully. But it would not do; he had not come to the point.\r
-He had been most agreeable, most delightful; he had told Harriet that\r
-he had seen them go by, and had purposely followed them; other little\r
-gallantries and allusions had been dropt, but nothing serious.\r
-\r
-“Cautious, very cautious,” thought Emma; “he advances inch by inch, and\r
-will hazard nothing till he believes himself secure.”\r
-\r
-Still, however, though every thing had not been accomplished by her\r
-ingenious device, she could not but flatter herself that it had been\r
-the occasion of much present enjoyment to both, and must be leading them\r
-forward to the great event.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XI\r
-\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton must now be left to himself. It was no longer in Emma’s power\r
-to superintend his happiness or quicken his measures. The coming of her\r
-sister’s family was so very near at hand, that first in anticipation,\r
-and then in reality, it became henceforth her prime object of interest;\r
-and during the ten days of their stay at Hartfield it was not to be\r
-expected--she did not herself expect--that any thing beyond occasional,\r
-fortuitous assistance could be afforded by her to the lovers. They might\r
-advance rapidly if they would, however; they must advance somehow or\r
-other whether they would or no. She hardly wished to have more leisure\r
-for them. There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they\r
-will do for themselves.\r
-\r
-Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley, from having been longer than usual absent\r
-from Surry, were exciting of course rather more than the usual interest.\r
-Till this year, every long vacation since their marriage had been\r
-divided between Hartfield and Donwell Abbey; but all the holidays of\r
-this autumn had been given to sea-bathing for the children, and it was\r
-therefore many months since they had been seen in a regular way by their\r
-Surry connexions, or seen at all by Mr. Woodhouse, who could not be\r
-induced to get so far as London, even for poor Isabella’s sake; and\r
-who consequently was now most nervously and apprehensively happy in\r
-forestalling this too short visit.\r
-\r
-He thought much of the evils of the journey for her, and not a little\r
-of the fatigues of his own horses and coachman who were to bring some\r
-of the party the last half of the way; but his alarms were needless;\r
-the sixteen miles being happily accomplished, and Mr. and Mrs. John\r
-Knightley, their five children, and a competent number of nursery-maids,\r
-all reaching Hartfield in safety. The bustle and joy of such an arrival,\r
-the many to be talked to, welcomed, encouraged, and variously dispersed\r
-and disposed of, produced a noise and confusion which his nerves could\r
-not have borne under any other cause, nor have endured much longer even\r
-for this; but the ways of Hartfield and the feelings of her father\r
-were so respected by Mrs. John Knightley, that in spite of maternal\r
-solicitude for the immediate enjoyment of her little ones, and for their\r
-having instantly all the liberty and attendance, all the eating and\r
-drinking, and sleeping and playing, which they could possibly wish for,\r
-without the smallest delay, the children were never allowed to be long\r
-a disturbance to him, either in themselves or in any restless attendance\r
-on them.\r
-\r
-Mrs. John Knightley was a pretty, elegant little woman, of gentle, quiet\r
-manners, and a disposition remarkably amiable and affectionate; wrapt\r
-up in her family; a devoted wife, a doating mother, and so tenderly\r
-attached to her father and sister that, but for these higher ties, a\r
-warmer love might have seemed impossible. She could never see a fault\r
-in any of them. She was not a woman of strong understanding or any\r
-quickness; and with this resemblance of her father, she inherited also\r
-much of his constitution; was delicate in her own health, over-careful\r
-of that of her children, had many fears and many nerves, and was as fond\r
-of her own Mr. Wingfield in town as her father could be of Mr. Perry.\r
-They were alike too, in a general benevolence of temper, and a strong\r
-habit of regard for every old acquaintance.\r
-\r
-Mr. John Knightley was a tall, gentleman-like, and very clever man;\r
-rising in his profession, domestic, and respectable in his private\r
-character; but with reserved manners which prevented his being generally\r
-pleasing; and capable of being sometimes out of humour. He was not an\r
-ill-tempered man, not so often unreasonably cross as to deserve such a\r
-reproach; but his temper was not his great perfection; and, indeed, with\r
-such a worshipping wife, it was hardly possible that any natural defects\r
-in it should not be increased. The extreme sweetness of her temper\r
-must hurt his. He had all the clearness and quickness of mind which she\r
-wanted, and he could sometimes act an ungracious, or say a severe thing.\r
-\r
-He was not a great favourite with his fair sister-in-law. Nothing wrong\r
-in him escaped her. She was quick in feeling the little injuries to\r
-Isabella, which Isabella never felt herself. Perhaps she might have\r
-passed over more had his manners been flattering to Isabella’s sister,\r
-but they were only those of a calmly kind brother and friend, without\r
-praise and without blindness; but hardly any degree of personal\r
-compliment could have made her regardless of that greatest fault of\r
-all in her eyes which he sometimes fell into, the want of respectful\r
-forbearance towards her father. There he had not always the patience\r
-that could have been wished. Mr. Woodhouse’s peculiarities and\r
-fidgetiness were sometimes provoking him to a rational remonstrance or\r
-sharp retort equally ill-bestowed. It did not often happen; for Mr. John\r
-Knightley had really a great regard for his father-in-law, and generally\r
-a strong sense of what was due to him; but it was too often for Emma’s\r
-charity, especially as there was all the pain of apprehension frequently\r
-to be endured, though the offence came not. The beginning, however, of\r
-every visit displayed none but the properest feelings, and this being of\r
-necessity so short might be hoped to pass away in unsullied cordiality.\r
-They had not been long seated and composed when Mr. Woodhouse, with a\r
-melancholy shake of the head and a sigh, called his daughter’s attention\r
-to the sad change at Hartfield since she had been there last.\r
-\r
-“Ah, my dear,” said he, “poor Miss Taylor--It is a grievous business.”\r
-\r
-“Oh yes, sir,” cried she with ready sympathy, “how you must miss her!\r
-And dear Emma, too!--What a dreadful loss to you both!--I have been so\r
-grieved for you.--I could not imagine how you could possibly do without\r
-her.--It is a sad change indeed.--But I hope she is pretty well, sir.”\r
-\r
-“Pretty well, my dear--I hope--pretty well.--I do not know but that the\r
-place agrees with her tolerably.”\r
-\r
-Mr. John Knightley here asked Emma quietly whether there were any doubts\r
-of the air of Randalls.\r
-\r
-“Oh! no--none in the least. I never saw Mrs. Weston better in my\r
-life--never looking so well. Papa is only speaking his own regret.”\r
-\r
-“Very much to the honour of both,” was the handsome reply.\r
-\r
-“And do you see her, sir, tolerably often?” asked Isabella in the\r
-plaintive tone which just suited her father.\r
-\r
-Mr. Woodhouse hesitated.--“Not near so often, my dear, as I could wish.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! papa, we have missed seeing them but one entire day since they\r
-married. Either in the morning or evening of every day, excepting one,\r
-have we seen either Mr. Weston or Mrs. Weston, and generally both,\r
-either at Randalls or here--and as you may suppose, Isabella, most\r
-frequently here. They are very, very kind in their visits. Mr. Weston\r
-is really as kind as herself. Papa, if you speak in that melancholy way,\r
-you will be giving Isabella a false idea of us all. Every body must be\r
-aware that Miss Taylor must be missed, but every body ought also to be\r
-assured that Mr. and Mrs. Weston do really prevent our missing her by\r
-any means to the extent we ourselves anticipated--which is the exact\r
-truth.”\r
-\r
-“Just as it should be,” said Mr. John Knightley, “and just as I hoped\r
-it was from your letters. Her wish of shewing you attention could not be\r
-doubted, and his being a disengaged and social man makes it all easy. I\r
-have been always telling you, my love, that I had no idea of the change\r
-being so very material to Hartfield as you apprehended; and now you have\r
-Emma’s account, I hope you will be satisfied.”\r
-\r
-“Why, to be sure,” said Mr. Woodhouse--“yes, certainly--I cannot\r
-deny that Mrs. Weston, poor Mrs. Weston, does come and see us pretty\r
-often--but then--she is always obliged to go away again.”\r
-\r
-“It would be very hard upon Mr. Weston if she did not, papa.--You quite\r
-forget poor Mr. Weston.”\r
-\r
-“I think, indeed,” said John Knightley pleasantly, “that Mr. Weston has\r
-some little claim. You and I, Emma, will venture to take the part of the\r
-poor husband. I, being a husband, and you not being a wife, the claims\r
-of the man may very likely strike us with equal force. As for Isabella,\r
-she has been married long enough to see the convenience of putting all\r
-the Mr. Westons aside as much as she can.”\r
-\r
-“Me, my love,” cried his wife, hearing and understanding only in part.--\r
-“Are you talking about me?--I am sure nobody ought to be, or can be, a\r
-greater advocate for matrimony than I am; and if it had not been for\r
-the misery of her leaving Hartfield, I should never have thought of Miss\r
-Taylor but as the most fortunate woman in the world; and as to slighting\r
-Mr. Weston, that excellent Mr. Weston, I think there is nothing he does\r
-not deserve. I believe he is one of the very best-tempered men that ever\r
-existed. Excepting yourself and your brother, I do not know his equal\r
-for temper. I shall never forget his flying Henry’s kite for him that\r
-very windy day last Easter--and ever since his particular kindness last\r
-September twelvemonth in writing that note, at twelve o’clock at night,\r
-on purpose to assure me that there was no scarlet fever at Cobham, I\r
-have been convinced there could not be a more feeling heart nor a better\r
-man in existence.--If any body can deserve him, it must be Miss Taylor.”\r
-\r
-“Where is the young man?” said John Knightley. “Has he been here on this\r
-occasion--or has he not?”\r
-\r
-“He has not been here yet,” replied Emma. “There was a strong\r
-expectation of his coming soon after the marriage, but it ended in\r
-nothing; and I have not heard him mentioned lately.”\r
-\r
-“But you should tell them of the letter, my dear,” said her father.\r
-“He wrote a letter to poor Mrs. Weston, to congratulate her, and a very\r
-proper, handsome letter it was. She shewed it to me. I thought it very\r
-well done of him indeed. Whether it was his own idea you know, one\r
-cannot tell. He is but young, and his uncle, perhaps--”\r
-\r
-“My dear papa, he is three-and-twenty. You forget how time passes.”\r
-\r
-“Three-and-twenty!--is he indeed?--Well, I could not have thought\r
-it--and he was but two years old when he lost his poor mother! Well,\r
-time does fly indeed!--and my memory is very bad. However, it was an\r
-exceeding good, pretty letter, and gave Mr. and Mrs. Weston a great deal\r
-of pleasure. I remember it was written from Weymouth, and dated Sept.\r
-28th--and began, ‘My dear Madam,’ but I forget how it went on; and it\r
-was signed ‘F. C. Weston Churchill.’--I remember that perfectly.”\r
-\r
-“How very pleasing and proper of him!” cried the good-hearted Mrs. John\r
-Knightley. “I have no doubt of his being a most amiable young man. But\r
-how sad it is that he should not live at home with his father! There is\r
-something so shocking in a child’s being taken away from his parents and\r
-natural home! I never could comprehend how Mr. Weston could part with\r
-him. To give up one’s child! I really never could think well of any body\r
-who proposed such a thing to any body else.”\r
-\r
-“Nobody ever did think well of the Churchills, I fancy,” observed Mr.\r
-John Knightley coolly. “But you need not imagine Mr. Weston to have felt\r
-what you would feel in giving up Henry or John. Mr. Weston is rather\r
-an easy, cheerful-tempered man, than a man of strong feelings; he takes\r
-things as he finds them, and makes enjoyment of them somehow or other,\r
-depending, I suspect, much more upon what is called society for his\r
-comforts, that is, upon the power of eating and drinking, and playing\r
-whist with his neighbours five times a week, than upon family affection,\r
-or any thing that home affords.”\r
-\r
-Emma could not like what bordered on a reflection on Mr. Weston, and had\r
-half a mind to take it up; but she struggled, and let it pass. She\r
-would keep the peace if possible; and there was something honourable and\r
-valuable in the strong domestic habits, the all-sufficiency of home to\r
-himself, whence resulted her brother’s disposition to look down on\r
-the common rate of social intercourse, and those to whom it was\r
-important.--It had a high claim to forbearance.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XII\r
-\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley was to dine with them--rather against the inclination of\r
-Mr. Woodhouse, who did not like that any one should share with him in\r
-Isabella’s first day. Emma’s sense of right however had decided it;\r
-and besides the consideration of what was due to each brother, she had\r
-particular pleasure, from the circumstance of the late disagreement\r
-between Mr. Knightley and herself, in procuring him the proper\r
-invitation.\r
-\r
-She hoped they might now become friends again. She thought it was time\r
-to make up. Making-up indeed would not do. _She_ certainly had not been\r
-in the wrong, and _he_ would never own that he had. Concession must be\r
-out of the question; but it was time to appear to forget that they had\r
-ever quarrelled; and she hoped it might rather assist the restoration of\r
-friendship, that when he came into the room she had one of the children\r
-with her--the youngest, a nice little girl about eight months old, who\r
-was now making her first visit to Hartfield, and very happy to be danced\r
-about in her aunt’s arms. It did assist; for though he began with grave\r
-looks and short questions, he was soon led on to talk of them all in\r
-the usual way, and to take the child out of her arms with all the\r
-unceremoniousness of perfect amity. Emma felt they were friends again;\r
-and the conviction giving her at first great satisfaction, and then\r
-a little sauciness, she could not help saying, as he was admiring the\r
-baby,\r
-\r
-“What a comfort it is, that we think alike about our nephews and nieces.\r
-As to men and women, our opinions are sometimes very different; but with\r
-regard to these children, I observe we never disagree.”\r
-\r
-“If you were as much guided by nature in your estimate of men and women,\r
-and as little under the power of fancy and whim in your dealings with\r
-them, as you are where these children are concerned, we might always\r
-think alike.”\r
-\r
-“To be sure--our discordancies must always arise from my being in the\r
-wrong.”\r
-\r
-“Yes,” said he, smiling--“and reason good. I was sixteen years old when\r
-you were born.”\r
-\r
-“A material difference then,” she replied--“and no doubt you were much\r
-my superior in judgment at that period of our lives; but does not the\r
-lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings a good deal\r
-nearer?”\r
-\r
-“Yes--a good deal _nearer_.”\r
-\r
-“But still, not near enough to give me a chance of being right, if we\r
-think differently.”\r
-\r
-“I have still the advantage of you by sixteen years’ experience, and by\r
-not being a pretty young woman and a spoiled child. Come, my dear Emma,\r
-let us be friends, and say no more about it. Tell your aunt, little\r
-Emma, that she ought to set you a better example than to be renewing old\r
-grievances, and that if she were not wrong before, she is now.”\r
-\r
-“That’s true,” she cried--“very true. Little Emma, grow up a better\r
-woman than your aunt. Be infinitely cleverer and not half so conceited.\r
-Now, Mr. Knightley, a word or two more, and I have done. As far as good\r
-intentions went, we were _both_ right, and I must say that no effects on\r
-my side of the argument have yet proved wrong. I only want to know that\r
-Mr. Martin is not very, very bitterly disappointed.”\r
-\r
-“A man cannot be more so,” was his short, full answer.\r
-\r
-“Ah!--Indeed I am very sorry.--Come, shake hands with me.”\r
-\r
-This had just taken place and with great cordiality, when John Knightley\r
-made his appearance, and “How d’ye do, George?” and “John, how are\r
-you?” succeeded in the true English style, burying under a calmness that\r
-seemed all but indifference, the real attachment which would have led\r
-either of them, if requisite, to do every thing for the good of the\r
-other.\r
-\r
-The evening was quiet and conversable, as Mr. Woodhouse declined cards\r
-entirely for the sake of comfortable talk with his dear Isabella, and\r
-the little party made two natural divisions; on one side he and his\r
-daughter; on the other the two Mr. Knightleys; their subjects totally\r
-distinct, or very rarely mixing--and Emma only occasionally joining in\r
-one or the other.\r
-\r
-The brothers talked of their own concerns and pursuits, but principally\r
-of those of the elder, whose temper was by much the most communicative,\r
-and who was always the greater talker. As a magistrate, he had generally\r
-some point of law to consult John about, or, at least, some curious\r
-anecdote to give; and as a farmer, as keeping in hand the home-farm at\r
-Donwell, he had to tell what every field was to bear next year, and to\r
-give all such local information as could not fail of being interesting\r
-to a brother whose home it had equally been the longest part of his\r
-life, and whose attachments were strong. The plan of a drain, the change\r
-of a fence, the felling of a tree, and the destination of every acre for\r
-wheat, turnips, or spring corn, was entered into with as much equality\r
-of interest by John, as his cooler manners rendered possible; and if his\r
-willing brother ever left him any thing to inquire about, his inquiries\r
-even approached a tone of eagerness.\r
-\r
-While they were thus comfortably occupied, Mr. Woodhouse was enjoying a\r
-full flow of happy regrets and fearful affection with his daughter.\r
-\r
-“My poor dear Isabella,” said he, fondly taking her hand, and\r
-interrupting, for a few moments, her busy labours for some one of her\r
-five children--“How long it is, how terribly long since you were here!\r
-And how tired you must be after your journey! You must go to bed early,\r
-my dear--and I recommend a little gruel to you before you go.--You and\r
-I will have a nice basin of gruel together. My dear Emma, suppose we all\r
-have a little gruel.”\r
-\r
-Emma could not suppose any such thing, knowing as she did, that both the\r
-Mr. Knightleys were as unpersuadable on that article as herself;--and\r
-two basins only were ordered. After a little more discourse in praise of\r
-gruel, with some wondering at its not being taken every evening by every\r
-body, he proceeded to say, with an air of grave reflection,\r
-\r
-“It was an awkward business, my dear, your spending the autumn at South\r
-End instead of coming here. I never had much opinion of the sea air.”\r
-\r
-“Mr. Wingfield most strenuously recommended it, sir--or we should not\r
-have gone. He recommended it for all the children, but particularly for\r
-the weakness in little Bella’s throat,--both sea air and bathing.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! my dear, but Perry had many doubts about the sea doing her any\r
-good; and as to myself, I have been long perfectly convinced, though\r
-perhaps I never told you so before, that the sea is very rarely of use\r
-to any body. I am sure it almost killed me once.”\r
-\r
-“Come, come,” cried Emma, feeling this to be an unsafe subject, “I must\r
-beg you not to talk of the sea. It makes me envious and miserable;--I\r
-who have never seen it! South End is prohibited, if you please. My dear\r
-Isabella, I have not heard you make one inquiry about Mr. Perry yet; and\r
-he never forgets you.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! good Mr. Perry--how is he, sir?”\r
-\r
-“Why, pretty well; but not quite well. Poor Perry is bilious, and he has\r
-not time to take care of himself--he tells me he has not time to take\r
-care of himself--which is very sad--but he is always wanted all round\r
-the country. I suppose there is not a man in such practice anywhere. But\r
-then there is not so clever a man any where.”\r
-\r
-“And Mrs. Perry and the children, how are they? do the children grow?\r
-I have a great regard for Mr. Perry. I hope he will be calling soon. He\r
-will be so pleased to see my little ones.”\r
-\r
-“I hope he will be here to-morrow, for I have a question or two to ask\r
-him about myself of some consequence. And, my dear, whenever he comes,\r
-you had better let him look at little Bella’s throat.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! my dear sir, her throat is so much better that I have hardly any\r
-uneasiness about it. Either bathing has been of the greatest service to\r
-her, or else it is to be attributed to an excellent embrocation of Mr.\r
-Wingfield’s, which we have been applying at times ever since August.”\r
-\r
-“It is not very likely, my dear, that bathing should have been of use\r
-to her--and if I had known you were wanting an embrocation, I would have\r
-spoken to--\r
-\r
-“You seem to me to have forgotten Mrs. and Miss Bates,” said Emma, “I\r
-have not heard one inquiry after them.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! the good Bateses--I am quite ashamed of myself--but you mention\r
-them in most of your letters. I hope they are quite well. Good old Mrs.\r
-Bates--I will call upon her to-morrow, and take my children.--They\r
-are always so pleased to see my children.--And that excellent Miss\r
-Bates!--such thorough worthy people!--How are they, sir?”\r
-\r
-“Why, pretty well, my dear, upon the whole. But poor Mrs. Bates had a\r
-bad cold about a month ago.”\r
-\r
-“How sorry I am! But colds were never so prevalent as they have been\r
-this autumn. Mr. Wingfield told me that he has never known them more\r
-general or heavy--except when it has been quite an influenza.”\r
-\r
-“That has been a good deal the case, my dear; but not to the degree you\r
-mention. Perry says that colds have been very general, but not so heavy\r
-as he has very often known them in November. Perry does not call it\r
-altogether a sickly season.”\r
-\r
-“No, I do not know that Mr. Wingfield considers it _very_ sickly\r
-except--\r
-\r
-“Ah! my poor dear child, the truth is, that in London it is always\r
-a sickly season. Nobody is healthy in London, nobody can be. It is a\r
-dreadful thing to have you forced to live there! so far off!--and the\r
-air so bad!”\r
-\r
-“No, indeed--_we_ are not at all in a bad air. Our part of London is\r
-very superior to most others!--You must not confound us with London\r
-in general, my dear sir. The neighbourhood of Brunswick Square is very\r
-different from almost all the rest. We are so very airy! I should be\r
-unwilling, I own, to live in any other part of the town;--there is\r
-hardly any other that I could be satisfied to have my children in:\r
-but _we_ are so remarkably airy!--Mr. Wingfield thinks the vicinity of\r
-Brunswick Square decidedly the most favourable as to air.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! my dear, it is not like Hartfield. You make the best of it--but\r
-after you have been a week at Hartfield, you are all of you different\r
-creatures; you do not look like the same. Now I cannot say, that I think\r
-you are any of you looking well at present.”\r
-\r
-“I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; but I assure you, excepting those\r
-little nervous head-aches and palpitations which I am never entirely\r
-free from anywhere, I am quite well myself; and if the children were\r
-rather pale before they went to bed, it was only because they were a\r
-little more tired than usual, from their journey and the happiness of\r
-coming. I hope you will think better of their looks to-morrow; for I\r
-assure you Mr. Wingfield told me, that he did not believe he had ever\r
-sent us off altogether, in such good case. I trust, at least, that\r
-you do not think Mr. Knightley looking ill,” turning her eyes with\r
-affectionate anxiety towards her husband.\r
-\r
-“Middling, my dear; I cannot compliment you. I think Mr. John Knightley\r
-very far from looking well.”\r
-\r
-“What is the matter, sir?--Did you speak to me?” cried Mr. John\r
-Knightley, hearing his own name.\r
-\r
-“I am sorry to find, my love, that my father does not think you looking\r
-well--but I hope it is only from being a little fatigued. I could have\r
-wished, however, as you know, that you had seen Mr. Wingfield before you\r
-left home.”\r
-\r
-“My dear Isabella,”--exclaimed he hastily--“pray do not concern yourself\r
-about my looks. Be satisfied with doctoring and coddling yourself and\r
-the children, and let me look as I chuse.”\r
-\r
-“I did not thoroughly understand what you were telling your brother,”\r
- cried Emma, “about your friend Mr. Graham’s intending to have a bailiff\r
-from Scotland, to look after his new estate. What will it answer? Will\r
-not the old prejudice be too strong?”\r
-\r
-And she talked in this way so long and successfully that, when forced to\r
-give her attention again to her father and sister, she had nothing\r
-worse to hear than Isabella’s kind inquiry after Jane Fairfax; and Jane\r
-Fairfax, though no great favourite with her in general, she was at that\r
-moment very happy to assist in praising.\r
-\r
-“That sweet, amiable Jane Fairfax!” said Mrs. John Knightley.--“It\r
-is so long since I have seen her, except now and then for a moment\r
-accidentally in town! What happiness it must be to her good old\r
-grandmother and excellent aunt, when she comes to visit them! I always\r
-regret excessively on dear Emma’s account that she cannot be more at\r
-Highbury; but now their daughter is married, I suppose Colonel and Mrs.\r
-Campbell will not be able to part with her at all. She would be such a\r
-delightful companion for Emma.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Woodhouse agreed to it all, but added,\r
-\r
-“Our little friend Harriet Smith, however, is just such another pretty\r
-kind of young person. You will like Harriet. Emma could not have a\r
-better companion than Harriet.”\r
-\r
-“I am most happy to hear it--but only Jane Fairfax one knows to be so\r
-very accomplished and superior!--and exactly Emma’s age.”\r
-\r
-This topic was discussed very happily, and others succeeded of similar\r
-moment, and passed away with similar harmony; but the evening did not\r
-close without a little return of agitation. The gruel came and supplied\r
-a great deal to be said--much praise and many comments--undoubting\r
-decision of its wholesomeness for every constitution, and pretty\r
-severe Philippics upon the many houses where it was never met with\r
-tolerably;--but, unfortunately, among the failures which the daughter\r
-had to instance, the most recent, and therefore most prominent, was in\r
-her own cook at South End, a young woman hired for the time, who never\r
-had been able to understand what she meant by a basin of nice smooth\r
-gruel, thin, but not too thin. Often as she had wished for and ordered\r
-it, she had never been able to get any thing tolerable. Here was a\r
-dangerous opening.\r
-\r
-“Ah!” said Mr. Woodhouse, shaking his head and fixing his eyes on her\r
-with tender concern.--The ejaculation in Emma’s ear expressed, “Ah!\r
-there is no end of the sad consequences of your going to South End. It\r
-does not bear talking of.” And for a little while she hoped he would not\r
-talk of it, and that a silent rumination might suffice to restore him to\r
-the relish of his own smooth gruel. After an interval of some minutes,\r
-however, he began with,\r
-\r
-“I shall always be very sorry that you went to the sea this autumn,\r
-instead of coming here.”\r
-\r
-“But why should you be sorry, sir?--I assure you, it did the children a\r
-great deal of good.”\r
-\r
-“And, moreover, if you must go to the sea, it had better not have been\r
-to South End. South End is an unhealthy place. Perry was surprized to\r
-hear you had fixed upon South End.”\r
-\r
-“I know there is such an idea with many people, but indeed it is quite\r
-a mistake, sir.--We all had our health perfectly well there, never\r
-found the least inconvenience from the mud; and Mr. Wingfield says it is\r
-entirely a mistake to suppose the place unhealthy; and I am sure he may\r
-be depended on, for he thoroughly understands the nature of the air, and\r
-his own brother and family have been there repeatedly.”\r
-\r
-“You should have gone to Cromer, my dear, if you went anywhere.--Perry\r
-was a week at Cromer once, and he holds it to be the best of all the\r
-sea-bathing places. A fine open sea, he says, and very pure air. And, by\r
-what I understand, you might have had lodgings there quite away from\r
-the sea--a quarter of a mile off--very comfortable. You should have\r
-consulted Perry.”\r
-\r
-“But, my dear sir, the difference of the journey;--only consider how\r
-great it would have been.--An hundred miles, perhaps, instead of forty.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! my dear, as Perry says, where health is at stake, nothing else\r
-should be considered; and if one is to travel, there is not much to\r
-chuse between forty miles and an hundred.--Better not move at all,\r
-better stay in London altogether than travel forty miles to get into\r
-a worse air. This is just what Perry said. It seemed to him a very\r
-ill-judged measure.”\r
-\r
-Emma’s attempts to stop her father had been vain; and when he\r
-had reached such a point as this, she could not wonder at her\r
-brother-in-law’s breaking out.\r
-\r
-“Mr. Perry,” said he, in a voice of very strong displeasure, “would do\r
-as well to keep his opinion till it is asked for. Why does he make it\r
-any business of his, to wonder at what I do?--at my taking my family to\r
-one part of the coast or another?--I may be allowed, I hope, the use of\r
-my judgment as well as Mr. Perry.--I want his directions no more than\r
-his drugs.” He paused--and growing cooler in a moment, added, with only\r
-sarcastic dryness, “If Mr. Perry can tell me how to convey a wife and\r
-five children a distance of an hundred and thirty miles with no greater\r
-expense or inconvenience than a distance of forty, I should be as\r
-willing to prefer Cromer to South End as he could himself.”\r
-\r
-“True, true,” cried Mr. Knightley, with most ready interposition--“very\r
-true. That’s a consideration indeed.--But John, as to what I was telling\r
-you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more to the\r
-right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot conceive\r
-any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the means of\r
-inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly\r
-the present line of the path.... The only way of proving it, however,\r
-will be to turn to our maps. I shall see you at the Abbey to-morrow\r
-morning I hope, and then we will look them over, and you shall give me\r
-your opinion.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Woodhouse was rather agitated by such harsh reflections on his\r
-friend Perry, to whom he had, in fact, though unconsciously, been\r
-attributing many of his own feelings and expressions;--but the soothing\r
-attentions of his daughters gradually removed the present evil, and\r
-the immediate alertness of one brother, and better recollections of the\r
-other, prevented any renewal of it.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XIII\r
-\r
-\r
-There could hardly be a happier creature in the world than Mrs. John\r
-Knightley, in this short visit to Hartfield, going about every morning\r
-among her old acquaintance with her five children, and talking over what\r
-she had done every evening with her father and sister. She had nothing\r
-to wish otherwise, but that the days did not pass so swiftly. It was a\r
-delightful visit;--perfect, in being much too short.\r
-\r
-In general their evenings were less engaged with friends than their\r
-mornings; but one complete dinner engagement, and out of the house too,\r
-there was no avoiding, though at Christmas. Mr. Weston would take no\r
-denial; they must all dine at Randalls one day;--even Mr. Woodhouse was\r
-persuaded to think it a possible thing in preference to a division of\r
-the party.\r
-\r
-How they were all to be conveyed, he would have made a difficulty if he\r
-could, but as his son and daughter’s carriage and horses were actually\r
-at Hartfield, he was not able to make more than a simple question on\r
-that head; it hardly amounted to a doubt; nor did it occupy Emma long\r
-to convince him that they might in one of the carriages find room for\r
-Harriet also.\r
-\r
-Harriet, Mr. Elton, and Mr. Knightley, their own especial set, were the\r
-only persons invited to meet them;--the hours were to be early, as\r
-well as the numbers few; Mr. Woodhouse’s habits and inclination being\r
-consulted in every thing.\r
-\r
-The evening before this great event (for it was a very great event that\r
-Mr. Woodhouse should dine out, on the 24th of December) had been spent\r
-by Harriet at Hartfield, and she had gone home so much indisposed with\r
-a cold, that, but for her own earnest wish of being nursed by Mrs.\r
-Goddard, Emma could not have allowed her to leave the house. Emma called\r
-on her the next day, and found her doom already signed with regard to\r
-Randalls. She was very feverish and had a bad sore throat: Mrs. Goddard\r
-was full of care and affection, Mr. Perry was talked of, and Harriet\r
-herself was too ill and low to resist the authority which excluded her\r
-from this delightful engagement, though she could not speak of her loss\r
-without many tears.\r
-\r
-Emma sat with her as long as she could, to attend her in Mrs. Goddard’s\r
-unavoidable absences, and raise her spirits by representing how much Mr.\r
-Elton’s would be depressed when he knew her state; and left her at last\r
-tolerably comfortable, in the sweet dependence of his having a most\r
-comfortless visit, and of their all missing her very much. She had not\r
-advanced many yards from Mrs. Goddard’s door, when she was met by Mr.\r
-Elton himself, evidently coming towards it, and as they walked on slowly\r
-together in conversation about the invalid--of whom he, on the rumour\r
-of considerable illness, had been going to inquire, that he might\r
-carry some report of her to Hartfield--they were overtaken by Mr. John\r
-Knightley returning from the daily visit to Donwell, with his two eldest\r
-boys, whose healthy, glowing faces shewed all the benefit of a country\r
-run, and seemed to ensure a quick despatch of the roast mutton and rice\r
-pudding they were hastening home for. They joined company and\r
-proceeded together. Emma was just describing the nature of her friend’s\r
-complaint;--“a throat very much inflamed, with a great deal of heat\r
-about her, a quick, low pulse, &c. and she was sorry to find from Mrs.\r
-Goddard that Harriet was liable to very bad sore-throats, and had often\r
-alarmed her with them.” Mr. Elton looked all alarm on the occasion, as\r
-he exclaimed,\r
-\r
-“A sore-throat!--I hope not infectious. I hope not of a putrid\r
-infectious sort. Has Perry seen her? Indeed you should take care of\r
-yourself as well as of your friend. Let me entreat you to run no risks.\r
-Why does not Perry see her?”\r
-\r
-Emma, who was not really at all frightened herself, tranquillised this\r
-excess of apprehension by assurances of Mrs. Goddard’s experience and\r
-care; but as there must still remain a degree of uneasiness which she\r
-could not wish to reason away, which she would rather feed and assist\r
-than not, she added soon afterwards--as if quite another subject,\r
-\r
-“It is so cold, so very cold--and looks and feels so very much like\r
-snow, that if it were to any other place or with any other party, I\r
-should really try not to go out to-day--and dissuade my father from\r
-venturing; but as he has made up his mind, and does not seem to feel the\r
-cold himself, I do not like to interfere, as I know it would be so great\r
-a disappointment to Mr. and Mrs. Weston. But, upon my word, Mr. Elton,\r
-in your case, I should certainly excuse myself. You appear to me a\r
-little hoarse already, and when you consider what demand of voice and\r
-what fatigues to-morrow will bring, I think it would be no more than\r
-common prudence to stay at home and take care of yourself to-night.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton looked as if he did not very well know what answer to make;\r
-which was exactly the case; for though very much gratified by the kind\r
-care of such a fair lady, and not liking to resist any advice of her’s,\r
-he had not really the least inclination to give up the visit;--but Emma,\r
-too eager and busy in her own previous conceptions and views to hear him\r
-impartially, or see him with clear vision, was very well satisfied with\r
-his muttering acknowledgment of its being “very cold, certainly very\r
-cold,” and walked on, rejoicing in having extricated him from Randalls,\r
-and secured him the power of sending to inquire after Harriet every hour\r
-of the evening.\r
-\r
-“You do quite right,” said she;--“we will make your apologies to Mr. and\r
-Mrs. Weston.”\r
-\r
-But hardly had she so spoken, when she found her brother was civilly\r
-offering a seat in his carriage, if the weather were Mr. Elton’s only\r
-objection, and Mr. Elton actually accepting the offer with much prompt\r
-satisfaction. It was a done thing; Mr. Elton was to go, and never had\r
-his broad handsome face expressed more pleasure than at this moment;\r
-never had his smile been stronger, nor his eyes more exulting than when\r
-he next looked at her.\r
-\r
-“Well,” said she to herself, “this is most strange!--After I had got\r
-him off so well, to chuse to go into company, and leave Harriet ill\r
-behind!--Most strange indeed!--But there is, I believe, in many men,\r
-especially single men, such an inclination--such a passion for dining\r
-out--a dinner engagement is so high in the class of their pleasures,\r
-their employments, their dignities, almost their duties, that any\r
-thing gives way to it--and this must be the case with Mr. Elton; a most\r
-valuable, amiable, pleasing young man undoubtedly, and very much in love\r
-with Harriet; but still, he cannot refuse an invitation, he must dine\r
-out wherever he is asked. What a strange thing love is! he can see ready\r
-wit in Harriet, but will not dine alone for her.”\r
-\r
-Soon afterwards Mr. Elton quitted them, and she could not but do him\r
-the justice of feeling that there was a great deal of sentiment in his\r
-manner of naming Harriet at parting; in the tone of his voice while\r
-assuring her that he should call at Mrs. Goddard’s for news of her fair\r
-friend, the last thing before he prepared for the happiness of meeting\r
-her again, when he hoped to be able to give a better report; and\r
-he sighed and smiled himself off in a way that left the balance of\r
-approbation much in his favour.\r
-\r
-After a few minutes of entire silence between them, John Knightley began\r
-with--\r
-\r
-“I never in my life saw a man more intent on being agreeable than Mr.\r
-Elton. It is downright labour to him where ladies are concerned. With\r
-men he can be rational and unaffected, but when he has ladies to please,\r
-every feature works.”\r
-\r
-“Mr. Elton’s manners are not perfect,” replied Emma; “but where there is\r
-a wish to please, one ought to overlook, and one does overlook a great\r
-deal. Where a man does his best with only moderate powers, he will\r
-have the advantage over negligent superiority. There is such perfect\r
-good-temper and good-will in Mr. Elton as one cannot but value.”\r
-\r
-“Yes,” said Mr. John Knightley presently, with some slyness, “he seems\r
-to have a great deal of good-will towards you.”\r
-\r
-“Me!” she replied with a smile of astonishment, “are you imagining me to\r
-be Mr. Elton’s object?”\r
-\r
-“Such an imagination has crossed me, I own, Emma; and if it never\r
-occurred to you before, you may as well take it into consideration now.”\r
-\r
-“Mr. Elton in love with me!--What an idea!”\r
-\r
-“I do not say it is so; but you will do well to consider whether it\r
-is so or not, and to regulate your behaviour accordingly. I think your\r
-manners to him encouraging. I speak as a friend, Emma. You had better\r
-look about you, and ascertain what you do, and what you mean to do.”\r
-\r
-“I thank you; but I assure you you are quite mistaken. Mr. Elton and\r
-I are very good friends, and nothing more;” and she walked on, amusing\r
-herself in the consideration of the blunders which often arise from a\r
-partial knowledge of circumstances, of the mistakes which people of high\r
-pretensions to judgment are for ever falling into; and not very well\r
-pleased with her brother for imagining her blind and ignorant, and in\r
-want of counsel. He said no more.\r
-\r
-Mr. Woodhouse had so completely made up his mind to the visit, that in\r
-spite of the increasing coldness, he seemed to have no idea of shrinking\r
-from it, and set forward at last most punctually with his eldest\r
-daughter in his own carriage, with less apparent consciousness of the\r
-weather than either of the others; too full of the wonder of his own\r
-going, and the pleasure it was to afford at Randalls to see that it was\r
-cold, and too well wrapt up to feel it. The cold, however, was severe;\r
-and by the time the second carriage was in motion, a few flakes of snow\r
-were finding their way down, and the sky had the appearance of being so\r
-overcharged as to want only a milder air to produce a very white world\r
-in a very short time.\r
-\r
-Emma soon saw that her companion was not in the happiest humour. The\r
-preparing and the going abroad in such weather, with the sacrifice of\r
-his children after dinner, were evils, were disagreeables at least,\r
-which Mr. John Knightley did not by any means like; he anticipated\r
-nothing in the visit that could be at all worth the purchase; and the\r
-whole of their drive to the vicarage was spent by him in expressing his\r
-discontent.\r
-\r
-“A man,” said he, “must have a very good opinion of himself when he asks\r
-people to leave their own fireside, and encounter such a day as\r
-this, for the sake of coming to see him. He must think himself a most\r
-agreeable fellow; I could not do such a thing. It is the greatest\r
-absurdity--Actually snowing at this moment!--The folly of not allowing\r
-people to be comfortable at home--and the folly of people’s not staying\r
-comfortably at home when they can! If we were obliged to go out such\r
-an evening as this, by any call of duty or business, what a hardship we\r
-should deem it;--and here are we, probably with rather thinner clothing\r
-than usual, setting forward voluntarily, without excuse, in defiance of\r
-the voice of nature, which tells man, in every thing given to his view\r
-or his feelings, to stay at home himself, and keep all under shelter\r
-that he can;--here are we setting forward to spend five dull hours in\r
-another man’s house, with nothing to say or to hear that was not said\r
-and heard yesterday, and may not be said and heard again to-morrow.\r
-Going in dismal weather, to return probably in worse;--four horses and\r
-four servants taken out for nothing but to convey five idle, shivering\r
-creatures into colder rooms and worse company than they might have had\r
-at home.”\r
-\r
-Emma did not find herself equal to give the pleased assent, which no\r
-doubt he was in the habit of receiving, to emulate the “Very true,\r
-my love,” which must have been usually administered by his travelling\r
-companion; but she had resolution enough to refrain from making\r
-any answer at all. She could not be complying, she dreaded being\r
-quarrelsome; her heroism reached only to silence. She allowed him to\r
-talk, and arranged the glasses, and wrapped herself up, without opening\r
-her lips.\r
-\r
-They arrived, the carriage turned, the step was let down, and Mr. Elton,\r
-spruce, black, and smiling, was with them instantly. Emma thought with\r
-pleasure of some change of subject. Mr. Elton was all obligation and\r
-cheerfulness; he was so very cheerful in his civilities indeed, that she\r
-began to think he must have received a different account of Harriet from\r
-what had reached her. She had sent while dressing, and the answer had\r
-been, “Much the same--not better.”\r
-\r
-“_My_ report from Mrs. Goddard’s,” said she presently, “was not so\r
-pleasant as I had hoped--‘Not better’ was _my_ answer.”\r
-\r
-His face lengthened immediately; and his voice was the voice of\r
-sentiment as he answered.\r
-\r
-“Oh! no--I am grieved to find--I was on the point of telling you that\r
-when I called at Mrs. Goddard’s door, which I did the very last thing\r
-before I returned to dress, I was told that Miss Smith was not better,\r
-by no means better, rather worse. Very much grieved and concerned--I\r
-had flattered myself that she must be better after such a cordial as I\r
-knew had been given her in the morning.”\r
-\r
-Emma smiled and answered--“My visit was of use to the nervous part of\r
-her complaint, I hope; but not even I can charm away a sore throat;\r
-it is a most severe cold indeed. Mr. Perry has been with her, as you\r
-probably heard.”\r
-\r
-“Yes--I imagined--that is--I did not--”\r
-\r
-“He has been used to her in these complaints, and I hope to-morrow\r
-morning will bring us both a more comfortable report. But it is\r
-impossible not to feel uneasiness. Such a sad loss to our party to-day!”\r
-\r
-“Dreadful!--Exactly so, indeed.--She will be missed every moment.”\r
-\r
-This was very proper; the sigh which accompanied it was really\r
-estimable; but it should have lasted longer. Emma was rather in dismay\r
-when only half a minute afterwards he began to speak of other things,\r
-and in a voice of the greatest alacrity and enjoyment.\r
-\r
-“What an excellent device,” said he, “the use of a sheepskin for\r
-carriages. How very comfortable they make it;--impossible to feel cold\r
-with such precautions. The contrivances of modern days indeed have\r
-rendered a gentleman’s carriage perfectly complete. One is so fenced\r
-and guarded from the weather, that not a breath of air can find its way\r
-unpermitted. Weather becomes absolutely of no consequence. It is a very\r
-cold afternoon--but in this carriage we know nothing of the matter.--Ha!\r
-snows a little I see.”\r
-\r
-“Yes,” said John Knightley, “and I think we shall have a good deal of\r
-it.”\r
-\r
-“Christmas weather,” observed Mr. Elton. “Quite seasonable; and\r
-extremely fortunate we may think ourselves that it did not begin\r
-yesterday, and prevent this day’s party, which it might very possibly\r
-have done, for Mr. Woodhouse would hardly have ventured had there been\r
-much snow on the ground; but now it is of no consequence. This is quite\r
-the season indeed for friendly meetings. At Christmas every body invites\r
-their friends about them, and people think little of even the worst\r
-weather. I was snowed up at a friend’s house once for a week. Nothing\r
-could be pleasanter. I went for only one night, and could not get away\r
-till that very day se’nnight.”\r
-\r
-Mr. John Knightley looked as if he did not comprehend the pleasure, but\r
-said only, coolly,\r
-\r
-“I cannot wish to be snowed up a week at Randalls.”\r
-\r
-At another time Emma might have been amused, but she was too much\r
-astonished now at Mr. Elton’s spirits for other feelings. Harriet seemed\r
-quite forgotten in the expectation of a pleasant party.\r
-\r
-“We are sure of excellent fires,” continued he, “and every thing in the\r
-greatest comfort. Charming people, Mr. and Mrs. Weston;--Mrs. Weston\r
-indeed is much beyond praise, and he is exactly what one values, so\r
-hospitable, and so fond of society;--it will be a small party, but where\r
-small parties are select, they are perhaps the most agreeable of any.\r
-Mr. Weston’s dining-room does not accommodate more than ten comfortably;\r
-and for my part, I would rather, under such circumstances, fall short by\r
-two than exceed by two. I think you will agree with me, (turning with\r
-a soft air to Emma,) I think I shall certainly have your approbation,\r
-though Mr. Knightley perhaps, from being used to the large parties of\r
-London, may not quite enter into our feelings.”\r
-\r
-“I know nothing of the large parties of London, sir--I never dine with\r
-any body.”\r
-\r
-“Indeed! (in a tone of wonder and pity,) I had no idea that the law had\r
-been so great a slavery. Well, sir, the time must come when you will\r
-be paid for all this, when you will have little labour and great\r
-enjoyment.”\r
-\r
-“My first enjoyment,” replied John Knightley, as they passed through the\r
-sweep-gate, “will be to find myself safe at Hartfield again.”\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XIV\r
-\r
-\r
-Some change of countenance was necessary for each gentleman as they\r
-walked into Mrs. Weston’s drawing-room;--Mr. Elton must compose his\r
-joyous looks, and Mr. John Knightley disperse his ill-humour. Mr.\r
-Elton must smile less, and Mr. John Knightley more, to fit them for the\r
-place.--Emma only might be as nature prompted, and shew herself just as\r
-happy as she was. To her it was real enjoyment to be with the Westons.\r
-Mr. Weston was a great favourite, and there was not a creature in the\r
-world to whom she spoke with such unreserve, as to his wife; not any\r
-one, to whom she related with such conviction of being listened to and\r
-understood, of being always interesting and always intelligible, the\r
-little affairs, arrangements, perplexities, and pleasures of her father\r
-and herself. She could tell nothing of Hartfield, in which Mrs. Weston\r
-had not a lively concern; and half an hour’s uninterrupted communication\r
-of all those little matters on which the daily happiness of private life\r
-depends, was one of the first gratifications of each.\r
-\r
-This was a pleasure which perhaps the whole day’s visit might not\r
-afford, which certainly did not belong to the present half-hour; but the\r
-very sight of Mrs. Weston, her smile, her touch, her voice was grateful\r
-to Emma, and she determined to think as little as possible of Mr.\r
-Elton’s oddities, or of any thing else unpleasant, and enjoy all that\r
-was enjoyable to the utmost.\r
-\r
-The misfortune of Harriet’s cold had been pretty well gone through\r
-before her arrival. Mr. Woodhouse had been safely seated long enough\r
-to give the history of it, besides all the history of his own and\r
-Isabella’s coming, and of Emma’s being to follow, and had indeed just\r
-got to the end of his satisfaction that James should come and see his\r
-daughter, when the others appeared, and Mrs. Weston, who had been almost\r
-wholly engrossed by her attentions to him, was able to turn away and\r
-welcome her dear Emma.\r
-\r
-Emma’s project of forgetting Mr. Elton for a while made her rather sorry\r
-to find, when they had all taken their places, that he was close to her.\r
-The difficulty was great of driving his strange insensibility towards\r
-Harriet, from her mind, while he not only sat at her elbow, but\r
-was continually obtruding his happy countenance on her notice, and\r
-solicitously addressing her upon every occasion. Instead of forgetting\r
-him, his behaviour was such that she could not avoid the internal\r
-suggestion of “Can it really be as my brother imagined? can it be\r
-possible for this man to be beginning to transfer his affections from\r
-Harriet to me?--Absurd and insufferable!”--Yet he would be so anxious\r
-for her being perfectly warm, would be so interested about her father,\r
-and so delighted with Mrs. Weston; and at last would begin admiring her\r
-drawings with so much zeal and so little knowledge as seemed terribly\r
-like a would-be lover, and made it some effort with her to preserve her\r
-good manners. For her own sake she could not be rude; and for Harriet’s,\r
-in the hope that all would yet turn out right, she was even positively\r
-civil; but it was an effort; especially as something was going on\r
-amongst the others, in the most overpowering period of Mr. Elton’s\r
-nonsense, which she particularly wished to listen to. She heard enough\r
-to know that Mr. Weston was giving some information about his son; she\r
-heard the words “my son,” and “Frank,” and “my son,” repeated several\r
-times over; and, from a few other half-syllables very much suspected\r
-that he was announcing an early visit from his son; but before she could\r
-quiet Mr. Elton, the subject was so completely past that any reviving\r
-question from her would have been awkward.\r
-\r
-Now, it so happened that in spite of Emma’s resolution of never\r
-marrying, there was something in the name, in the idea of Mr.\r
-Frank Churchill, which always interested her. She had frequently\r
-thought--especially since his father’s marriage with Miss Taylor--that\r
-if she _were_ to marry, he was the very person to suit her in age,\r
-character and condition. He seemed by this connexion between the\r
-families, quite to belong to her. She could not but suppose it to be\r
-a match that every body who knew them must think of. That Mr. and Mrs.\r
-Weston did think of it, she was very strongly persuaded; and though\r
-not meaning to be induced by him, or by any body else, to give up a\r
-situation which she believed more replete with good than any she could\r
-change it for, she had a great curiosity to see him, a decided intention\r
-of finding him pleasant, of being liked by him to a certain degree, and\r
-a sort of pleasure in the idea of their being coupled in their friends’\r
-imaginations.\r
-\r
-With such sensations, Mr. Elton’s civilities were dreadfully ill-timed;\r
-but she had the comfort of appearing very polite, while feeling very\r
-cross--and of thinking that the rest of the visit could not possibly\r
-pass without bringing forward the same information again, or the\r
-substance of it, from the open-hearted Mr. Weston.--So it proved;--for\r
-when happily released from Mr. Elton, and seated by Mr. Weston,\r
-at dinner, he made use of the very first interval in the cares of\r
-hospitality, the very first leisure from the saddle of mutton, to say to\r
-her,\r
-\r
-“We want only two more to be just the right number. I should like to see\r
-two more here,--your pretty little friend, Miss Smith, and my son--and\r
-then I should say we were quite complete. I believe you did not hear me\r
-telling the others in the drawing-room that we are expecting Frank.\r
-I had a letter from him this morning, and he will be with us within a\r
-fortnight.”\r
-\r
-Emma spoke with a very proper degree of pleasure; and fully assented to\r
-his proposition of Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Smith making their party\r
-quite complete.\r
-\r
-“He has been wanting to come to us,” continued Mr. Weston, “ever since\r
-September: every letter has been full of it; but he cannot command his\r
-own time. He has those to please who must be pleased, and who (between\r
-ourselves) are sometimes to be pleased only by a good many sacrifices.\r
-But now I have no doubt of seeing him here about the second week in\r
-January.”\r
-\r
-“What a very great pleasure it will be to you! and Mrs. Weston is so\r
-anxious to be acquainted with him, that she must be almost as happy as\r
-yourself.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, she would be, but that she thinks there will be another put-off.\r
-She does not depend upon his coming so much as I do: but she does not\r
-know the parties so well as I do. The case, you see, is--(but this is\r
-quite between ourselves: I did not mention a syllable of it in the other\r
-room. There are secrets in all families, you know)--The case is, that a\r
-party of friends are invited to pay a visit at Enscombe in January; and\r
-that Frank’s coming depends upon their being put off. If they are not\r
-put off, he cannot stir. But I know they will, because it is a family\r
-that a certain lady, of some consequence, at Enscombe, has a particular\r
-dislike to: and though it is thought necessary to invite them once in\r
-two or three years, they always are put off when it comes to the point.\r
-I have not the smallest doubt of the issue. I am as confident of seeing\r
-Frank here before the middle of January, as I am of being here myself:\r
-but your good friend there (nodding towards the upper end of the table)\r
-has so few vagaries herself, and has been so little used to them at\r
-Hartfield, that she cannot calculate on their effects, as I have been\r
-long in the practice of doing.”\r
-\r
-“I am sorry there should be any thing like doubt in the case,” replied\r
-Emma; “but am disposed to side with you, Mr. Weston. If you think he\r
-will come, I shall think so too; for you know Enscombe.”\r
-\r
-“Yes--I have some right to that knowledge; though I have never been at\r
-the place in my life.--She is an odd woman!--But I never allow myself\r
-to speak ill of her, on Frank’s account; for I do believe her to be very\r
-fond of him. I used to think she was not capable of being fond of\r
-any body, except herself: but she has always been kind to him (in her\r
-way--allowing for little whims and caprices, and expecting every thing\r
-to be as she likes). And it is no small credit, in my opinion, to him,\r
-that he should excite such an affection; for, though I would not say\r
-it to any body else, she has no more heart than a stone to people in\r
-general; and the devil of a temper.”\r
-\r
-Emma liked the subject so well, that she began upon it, to Mrs. Weston,\r
-very soon after their moving into the drawing-room: wishing her joy--yet\r
-observing, that she knew the first meeting must be rather alarming.--\r
-Mrs. Weston agreed to it; but added, that she should be very glad to be\r
-secure of undergoing the anxiety of a first meeting at the time talked\r
-of: “for I cannot depend upon his coming. I cannot be so sanguine as\r
-Mr. Weston. I am very much afraid that it will all end in nothing. Mr.\r
-Weston, I dare say, has been telling you exactly how the matter stands?”\r
-\r
-“Yes--it seems to depend upon nothing but the ill-humour of Mrs.\r
-Churchill, which I imagine to be the most certain thing in the world.”\r
-\r
-“My Emma!” replied Mrs. Weston, smiling, “what is the certainty\r
-of caprice?” Then turning to Isabella, who had not been attending\r
-before--“You must know, my dear Mrs. Knightley, that we are by no means\r
-so sure of seeing Mr. Frank Churchill, in my opinion, as his father\r
-thinks. It depends entirely upon his aunt’s spirits and pleasure; in\r
-short, upon her temper. To you--to my two daughters--I may venture on\r
-the truth. Mrs. Churchill rules at Enscombe, and is a very odd-tempered\r
-woman; and his coming now, depends upon her being willing to spare him.”\r
-\r
-“Oh, Mrs. Churchill; every body knows Mrs. Churchill,” replied Isabella:\r
-“and I am sure I never think of that poor young man without the greatest\r
-compassion. To be constantly living with an ill-tempered person, must\r
-be dreadful. It is what we happily have never known any thing of; but\r
-it must be a life of misery. What a blessing, that she never had any\r
-children! Poor little creatures, how unhappy she would have made them!”\r
-\r
-Emma wished she had been alone with Mrs. Weston. She should then have\r
-heard more: Mrs. Weston would speak to her, with a degree of unreserve\r
-which she would not hazard with Isabella; and, she really believed,\r
-would scarcely try to conceal any thing relative to the Churchills\r
-from her, excepting those views on the young man, of which her own\r
-imagination had already given her such instinctive knowledge. But at\r
-present there was nothing more to be said. Mr. Woodhouse very soon\r
-followed them into the drawing-room. To be sitting long after\r
-dinner, was a confinement that he could not endure. Neither wine nor\r
-conversation was any thing to him; and gladly did he move to those with\r
-whom he was always comfortable.\r
-\r
-While he talked to Isabella, however, Emma found an opportunity of\r
-saying,\r
-\r
-“And so you do not consider this visit from your son as by any means\r
-certain. I am sorry for it. The introduction must be unpleasant,\r
-whenever it takes place; and the sooner it could be over, the better.”\r
-\r
-“Yes; and every delay makes one more apprehensive of other delays. Even\r
-if this family, the Braithwaites, are put off, I am still afraid that\r
-some excuse may be found for disappointing us. I cannot bear to imagine\r
-any reluctance on his side; but I am sure there is a great wish on\r
-the Churchills’ to keep him to themselves. There is jealousy. They\r
-are jealous even of his regard for his father. In short, I can feel no\r
-dependence on his coming, and I wish Mr. Weston were less sanguine.”\r
-\r
-“He ought to come,” said Emma. “If he could stay only a couple of days,\r
-he ought to come; and one can hardly conceive a young man’s not having\r
-it in his power to do as much as that. A young _woman_, if she fall into\r
-bad hands, may be teased, and kept at a distance from those she wants\r
-to be with; but one cannot comprehend a young _man_‘s being under such\r
-restraint, as not to be able to spend a week with his father, if he\r
-likes it.”\r
-\r
-“One ought to be at Enscombe, and know the ways of the family, before\r
-one decides upon what he can do,” replied Mrs. Weston. “One ought to\r
-use the same caution, perhaps, in judging of the conduct of any one\r
-individual of any one family; but Enscombe, I believe, certainly must\r
-not be judged by general rules: _she_ is so very unreasonable; and every\r
-thing gives way to her.”\r
-\r
-“But she is so fond of the nephew: he is so very great a favourite. Now,\r
-according to my idea of Mrs. Churchill, it would be most natural, that\r
-while she makes no sacrifice for the comfort of the husband, to whom she\r
-owes every thing, while she exercises incessant caprice towards _him_,\r
-she should frequently be governed by the nephew, to whom she owes\r
-nothing at all.”\r
-\r
-“My dearest Emma, do not pretend, with your sweet temper, to understand\r
-a bad one, or to lay down rules for it: you must let it go its own way.\r
-I have no doubt of his having, at times, considerable influence; but it\r
-may be perfectly impossible for him to know beforehand _when_ it will\r
-be.”\r
-\r
-Emma listened, and then coolly said, “I shall not be satisfied, unless\r
-he comes.”\r
-\r
-“He may have a great deal of influence on some points,” continued Mrs.\r
-Weston, “and on others, very little: and among those, on which she is\r
-beyond his reach, it is but too likely, may be this very circumstance of\r
-his coming away from them to visit us.”\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XV\r
-\r
-\r
-Mr. Woodhouse was soon ready for his tea; and when he had drank his\r
-tea he was quite ready to go home; and it was as much as his three\r
-companions could do, to entertain away his notice of the lateness of\r
-the hour, before the other gentlemen appeared. Mr. Weston was chatty and\r
-convivial, and no friend to early separations of any sort; but at last\r
-the drawing-room party did receive an augmentation. Mr. Elton, in very\r
-good spirits, was one of the first to walk in. Mrs. Weston and Emma\r
-were sitting together on a sofa. He joined them immediately, and, with\r
-scarcely an invitation, seated himself between them.\r
-\r
-Emma, in good spirits too, from the amusement afforded her mind by\r
-the expectation of Mr. Frank Churchill, was willing to forget his late\r
-improprieties, and be as well satisfied with him as before, and on his\r
-making Harriet his very first subject, was ready to listen with most\r
-friendly smiles.\r
-\r
-He professed himself extremely anxious about her fair friend--her fair,\r
-lovely, amiable friend. “Did she know?--had she heard any thing about\r
-her, since their being at Randalls?--he felt much anxiety--he must\r
-confess that the nature of her complaint alarmed him considerably.”\r
- And in this style he talked on for some time very properly, not much\r
-attending to any answer, but altogether sufficiently awake to the terror\r
-of a bad sore throat; and Emma was quite in charity with him.\r
-\r
-But at last there seemed a perverse turn; it seemed all at once as if he\r
-were more afraid of its being a bad sore throat on her account, than on\r
-Harriet’s--more anxious that she should escape the infection, than\r
-that there should be no infection in the complaint. He began with great\r
-earnestness to entreat her to refrain from visiting the sick-chamber\r
-again, for the present--to entreat her to _promise_ _him_ not to venture\r
-into such hazard till he had seen Mr. Perry and learnt his opinion; and\r
-though she tried to laugh it off and bring the subject back into its\r
-proper course, there was no putting an end to his extreme solicitude\r
-about her. She was vexed. It did appear--there was no concealing\r
-it--exactly like the pretence of being in love with her, instead of\r
-Harriet; an inconstancy, if real, the most contemptible and abominable!\r
-and she had difficulty in behaving with temper. He turned to Mrs. Weston\r
-to implore her assistance, “Would not she give him her support?--would\r
-not she add her persuasions to his, to induce Miss Woodhouse not to go\r
-to Mrs. Goddard’s till it were certain that Miss Smith’s disorder had\r
-no infection? He could not be satisfied without a promise--would not she\r
-give him her influence in procuring it?”\r
-\r
-“So scrupulous for others,” he continued, “and yet so careless for\r
-herself! She wanted me to nurse my cold by staying at home to-day, and\r
-yet will not promise to avoid the danger of catching an ulcerated sore\r
-throat herself. Is this fair, Mrs. Weston?--Judge between us. Have not I\r
-some right to complain? I am sure of your kind support and aid.”\r
-\r
-Emma saw Mrs. Weston’s surprize, and felt that it must be great, at an\r
-address which, in words and manner, was assuming to himself the right of\r
-first interest in her; and as for herself, she was too much provoked and\r
-offended to have the power of directly saying any thing to the purpose.\r
-She could only give him a look; but it was such a look as she thought\r
-must restore him to his senses, and then left the sofa, removing to a\r
-seat by her sister, and giving her all her attention.\r
-\r
-She had not time to know how Mr. Elton took the reproof, so rapidly did\r
-another subject succeed; for Mr. John Knightley now came into the room\r
-from examining the weather, and opened on them all with the information\r
-of the ground being covered with snow, and of its still snowing\r
-fast, with a strong drifting wind; concluding with these words to Mr.\r
-Woodhouse:\r
-\r
-“This will prove a spirited beginning of your winter engagements,\r
-sir. Something new for your coachman and horses to be making their way\r
-through a storm of snow.”\r
-\r
-Poor Mr. Woodhouse was silent from consternation; but every body else\r
-had something to say; every body was either surprized or not surprized,\r
-and had some question to ask, or some comfort to offer. Mrs. Weston\r
-and Emma tried earnestly to cheer him and turn his attention from his\r
-son-in-law, who was pursuing his triumph rather unfeelingly.\r
-\r
-“I admired your resolution very much, sir,” said he, “in venturing out\r
-in such weather, for of course you saw there would be snow very soon.\r
-Every body must have seen the snow coming on. I admired your spirit; and\r
-I dare say we shall get home very well. Another hour or two’s snow can\r
-hardly make the road impassable; and we are two carriages; if one is\r
-blown over in the bleak part of the common field there will be the other\r
-at hand. I dare say we shall be all safe at Hartfield before midnight.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Weston, with triumph of a different sort, was confessing that he\r
-had known it to be snowing some time, but had not said a word, lest\r
-it should make Mr. Woodhouse uncomfortable, and be an excuse for his\r
-hurrying away. As to there being any quantity of snow fallen or likely\r
-to fall to impede their return, that was a mere joke; he was afraid they\r
-would find no difficulty. He wished the road might be impassable, that\r
-he might be able to keep them all at Randalls; and with the utmost\r
-good-will was sure that accommodation might be found for every body,\r
-calling on his wife to agree with him, that with a little contrivance,\r
-every body might be lodged, which she hardly knew how to do, from the\r
-consciousness of there being but two spare rooms in the house.\r
-\r
-“What is to be done, my dear Emma?--what is to be done?” was Mr.\r
-Woodhouse’s first exclamation, and all that he could say for some\r
-time. To her he looked for comfort; and her assurances of safety, her\r
-representation of the excellence of the horses, and of James, and of\r
-their having so many friends about them, revived him a little.\r
-\r
-His eldest daughter’s alarm was equal to his own. The horror of being\r
-blocked up at Randalls, while her children were at Hartfield, was full\r
-in her imagination; and fancying the road to be now just passable for\r
-adventurous people, but in a state that admitted no delay, she was eager\r
-to have it settled, that her father and Emma should remain at Randalls,\r
-while she and her husband set forward instantly through all the possible\r
-accumulations of drifted snow that might impede them.\r
-\r
-“You had better order the carriage directly, my love,” said she; “I dare\r
-say we shall be able to get along, if we set off directly; and if we\r
-do come to any thing very bad, I can get out and walk. I am not at all\r
-afraid. I should not mind walking half the way. I could change my shoes,\r
-you know, the moment I got home; and it is not the sort of thing that\r
-gives me cold.”\r
-\r
-“Indeed!” replied he. “Then, my dear Isabella, it is the most\r
-extraordinary sort of thing in the world, for in general every thing\r
-does give you cold. Walk home!--you are prettily shod for walking home,\r
-I dare say. It will be bad enough for the horses.”\r
-\r
-Isabella turned to Mrs. Weston for her approbation of the plan. Mrs.\r
-Weston could only approve. Isabella then went to Emma; but Emma could\r
-not so entirely give up the hope of their being all able to get away;\r
-and they were still discussing the point, when Mr. Knightley, who had\r
-left the room immediately after his brother’s first report of the snow,\r
-came back again, and told them that he had been out of doors to examine,\r
-and could answer for there not being the smallest difficulty in their\r
-getting home, whenever they liked it, either now or an hour hence. He\r
-had gone beyond the sweep--some way along the Highbury road--the snow\r
-was nowhere above half an inch deep--in many places hardly enough to\r
-whiten the ground; a very few flakes were falling at present, but the\r
-clouds were parting, and there was every appearance of its being soon\r
-over. He had seen the coachmen, and they both agreed with him in there\r
-being nothing to apprehend.\r
-\r
-To Isabella, the relief of such tidings was very great, and they were\r
-scarcely less acceptable to Emma on her father’s account, who\r
-was immediately set as much at ease on the subject as his nervous\r
-constitution allowed; but the alarm that had been raised could not be\r
-appeased so as to admit of any comfort for him while he continued at\r
-Randalls. He was satisfied of there being no present danger in returning\r
-home, but no assurances could convince him that it was safe to stay; and\r
-while the others were variously urging and recommending, Mr. Knightley\r
-and Emma settled it in a few brief sentences: thus--\r
-\r
-“Your father will not be easy; why do not you go?”\r
-\r
-“I am ready, if the others are.”\r
-\r
-“Shall I ring the bell?”\r
-\r
-“Yes, do.”\r
-\r
-And the bell was rung, and the carriages spoken for. A few minutes more,\r
-and Emma hoped to see one troublesome companion deposited in his own\r
-house, to get sober and cool, and the other recover his temper and\r
-happiness when this visit of hardship were over.\r
-\r
-The carriage came: and Mr. Woodhouse, always the first object on such\r
-occasions, was carefully attended to his own by Mr. Knightley and Mr.\r
-Weston; but not all that either could say could prevent some renewal\r
-of alarm at the sight of the snow which had actually fallen, and the\r
-discovery of a much darker night than he had been prepared for. “He was\r
-afraid they should have a very bad drive. He was afraid poor Isabella\r
-would not like it. And there would be poor Emma in the carriage behind.\r
-He did not know what they had best do. They must keep as much together\r
-as they could;” and James was talked to, and given a charge to go very\r
-slow and wait for the other carriage.\r
-\r
-Isabella stept in after her father; John Knightley, forgetting that he\r
-did not belong to their party, stept in after his wife very naturally;\r
-so that Emma found, on being escorted and followed into the second\r
-carriage by Mr. Elton, that the door was to be lawfully shut on them,\r
-and that they were to have a tete-a-tete drive. It would not have been\r
-the awkwardness of a moment, it would have been rather a pleasure,\r
-previous to the suspicions of this very day; she could have talked to\r
-him of Harriet, and the three-quarters of a mile would have seemed but\r
-one. But now, she would rather it had not happened. She believed he had\r
-been drinking too much of Mr. Weston’s good wine, and felt sure that he\r
-would want to be talking nonsense.\r
-\r
-To restrain him as much as might be, by her own manners, she was\r
-immediately preparing to speak with exquisite calmness and gravity of\r
-the weather and the night; but scarcely had she begun, scarcely had they\r
-passed the sweep-gate and joined the other carriage, than she found her\r
-subject cut up--her hand seized--her attention demanded, and Mr. Elton\r
-actually making violent love to her: availing himself of the precious\r
-opportunity, declaring sentiments which must be already well known,\r
-hoping--fearing--adoring--ready to die if she refused him; but\r
-flattering himself that his ardent attachment and unequalled love and\r
-unexampled passion could not fail of having some effect, and in short,\r
-very much resolved on being seriously accepted as soon as possible. It\r
-really was so. Without scruple--without apology--without much apparent\r
-diffidence, Mr. Elton, the lover of Harriet, was professing himself\r
-_her_ lover. She tried to stop him; but vainly; he would go on, and say\r
-it all. Angry as she was, the thought of the moment made her resolve to\r
-restrain herself when she did speak. She felt that half this folly must\r
-be drunkenness, and therefore could hope that it might belong only to\r
-the passing hour. Accordingly, with a mixture of the serious and the\r
-playful, which she hoped would best suit his half and half state, she\r
-replied,\r
-\r
-“I am very much astonished, Mr. Elton. This to _me_! you forget\r
-yourself--you take me for my friend--any message to Miss Smith I shall\r
-be happy to deliver; but no more of this to _me_, if you please.”\r
-\r
-“Miss Smith!--message to Miss Smith!--What could she possibly\r
-mean!”--And he repeated her words with such assurance of accent, such\r
-boastful pretence of amazement, that she could not help replying with\r
-quickness,\r
-\r
-“Mr. Elton, this is the most extraordinary conduct! and I can account\r
-for it only in one way; you are not yourself, or you could not speak\r
-either to me, or of Harriet, in such a manner. Command yourself enough\r
-to say no more, and I will endeavour to forget it.”\r
-\r
-But Mr. Elton had only drunk wine enough to elevate his spirits, not at\r
-all to confuse his intellects. He perfectly knew his own meaning; and\r
-having warmly protested against her suspicion as most injurious, and\r
-slightly touched upon his respect for Miss Smith as her friend,--but\r
-acknowledging his wonder that Miss Smith should be mentioned at all,--he\r
-resumed the subject of his own passion, and was very urgent for a\r
-favourable answer.\r
-\r
-As she thought less of his inebriety, she thought more of his\r
-inconstancy and presumption; and with fewer struggles for politeness,\r
-replied,\r
-\r
-“It is impossible for me to doubt any longer. You have made yourself\r
-too clear. Mr. Elton, my astonishment is much beyond any thing I can\r
-express. After such behaviour, as I have witnessed during the last\r
-month, to Miss Smith--such attentions as I have been in the daily\r
-habit of observing--to be addressing me in this manner--this is an\r
-unsteadiness of character, indeed, which I had not supposed possible!\r
-Believe me, sir, I am far, very far, from gratified in being the object\r
-of such professions.”\r
-\r
-“Good Heaven!” cried Mr. Elton, “what can be the meaning of this?--Miss\r
-Smith!--I never thought of Miss Smith in the whole course of my\r
-existence--never paid her any attentions, but as your friend: never\r
-cared whether she were dead or alive, but as your friend. If she\r
-has fancied otherwise, her own wishes have misled her, and I am very\r
-sorry--extremely sorry--But, Miss Smith, indeed!--Oh! Miss Woodhouse!\r
-who can think of Miss Smith, when Miss Woodhouse is near! No, upon my\r
-honour, there is no unsteadiness of character. I have thought only of\r
-you. I protest against having paid the smallest attention to any one\r
-else. Every thing that I have said or done, for many weeks past, has\r
-been with the sole view of marking my adoration of yourself. You\r
-cannot really, seriously, doubt it. No!--(in an accent meant to be\r
-insinuating)--I am sure you have seen and understood me.”\r
-\r
-It would be impossible to say what Emma felt, on hearing this--which\r
-of all her unpleasant sensations was uppermost. She was too completely\r
-overpowered to be immediately able to reply: and two moments of silence\r
-being ample encouragement for Mr. Elton’s sanguine state of mind, he\r
-tried to take her hand again, as he joyously exclaimed--\r
-\r
-“Charming Miss Woodhouse! allow me to interpret this interesting\r
-silence. It confesses that you have long understood me.”\r
-\r
-“No, sir,” cried Emma, “it confesses no such thing. So far from having\r
-long understood you, I have been in a most complete error with respect\r
-to your views, till this moment. As to myself, I am very sorry that you\r
-should have been giving way to any feelings--Nothing could be farther\r
-from my wishes--your attachment to my friend Harriet--your pursuit of\r
-her, (pursuit, it appeared,) gave me great pleasure, and I have been\r
-very earnestly wishing you success: but had I supposed that she were not\r
-your attraction to Hartfield, I should certainly have thought you judged\r
-ill in making your visits so frequent. Am I to believe that you have\r
-never sought to recommend yourself particularly to Miss Smith?--that you\r
-have never thought seriously of her?”\r
-\r
-“Never, madam,” cried he, affronted in his turn: “never, I assure you.\r
-_I_ think seriously of Miss Smith!--Miss Smith is a very good sort of\r
-girl; and I should be happy to see her respectably settled. I wish\r
-her extremely well: and, no doubt, there are men who might not object\r
-to--Every body has their level: but as for myself, I am not, I think,\r
-quite so much at a loss. I need not so totally despair of an equal\r
-alliance, as to be addressing myself to Miss Smith!--No, madam, my\r
-visits to Hartfield have been for yourself only; and the encouragement I\r
-received--”\r
-\r
-“Encouragement!--I give you encouragement!--Sir, you have been entirely\r
-mistaken in supposing it. I have seen you only as the admirer of my\r
-friend. In no other light could you have been more to me than a common\r
-acquaintance. I am exceedingly sorry: but it is well that the mistake\r
-ends where it does. Had the same behaviour continued, Miss Smith might\r
-have been led into a misconception of your views; not being aware,\r
-probably, any more than myself, of the very great inequality which you\r
-are so sensible of. But, as it is, the disappointment is single, and, I\r
-trust, will not be lasting. I have no thoughts of matrimony at present.”\r
-\r
-He was too angry to say another word; her manner too decided to invite\r
-supplication; and in this state of swelling resentment, and mutually\r
-deep mortification, they had to continue together a few minutes longer,\r
-for the fears of Mr. Woodhouse had confined them to a foot-pace. If\r
-there had not been so much anger, there would have been desperate\r
-awkwardness; but their straightforward emotions left no room for the\r
-little zigzags of embarrassment. Without knowing when the carriage\r
-turned into Vicarage Lane, or when it stopped, they found themselves,\r
-all at once, at the door of his house; and he was out before another\r
-syllable passed.--Emma then felt it indispensable to wish him a good\r
-night. The compliment was just returned, coldly and proudly; and, under\r
-indescribable irritation of spirits, she was then conveyed to Hartfield.\r
-\r
-There she was welcomed, with the utmost delight, by her father, who\r
-had been trembling for the dangers of a solitary drive from Vicarage\r
-Lane--turning a corner which he could never bear to think of--and in\r
-strange hands--a mere common coachman--no James; and there it seemed as\r
-if her return only were wanted to make every thing go well: for Mr.\r
-John Knightley, ashamed of his ill-humour, was now all kindness and\r
-attention; and so particularly solicitous for the comfort of her\r
-father, as to seem--if not quite ready to join him in a basin of\r
-gruel--perfectly sensible of its being exceedingly wholesome; and the\r
-day was concluding in peace and comfort to all their little party,\r
-except herself.--But her mind had never been in such perturbation; and\r
-it needed a very strong effort to appear attentive and cheerful till the\r
-usual hour of separating allowed her the relief of quiet reflection.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XVI\r
-\r
-\r
-The hair was curled, and the maid sent away, and Emma sat down to think\r
-and be miserable.--It was a wretched business indeed!--Such an overthrow\r
-of every thing she had been wishing for!--Such a development of every\r
-thing most unwelcome!--Such a blow for Harriet!--that was the worst\r
-of all. Every part of it brought pain and humiliation, of some sort or\r
-other; but, compared with the evil to Harriet, all was light; and\r
-she would gladly have submitted to feel yet more mistaken--more in\r
-error--more disgraced by mis-judgment, than she actually was, could the\r
-effects of her blunders have been confined to herself.\r
-\r
-“If I had not persuaded Harriet into liking the man, I could have\r
-borne any thing. He might have doubled his presumption to me--but poor\r
-Harriet!”\r
-\r
-How she could have been so deceived!--He protested that he had never\r
-thought seriously of Harriet--never! She looked back as well as\r
-she could; but it was all confusion. She had taken up the idea, she\r
-supposed, and made every thing bend to it. His manners, however, must\r
-have been unmarked, wavering, dubious, or she could not have been so\r
-misled.\r
-\r
-The picture!--How eager he had been about the picture!--and the\r
-charade!--and an hundred other circumstances;--how clearly they had\r
-seemed to point at Harriet. To be sure, the charade, with its “ready\r
-wit”--but then the “soft eyes”--in fact it suited neither; it was\r
-a jumble without taste or truth. Who could have seen through such\r
-thick-headed nonsense?\r
-\r
-Certainly she had often, especially of late, thought his manners to\r
-herself unnecessarily gallant; but it had passed as his way, as a mere\r
-error of judgment, of knowledge, of taste, as one proof among others\r
-that he had not always lived in the best society, that with all the\r
-gentleness of his address, true elegance was sometimes wanting; but,\r
-till this very day, she had never, for an instant, suspected it to mean\r
-any thing but grateful respect to her as Harriet’s friend.\r
-\r
-To Mr. John Knightley was she indebted for her first idea on the\r
-subject, for the first start of its possibility. There was no denying\r
-that those brothers had penetration. She remembered what Mr. Knightley\r
-had once said to her about Mr. Elton, the caution he had given,\r
-the conviction he had professed that Mr. Elton would never marry\r
-indiscreetly; and blushed to think how much truer a knowledge of his\r
-character had been there shewn than any she had reached herself. It\r
-was dreadfully mortifying; but Mr. Elton was proving himself, in many\r
-respects, the very reverse of what she had meant and believed him;\r
-proud, assuming, conceited; very full of his own claims, and little\r
-concerned about the feelings of others.\r
-\r
-Contrary to the usual course of things, Mr. Elton’s wanting to pay his\r
-addresses to her had sunk him in her opinion. His professions and his\r
-proposals did him no service. She thought nothing of his attachment,\r
-and was insulted by his hopes. He wanted to marry well, and having the\r
-arrogance to raise his eyes to her, pretended to be in love; but she was\r
-perfectly easy as to his not suffering any disappointment that need be\r
-cared for. There had been no real affection either in his language or\r
-manners. Sighs and fine words had been given in abundance; but she could\r
-hardly devise any set of expressions, or fancy any tone of voice, less\r
-allied with real love. She need not trouble herself to pity him. He\r
-only wanted to aggrandise and enrich himself; and if Miss Woodhouse\r
-of Hartfield, the heiress of thirty thousand pounds, were not quite so\r
-easily obtained as he had fancied, he would soon try for Miss Somebody\r
-else with twenty, or with ten.\r
-\r
-But--that he should talk of encouragement, should consider her as aware\r
-of his views, accepting his attentions, meaning (in short), to marry\r
-him!--should suppose himself her equal in connexion or mind!--look down\r
-upon her friend, so well understanding the gradations of rank below\r
-him, and be so blind to what rose above, as to fancy himself shewing no\r
-presumption in addressing her!--It was most provoking.\r
-\r
-Perhaps it was not fair to expect him to feel how very much he was her\r
-inferior in talent, and all the elegancies of mind. The very want of\r
-such equality might prevent his perception of it; but he must know that\r
-in fortune and consequence she was greatly his superior. He must\r
-know that the Woodhouses had been settled for several generations at\r
-Hartfield, the younger branch of a very ancient family--and that the\r
-Eltons were nobody. The landed property of Hartfield certainly was\r
-inconsiderable, being but a sort of notch in the Donwell Abbey estate,\r
-to which all the rest of Highbury belonged; but their fortune, from\r
-other sources, was such as to make them scarcely secondary to Donwell\r
-Abbey itself, in every other kind of consequence; and the Woodhouses had\r
-long held a high place in the consideration of the neighbourhood which\r
-Mr. Elton had first entered not two years ago, to make his way as he\r
-could, without any alliances but in trade, or any thing to recommend him\r
-to notice but his situation and his civility.--But he had fancied her\r
-in love with him; that evidently must have been his dependence; and\r
-after raving a little about the seeming incongruity of gentle manners\r
-and a conceited head, Emma was obliged in common honesty to stop\r
-and admit that her own behaviour to him had been so complaisant and\r
-obliging, so full of courtesy and attention, as (supposing her real\r
-motive unperceived) might warrant a man of ordinary observation and\r
-delicacy, like Mr. Elton, in fancying himself a very decided favourite.\r
-If _she_ had so misinterpreted his feelings, she had little right to\r
-wonder that _he_, with self-interest to blind him, should have mistaken\r
-hers.\r
-\r
-The first error and the worst lay at her door. It was foolish, it was\r
-wrong, to take so active a part in bringing any two people together. It\r
-was adventuring too far, assuming too much, making light of what\r
-ought to be serious, a trick of what ought to be simple. She was quite\r
-concerned and ashamed, and resolved to do such things no more.\r
-\r
-“Here have I,” said she, “actually talked poor Harriet into being very\r
-much attached to this man. She might never have thought of him but for\r
-me; and certainly never would have thought of him with hope, if I had\r
-not assured her of his attachment, for she is as modest and humble as I\r
-used to think him. Oh! that I had been satisfied with persuading her not\r
-to accept young Martin. There I was quite right. That was well done\r
-of me; but there I should have stopped, and left the rest to time and\r
-chance. I was introducing her into good company, and giving her the\r
-opportunity of pleasing some one worth having; I ought not to have\r
-attempted more. But now, poor girl, her peace is cut up for some time.\r
-I have been but half a friend to her; and if she were _not_ to feel this\r
-disappointment so very much, I am sure I have not an idea of any body\r
-else who would be at all desirable for her;--William Coxe--Oh! no, I\r
-could not endure William Coxe--a pert young lawyer.”\r
-\r
-She stopt to blush and laugh at her own relapse, and then resumed a more\r
-serious, more dispiriting cogitation upon what had been, and might be,\r
-and must be. The distressing explanation she had to make to Harriet, and\r
-all that poor Harriet would be suffering, with the awkwardness of\r
-future meetings, the difficulties of continuing or discontinuing the\r
-acquaintance, of subduing feelings, concealing resentment, and avoiding\r
-eclat, were enough to occupy her in most unmirthful reflections some\r
-time longer, and she went to bed at last with nothing settled but the\r
-conviction of her having blundered most dreadfully.\r
-\r
-To youth and natural cheerfulness like Emma’s, though under temporary\r
-gloom at night, the return of day will hardly fail to bring return of\r
-spirits. The youth and cheerfulness of morning are in happy analogy,\r
-and of powerful operation; and if the distress be not poignant enough\r
-to keep the eyes unclosed, they will be sure to open to sensations of\r
-softened pain and brighter hope.\r
-\r
-Emma got up on the morrow more disposed for comfort than she had gone\r
-to bed, more ready to see alleviations of the evil before her, and to\r
-depend on getting tolerably out of it.\r
-\r
-It was a great consolation that Mr. Elton should not be really in\r
-love with her, or so particularly amiable as to make it shocking to\r
-disappoint him--that Harriet’s nature should not be of that superior\r
-sort in which the feelings are most acute and retentive--and that there\r
-could be no necessity for any body’s knowing what had passed except the\r
-three principals, and especially for her father’s being given a moment’s\r
-uneasiness about it.\r
-\r
-These were very cheering thoughts; and the sight of a great deal of snow\r
-on the ground did her further service, for any thing was welcome that\r
-might justify their all three being quite asunder at present.\r
-\r
-The weather was most favourable for her; though Christmas Day, she\r
-could not go to church. Mr. Woodhouse would have been miserable had his\r
-daughter attempted it, and she was therefore safe from either exciting\r
-or receiving unpleasant and most unsuitable ideas. The ground covered\r
-with snow, and the atmosphere in that unsettled state between frost and\r
-thaw, which is of all others the most unfriendly for exercise, every\r
-morning beginning in rain or snow, and every evening setting in to\r
-freeze, she was for many days a most honourable prisoner. No intercourse\r
-with Harriet possible but by note; no church for her on Sunday any\r
-more than on Christmas Day; and no need to find excuses for Mr. Elton’s\r
-absenting himself.\r
-\r
-It was weather which might fairly confine every body at home; and though\r
-she hoped and believed him to be really taking comfort in some society\r
-or other, it was very pleasant to have her father so well satisfied with\r
-his being all alone in his own house, too wise to stir out; and to\r
-hear him say to Mr. Knightley, whom no weather could keep entirely from\r
-them,--\r
-\r
-“Ah! Mr. Knightley, why do not you stay at home like poor Mr. Elton?”\r
-\r
-These days of confinement would have been, but for her private\r
-perplexities, remarkably comfortable, as such seclusion exactly suited\r
-her brother, whose feelings must always be of great importance to\r
-his companions; and he had, besides, so thoroughly cleared off his\r
-ill-humour at Randalls, that his amiableness never failed him during the\r
-rest of his stay at Hartfield. He was always agreeable and obliging,\r
-and speaking pleasantly of every body. But with all the hopes of\r
-cheerfulness, and all the present comfort of delay, there was still such\r
-an evil hanging over her in the hour of explanation with Harriet, as\r
-made it impossible for Emma to be ever perfectly at ease.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XVII\r
-\r
-\r
-Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley were not detained long at Hartfield. The\r
-weather soon improved enough for those to move who must move; and Mr.\r
-Woodhouse having, as usual, tried to persuade his daughter to stay\r
-behind with all her children, was obliged to see the whole party\r
-set off, and return to his lamentations over the destiny of poor\r
-Isabella;--which poor Isabella, passing her life with those she doated\r
-on, full of their merits, blind to their faults, and always innocently\r
-busy, might have been a model of right feminine happiness.\r
-\r
-The evening of the very day on which they went brought a note from Mr.\r
-Elton to Mr. Woodhouse, a long, civil, ceremonious note, to say, with\r
-Mr. Elton’s best compliments, “that he was proposing to leave Highbury\r
-the following morning in his way to Bath; where, in compliance with\r
-the pressing entreaties of some friends, he had engaged to spend a few\r
-weeks, and very much regretted the impossibility he was under, from\r
-various circumstances of weather and business, of taking a personal\r
-leave of Mr. Woodhouse, of whose friendly civilities he should ever\r
-retain a grateful sense--and had Mr. Woodhouse any commands, should be\r
-happy to attend to them.”\r
-\r
-Emma was most agreeably surprized.--Mr. Elton’s absence just at this\r
-time was the very thing to be desired. She admired him for contriving\r
-it, though not able to give him much credit for the manner in which it\r
-was announced. Resentment could not have been more plainly spoken than\r
-in a civility to her father, from which she was so pointedly excluded.\r
-She had not even a share in his opening compliments.--Her name was not\r
-mentioned;--and there was so striking a change in all this, and such an\r
-ill-judged solemnity of leave-taking in his graceful acknowledgments, as\r
-she thought, at first, could not escape her father’s suspicion.\r
-\r
-It did, however.--Her father was quite taken up with the surprize of so\r
-sudden a journey, and his fears that Mr. Elton might never get safely to\r
-the end of it, and saw nothing extraordinary in his language. It was a\r
-very useful note, for it supplied them with fresh matter for thought\r
-and conversation during the rest of their lonely evening. Mr. Woodhouse\r
-talked over his alarms, and Emma was in spirits to persuade them away\r
-with all her usual promptitude.\r
-\r
-She now resolved to keep Harriet no longer in the dark. She had reason\r
-to believe her nearly recovered from her cold, and it was desirable that\r
-she should have as much time as possible for getting the better of\r
-her other complaint before the gentleman’s return. She went to Mrs.\r
-Goddard’s accordingly the very next day, to undergo the necessary\r
-penance of communication; and a severe one it was.--She had to destroy\r
-all the hopes which she had been so industriously feeding--to appear in\r
-the ungracious character of the one preferred--and acknowledge herself\r
-grossly mistaken and mis-judging in all her ideas on one subject, all\r
-her observations, all her convictions, all her prophecies for the last\r
-six weeks.\r
-\r
-The confession completely renewed her first shame--and the sight of\r
-Harriet’s tears made her think that she should never be in charity with\r
-herself again.\r
-\r
-Harriet bore the intelligence very well--blaming nobody--and in every\r
-thing testifying such an ingenuousness of disposition and lowly opinion\r
-of herself, as must appear with particular advantage at that moment to\r
-her friend.\r
-\r
-Emma was in the humour to value simplicity and modesty to the utmost;\r
-and all that was amiable, all that ought to be attaching, seemed on\r
-Harriet’s side, not her own. Harriet did not consider herself as having\r
-any thing to complain of. The affection of such a man as Mr. Elton\r
-would have been too great a distinction.--She never could have deserved\r
-him--and nobody but so partial and kind a friend as Miss Woodhouse would\r
-have thought it possible.\r
-\r
-Her tears fell abundantly--but her grief was so truly artless, that\r
-no dignity could have made it more respectable in Emma’s eyes--and\r
-she listened to her and tried to console her with all her heart and\r
-understanding--really for the time convinced that Harriet was the\r
-superior creature of the two--and that to resemble her would be more for\r
-her own welfare and happiness than all that genius or intelligence could\r
-do.\r
-\r
-It was rather too late in the day to set about being simple-minded and\r
-ignorant; but she left her with every previous resolution confirmed of\r
-being humble and discreet, and repressing imagination all the rest of\r
-her life. Her second duty now, inferior only to her father’s claims, was\r
-to promote Harriet’s comfort, and endeavour to prove her own affection\r
-in some better method than by match-making. She got her to Hartfield,\r
-and shewed her the most unvarying kindness, striving to occupy and\r
-amuse her, and by books and conversation, to drive Mr. Elton from her\r
-thoughts.\r
-\r
-Time, she knew, must be allowed for this being thoroughly done; and\r
-she could suppose herself but an indifferent judge of such matters in\r
-general, and very inadequate to sympathise in an attachment to Mr. Elton\r
-in particular; but it seemed to her reasonable that at Harriet’s age,\r
-and with the entire extinction of all hope, such a progress might be\r
-made towards a state of composure by the time of Mr. Elton’s return, as\r
-to allow them all to meet again in the common routine of acquaintance,\r
-without any danger of betraying sentiments or increasing them.\r
-\r
-Harriet did think him all perfection, and maintained the non-existence\r
-of any body equal to him in person or goodness--and did, in truth,\r
-prove herself more resolutely in love than Emma had foreseen; but yet\r
-it appeared to her so natural, so inevitable to strive against an\r
-inclination of that sort _unrequited_, that she could not comprehend its\r
-continuing very long in equal force.\r
-\r
-If Mr. Elton, on his return, made his own indifference as evident and\r
-indubitable as she could not doubt he would anxiously do, she could not\r
-imagine Harriet’s persisting to place her happiness in the sight or the\r
-recollection of him.\r
-\r
-Their being fixed, so absolutely fixed, in the same place, was bad for\r
-each, for all three. Not one of them had the power of removal, or of\r
-effecting any material change of society. They must encounter each\r
-other, and make the best of it.\r
-\r
-Harriet was farther unfortunate in the tone of her companions at Mrs.\r
-Goddard’s; Mr. Elton being the adoration of all the teachers and great\r
-girls in the school; and it must be at Hartfield only that she could\r
-have any chance of hearing him spoken of with cooling moderation or\r
-repellent truth. Where the wound had been given, there must the cure be\r
-found if anywhere; and Emma felt that, till she saw her in the way of\r
-cure, there could be no true peace for herself.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XVIII\r
-\r
-\r
-Mr. Frank Churchill did not come. When the time proposed drew near, Mrs.\r
-Weston’s fears were justified in the arrival of a letter of excuse. For\r
-the present, he could not be spared, to his “very great mortification\r
-and regret; but still he looked forward with the hope of coming to\r
-Randalls at no distant period.”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston was exceedingly disappointed--much more disappointed, in\r
-fact, than her husband, though her dependence on seeing the young man\r
-had been so much more sober: but a sanguine temper, though for ever\r
-expecting more good than occurs, does not always pay for its hopes by\r
-any proportionate depression. It soon flies over the present failure,\r
-and begins to hope again. For half an hour Mr. Weston was surprized and\r
-sorry; but then he began to perceive that Frank’s coming two or three\r
-months later would be a much better plan; better time of year;\r
-better weather; and that he would be able, without any doubt, to stay\r
-considerably longer with them than if he had come sooner.\r
-\r
-These feelings rapidly restored his comfort, while Mrs. Weston, of\r
-a more apprehensive disposition, foresaw nothing but a repetition of\r
-excuses and delays; and after all her concern for what her husband was\r
-to suffer, suffered a great deal more herself.\r
-\r
-Emma was not at this time in a state of spirits to care really about Mr.\r
-Frank Churchill’s not coming, except as a disappointment at Randalls.\r
-The acquaintance at present had no charm for her. She wanted, rather, to\r
-be quiet, and out of temptation; but still, as it was desirable that she\r
-should appear, in general, like her usual self, she took care to express\r
-as much interest in the circumstance, and enter as warmly into Mr.\r
-and Mrs. Weston’s disappointment, as might naturally belong to their\r
-friendship.\r
-\r
-She was the first to announce it to Mr. Knightley; and exclaimed quite\r
-as much as was necessary, (or, being acting a part, perhaps rather\r
-more,) at the conduct of the Churchills, in keeping him away. She then\r
-proceeded to say a good deal more than she felt, of the advantage of\r
-such an addition to their confined society in Surry; the pleasure of\r
-looking at somebody new; the gala-day to Highbury entire, which the\r
-sight of him would have made; and ending with reflections on the\r
-Churchills again, found herself directly involved in a disagreement\r
-with Mr. Knightley; and, to her great amusement, perceived that she was\r
-taking the other side of the question from her real opinion, and making\r
-use of Mrs. Weston’s arguments against herself.\r
-\r
-“The Churchills are very likely in fault,” said Mr. Knightley, coolly;\r
-“but I dare say he might come if he would.”\r
-\r
-“I do not know why you should say so. He wishes exceedingly to come; but\r
-his uncle and aunt will not spare him.”\r
-\r
-“I cannot believe that he has not the power of coming, if he made a\r
-point of it. It is too unlikely, for me to believe it without proof.”\r
-\r
-“How odd you are! What has Mr. Frank Churchill done, to make you suppose\r
-him such an unnatural creature?”\r
-\r
-“I am not supposing him at all an unnatural creature, in suspecting that\r
-he may have learnt to be above his connexions, and to care very little\r
-for any thing but his own pleasure, from living with those who have\r
-always set him the example of it. It is a great deal more natural than\r
-one could wish, that a young man, brought up by those who are proud,\r
-luxurious, and selfish, should be proud, luxurious, and selfish too. If\r
-Frank Churchill had wanted to see his father, he would have contrived it\r
-between September and January. A man at his age--what is he?--three or\r
-four-and-twenty--cannot be without the means of doing as much as that.\r
-It is impossible.”\r
-\r
-“That’s easily said, and easily felt by you, who have always been your\r
-own master. You are the worst judge in the world, Mr. Knightley, of the\r
-difficulties of dependence. You do not know what it is to have tempers\r
-to manage.”\r
-\r
-“It is not to be conceived that a man of three or four-and-twenty\r
-should not have liberty of mind or limb to that amount. He cannot want\r
-money--he cannot want leisure. We know, on the contrary, that he has so\r
-much of both, that he is glad to get rid of them at the idlest haunts in\r
-the kingdom. We hear of him for ever at some watering-place or other. A\r
-little while ago, he was at Weymouth. This proves that he can leave the\r
-Churchills.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, sometimes he can.”\r
-\r
-“And those times are whenever he thinks it worth his while; whenever\r
-there is any temptation of pleasure.”\r
-\r
-“It is very unfair to judge of any body’s conduct, without an intimate\r
-knowledge of their situation. Nobody, who has not been in the interior\r
-of a family, can say what the difficulties of any individual of that\r
-family may be. We ought to be acquainted with Enscombe, and with Mrs.\r
-Churchill’s temper, before we pretend to decide upon what her nephew\r
-can do. He may, at times, be able to do a great deal more than he can at\r
-others.”\r
-\r
-“There is one thing, Emma, which a man can always do, if he chuses, and\r
-that is, his duty; not by manoeuvring and finessing, but by vigour and\r
-resolution. It is Frank Churchill’s duty to pay this attention to his\r
-father. He knows it to be so, by his promises and messages; but if he\r
-wished to do it, it might be done. A man who felt rightly would say at\r
-once, simply and resolutely, to Mrs. Churchill--‘Every sacrifice of\r
-mere pleasure you will always find me ready to make to your convenience;\r
-but I must go and see my father immediately. I know he would be hurt by\r
-my failing in such a mark of respect to him on the present occasion.\r
-I shall, therefore, set off to-morrow.’--If he would say so to her\r
-at once, in the tone of decision becoming a man, there would be no\r
-opposition made to his going.”\r
-\r
-“No,” said Emma, laughing; “but perhaps there might be some made to his\r
-coming back again. Such language for a young man entirely dependent, to\r
-use!--Nobody but you, Mr. Knightley, would imagine it possible. But you\r
-have not an idea of what is requisite in situations directly opposite to\r
-your own. Mr. Frank Churchill to be making such a speech as that to\r
-the uncle and aunt, who have brought him up, and are to provide for\r
-him!--Standing up in the middle of the room, I suppose, and speaking as\r
-loud as he could!--How can you imagine such conduct practicable?”\r
-\r
-“Depend upon it, Emma, a sensible man would find no difficulty in it. He\r
-would feel himself in the right; and the declaration--made, of course,\r
-as a man of sense would make it, in a proper manner--would do him more\r
-good, raise him higher, fix his interest stronger with the people he\r
-depended on, than all that a line of shifts and expedients can ever do.\r
-Respect would be added to affection. They would feel that they could\r
-trust him; that the nephew who had done rightly by his father, would do\r
-rightly by them; for they know, as well as he does, as well as all the\r
-world must know, that he ought to pay this visit to his father; and\r
-while meanly exerting their power to delay it, are in their hearts not\r
-thinking the better of him for submitting to their whims. Respect for\r
-right conduct is felt by every body. If he would act in this sort of\r
-manner, on principle, consistently, regularly, their little minds would\r
-bend to his.”\r
-\r
-“I rather doubt that. You are very fond of bending little minds; but\r
-where little minds belong to rich people in authority, I think they have\r
-a knack of swelling out, till they are quite as unmanageable as great\r
-ones. I can imagine, that if you, as you are, Mr. Knightley, were to be\r
-transported and placed all at once in Mr. Frank Churchill’s situation,\r
-you would be able to say and do just what you have been recommending for\r
-him; and it might have a very good effect. The Churchills might not have\r
-a word to say in return; but then, you would have no habits of early\r
-obedience and long observance to break through. To him who has, it might\r
-not be so easy to burst forth at once into perfect independence, and set\r
-all their claims on his gratitude and regard at nought. He may have as\r
-strong a sense of what would be right, as you can have, without being so\r
-equal, under particular circumstances, to act up to it.”\r
-\r
-“Then it would not be so strong a sense. If it failed to produce equal\r
-exertion, it could not be an equal conviction.”\r
-\r
-“Oh, the difference of situation and habit! I wish you would try to\r
-understand what an amiable young man may be likely to feel in directly\r
-opposing those, whom as child and boy he has been looking up to all his\r
-life.”\r
-\r
-“Our amiable young man is a very weak young man, if this be the first\r
-occasion of his carrying through a resolution to do right against the\r
-will of others. It ought to have been a habit with him by this time, of\r
-following his duty, instead of consulting expediency. I can allow for\r
-the fears of the child, but not of the man. As he became rational, he\r
-ought to have roused himself and shaken off all that was unworthy in\r
-their authority. He ought to have opposed the first attempt on their\r
-side to make him slight his father. Had he begun as he ought, there\r
-would have been no difficulty now.”\r
-\r
-“We shall never agree about him,” cried Emma; “but that is nothing\r
-extraordinary. I have not the least idea of his being a weak young man:\r
-I feel sure that he is not. Mr. Weston would not be blind to folly,\r
-though in his own son; but he is very likely to have a more yielding,\r
-complying, mild disposition than would suit your notions of man’s\r
-perfection. I dare say he has; and though it may cut him off from some\r
-advantages, it will secure him many others.”\r
-\r
-“Yes; all the advantages of sitting still when he ought to move, and\r
-of leading a life of mere idle pleasure, and fancying himself extremely\r
-expert in finding excuses for it. He can sit down and write a fine\r
-flourishing letter, full of professions and falsehoods, and persuade\r
-himself that he has hit upon the very best method in the world of\r
-preserving peace at home and preventing his father’s having any right to\r
-complain. His letters disgust me.”\r
-\r
-“Your feelings are singular. They seem to satisfy every body else.”\r
-\r
-“I suspect they do not satisfy Mrs. Weston. They hardly can satisfy\r
-a woman of her good sense and quick feelings: standing in a mother’s\r
-place, but without a mother’s affection to blind her. It is on her\r
-account that attention to Randalls is doubly due, and she must doubly\r
-feel the omission. Had she been a person of consequence herself, he\r
-would have come I dare say; and it would not have signified whether\r
-he did or no. Can you think your friend behindhand in these sort of\r
-considerations? Do you suppose she does not often say all this to\r
-herself? No, Emma, your amiable young man can be amiable only in French,\r
-not in English. He may be very ‘amiable,’ have very good manners, and be\r
-very agreeable; but he can have no English delicacy towards the feelings\r
-of other people: nothing really amiable about him.”\r
-\r
-“You seem determined to think ill of him.”\r
-\r
-“Me!--not at all,” replied Mr. Knightley, rather displeased; “I do not\r
-want to think ill of him. I should be as ready to acknowledge his merits\r
-as any other man; but I hear of none, except what are merely personal;\r
-that he is well-grown and good-looking, with smooth, plausible manners.”\r
-\r
-“Well, if he have nothing else to recommend him, he will be a treasure\r
-at Highbury. We do not often look upon fine young men, well-bred and\r
-agreeable. We must not be nice and ask for all the virtues into the\r
-bargain. Cannot you imagine, Mr. Knightley, what a _sensation_ his\r
-coming will produce? There will be but one subject throughout the\r
-parishes of Donwell and Highbury; but one interest--one object of\r
-curiosity; it will be all Mr. Frank Churchill; we shall think and speak\r
-of nobody else.”\r
-\r
-“You will excuse my being so much over-powered. If I find him\r
-conversable, I shall be glad of his acquaintance; but if he is only a\r
-chattering coxcomb, he will not occupy much of my time or thoughts.”\r
-\r
-“My idea of him is, that he can adapt his conversation to the taste of\r
-every body, and has the power as well as the wish of being universally\r
-agreeable. To you, he will talk of farming; to me, of drawing or music;\r
-and so on to every body, having that general information on all subjects\r
-which will enable him to follow the lead, or take the lead, just as\r
-propriety may require, and to speak extremely well on each; that is my\r
-idea of him.”\r
-\r
-“And mine,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “is, that if he turn out any\r
-thing like it, he will be the most insufferable fellow breathing! What!\r
-at three-and-twenty to be the king of his company--the great man--the\r
-practised politician, who is to read every body’s character, and make\r
-every body’s talents conduce to the display of his own superiority; to\r
-be dispensing his flatteries around, that he may make all appear like\r
-fools compared with himself! My dear Emma, your own good sense could not\r
-endure such a puppy when it came to the point.”\r
-\r
-“I will say no more about him,” cried Emma, “you turn every thing to\r
-evil. We are both prejudiced; you against, I for him; and we have no\r
-chance of agreeing till he is really here.”\r
-\r
-“Prejudiced! I am not prejudiced.”\r
-\r
-“But I am very much, and without being at all ashamed of it. My love for\r
-Mr. and Mrs. Weston gives me a decided prejudice in his favour.”\r
-\r
-“He is a person I never think of from one month’s end to another,” said\r
-Mr. Knightley, with a degree of vexation, which made Emma immediately\r
-talk of something else, though she could not comprehend why he should be\r
-angry.\r
-\r
-To take a dislike to a young man, only because he appeared to be of a\r
-different disposition from himself, was unworthy the real liberality of\r
-mind which she was always used to acknowledge in him; for with all the\r
-high opinion of himself, which she had often laid to his charge, she had\r
-never before for a moment supposed it could make him unjust to the merit\r
-of another.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-VOLUME II\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER I\r
-\r
-\r
-Emma and Harriet had been walking together one morning, and, in Emma’s\r
-opinion, had been talking enough of Mr. Elton for that day. She could\r
-not think that Harriet’s solace or her own sins required more; and\r
-she was therefore industriously getting rid of the subject as they\r
-returned;--but it burst out again when she thought she had succeeded,\r
-and after speaking some time of what the poor must suffer in winter, and\r
-receiving no other answer than a very plaintive--“Mr. Elton is so good\r
-to the poor!” she found something else must be done.\r
-\r
-They were just approaching the house where lived Mrs. and Miss Bates.\r
-She determined to call upon them and seek safety in numbers. There was\r
-always sufficient reason for such an attention; Mrs. and Miss Bates\r
-loved to be called on, and she knew she was considered by the very few\r
-who presumed ever to see imperfection in her, as rather negligent in\r
-that respect, and as not contributing what she ought to the stock of\r
-their scanty comforts.\r
-\r
-She had had many a hint from Mr. Knightley and some from her own heart,\r
-as to her deficiency--but none were equal to counteract the persuasion\r
-of its being very disagreeable,--a waste of time--tiresome women--and\r
-all the horror of being in danger of falling in with the second-rate and\r
-third-rate of Highbury, who were calling on them for ever, and therefore\r
-she seldom went near them. But now she made the sudden resolution of not\r
-passing their door without going in--observing, as she proposed it to\r
-Harriet, that, as well as she could calculate, they were just now quite\r
-safe from any letter from Jane Fairfax.\r
-\r
-The house belonged to people in business. Mrs. and Miss Bates occupied\r
-the drawing-room floor; and there, in the very moderate-sized apartment,\r
-which was every thing to them, the visitors were most cordially and even\r
-gratefully welcomed; the quiet neat old lady, who with her knitting was\r
-seated in the warmest corner, wanting even to give up her place to\r
-Miss Woodhouse, and her more active, talking daughter, almost ready\r
-to overpower them with care and kindness, thanks for their visit,\r
-solicitude for their shoes, anxious inquiries after Mr. Woodhouse’s\r
-health, cheerful communications about her mother’s, and sweet-cake from\r
-the beaufet--“Mrs. Cole had just been there, just called in for ten\r
-minutes, and had been so good as to sit an hour with them, and _she_ had\r
-taken a piece of cake and been so kind as to say she liked it very much;\r
-and, therefore, she hoped Miss Woodhouse and Miss Smith would do them\r
-the favour to eat a piece too.”\r
-\r
-The mention of the Coles was sure to be followed by that of Mr. Elton.\r
-There was intimacy between them, and Mr. Cole had heard from Mr. Elton\r
-since his going away. Emma knew what was coming; they must have the\r
-letter over again, and settle how long he had been gone, and how much\r
-he was engaged in company, and what a favourite he was wherever he went,\r
-and how full the Master of the Ceremonies’ ball had been; and she went\r
-through it very well, with all the interest and all the commendation\r
-that could be requisite, and always putting forward to prevent Harriet’s\r
-being obliged to say a word.\r
-\r
-This she had been prepared for when she entered the house; but meant,\r
-having once talked him handsomely over, to be no farther incommoded by\r
-any troublesome topic, and to wander at large amongst all the Mistresses\r
-and Misses of Highbury, and their card-parties. She had not been\r
-prepared to have Jane Fairfax succeed Mr. Elton; but he was actually\r
-hurried off by Miss Bates, she jumped away from him at last abruptly to\r
-the Coles, to usher in a letter from her niece.\r
-\r
-“Oh! yes--Mr. Elton, I understand--certainly as to dancing--Mrs. Cole\r
-was telling me that dancing at the rooms at Bath was--Mrs. Cole was so\r
-kind as to sit some time with us, talking of Jane; for as soon as\r
-she came in, she began inquiring after her, Jane is so very great a\r
-favourite there. Whenever she is with us, Mrs. Cole does not know how to\r
-shew her kindness enough; and I must say that Jane deserves it as much\r
-as any body can. And so she began inquiring after her directly, saying,\r
-‘I know you cannot have heard from Jane lately, because it is not her\r
-time for writing;’ and when I immediately said, ‘But indeed we have, we\r
-had a letter this very morning,’ I do not know that I ever saw any body\r
-more surprized. ‘Have you, upon your honour?’ said she; ‘well, that is\r
-quite unexpected. Do let me hear what she says.’”\r
-\r
-Emma’s politeness was at hand directly, to say, with smiling interest--\r
-\r
-“Have you heard from Miss Fairfax so lately? I am extremely happy. I\r
-hope she is well?”\r
-\r
-“Thank you. You are so kind!” replied the happily deceived aunt, while\r
-eagerly hunting for the letter.--“Oh! here it is. I was sure it could\r
-not be far off; but I had put my huswife upon it, you see, without being\r
-aware, and so it was quite hid, but I had it in my hand so very lately\r
-that I was almost sure it must be on the table. I was reading it to Mrs.\r
-Cole, and since she went away, I was reading it again to my mother, for\r
-it is such a pleasure to her--a letter from Jane--that she can never\r
-hear it often enough; so I knew it could not be far off, and here it is,\r
-only just under my huswife--and since you are so kind as to wish to hear\r
-what she says;--but, first of all, I really must, in justice to\r
-Jane, apologise for her writing so short a letter--only two pages you\r
-see--hardly two--and in general she fills the whole paper and crosses\r
-half. My mother often wonders that I can make it out so well. She often\r
-says, when the letter is first opened, ‘Well, Hetty, now I think\r
-you will be put to it to make out all that checker-work’--don’t you,\r
-ma’am?--And then I tell her, I am sure she would contrive to make it out\r
-herself, if she had nobody to do it for her--every word of it--I am sure\r
-she would pore over it till she had made out every word. And, indeed,\r
-though my mother’s eyes are not so good as they were, she can see\r
-amazingly well still, thank God! with the help of spectacles. It is such\r
-a blessing! My mother’s are really very good indeed. Jane often says,\r
-when she is here, ‘I am sure, grandmama, you must have had very strong\r
-eyes to see as you do--and so much fine work as you have done too!--I\r
-only wish my eyes may last me as well.’”\r
-\r
-All this spoken extremely fast obliged Miss Bates to stop for breath;\r
-and Emma said something very civil about the excellence of Miss\r
-Fairfax’s handwriting.\r
-\r
-“You are extremely kind,” replied Miss Bates, highly gratified; “you who\r
-are such a judge, and write so beautifully yourself. I am sure there is\r
-nobody’s praise that could give us so much pleasure as Miss Woodhouse’s.\r
-My mother does not hear; she is a little deaf you know. Ma’am,”\r
- addressing her, “do you hear what Miss Woodhouse is so obliging to say\r
-about Jane’s handwriting?”\r
-\r
-And Emma had the advantage of hearing her own silly compliment repeated\r
-twice over before the good old lady could comprehend it. She was\r
-pondering, in the meanwhile, upon the possibility, without seeming very\r
-rude, of making her escape from Jane Fairfax’s letter, and had almost\r
-resolved on hurrying away directly under some slight excuse, when Miss\r
-Bates turned to her again and seized her attention.\r
-\r
-“My mother’s deafness is very trifling you see--just nothing at all. By\r
-only raising my voice, and saying any thing two or three times over,\r
-she is sure to hear; but then she is used to my voice. But it is very\r
-remarkable that she should always hear Jane better than she does me.\r
-Jane speaks so distinct! However, she will not find her grandmama at all\r
-deafer than she was two years ago; which is saying a great deal at my\r
-mother’s time of life--and it really is full two years, you know, since\r
-she was here. We never were so long without seeing her before, and as\r
-I was telling Mrs. Cole, we shall hardly know how to make enough of her\r
-now.”\r
-\r
-“Are you expecting Miss Fairfax here soon?”\r
-\r
-“Oh yes; next week.”\r
-\r
-“Indeed!--that must be a very great pleasure.”\r
-\r
-“Thank you. You are very kind. Yes, next week. Every body is so\r
-surprized; and every body says the same obliging things. I am sure she\r
-will be as happy to see her friends at Highbury, as they can be to see\r
-her. Yes, Friday or Saturday; she cannot say which, because Colonel\r
-Campbell will be wanting the carriage himself one of those days. So very\r
-good of them to send her the whole way! But they always do, you know. Oh\r
-yes, Friday or Saturday next. That is what she writes about. That is\r
-the reason of her writing out of rule, as we call it; for, in the\r
-common course, we should not have heard from her before next Tuesday or\r
-Wednesday.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, so I imagined. I was afraid there could be little chance of my\r
-hearing any thing of Miss Fairfax to-day.”\r
-\r
-“So obliging of you! No, we should not have heard, if it had not been\r
-for this particular circumstance, of her being to come here so soon. My\r
-mother is so delighted!--for she is to be three months with us at\r
-least. Three months, she says so, positively, as I am going to have the\r
-pleasure of reading to you. The case is, you see, that the Campbells are\r
-going to Ireland. Mrs. Dixon has persuaded her father and mother to come\r
-over and see her directly. They had not intended to go over till the\r
-summer, but she is so impatient to see them again--for till she married,\r
-last October, she was never away from them so much as a week, which must\r
-make it very strange to be in different kingdoms, I was going to say,\r
-but however different countries, and so she wrote a very urgent letter\r
-to her mother--or her father, I declare I do not know which it was, but\r
-we shall see presently in Jane’s letter--wrote in Mr. Dixon’s name as\r
-well as her own, to press their coming over directly, and they would\r
-give them the meeting in Dublin, and take them back to their country\r
-seat, Baly-craig, a beautiful place, I fancy. Jane has heard a great\r
-deal of its beauty; from Mr. Dixon, I mean--I do not know that she ever\r
-heard about it from any body else; but it was very natural, you know,\r
-that he should like to speak of his own place while he was paying his\r
-addresses--and as Jane used to be very often walking out with them--for\r
-Colonel and Mrs. Campbell were very particular about their daughter’s\r
-not walking out often with only Mr. Dixon, for which I do not at all\r
-blame them; of course she heard every thing he might be telling Miss\r
-Campbell about his own home in Ireland; and I think she wrote us word\r
-that he had shewn them some drawings of the place, views that he had\r
-taken himself. He is a most amiable, charming young man, I believe. Jane\r
-was quite longing to go to Ireland, from his account of things.”\r
-\r
-At this moment, an ingenious and animating suspicion entering Emma’s\r
-brain with regard to Jane Fairfax, this charming Mr. Dixon, and the\r
-not going to Ireland, she said, with the insidious design of farther\r
-discovery,\r
-\r
-“You must feel it very fortunate that Miss Fairfax should be allowed to\r
-come to you at such a time. Considering the very particular friendship\r
-between her and Mrs. Dixon, you could hardly have expected her to be\r
-excused from accompanying Colonel and Mrs. Campbell.”\r
-\r
-“Very true, very true, indeed. The very thing that we have always been\r
-rather afraid of; for we should not have liked to have her at such a\r
-distance from us, for months together--not able to come if any thing was\r
-to happen. But you see, every thing turns out for the best. They want\r
-her (Mr. and Mrs. Dixon) excessively to come over with Colonel and Mrs.\r
-Campbell; quite depend upon it; nothing can be more kind or pressing\r
-than their _joint_ invitation, Jane says, as you will hear presently;\r
-Mr. Dixon does not seem in the least backward in any attention. He is\r
-a most charming young man. Ever since the service he rendered Jane at\r
-Weymouth, when they were out in that party on the water, and she, by the\r
-sudden whirling round of something or other among the sails, would have\r
-been dashed into the sea at once, and actually was all but gone, if he\r
-had not, with the greatest presence of mind, caught hold of her habit--\r
-(I can never think of it without trembling!)--But ever since we had the\r
-history of that day, I have been so fond of Mr. Dixon!”\r
-\r
-“But, in spite of all her friends’ urgency, and her own wish of seeing\r
-Ireland, Miss Fairfax prefers devoting the time to you and Mrs. Bates?”\r
-\r
-“Yes--entirely her own doing, entirely her own choice; and Colonel\r
-and Mrs. Campbell think she does quite right, just what they should\r
-recommend; and indeed they particularly _wish_ her to try her native\r
-air, as she has not been quite so well as usual lately.”\r
-\r
-“I am concerned to hear of it. I think they judge wisely. But Mrs.\r
-Dixon must be very much disappointed. Mrs. Dixon, I understand, has\r
-no remarkable degree of personal beauty; is not, by any means, to be\r
-compared with Miss Fairfax.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! no. You are very obliging to say such things--but certainly not.\r
-There is no comparison between them. Miss Campbell always was absolutely\r
-plain--but extremely elegant and amiable.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, that of course.”\r
-\r
-“Jane caught a bad cold, poor thing! so long ago as the 7th of November,\r
-(as I am going to read to you,) and has never been well since. A long\r
-time, is not it, for a cold to hang upon her? She never mentioned\r
-it before, because she would not alarm us. Just like her! so\r
-considerate!--But however, she is so far from well, that her kind\r
-friends the Campbells think she had better come home, and try an air\r
-that always agrees with her; and they have no doubt that three or four\r
-months at Highbury will entirely cure her--and it is certainly a great\r
-deal better that she should come here, than go to Ireland, if she is\r
-unwell. Nobody could nurse her, as we should do.”\r
-\r
-“It appears to me the most desirable arrangement in the world.”\r
-\r
-“And so she is to come to us next Friday or Saturday, and the Campbells\r
-leave town in their way to Holyhead the Monday following--as you will\r
-find from Jane’s letter. So sudden!--You may guess, dear Miss Woodhouse,\r
-what a flurry it has thrown me in! If it was not for the drawback of\r
-her illness--but I am afraid we must expect to see her grown thin, and\r
-looking very poorly. I must tell you what an unlucky thing happened to\r
-me, as to that. I always make a point of reading Jane’s letters through\r
-to myself first, before I read them aloud to my mother, you know, for\r
-fear of there being any thing in them to distress her. Jane desired me\r
-to do it, so I always do: and so I began to-day with my usual caution;\r
-but no sooner did I come to the mention of her being unwell, than I\r
-burst out, quite frightened, with ‘Bless me! poor Jane is ill!’--which\r
-my mother, being on the watch, heard distinctly, and was sadly alarmed\r
-at. However, when I read on, I found it was not near so bad as I had\r
-fancied at first; and I make so light of it now to her, that she does\r
-not think much about it. But I cannot imagine how I could be so off my\r
-guard. If Jane does not get well soon, we will call in Mr. Perry. The\r
-expense shall not be thought of; and though he is so liberal, and so\r
-fond of Jane that I dare say he would not mean to charge any thing for\r
-attendance, we could not suffer it to be so, you know. He has a wife and\r
-family to maintain, and is not to be giving away his time. Well, now I\r
-have just given you a hint of what Jane writes about, we will turn to\r
-her letter, and I am sure she tells her own story a great deal better\r
-than I can tell it for her.”\r
-\r
-“I am afraid we must be running away,” said Emma, glancing at Harriet,\r
-and beginning to rise--“My father will be expecting us. I had no\r
-intention, I thought I had no power of staying more than five minutes,\r
-when I first entered the house. I merely called, because I would not\r
-pass the door without inquiring after Mrs. Bates; but I have been so\r
-pleasantly detained! Now, however, we must wish you and Mrs. Bates good\r
-morning.”\r
-\r
-And not all that could be urged to detain her succeeded. She regained\r
-the street--happy in this, that though much had been forced on her\r
-against her will, though she had in fact heard the whole substance of\r
-Jane Fairfax’s letter, she had been able to escape the letter itself.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER II\r
-\r
-\r
-Jane Fairfax was an orphan, the only child of Mrs. Bates’s youngest\r
-daughter.\r
-\r
-The marriage of Lieut. Fairfax of the ----regiment of infantry,\r
-and Miss Jane Bates, had had its day of fame and pleasure, hope\r
-and interest; but nothing now remained of it, save the melancholy\r
-remembrance of him dying in action abroad--of his widow sinking under\r
-consumption and grief soon afterwards--and this girl.\r
-\r
-By birth she belonged to Highbury: and when at three years old, on\r
-losing her mother, she became the property, the charge, the consolation,\r
-the foundling of her grandmother and aunt, there had seemed every\r
-probability of her being permanently fixed there; of her being taught\r
-only what very limited means could command, and growing up with no\r
-advantages of connexion or improvement, to be engrafted on what\r
-nature had given her in a pleasing person, good understanding, and\r
-warm-hearted, well-meaning relations.\r
-\r
-But the compassionate feelings of a friend of her father gave a change\r
-to her destiny. This was Colonel Campbell, who had very highly regarded\r
-Fairfax, as an excellent officer and most deserving young man; and\r
-farther, had been indebted to him for such attentions, during a severe\r
-camp-fever, as he believed had saved his life. These were claims which\r
-he did not learn to overlook, though some years passed away from the\r
-death of poor Fairfax, before his own return to England put any thing in\r
-his power. When he did return, he sought out the child and took notice\r
-of her. He was a married man, with only one living child, a girl, about\r
-Jane’s age: and Jane became their guest, paying them long visits and\r
-growing a favourite with all; and before she was nine years old, his\r
-daughter’s great fondness for her, and his own wish of being a real\r
-friend, united to produce an offer from Colonel Campbell of undertaking\r
-the whole charge of her education. It was accepted; and from that period\r
-Jane had belonged to Colonel Campbell’s family, and had lived with them\r
-entirely, only visiting her grandmother from time to time.\r
-\r
-The plan was that she should be brought up for educating others; the\r
-very few hundred pounds which she inherited from her father making\r
-independence impossible. To provide for her otherwise was out of Colonel\r
-Campbell’s power; for though his income, by pay and appointments, was\r
-handsome, his fortune was moderate and must be all his daughter’s;\r
-but, by giving her an education, he hoped to be supplying the means of\r
-respectable subsistence hereafter.\r
-\r
-Such was Jane Fairfax’s history. She had fallen into good hands, known\r
-nothing but kindness from the Campbells, and been given an excellent\r
-education. Living constantly with right-minded and well-informed people,\r
-her heart and understanding had received every advantage of discipline\r
-and culture; and Colonel Campbell’s residence being in London, every\r
-lighter talent had been done full justice to, by the attendance of\r
-first-rate masters. Her disposition and abilities were equally worthy\r
-of all that friendship could do; and at eighteen or nineteen she was,\r
-as far as such an early age can be qualified for the care of children,\r
-fully competent to the office of instruction herself; but she was too\r
-much beloved to be parted with. Neither father nor mother could promote,\r
-and the daughter could not endure it. The evil day was put off. It was\r
-easy to decide that she was still too young; and Jane remained with\r
-them, sharing, as another daughter, in all the rational pleasures of\r
-an elegant society, and a judicious mixture of home and amusement, with\r
-only the drawback of the future, the sobering suggestions of her own\r
-good understanding to remind her that all this might soon be over.\r
-\r
-The affection of the whole family, the warm attachment of Miss\r
-Campbell in particular, was the more honourable to each party from\r
-the circumstance of Jane’s decided superiority both in beauty and\r
-acquirements. That nature had given it in feature could not be unseen\r
-by the young woman, nor could her higher powers of mind be unfelt by the\r
-parents. They continued together with unabated regard however, till the\r
-marriage of Miss Campbell, who by that chance, that luck which so often\r
-defies anticipation in matrimonial affairs, giving attraction to what is\r
-moderate rather than to what is superior, engaged the affections of\r
-Mr. Dixon, a young man, rich and agreeable, almost as soon as they were\r
-acquainted; and was eligibly and happily settled, while Jane Fairfax had\r
-yet her bread to earn.\r
-\r
-This event had very lately taken place; too lately for any thing to be\r
-yet attempted by her less fortunate friend towards entering on her path\r
-of duty; though she had now reached the age which her own judgment had\r
-fixed on for beginning. She had long resolved that one-and-twenty\r
-should be the period. With the fortitude of a devoted novitiate, she had\r
-resolved at one-and-twenty to complete the sacrifice, and retire from\r
-all the pleasures of life, of rational intercourse, equal society, peace\r
-and hope, to penance and mortification for ever.\r
-\r
-The good sense of Colonel and Mrs. Campbell could not oppose such\r
-a resolution, though their feelings did. As long as they lived, no\r
-exertions would be necessary, their home might be hers for ever; and for\r
-their own comfort they would have retained her wholly; but this would\r
-be selfishness:--what must be at last, had better be soon. Perhaps they\r
-began to feel it might have been kinder and wiser to have resisted the\r
-temptation of any delay, and spared her from a taste of such enjoyments\r
-of ease and leisure as must now be relinquished. Still, however,\r
-affection was glad to catch at any reasonable excuse for not hurrying\r
-on the wretched moment. She had never been quite well since the time of\r
-their daughter’s marriage; and till she should have completely recovered\r
-her usual strength, they must forbid her engaging in duties, which, so\r
-far from being compatible with a weakened frame and varying spirits,\r
-seemed, under the most favourable circumstances, to require something\r
-more than human perfection of body and mind to be discharged with\r
-tolerable comfort.\r
-\r
-With regard to her not accompanying them to Ireland, her account to her\r
-aunt contained nothing but truth, though there might be some truths\r
-not told. It was her own choice to give the time of their absence to\r
-Highbury; to spend, perhaps, her last months of perfect liberty with\r
-those kind relations to whom she was so very dear: and the Campbells,\r
-whatever might be their motive or motives, whether single, or double, or\r
-treble, gave the arrangement their ready sanction, and said, that they\r
-depended more on a few months spent in her native air, for the recovery\r
-of her health, than on any thing else. Certain it was that she was to\r
-come; and that Highbury, instead of welcoming that perfect novelty which\r
-had been so long promised it--Mr. Frank Churchill--must put up for the\r
-present with Jane Fairfax, who could bring only the freshness of a two\r
-years’ absence.\r
-\r
-Emma was sorry;--to have to pay civilities to a person she did not like\r
-through three long months!--to be always doing more than she wished,\r
-and less than she ought! Why she did not like Jane Fairfax might be a\r
-difficult question to answer; Mr. Knightley had once told her it was\r
-because she saw in her the really accomplished young woman, which she\r
-wanted to be thought herself; and though the accusation had been eagerly\r
-refuted at the time, there were moments of self-examination in which\r
-her conscience could not quite acquit her. But “she could never get\r
-acquainted with her: she did not know how it was, but there was such\r
-coldness and reserve--such apparent indifference whether she pleased or\r
-not--and then, her aunt was such an eternal talker!--and she was made\r
-such a fuss with by every body!--and it had been always imagined that\r
-they were to be so intimate--because their ages were the same, every\r
-body had supposed they must be so fond of each other.” These were her\r
-reasons--she had no better.\r
-\r
-It was a dislike so little just--every imputed fault was so magnified\r
-by fancy, that she never saw Jane Fairfax the first time after any\r
-considerable absence, without feeling that she had injured her; and\r
-now, when the due visit was paid, on her arrival, after a two years’\r
-interval, she was particularly struck with the very appearance and\r
-manners, which for those two whole years she had been depreciating. Jane\r
-Fairfax was very elegant, remarkably elegant; and she had herself the\r
-highest value for elegance. Her height was pretty, just such as almost\r
-every body would think tall, and nobody could think very tall; her\r
-figure particularly graceful; her size a most becoming medium, between\r
-fat and thin, though a slight appearance of ill-health seemed to point\r
-out the likeliest evil of the two. Emma could not but feel all this; and\r
-then, her face--her features--there was more beauty in them altogether\r
-than she had remembered; it was not regular, but it was very pleasing\r
-beauty. Her eyes, a deep grey, with dark eye-lashes and eyebrows, had\r
-never been denied their praise; but the skin, which she had been used to\r
-cavil at, as wanting colour, had a clearness and delicacy which really\r
-needed no fuller bloom. It was a style of beauty, of which elegance was\r
-the reigning character, and as such, she must, in honour, by all her\r
-principles, admire it:--elegance, which, whether of person or of mind,\r
-she saw so little in Highbury. There, not to be vulgar, was distinction,\r
-and merit.\r
-\r
-In short, she sat, during the first visit, looking at Jane Fairfax with\r
-twofold complacency; the sense of pleasure and the sense of rendering\r
-justice, and was determining that she would dislike her no longer. When\r
-she took in her history, indeed, her situation, as well as her beauty;\r
-when she considered what all this elegance was destined to, what she was\r
-going to sink from, how she was going to live, it seemed impossible\r
-to feel any thing but compassion and respect; especially, if to every\r
-well-known particular entitling her to interest, were added the highly\r
-probable circumstance of an attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she had\r
-so naturally started to herself. In that case, nothing could be more\r
-pitiable or more honourable than the sacrifices she had resolved on.\r
-Emma was very willing now to acquit her of having seduced Mr. Dixon’s\r
-actions from his wife, or of any thing mischievous which her imagination\r
-had suggested at first. If it were love, it might be simple, single,\r
-successless love on her side alone. She might have been unconsciously\r
-sucking in the sad poison, while a sharer of his conversation with her\r
-friend; and from the best, the purest of motives, might now be\r
-denying herself this visit to Ireland, and resolving to divide herself\r
-effectually from him and his connexions by soon beginning her career of\r
-laborious duty.\r
-\r
-Upon the whole, Emma left her with such softened, charitable feelings,\r
-as made her look around in walking home, and lament that Highbury\r
-afforded no young man worthy of giving her independence; nobody that she\r
-could wish to scheme about for her.\r
-\r
-These were charming feelings--but not lasting. Before she had committed\r
-herself by any public profession of eternal friendship for Jane Fairfax,\r
-or done more towards a recantation of past prejudices and errors, than\r
-saying to Mr. Knightley, “She certainly is handsome; she is better than\r
-handsome!” Jane had spent an evening at Hartfield with her grandmother\r
-and aunt, and every thing was relapsing much into its usual state.\r
-Former provocations reappeared. The aunt was as tiresome as ever; more\r
-tiresome, because anxiety for her health was now added to admiration\r
-of her powers; and they had to listen to the description of exactly how\r
-little bread and butter she ate for breakfast, and how small a slice\r
-of mutton for dinner, as well as to see exhibitions of new caps and new\r
-workbags for her mother and herself; and Jane’s offences rose again.\r
-They had music; Emma was obliged to play; and the thanks and praise\r
-which necessarily followed appeared to her an affectation of candour, an\r
-air of greatness, meaning only to shew off in higher style her own very\r
-superior performance. She was, besides, which was the worst of all, so\r
-cold, so cautious! There was no getting at her real opinion. Wrapt up in\r
-a cloak of politeness, she seemed determined to hazard nothing. She was\r
-disgustingly, was suspiciously reserved.\r
-\r
-If any thing could be more, where all was most, she was more reserved on\r
-the subject of Weymouth and the Dixons than any thing. She seemed bent\r
-on giving no real insight into Mr. Dixon’s character, or her own value\r
-for his company, or opinion of the suitableness of the match. It was all\r
-general approbation and smoothness; nothing delineated or distinguished.\r
-It did her no service however. Her caution was thrown away. Emma saw\r
-its artifice, and returned to her first surmises. There probably _was_\r
-something more to conceal than her own preference; Mr. Dixon, perhaps,\r
-had been very near changing one friend for the other, or been fixed only\r
-to Miss Campbell, for the sake of the future twelve thousand pounds.\r
-\r
-The like reserve prevailed on other topics. She and Mr. Frank Churchill\r
-had been at Weymouth at the same time. It was known that they were a\r
-little acquainted; but not a syllable of real information could Emma\r
-procure as to what he truly was. “Was he handsome?”--“She believed\r
-he was reckoned a very fine young man.” “Was he agreeable?”--“He was\r
-generally thought so.” “Did he appear a sensible young man; a young\r
-man of information?”--“At a watering-place, or in a common London\r
-acquaintance, it was difficult to decide on such points. Manners were\r
-all that could be safely judged of, under a much longer knowledge than\r
-they had yet had of Mr. Churchill. She believed every body found his\r
-manners pleasing.” Emma could not forgive her.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER III\r
-\r
-\r
-Emma could not forgive her;--but as neither provocation nor resentment\r
-were discerned by Mr. Knightley, who had been of the party, and had\r
-seen only proper attention and pleasing behaviour on each side, he was\r
-expressing the next morning, being at Hartfield again on business with\r
-Mr. Woodhouse, his approbation of the whole; not so openly as he might\r
-have done had her father been out of the room, but speaking plain enough\r
-to be very intelligible to Emma. He had been used to think her unjust to\r
-Jane, and had now great pleasure in marking an improvement.\r
-\r
-“A very pleasant evening,” he began, as soon as Mr. Woodhouse had been\r
-talked into what was necessary, told that he understood, and the papers\r
-swept away;--“particularly pleasant. You and Miss Fairfax gave us some\r
-very good music. I do not know a more luxurious state, sir, than sitting\r
-at one’s ease to be entertained a whole evening by two such young women;\r
-sometimes with music and sometimes with conversation. I am sure Miss\r
-Fairfax must have found the evening pleasant, Emma. You left nothing\r
-undone. I was glad you made her play so much, for having no instrument\r
-at her grandmother’s, it must have been a real indulgence.”\r
-\r
-“I am happy you approved,” said Emma, smiling; “but I hope I am not\r
-often deficient in what is due to guests at Hartfield.”\r
-\r
-“No, my dear,” said her father instantly; “_that_ I am sure you are not.\r
-There is nobody half so attentive and civil as you are. If any thing,\r
-you are too attentive. The muffin last night--if it had been handed\r
-round once, I think it would have been enough.”\r
-\r
-“No,” said Mr. Knightley, nearly at the same time; “you are not often\r
-deficient; not often deficient either in manner or comprehension. I\r
-think you understand me, therefore.”\r
-\r
-An arch look expressed--“I understand you well enough;” but she said\r
-only, “Miss Fairfax is reserved.”\r
-\r
-“I always told you she was--a little; but you will soon overcome all\r
-that part of her reserve which ought to be overcome, all that has its\r
-foundation in diffidence. What arises from discretion must be honoured.”\r
-\r
-“You think her diffident. I do not see it.”\r
-\r
-“My dear Emma,” said he, moving from his chair into one close by her,\r
-“you are not going to tell me, I hope, that you had not a pleasant\r
-evening.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! no; I was pleased with my own perseverance in asking questions; and\r
-amused to think how little information I obtained.”\r
-\r
-“I am disappointed,” was his only answer.\r
-\r
-“I hope every body had a pleasant evening,” said Mr. Woodhouse, in his\r
-quiet way. “I had. Once, I felt the fire rather too much; but then I\r
-moved back my chair a little, a very little, and it did not disturb me.\r
-Miss Bates was very chatty and good-humoured, as she always is, though\r
-she speaks rather too quick. However, she is very agreeable, and Mrs.\r
-Bates too, in a different way. I like old friends; and Miss Jane\r
-Fairfax is a very pretty sort of young lady, a very pretty and a\r
-very well-behaved young lady indeed. She must have found the evening\r
-agreeable, Mr. Knightley, because she had Emma.”\r
-\r
-“True, sir; and Emma, because she had Miss Fairfax.”\r
-\r
-Emma saw his anxiety, and wishing to appease it, at least for the\r
-present, said, and with a sincerity which no one could question--\r
-\r
-“She is a sort of elegant creature that one cannot keep one’s eyes from.\r
-I am always watching her to admire; and I do pity her from my heart.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley looked as if he were more gratified than he cared to\r
-express; and before he could make any reply, Mr. Woodhouse, whose\r
-thoughts were on the Bates’s, said--\r
-\r
-“It is a great pity that their circumstances should be so confined! a\r
-great pity indeed! and I have often wished--but it is so little one can\r
-venture to do--small, trifling presents, of any thing uncommon--Now we\r
-have killed a porker, and Emma thinks of sending them a loin or a leg;\r
-it is very small and delicate--Hartfield pork is not like any other\r
-pork--but still it is pork--and, my dear Emma, unless one could be sure\r
-of their making it into steaks, nicely fried, as ours are fried, without\r
-the smallest grease, and not roast it, for no stomach can bear roast\r
-pork--I think we had better send the leg--do not you think so, my dear?”\r
-\r
-“My dear papa, I sent the whole hind-quarter. I knew you would wish it.\r
-There will be the leg to be salted, you know, which is so very nice, and\r
-the loin to be dressed directly in any manner they like.”\r
-\r
-“That’s right, my dear, very right. I had not thought of it before, but\r
-that is the best way. They must not over-salt the leg; and then, if it\r
-is not over-salted, and if it is very thoroughly boiled, just as Serle\r
-boils ours, and eaten very moderately of, with a boiled turnip, and a\r
-little carrot or parsnip, I do not consider it unwholesome.”\r
-\r
-“Emma,” said Mr. Knightley presently, “I have a piece of news for you.\r
-You like news--and I heard an article in my way hither that I think will\r
-interest you.”\r
-\r
-“News! Oh! yes, I always like news. What is it?--why do you smile\r
-so?--where did you hear it?--at Randalls?”\r
-\r
-He had time only to say,\r
-\r
-“No, not at Randalls; I have not been near Randalls,” when the door was\r
-thrown open, and Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax walked into the room. Full\r
-of thanks, and full of news, Miss Bates knew not which to give quickest.\r
-Mr. Knightley soon saw that he had lost his moment, and that not another\r
-syllable of communication could rest with him.\r
-\r
-“Oh! my dear sir, how are you this morning? My dear Miss Woodhouse--I\r
-come quite over-powered. Such a beautiful hind-quarter of pork! You\r
-are too bountiful! Have you heard the news? Mr. Elton is going to be\r
-married.”\r
-\r
-Emma had not had time even to think of Mr. Elton, and she was so\r
-completely surprized that she could not avoid a little start, and a\r
-little blush, at the sound.\r
-\r
-“There is my news:--I thought it would interest you,” said Mr.\r
-Knightley, with a smile which implied a conviction of some part of what\r
-had passed between them.\r
-\r
-“But where could _you_ hear it?” cried Miss Bates. “Where could you\r
-possibly hear it, Mr. Knightley? For it is not five minutes since I\r
-received Mrs. Cole’s note--no, it cannot be more than five--or at least\r
-ten--for I had got my bonnet and spencer on, just ready to come out--I\r
-was only gone down to speak to Patty again about the pork--Jane was\r
-standing in the passage--were not you, Jane?--for my mother was so\r
-afraid that we had not any salting-pan large enough. So I said I would\r
-go down and see, and Jane said, ‘Shall I go down instead? for I think\r
-you have a little cold, and Patty has been washing the kitchen.’--‘Oh!\r
-my dear,’ said I--well, and just then came the note. A Miss\r
-Hawkins--that’s all I know. A Miss Hawkins of Bath. But, Mr. Knightley,\r
-how could you possibly have heard it? for the very moment Mr. Cole told\r
-Mrs. Cole of it, she sat down and wrote to me. A Miss Hawkins--”\r
-\r
-“I was with Mr. Cole on business an hour and a half ago. He had just\r
-read Elton’s letter as I was shewn in, and handed it to me directly.”\r
-\r
-“Well! that is quite--I suppose there never was a piece of news more\r
-generally interesting. My dear sir, you really are too bountiful. My\r
-mother desires her very best compliments and regards, and a thousand\r
-thanks, and says you really quite oppress her.”\r
-\r
-“We consider our Hartfield pork,” replied Mr. Woodhouse--“indeed it\r
-certainly is, so very superior to all other pork, that Emma and I cannot\r
-have a greater pleasure than--”\r
-\r
-“Oh! my dear sir, as my mother says, our friends are only too good\r
-to us. If ever there were people who, without having great wealth\r
-themselves, had every thing they could wish for, I am sure it is us.\r
-We may well say that ‘our lot is cast in a goodly heritage.’ Well, Mr.\r
-Knightley, and so you actually saw the letter; well--”\r
-\r
-“It was short--merely to announce--but cheerful, exulting, of course.”--\r
-Here was a sly glance at Emma. “He had been so fortunate as to--I forget\r
-the precise words--one has no business to remember them. The information\r
-was, as you state, that he was going to be married to a Miss Hawkins. By\r
-his style, I should imagine it just settled.”\r
-\r
-“Mr. Elton going to be married!” said Emma, as soon as she could speak.\r
-“He will have every body’s wishes for his happiness.”\r
-\r
-“He is very young to settle,” was Mr. Woodhouse’s observation. “He had\r
-better not be in a hurry. He seemed to me very well off as he was. We\r
-were always glad to see him at Hartfield.”\r
-\r
-“A new neighbour for us all, Miss Woodhouse!” said Miss Bates, joyfully;\r
-“my mother is so pleased!--she says she cannot bear to have the poor old\r
-Vicarage without a mistress. This is great news, indeed. Jane, you have\r
-never seen Mr. Elton!--no wonder that you have such a curiosity to see\r
-him.”\r
-\r
-Jane’s curiosity did not appear of that absorbing nature as wholly to\r
-occupy her.\r
-\r
-“No--I have never seen Mr. Elton,” she replied, starting on this appeal;\r
-“is he--is he a tall man?”\r
-\r
-“Who shall answer that question?” cried Emma. “My father would say\r
-‘yes,’ Mr. Knightley ‘no;’ and Miss Bates and I that he is just the\r
-happy medium. When you have been here a little longer, Miss Fairfax,\r
-you will understand that Mr. Elton is the standard of perfection in\r
-Highbury, both in person and mind.”\r
-\r
-“Very true, Miss Woodhouse, so she will. He is the very best young\r
-man--But, my dear Jane, if you remember, I told you yesterday he\r
-was precisely the height of Mr. Perry. Miss Hawkins,--I dare say, an\r
-excellent young woman. His extreme attention to my mother--wanting\r
-her to sit in the vicarage pew, that she might hear the better, for my\r
-mother is a little deaf, you know--it is not much, but she does not\r
-hear quite quick. Jane says that Colonel Campbell is a little deaf. He\r
-fancied bathing might be good for it--the warm bath--but she says it did\r
-him no lasting benefit. Colonel Campbell, you know, is quite our angel.\r
-And Mr. Dixon seems a very charming young man, quite worthy of him. It\r
-is such a happiness when good people get together--and they always do.\r
-Now, here will be Mr. Elton and Miss Hawkins; and there are the Coles,\r
-such very good people; and the Perrys--I suppose there never was a\r
-happier or a better couple than Mr. and Mrs. Perry. I say, sir,” turning\r
-to Mr. Woodhouse, “I think there are few places with such society as\r
-Highbury. I always say, we are quite blessed in our neighbours.--My dear\r
-sir, if there is one thing my mother loves better than another, it is\r
-pork--a roast loin of pork--”\r
-\r
-“As to who, or what Miss Hawkins is, or how long he has been acquainted\r
-with her,” said Emma, “nothing I suppose can be known. One feels that it\r
-cannot be a very long acquaintance. He has been gone only four weeks.”\r
-\r
-Nobody had any information to give; and, after a few more wonderings,\r
-Emma said,\r
-\r
-“You are silent, Miss Fairfax--but I hope you mean to take an interest\r
-in this news. You, who have been hearing and seeing so much of late\r
-on these subjects, who must have been so deep in the business on Miss\r
-Campbell’s account--we shall not excuse your being indifferent about Mr.\r
-Elton and Miss Hawkins.”\r
-\r
-“When I have seen Mr. Elton,” replied Jane, “I dare say I shall be\r
-interested--but I believe it requires _that_ with me. And as it is some\r
-months since Miss Campbell married, the impression may be a little worn\r
-off.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, he has been gone just four weeks, as you observe, Miss Woodhouse,”\r
- said Miss Bates, “four weeks yesterday.--A Miss Hawkins!--Well, I had\r
-always rather fancied it would be some young lady hereabouts; not that\r
-I ever--Mrs. Cole once whispered to me--but I immediately said, ‘No, Mr.\r
-Elton is a most worthy young man--but’--In short, I do not think I am\r
-particularly quick at those sort of discoveries. I do not pretend to it.\r
-What is before me, I see. At the same time, nobody could wonder if\r
-Mr. Elton should have aspired--Miss Woodhouse lets me chatter on, so\r
-good-humouredly. She knows I would not offend for the world. How does\r
-Miss Smith do? She seems quite recovered now. Have you heard from Mrs.\r
-John Knightley lately? Oh! those dear little children. Jane, do you\r
-know I always fancy Mr. Dixon like Mr. John Knightley. I mean in\r
-person--tall, and with that sort of look--and not very talkative.”\r
-\r
-“Quite wrong, my dear aunt; there is no likeness at all.”\r
-\r
-“Very odd! but one never does form a just idea of any body beforehand.\r
-One takes up a notion, and runs away with it. Mr. Dixon, you say, is\r
-not, strictly speaking, handsome?”\r
-\r
-“Handsome! Oh! no--far from it--certainly plain. I told you he was\r
-plain.”\r
-\r
-“My dear, you said that Miss Campbell would not allow him to be plain,\r
-and that you yourself--”\r
-\r
-“Oh! as for me, my judgment is worth nothing. Where I have a regard,\r
-I always think a person well-looking. But I gave what I believed the\r
-general opinion, when I called him plain.”\r
-\r
-“Well, my dear Jane, I believe we must be running away. The weather does\r
-not look well, and grandmama will be uneasy. You are too obliging, my\r
-dear Miss Woodhouse; but we really must take leave. This has been a most\r
-agreeable piece of news indeed. I shall just go round by Mrs. Cole’s;\r
-but I shall not stop three minutes: and, Jane, you had better go home\r
-directly--I would not have you out in a shower!--We think she is the\r
-better for Highbury already. Thank you, we do indeed. I shall not\r
-attempt calling on Mrs. Goddard, for I really do not think she cares for\r
-any thing but _boiled_ pork: when we dress the leg it will be another\r
-thing. Good morning to you, my dear sir. Oh! Mr. Knightley is coming\r
-too. Well, that is so very!--I am sure if Jane is tired, you will be\r
-so kind as to give her your arm.--Mr. Elton, and Miss Hawkins!--Good\r
-morning to you.”\r
-\r
-Emma, alone with her father, had half her attention wanted by him while\r
-he lamented that young people would be in such a hurry to marry--and to\r
-marry strangers too--and the other half she could give to her own view\r
-of the subject. It was to herself an amusing and a very welcome piece\r
-of news, as proving that Mr. Elton could not have suffered long; but she\r
-was sorry for Harriet: Harriet must feel it--and all that she could hope\r
-was, by giving the first information herself, to save her from hearing\r
-it abruptly from others. It was now about the time that she was likely\r
-to call. If she were to meet Miss Bates in her way!--and upon its\r
-beginning to rain, Emma was obliged to expect that the weather would\r
-be detaining her at Mrs. Goddard’s, and that the intelligence would\r
-undoubtedly rush upon her without preparation.\r
-\r
-The shower was heavy, but short; and it had not been over five minutes,\r
-when in came Harriet, with just the heated, agitated look which\r
-hurrying thither with a full heart was likely to give; and the “Oh! Miss\r
-Woodhouse, what do you think has happened!” which instantly burst forth,\r
-had all the evidence of corresponding perturbation. As the blow was\r
-given, Emma felt that she could not now shew greater kindness than in\r
-listening; and Harriet, unchecked, ran eagerly through what she had to\r
-tell. “She had set out from Mrs. Goddard’s half an hour ago--she had\r
-been afraid it would rain--she had been afraid it would pour down\r
-every moment--but she thought she might get to Hartfield first--she\r
-had hurried on as fast as possible; but then, as she was passing by the\r
-house where a young woman was making up a gown for her, she thought she\r
-would just step in and see how it went on; and though she did not seem\r
-to stay half a moment there, soon after she came out it began to rain,\r
-and she did not know what to do; so she ran on directly, as fast as\r
-she could, and took shelter at Ford’s.”--Ford’s was the principal\r
-woollen-draper, linen-draper, and haberdasher’s shop united; the shop\r
-first in size and fashion in the place.--“And so, there she had\r
-set, without an idea of any thing in the world, full ten minutes,\r
-perhaps--when, all of a sudden, who should come in--to be sure it was\r
-so very odd!--but they always dealt at Ford’s--who should come in, but\r
-Elizabeth Martin and her brother!--Dear Miss Woodhouse! only think. I\r
-thought I should have fainted. I did not know what to do. I was sitting\r
-near the door--Elizabeth saw me directly; but he did not; he was busy\r
-with the umbrella. I am sure she saw me, but she looked away directly,\r
-and took no notice; and they both went to quite the farther end of the\r
-shop; and I kept sitting near the door!--Oh! dear; I was so miserable!\r
-I am sure I must have been as white as my gown. I could not go away\r
-you know, because of the rain; but I did so wish myself anywhere in the\r
-world but there.--Oh! dear, Miss Woodhouse--well, at last, I fancy, he\r
-looked round and saw me; for instead of going on with her buyings, they\r
-began whispering to one another. I am sure they were talking of me; and\r
-I could not help thinking that he was persuading her to speak to me--(do\r
-you think he was, Miss Woodhouse?)--for presently she came forward--came\r
-quite up to me, and asked me how I did, and seemed ready to shake hands,\r
-if I would. She did not do any of it in the same way that she used; I\r
-could see she was altered; but, however, she seemed to _try_ to be very\r
-friendly, and we shook hands, and stood talking some time; but I know no\r
-more what I said--I was in such a tremble!--I remember she said she\r
-was sorry we never met now; which I thought almost too kind! Dear, Miss\r
-Woodhouse, I was absolutely miserable! By that time, it was beginning to\r
-hold up, and I was determined that nothing should stop me from getting\r
-away--and then--only think!--I found he was coming up towards me\r
-too--slowly you know, and as if he did not quite know what to do; and\r
-so he came and spoke, and I answered--and I stood for a minute, feeling\r
-dreadfully, you know, one can’t tell how; and then I took courage, and\r
-said it did not rain, and I must go; and so off I set; and I had not got\r
-three yards from the door, when he came after me, only to say, if I was\r
-going to Hartfield, he thought I had much better go round by Mr. Cole’s\r
-stables, for I should find the near way quite floated by this rain. Oh!\r
-dear, I thought it would have been the death of me! So I said, I was\r
-very much obliged to him: you know I could not do less; and then he went\r
-back to Elizabeth, and I came round by the stables--I believe I did--but\r
-I hardly knew where I was, or any thing about it. Oh! Miss Woodhouse,\r
-I would rather done any thing than have it happen: and yet, you know,\r
-there was a sort of satisfaction in seeing him behave so pleasantly and\r
-so kindly. And Elizabeth, too. Oh! Miss Woodhouse, do talk to me and\r
-make me comfortable again.”\r
-\r
-Very sincerely did Emma wish to do so; but it was not immediately in\r
-her power. She was obliged to stop and think. She was not thoroughly\r
-comfortable herself. The young man’s conduct, and his sister’s, seemed\r
-the result of real feeling, and she could not but pity them. As Harriet\r
-described it, there had been an interesting mixture of wounded affection\r
-and genuine delicacy in their behaviour. But she had believed them to be\r
-well-meaning, worthy people before; and what difference did this make\r
-in the evils of the connexion? It was folly to be disturbed by it. Of\r
-course, he must be sorry to lose her--they must be all sorry. Ambition,\r
-as well as love, had probably been mortified. They might all have hoped\r
-to rise by Harriet’s acquaintance: and besides, what was the value of\r
-Harriet’s description?--So easily pleased--so little discerning;--what\r
-signified her praise?\r
-\r
-She exerted herself, and did try to make her comfortable, by considering\r
-all that had passed as a mere trifle, and quite unworthy of being dwelt\r
-on,\r
-\r
-“It might be distressing, for the moment,” said she; “but you seem to\r
-have behaved extremely well; and it is over--and may never--can never,\r
-as a first meeting, occur again, and therefore you need not think about\r
-it.”\r
-\r
-Harriet said, “very true,” and she “would not think about it;” but still\r
-she talked of it--still she could talk of nothing else; and Emma, at\r
-last, in order to put the Martins out of her head, was obliged to hurry\r
-on the news, which she had meant to give with so much tender caution;\r
-hardly knowing herself whether to rejoice or be angry, ashamed or only\r
-amused, at such a state of mind in poor Harriet--such a conclusion of\r
-Mr. Elton’s importance with her!\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton’s rights, however, gradually revived. Though she did not feel\r
-the first intelligence as she might have done the day before, or an hour\r
-before, its interest soon increased; and before their first conversation\r
-was over, she had talked herself into all the sensations of curiosity,\r
-wonder and regret, pain and pleasure, as to this fortunate Miss Hawkins,\r
-which could conduce to place the Martins under proper subordination in\r
-her fancy.\r
-\r
-Emma learned to be rather glad that there had been such a meeting. It\r
-had been serviceable in deadening the first shock, without retaining any\r
-influence to alarm. As Harriet now lived, the Martins could not get\r
-at her, without seeking her, where hitherto they had wanted either the\r
-courage or the condescension to seek her; for since her refusal of the\r
-brother, the sisters never had been at Mrs. Goddard’s; and a twelvemonth\r
-might pass without their being thrown together again, with any\r
-necessity, or even any power of speech.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER IV\r
-\r
-\r
-Human nature is so well disposed towards those who are in interesting\r
-situations, that a young person, who either marries or dies, is sure of\r
-being kindly spoken of.\r
-\r
-A week had not passed since Miss Hawkins’s name was first mentioned in\r
-Highbury, before she was, by some means or other, discovered to have\r
-every recommendation of person and mind; to be handsome, elegant, highly\r
-accomplished, and perfectly amiable: and when Mr. Elton himself arrived\r
-to triumph in his happy prospects, and circulate the fame of her merits,\r
-there was very little more for him to do, than to tell her Christian\r
-name, and say whose music she principally played.\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton returned, a very happy man. He had gone away rejected and\r
-mortified--disappointed in a very sanguine hope, after a series of what\r
-appeared to him strong encouragement; and not only losing the right\r
-lady, but finding himself debased to the level of a very wrong one. He\r
-had gone away deeply offended--he came back engaged to another--and\r
-to another as superior, of course, to the first, as under such\r
-circumstances what is gained always is to what is lost. He came back gay\r
-and self-satisfied, eager and busy, caring nothing for Miss Woodhouse,\r
-and defying Miss Smith.\r
-\r
-The charming Augusta Hawkins, in addition to all the usual advantages of\r
-perfect beauty and merit, was in possession of an independent fortune,\r
-of so many thousands as would always be called ten; a point of some\r
-dignity, as well as some convenience: the story told well; he had not\r
-thrown himself away--he had gained a woman of 10,000 l. or thereabouts;\r
-and he had gained her with such delightful rapidity--the first hour of\r
-introduction had been so very soon followed by distinguishing notice;\r
-the history which he had to give Mrs. Cole of the rise and progress\r
-of the affair was so glorious--the steps so quick, from the accidental\r
-rencontre, to the dinner at Mr. Green’s, and the party at Mrs.\r
-Brown’s--smiles and blushes rising in importance--with consciousness and\r
-agitation richly scattered--the lady had been so easily impressed--so\r
-sweetly disposed--had in short, to use a most intelligible phrase,\r
-been so very ready to have him, that vanity and prudence were equally\r
-contented.\r
-\r
-He had caught both substance and shadow--both fortune and affection, and\r
-was just the happy man he ought to be; talking only of himself and\r
-his own concerns--expecting to be congratulated--ready to be laughed\r
-at--and, with cordial, fearless smiles, now addressing all the young\r
-ladies of the place, to whom, a few weeks ago, he would have been more\r
-cautiously gallant.\r
-\r
-The wedding was no distant event, as the parties had only themselves to\r
-please, and nothing but the necessary preparations to wait for; and\r
-when he set out for Bath again, there was a general expectation, which\r
-a certain glance of Mrs. Cole’s did not seem to contradict, that when he\r
-next entered Highbury he would bring his bride.\r
-\r
-During his present short stay, Emma had barely seen him; but just enough\r
-to feel that the first meeting was over, and to give her the impression\r
-of his not being improved by the mixture of pique and pretension, now\r
-spread over his air. She was, in fact, beginning very much to wonder\r
-that she had ever thought him pleasing at all; and his sight was so\r
-inseparably connected with some very disagreeable feelings, that,\r
-except in a moral light, as a penance, a lesson, a source of profitable\r
-humiliation to her own mind, she would have been thankful to be assured\r
-of never seeing him again. She wished him very well; but he gave\r
-her pain, and his welfare twenty miles off would administer most\r
-satisfaction.\r
-\r
-The pain of his continued residence in Highbury, however, must\r
-certainly be lessened by his marriage. Many vain solicitudes would be\r
-prevented--many awkwardnesses smoothed by it. A _Mrs._ _Elton_ would\r
-be an excuse for any change of intercourse; former intimacy might sink\r
-without remark. It would be almost beginning their life of civility\r
-again.\r
-\r
-Of the lady, individually, Emma thought very little. She was good enough\r
-for Mr. Elton, no doubt; accomplished enough for Highbury--handsome\r
-enough--to look plain, probably, by Harriet’s side. As to connexion,\r
-there Emma was perfectly easy; persuaded, that after all his own vaunted\r
-claims and disdain of Harriet, he had done nothing. On that article,\r
-truth seemed attainable. _What_ she was, must be uncertain; but _who_\r
-she was, might be found out; and setting aside the 10,000 l., it did not\r
-appear that she was at all Harriet’s superior. She brought no name, no\r
-blood, no alliance. Miss Hawkins was the youngest of the two daughters\r
-of a Bristol--merchant, of course, he must be called; but, as the whole\r
-of the profits of his mercantile life appeared so very moderate, it\r
-was not unfair to guess the dignity of his line of trade had been very\r
-moderate also. Part of every winter she had been used to spend in Bath;\r
-but Bristol was her home, the very heart of Bristol; for though the\r
-father and mother had died some years ago, an uncle remained--in the law\r
-line--nothing more distinctly honourable was hazarded of him, than\r
-that he was in the law line; and with him the daughter had lived. Emma\r
-guessed him to be the drudge of some attorney, and too stupid to rise.\r
-And all the grandeur of the connexion seemed dependent on the elder\r
-sister, who was _very_ _well_ _married_, to a gentleman in a _great_\r
-_way_, near Bristol, who kept two carriages! That was the wind-up of the\r
-history; that was the glory of Miss Hawkins.\r
-\r
-Could she but have given Harriet her feelings about it all! She had\r
-talked her into love; but, alas! she was not so easily to be talked out\r
-of it. The charm of an object to occupy the many vacancies of Harriet’s\r
-mind was not to be talked away. He might be superseded by another; he\r
-certainly would indeed; nothing could be clearer; even a Robert Martin\r
-would have been sufficient; but nothing else, she feared, would cure\r
-her. Harriet was one of those, who, having once begun, would be always\r
-in love. And now, poor girl! she was considerably worse from this\r
-reappearance of Mr. Elton. She was always having a glimpse of him\r
-somewhere or other. Emma saw him only once; but two or three times every\r
-day Harriet was sure _just_ to meet with him, or _just_ to miss him,\r
-_just_ to hear his voice, or see his shoulder, _just_ to have something\r
-occur to preserve him in her fancy, in all the favouring warmth of\r
-surprize and conjecture. She was, moreover, perpetually hearing about\r
-him; for, excepting when at Hartfield, she was always among those who\r
-saw no fault in Mr. Elton, and found nothing so interesting as\r
-the discussion of his concerns; and every report, therefore, every\r
-guess--all that had already occurred, all that might occur in the\r
-arrangement of his affairs, comprehending income, servants, and\r
-furniture, was continually in agitation around her. Her regard was\r
-receiving strength by invariable praise of him, and her regrets kept\r
-alive, and feelings irritated by ceaseless repetitions of Miss\r
-Hawkins’s happiness, and continual observation of, how much he seemed\r
-attached!--his air as he walked by the house--the very sitting of his\r
-hat, being all in proof of how much he was in love!\r
-\r
-Had it been allowable entertainment, had there been no pain to her\r
-friend, or reproach to herself, in the waverings of Harriet’s mind,\r
-Emma would have been amused by its variations. Sometimes Mr. Elton\r
-predominated, sometimes the Martins; and each was occasionally useful\r
-as a check to the other. Mr. Elton’s engagement had been the cure of\r
-the agitation of meeting Mr. Martin. The unhappiness produced by the\r
-knowledge of that engagement had been a little put aside by Elizabeth\r
-Martin’s calling at Mrs. Goddard’s a few days afterwards. Harriet had\r
-not been at home; but a note had been prepared and left for her, written\r
-in the very style to touch; a small mixture of reproach, with a great\r
-deal of kindness; and till Mr. Elton himself appeared, she had been much\r
-occupied by it, continually pondering over what could be done in return,\r
-and wishing to do more than she dared to confess. But Mr. Elton, in\r
-person, had driven away all such cares. While he staid, the Martins were\r
-forgotten; and on the very morning of his setting off for Bath again,\r
-Emma, to dissipate some of the distress it occasioned, judged it best\r
-for her to return Elizabeth Martin’s visit.\r
-\r
-How that visit was to be acknowledged--what would be necessary--and\r
-what might be safest, had been a point of some doubtful consideration.\r
-Absolute neglect of the mother and sisters, when invited to come, would\r
-be ingratitude. It must not be: and yet the danger of a renewal of the\r
-acquaintance--!\r
-\r
-After much thinking, she could determine on nothing better, than\r
-Harriet’s returning the visit; but in a way that, if they had\r
-understanding, should convince them that it was to be only a formal\r
-acquaintance. She meant to take her in the carriage, leave her at the\r
-Abbey Mill, while she drove a little farther, and call for her again\r
-so soon, as to allow no time for insidious applications or dangerous\r
-recurrences to the past, and give the most decided proof of what degree\r
-of intimacy was chosen for the future.\r
-\r
-She could think of nothing better: and though there was something in it\r
-which her own heart could not approve--something of ingratitude, merely\r
-glossed over--it must be done, or what would become of Harriet?\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER V\r
-\r
-\r
-Small heart had Harriet for visiting. Only half an hour before her\r
-friend called for her at Mrs. Goddard’s, her evil stars had led her\r
-to the very spot where, at that moment, a trunk, directed to _The Rev.\r
-Philip Elton, White-Hart, Bath_, was to be seen under the operation of\r
-being lifted into the butcher’s cart, which was to convey it to where\r
-the coaches past; and every thing in this world, excepting that trunk\r
-and the direction, was consequently a blank.\r
-\r
-She went, however; and when they reached the farm, and she was to be\r
-put down, at the end of the broad, neat gravel walk, which led between\r
-espalier apple-trees to the front door, the sight of every thing which\r
-had given her so much pleasure the autumn before, was beginning to\r
-revive a little local agitation; and when they parted, Emma observed her\r
-to be looking around with a sort of fearful curiosity, which determined\r
-her not to allow the visit to exceed the proposed quarter of an hour.\r
-She went on herself, to give that portion of time to an old servant who\r
-was married, and settled in Donwell.\r
-\r
-The quarter of an hour brought her punctually to the white gate again;\r
-and Miss Smith receiving her summons, was with her without delay, and\r
-unattended by any alarming young man. She came solitarily down the\r
-gravel walk--a Miss Martin just appearing at the door, and parting with\r
-her seemingly with ceremonious civility.\r
-\r
-Harriet could not very soon give an intelligible account. She was\r
-feeling too much; but at last Emma collected from her enough to\r
-understand the sort of meeting, and the sort of pain it was creating.\r
-She had seen only Mrs. Martin and the two girls. They had received her\r
-doubtingly, if not coolly; and nothing beyond the merest commonplace had\r
-been talked almost all the time--till just at last, when Mrs. Martin’s\r
-saying, all of a sudden, that she thought Miss Smith was grown, had\r
-brought on a more interesting subject, and a warmer manner. In that very\r
-room she had been measured last September, with her two friends. There\r
-were the pencilled marks and memorandums on the wainscot by the window.\r
-_He_ had done it. They all seemed to remember the day, the hour,\r
-the party, the occasion--to feel the same consciousness, the same\r
-regrets--to be ready to return to the same good understanding; and they\r
-were just growing again like themselves, (Harriet, as Emma must suspect,\r
-as ready as the best of them to be cordial and happy,) when the carriage\r
-reappeared, and all was over. The style of the visit, and the shortness\r
-of it, were then felt to be decisive. Fourteen minutes to be given\r
-to those with whom she had thankfully passed six weeks not six months\r
-ago!--Emma could not but picture it all, and feel how justly they might\r
-resent, how naturally Harriet must suffer. It was a bad business. She\r
-would have given a great deal, or endured a great deal, to have had\r
-the Martins in a higher rank of life. They were so deserving, that a\r
-_little_ higher should have been enough: but as it was, how could she\r
-have done otherwise?--Impossible!--She could not repent. They must be\r
-separated; but there was a great deal of pain in the process--so much\r
-to herself at this time, that she soon felt the necessity of a little\r
-consolation, and resolved on going home by way of Randalls to\r
-procure it. Her mind was quite sick of Mr. Elton and the Martins. The\r
-refreshment of Randalls was absolutely necessary.\r
-\r
-It was a good scheme; but on driving to the door they heard that neither\r
-“master nor mistress was at home;” they had both been out some time; the\r
-man believed they were gone to Hartfield.\r
-\r
-“This is too bad,” cried Emma, as they turned away. “And now we shall\r
-just miss them; too provoking!--I do not know when I have been so\r
-disappointed.” And she leaned back in the corner, to indulge her\r
-murmurs, or to reason them away; probably a little of both--such being\r
-the commonest process of a not ill-disposed mind. Presently the carriage\r
-stopt; she looked up; it was stopt by Mr. and Mrs. Weston, who were\r
-standing to speak to her. There was instant pleasure in the sight of\r
-them, and still greater pleasure was conveyed in sound--for Mr. Weston\r
-immediately accosted her with,\r
-\r
-“How d’ye do?--how d’ye do?--We have been sitting with your father--glad\r
-to see him so well. Frank comes to-morrow--I had a letter this\r
-morning--we see him to-morrow by dinner-time to a certainty--he is at\r
-Oxford to-day, and he comes for a whole fortnight; I knew it would be\r
-so. If he had come at Christmas he could not have staid three days; I\r
-was always glad he did not come at Christmas; now we are going to have\r
-just the right weather for him, fine, dry, settled weather. We shall\r
-enjoy him completely; every thing has turned out exactly as we could\r
-wish.”\r
-\r
-There was no resisting such news, no possibility of avoiding the\r
-influence of such a happy face as Mr. Weston’s, confirmed as it all was\r
-by the words and the countenance of his wife, fewer and quieter, but not\r
-less to the purpose. To know that _she_ thought his coming certain was\r
-enough to make Emma consider it so, and sincerely did she rejoice in\r
-their joy. It was a most delightful reanimation of exhausted spirits.\r
-The worn-out past was sunk in the freshness of what was coming; and in\r
-the rapidity of half a moment’s thought, she hoped Mr. Elton would now\r
-be talked of no more.\r
-\r
-Mr. Weston gave her the history of the engagements at Enscombe, which\r
-allowed his son to answer for having an entire fortnight at his command,\r
-as well as the route and the method of his journey; and she listened,\r
-and smiled, and congratulated.\r
-\r
-“I shall soon bring him over to Hartfield,” said he, at the conclusion.\r
-\r
-Emma could imagine she saw a touch of the arm at this speech, from his\r
-wife.\r
-\r
-“We had better move on, Mr. Weston,” said she, “we are detaining the\r
-girls.”\r
-\r
-“Well, well, I am ready;”--and turning again to Emma, “but you must\r
-not be expecting such a _very_ fine young man; you have only\r
-had _my_ account you know; I dare say he is really nothing\r
-extraordinary:”--though his own sparkling eyes at the moment were\r
-speaking a very different conviction.\r
-\r
-Emma could look perfectly unconscious and innocent, and answer in a\r
-manner that appropriated nothing.\r
-\r
-“Think of me to-morrow, my dear Emma, about four o’clock,” was Mrs.\r
-Weston’s parting injunction; spoken with some anxiety, and meant only\r
-for her.\r
-\r
-“Four o’clock!--depend upon it he will be here by three,” was Mr.\r
-Weston’s quick amendment; and so ended a most satisfactory meeting.\r
-Emma’s spirits were mounted quite up to happiness; every thing wore\r
-a different air; James and his horses seemed not half so sluggish as\r
-before. When she looked at the hedges, she thought the elder at least\r
-must soon be coming out; and when she turned round to Harriet, she saw\r
-something like a look of spring, a tender smile even there.\r
-\r
-“Will Mr. Frank Churchill pass through Bath as well as Oxford?”--was a\r
-question, however, which did not augur much.\r
-\r
-But neither geography nor tranquillity could come all at once, and Emma\r
-was now in a humour to resolve that they should both come in time.\r
-\r
-The morning of the interesting day arrived, and Mrs. Weston’s faithful\r
-pupil did not forget either at ten, or eleven, or twelve o’clock, that\r
-she was to think of her at four.\r
-\r
-“My dear, dear anxious friend,”--said she, in mental soliloquy, while\r
-walking downstairs from her own room, “always overcareful for every\r
-body’s comfort but your own; I see you now in all your little fidgets,\r
-going again and again into his room, to be sure that all is right.”\r
- The clock struck twelve as she passed through the hall. “‘Tis twelve;\r
-I shall not forget to think of you four hours hence; and by this\r
-time to-morrow, perhaps, or a little later, I may be thinking of the\r
-possibility of their all calling here. I am sure they will bring him\r
-soon.”\r
-\r
-She opened the parlour door, and saw two gentlemen sitting with her\r
-father--Mr. Weston and his son. They had been arrived only a few\r
-minutes, and Mr. Weston had scarcely finished his explanation of Frank’s\r
-being a day before his time, and her father was yet in the midst of his\r
-very civil welcome and congratulations, when she appeared, to have her\r
-share of surprize, introduction, and pleasure.\r
-\r
-The Frank Churchill so long talked of, so high in interest, was actually\r
-before her--he was presented to her, and she did not think too much had\r
-been said in his praise; he was a _very_ good looking young man; height,\r
-air, address, all were unexceptionable, and his countenance had a great\r
-deal of the spirit and liveliness of his father’s; he looked quick and\r
-sensible. She felt immediately that she should like him; and there was\r
-a well-bred ease of manner, and a readiness to talk, which convinced her\r
-that he came intending to be acquainted with her, and that acquainted\r
-they soon must be.\r
-\r
-He had reached Randalls the evening before. She was pleased with the\r
-eagerness to arrive which had made him alter his plan, and travel\r
-earlier, later, and quicker, that he might gain half a day.\r
-\r
-“I told you yesterday,” cried Mr. Weston with exultation, “I told you\r
-all that he would be here before the time named. I remembered what I\r
-used to do myself. One cannot creep upon a journey; one cannot help\r
-getting on faster than one has planned; and the pleasure of coming in\r
-upon one’s friends before the look-out begins, is worth a great deal\r
-more than any little exertion it needs.”\r
-\r
-“It is a great pleasure where one can indulge in it,” said the young\r
-man, “though there are not many houses that I should presume on so far;\r
-but in coming _home_ I felt I might do any thing.”\r
-\r
-The word _home_ made his father look on him with fresh complacency.\r
-Emma was directly sure that he knew how to make himself agreeable; the\r
-conviction was strengthened by what followed. He was very much pleased\r
-with Randalls, thought it a most admirably arranged house, would hardly\r
-allow it even to be very small, admired the situation, the walk to\r
-Highbury, Highbury itself, Hartfield still more, and professed himself\r
-to have always felt the sort of interest in the country which none but\r
-one’s _own_ country gives, and the greatest curiosity to visit it. That\r
-he should never have been able to indulge so amiable a feeling before,\r
-passed suspiciously through Emma’s brain; but still, if it were a\r
-falsehood, it was a pleasant one, and pleasantly handled. His manner had\r
-no air of study or exaggeration. He did really look and speak as if in a\r
-state of no common enjoyment.\r
-\r
-Their subjects in general were such as belong to an opening\r
-acquaintance. On his side were the inquiries,--“Was she a\r
-horsewoman?--Pleasant rides?--Pleasant walks?--Had they a large\r
-neighbourhood?--Highbury, perhaps, afforded society enough?--There were\r
-several very pretty houses in and about it.--Balls--had they balls?--Was\r
-it a musical society?”\r
-\r
-But when satisfied on all these points, and their acquaintance\r
-proportionably advanced, he contrived to find an opportunity, while\r
-their two fathers were engaged with each other, of introducing his\r
-mother-in-law, and speaking of her with so much handsome praise, so much\r
-warm admiration, so much gratitude for the happiness she secured to his\r
-father, and her very kind reception of himself, as was an additional\r
-proof of his knowing how to please--and of his certainly thinking it\r
-worth while to try to please her. He did not advance a word of praise\r
-beyond what she knew to be thoroughly deserved by Mrs. Weston; but,\r
-undoubtedly he could know very little of the matter. He understood\r
-what would be welcome; he could be sure of little else. “His father’s\r
-marriage,” he said, “had been the wisest measure, every friend must\r
-rejoice in it; and the family from whom he had received such a blessing\r
-must be ever considered as having conferred the highest obligation on\r
-him.”\r
-\r
-He got as near as he could to thanking her for Miss Taylor’s merits,\r
-without seeming quite to forget that in the common course of things it\r
-was to be rather supposed that Miss Taylor had formed Miss Woodhouse’s\r
-character, than Miss Woodhouse Miss Taylor’s. And at last, as if\r
-resolved to qualify his opinion completely for travelling round to its\r
-object, he wound it all up with astonishment at the youth and beauty of\r
-her person.\r
-\r
-“Elegant, agreeable manners, I was prepared for,” said he; “but I\r
-confess that, considering every thing, I had not expected more than a\r
-very tolerably well-looking woman of a certain age; I did not know that\r
-I was to find a pretty young woman in Mrs. Weston.”\r
-\r
-“You cannot see too much perfection in Mrs. Weston for my feelings,”\r
- said Emma; “were you to guess her to be _eighteen_, I should listen with\r
-pleasure; but _she_ would be ready to quarrel with you for using such\r
-words. Don’t let her imagine that you have spoken of her as a pretty\r
-young woman.”\r
-\r
-“I hope I should know better,” he replied; “no, depend upon it, (with a\r
-gallant bow,) that in addressing Mrs. Weston I should understand whom\r
-I might praise without any danger of being thought extravagant in my\r
-terms.”\r
-\r
-Emma wondered whether the same suspicion of what might be expected from\r
-their knowing each other, which had taken strong possession of her mind,\r
-had ever crossed his; and whether his compliments were to be considered\r
-as marks of acquiescence, or proofs of defiance. She must see more\r
-of him to understand his ways; at present she only felt they were\r
-agreeable.\r
-\r
-She had no doubt of what Mr. Weston was often thinking about. His quick\r
-eye she detected again and again glancing towards them with a happy\r
-expression; and even, when he might have determined not to look, she was\r
-confident that he was often listening.\r
-\r
-Her own father’s perfect exemption from any thought of the kind, the\r
-entire deficiency in him of all such sort of penetration or suspicion,\r
-was a most comfortable circumstance. Happily he was not farther from\r
-approving matrimony than from foreseeing it.--Though always objecting\r
-to every marriage that was arranged, he never suffered beforehand from\r
-the apprehension of any; it seemed as if he could not think so ill of\r
-any two persons’ understanding as to suppose they meant to marry till it\r
-were proved against them. She blessed the favouring blindness. He could\r
-now, without the drawback of a single unpleasant surmise, without a\r
-glance forward at any possible treachery in his guest, give way to all\r
-his natural kind-hearted civility in solicitous inquiries after Mr.\r
-Frank Churchill’s accommodation on his journey, through the sad evils\r
-of sleeping two nights on the road, and express very genuine unmixed\r
-anxiety to know that he had certainly escaped catching cold--which,\r
-however, he could not allow him to feel quite assured of himself till\r
-after another night.\r
-\r
-A reasonable visit paid, Mr. Weston began to move.--“He must be going.\r
-He had business at the Crown about his hay, and a great many errands for\r
-Mrs. Weston at Ford’s, but he need not hurry any body else.” His son,\r
-too well bred to hear the hint, rose immediately also, saying,\r
-\r
-“As you are going farther on business, sir, I will take the opportunity\r
-of paying a visit, which must be paid some day or other, and therefore\r
-may as well be paid now. I have the honour of being acquainted with\r
-a neighbour of yours, (turning to Emma,) a lady residing in or near\r
-Highbury; a family of the name of Fairfax. I shall have no difficulty,\r
-I suppose, in finding the house; though Fairfax, I believe, is not\r
-the proper name--I should rather say Barnes, or Bates. Do you know any\r
-family of that name?”\r
-\r
-“To be sure we do,” cried his father; “Mrs. Bates--we passed her\r
-house--I saw Miss Bates at the window. True, true, you are acquainted\r
-with Miss Fairfax; I remember you knew her at Weymouth, and a fine girl\r
-she is. Call upon her, by all means.”\r
-\r
-“There is no necessity for my calling this morning,” said the young man;\r
-“another day would do as well; but there was that degree of acquaintance\r
-at Weymouth which--”\r
-\r
-“Oh! go to-day, go to-day. Do not defer it. What is right to be done\r
-cannot be done too soon. And, besides, I must give you a hint, Frank;\r
-any want of attention to her _here_ should be carefully avoided. You saw\r
-her with the Campbells, when she was the equal of every body she mixed\r
-with, but here she is with a poor old grandmother, who has barely enough\r
-to live on. If you do not call early it will be a slight.”\r
-\r
-The son looked convinced.\r
-\r
-“I have heard her speak of the acquaintance,” said Emma; “she is a very\r
-elegant young woman.”\r
-\r
-He agreed to it, but with so quiet a “Yes,” as inclined her almost to\r
-doubt his real concurrence; and yet there must be a very distinct sort\r
-of elegance for the fashionable world, if Jane Fairfax could be thought\r
-only ordinarily gifted with it.\r
-\r
-“If you were never particularly struck by her manners before,” said she,\r
-“I think you will to-day. You will see her to advantage; see her and\r
-hear her--no, I am afraid you will not hear her at all, for she has an\r
-aunt who never holds her tongue.”\r
-\r
-“You are acquainted with Miss Jane Fairfax, sir, are you?” said Mr.\r
-Woodhouse, always the last to make his way in conversation; “then give\r
-me leave to assure you that you will find her a very agreeable young\r
-lady. She is staying here on a visit to her grandmama and aunt, very\r
-worthy people; I have known them all my life. They will be extremely\r
-glad to see you, I am sure; and one of my servants shall go with you to\r
-shew you the way.”\r
-\r
-“My dear sir, upon no account in the world; my father can direct me.”\r
-\r
-“But your father is not going so far; he is only going to the Crown,\r
-quite on the other side of the street, and there are a great many\r
-houses; you might be very much at a loss, and it is a very dirty walk,\r
-unless you keep on the footpath; but my coachman can tell you where you\r
-had best cross the street.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Frank Churchill still declined it, looking as serious as he could,\r
-and his father gave his hearty support by calling out, “My good friend,\r
-this is quite unnecessary; Frank knows a puddle of water when he sees\r
-it, and as to Mrs. Bates’s, he may get there from the Crown in a hop,\r
-step, and jump.”\r
-\r
-They were permitted to go alone; and with a cordial nod from one, and a\r
-graceful bow from the other, the two gentlemen took leave. Emma remained\r
-very well pleased with this beginning of the acquaintance, and could now\r
-engage to think of them all at Randalls any hour of the day, with full\r
-confidence in their comfort.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER VI\r
-\r
-\r
-The next morning brought Mr. Frank Churchill again. He came with Mrs.\r
-Weston, to whom and to Highbury he seemed to take very cordially. He had\r
-been sitting with her, it appeared, most companionably at home, till\r
-her usual hour of exercise; and on being desired to chuse their walk,\r
-immediately fixed on Highbury.--“He did not doubt there being very\r
-pleasant walks in every direction, but if left to him, he should always\r
-chuse the same. Highbury, that airy, cheerful, happy-looking Highbury,\r
-would be his constant attraction.”--Highbury, with Mrs. Weston, stood\r
-for Hartfield; and she trusted to its bearing the same construction with\r
-him. They walked thither directly.\r
-\r
-Emma had hardly expected them: for Mr. Weston, who had called in for\r
-half a minute, in order to hear that his son was very handsome, knew\r
-nothing of their plans; and it was an agreeable surprize to her,\r
-therefore, to perceive them walking up to the house together, arm in\r
-arm. She was wanting to see him again, and especially to see him in\r
-company with Mrs. Weston, upon his behaviour to whom her opinion of him\r
-was to depend. If he were deficient there, nothing should make amends\r
-for it. But on seeing them together, she became perfectly satisfied. It\r
-was not merely in fine words or hyperbolical compliment that he paid his\r
-duty; nothing could be more proper or pleasing than his whole manner to\r
-her--nothing could more agreeably denote his wish of considering her as\r
-a friend and securing her affection. And there was time enough for Emma\r
-to form a reasonable judgment, as their visit included all the rest of\r
-the morning. They were all three walking about together for an hour\r
-or two--first round the shrubberies of Hartfield, and afterwards\r
-in Highbury. He was delighted with every thing; admired Hartfield\r
-sufficiently for Mr. Woodhouse’s ear; and when their going farther was\r
-resolved on, confessed his wish to be made acquainted with the whole\r
-village, and found matter of commendation and interest much oftener than\r
-Emma could have supposed.\r
-\r
-Some of the objects of his curiosity spoke very amiable feelings. He\r
-begged to be shewn the house which his father had lived in so long, and\r
-which had been the home of his father’s father; and on recollecting that\r
-an old woman who had nursed him was still living, walked in quest of\r
-her cottage from one end of the street to the other; and though in\r
-some points of pursuit or observation there was no positive merit, they\r
-shewed, altogether, a good-will towards Highbury in general, which must\r
-be very like a merit to those he was with.\r
-\r
-Emma watched and decided, that with such feelings as were now shewn, it\r
-could not be fairly supposed that he had been ever voluntarily absenting\r
-himself; that he had not been acting a part, or making a parade of\r
-insincere professions; and that Mr. Knightley certainly had not done him\r
-justice.\r
-\r
-Their first pause was at the Crown Inn, an inconsiderable house, though\r
-the principal one of the sort, where a couple of pair of post-horses\r
-were kept, more for the convenience of the neighbourhood than from any\r
-run on the road; and his companions had not expected to be detained by\r
-any interest excited there; but in passing it they gave the history of\r
-the large room visibly added; it had been built many years ago for\r
-a ball-room, and while the neighbourhood had been in a particularly\r
-populous, dancing state, had been occasionally used as such;--but such\r
-brilliant days had long passed away, and now the highest purpose for\r
-which it was ever wanted was to accommodate a whist club established\r
-among the gentlemen and half-gentlemen of the place. He was immediately\r
-interested. Its character as a ball-room caught him; and instead of\r
-passing on, he stopt for several minutes at the two superior sashed\r
-windows which were open, to look in and contemplate its capabilities,\r
-and lament that its original purpose should have ceased. He saw no fault\r
-in the room, he would acknowledge none which they suggested. No, it\r
-was long enough, broad enough, handsome enough. It would hold the\r
-very number for comfort. They ought to have balls there at least every\r
-fortnight through the winter. Why had not Miss Woodhouse revived\r
-the former good old days of the room?--She who could do any thing in\r
-Highbury! The want of proper families in the place, and the conviction\r
-that none beyond the place and its immediate environs could be tempted\r
-to attend, were mentioned; but he was not satisfied. He could not be\r
-persuaded that so many good-looking houses as he saw around him, could\r
-not furnish numbers enough for such a meeting; and even when particulars\r
-were given and families described, he was still unwilling to admit that\r
-the inconvenience of such a mixture would be any thing, or that there\r
-would be the smallest difficulty in every body’s returning into their\r
-proper place the next morning. He argued like a young man very much bent\r
-on dancing; and Emma was rather surprized to see the constitution of\r
-the Weston prevail so decidedly against the habits of the Churchills.\r
-He seemed to have all the life and spirit, cheerful feelings, and social\r
-inclinations of his father, and nothing of the pride or reserve of\r
-Enscombe. Of pride, indeed, there was, perhaps, scarcely enough; his\r
-indifference to a confusion of rank, bordered too much on inelegance of\r
-mind. He could be no judge, however, of the evil he was holding cheap.\r
-It was but an effusion of lively spirits.\r
-\r
-At last he was persuaded to move on from the front of the Crown;\r
-and being now almost facing the house where the Bateses lodged, Emma\r
-recollected his intended visit the day before, and asked him if he had\r
-paid it.\r
-\r
-“Yes, oh! yes”--he replied; “I was just going to mention it. A very\r
-successful visit:--I saw all the three ladies; and felt very much\r
-obliged to you for your preparatory hint. If the talking aunt had taken\r
-me quite by surprize, it must have been the death of me. As it was, I\r
-was only betrayed into paying a most unreasonable visit. Ten minutes\r
-would have been all that was necessary, perhaps all that was proper; and\r
-I had told my father I should certainly be at home before him--but there\r
-was no getting away, no pause; and, to my utter astonishment, I found,\r
-when he (finding me nowhere else) joined me there at last, that I had\r
-been actually sitting with them very nearly three-quarters of an hour.\r
-The good lady had not given me the possibility of escape before.”\r
-\r
-“And how did you think Miss Fairfax looking?”\r
-\r
-“Ill, very ill--that is, if a young lady can ever be allowed to look\r
-ill. But the expression is hardly admissible, Mrs. Weston, is it? Ladies\r
-can never look ill. And, seriously, Miss Fairfax is naturally so\r
-pale, as almost always to give the appearance of ill health.--A most\r
-deplorable want of complexion.”\r
-\r
-Emma would not agree to this, and began a warm defence of Miss Fairfax’s\r
-complexion. “It was certainly never brilliant, but she would not\r
-allow it to have a sickly hue in general; and there was a softness and\r
-delicacy in her skin which gave peculiar elegance to the character of\r
-her face.” He listened with all due deference; acknowledged that he had\r
-heard many people say the same--but yet he must confess, that to him\r
-nothing could make amends for the want of the fine glow of health. Where\r
-features were indifferent, a fine complexion gave beauty to them all;\r
-and where they were good, the effect was--fortunately he need not\r
-attempt to describe what the effect was.\r
-\r
-“Well,” said Emma, “there is no disputing about taste.--At least you\r
-admire her except her complexion.”\r
-\r
-He shook his head and laughed.--“I cannot separate Miss Fairfax and her\r
-complexion.”\r
-\r
-“Did you see her often at Weymouth? Were you often in the same society?”\r
-\r
-At this moment they were approaching Ford’s, and he hastily exclaimed,\r
-“Ha! this must be the very shop that every body attends every day of\r
-their lives, as my father informs me. He comes to Highbury himself, he\r
-says, six days out of the seven, and has always business at Ford’s.\r
-If it be not inconvenient to you, pray let us go in, that I may prove\r
-myself to belong to the place, to be a true citizen of Highbury. I must\r
-buy something at Ford’s. It will be taking out my freedom.--I dare say\r
-they sell gloves.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! yes, gloves and every thing. I do admire your patriotism. You will\r
-be adored in Highbury. You were very popular before you came, because\r
-you were Mr. Weston’s son--but lay out half a guinea at Ford’s, and your\r
-popularity will stand upon your own virtues.”\r
-\r
-They went in; and while the sleek, well-tied parcels of “Men’s Beavers”\r
- and “York Tan” were bringing down and displaying on the counter, he\r
-said--“But I beg your pardon, Miss Woodhouse, you were speaking to me,\r
-you were saying something at the very moment of this burst of my _amor_\r
-_patriae_. Do not let me lose it. I assure you the utmost stretch of\r
-public fame would not make me amends for the loss of any happiness in\r
-private life.”\r
-\r
-“I merely asked, whether you had known much of Miss Fairfax and her\r
-party at Weymouth.”\r
-\r
-“And now that I understand your question, I must pronounce it to be a\r
-very unfair one. It is always the lady’s right to decide on the degree\r
-of acquaintance. Miss Fairfax must already have given her account.--I\r
-shall not commit myself by claiming more than she may chuse to allow.”\r
-\r
-“Upon my word! you answer as discreetly as she could do herself. But\r
-her account of every thing leaves so much to be guessed, she is so very\r
-reserved, so very unwilling to give the least information about any\r
-body, that I really think you may say what you like of your acquaintance\r
-with her.”\r
-\r
-“May I, indeed?--Then I will speak the truth, and nothing suits me so\r
-well. I met her frequently at Weymouth. I had known the Campbells a\r
-little in town; and at Weymouth we were very much in the same set.\r
-Colonel Campbell is a very agreeable man, and Mrs. Campbell a friendly,\r
-warm-hearted woman. I like them all.”\r
-\r
-“You know Miss Fairfax’s situation in life, I conclude; what she is\r
-destined to be?”\r
-\r
-“Yes--(rather hesitatingly)--I believe I do.”\r
-\r
-“You get upon delicate subjects, Emma,” said Mrs. Weston smiling;\r
-“remember that I am here.--Mr. Frank Churchill hardly knows what to say\r
-when you speak of Miss Fairfax’s situation in life. I will move a little\r
-farther off.”\r
-\r
-“I certainly do forget to think of _her_,” said Emma, “as having ever\r
-been any thing but my friend and my dearest friend.”\r
-\r
-He looked as if he fully understood and honoured such a sentiment.\r
-\r
-When the gloves were bought, and they had quitted the shop again, “Did\r
-you ever hear the young lady we were speaking of, play?” said Frank\r
-Churchill.\r
-\r
-“Ever hear her!” repeated Emma. “You forget how much she belongs to\r
-Highbury. I have heard her every year of our lives since we both began.\r
-She plays charmingly.”\r
-\r
-“You think so, do you?--I wanted the opinion of some one who\r
-could really judge. She appeared to me to play well, that is, with\r
-considerable taste, but I know nothing of the matter myself.--I am\r
-excessively fond of music, but without the smallest skill or right\r
-of judging of any body’s performance.--I have been used to hear her’s\r
-admired; and I remember one proof of her being thought to play well:--a\r
-man, a very musical man, and in love with another woman--engaged to\r
-her--on the point of marriage--would yet never ask that other woman\r
-to sit down to the instrument, if the lady in question could sit down\r
-instead--never seemed to like to hear one if he could hear the other.\r
-That, I thought, in a man of known musical talent, was some proof.”\r
-\r
-“Proof indeed!” said Emma, highly amused.--“Mr. Dixon is very musical,\r
-is he? We shall know more about them all, in half an hour, from you,\r
-than Miss Fairfax would have vouchsafed in half a year.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, Mr. Dixon and Miss Campbell were the persons; and I thought it a\r
-very strong proof.”\r
-\r
-“Certainly--very strong it was; to own the truth, a great deal stronger\r
-than, if _I_ had been Miss Campbell, would have been at all agreeable\r
-to me. I could not excuse a man’s having more music than love--more ear\r
-than eye--a more acute sensibility to fine sounds than to my feelings.\r
-How did Miss Campbell appear to like it?”\r
-\r
-“It was her very particular friend, you know.”\r
-\r
-“Poor comfort!” said Emma, laughing. “One would rather have a stranger\r
-preferred than one’s very particular friend--with a stranger it might\r
-not recur again--but the misery of having a very particular friend\r
-always at hand, to do every thing better than one does oneself!--Poor\r
-Mrs. Dixon! Well, I am glad she is gone to settle in Ireland.”\r
-\r
-“You are right. It was not very flattering to Miss Campbell; but she\r
-really did not seem to feel it.”\r
-\r
-“So much the better--or so much the worse:--I do not know which. But\r
-be it sweetness or be it stupidity in her--quickness of friendship, or\r
-dulness of feeling--there was one person, I think, who must have felt\r
-it: Miss Fairfax herself. She must have felt the improper and dangerous\r
-distinction.”\r
-\r
-“As to that--I do not--”\r
-\r
-“Oh! do not imagine that I expect an account of Miss Fairfax’s\r
-sensations from you, or from any body else. They are known to no human\r
-being, I guess, but herself. But if she continued to play whenever she\r
-was asked by Mr. Dixon, one may guess what one chuses.”\r
-\r
-“There appeared such a perfectly good understanding among them all--”\r
- he began rather quickly, but checking himself, added, “however, it is\r
-impossible for me to say on what terms they really were--how it might\r
-all be behind the scenes. I can only say that there was smoothness\r
-outwardly. But you, who have known Miss Fairfax from a child, must be\r
-a better judge of her character, and of how she is likely to conduct\r
-herself in critical situations, than I can be.”\r
-\r
-“I have known her from a child, undoubtedly; we have been children\r
-and women together; and it is natural to suppose that we should be\r
-intimate,--that we should have taken to each other whenever she visited\r
-her friends. But we never did. I hardly know how it has happened; a\r
-little, perhaps, from that wickedness on my side which was prone to take\r
-disgust towards a girl so idolized and so cried up as she always was,\r
-by her aunt and grandmother, and all their set. And then, her reserve--I\r
-never could attach myself to any one so completely reserved.”\r
-\r
-“It is a most repulsive quality, indeed,” said he. “Oftentimes very\r
-convenient, no doubt, but never pleasing. There is safety in reserve,\r
-but no attraction. One cannot love a reserved person.”\r
-\r
-“Not till the reserve ceases towards oneself; and then the attraction\r
-may be the greater. But I must be more in want of a friend, or an\r
-agreeable companion, than I have yet been, to take the trouble of\r
-conquering any body’s reserve to procure one. Intimacy between Miss\r
-Fairfax and me is quite out of the question. I have no reason to think\r
-ill of her--not the least--except that such extreme and perpetual\r
-cautiousness of word and manner, such a dread of giving a distinct idea\r
-about any body, is apt to suggest suspicions of there being something to\r
-conceal.”\r
-\r
-He perfectly agreed with her: and after walking together so long, and\r
-thinking so much alike, Emma felt herself so well acquainted with him,\r
-that she could hardly believe it to be only their second meeting. He was\r
-not exactly what she had expected; less of the man of the world in some\r
-of his notions, less of the spoiled child of fortune, therefore better\r
-than she had expected. His ideas seemed more moderate--his feelings\r
-warmer. She was particularly struck by his manner of considering Mr.\r
-Elton’s house, which, as well as the church, he would go and look at,\r
-and would not join them in finding much fault with. No, he could not\r
-believe it a bad house; not such a house as a man was to be pitied for\r
-having. If it were to be shared with the woman he loved, he could not\r
-think any man to be pitied for having that house. There must be ample\r
-room in it for every real comfort. The man must be a blockhead who\r
-wanted more.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston laughed, and said he did not know what he was talking about.\r
-Used only to a large house himself, and without ever thinking how many\r
-advantages and accommodations were attached to its size, he could be no\r
-judge of the privations inevitably belonging to a small one. But Emma,\r
-in her own mind, determined that he _did_ know what he was talking\r
-about, and that he shewed a very amiable inclination to settle early in\r
-life, and to marry, from worthy motives. He might not be aware of the\r
-inroads on domestic peace to be occasioned by no housekeeper’s room, or\r
-a bad butler’s pantry, but no doubt he did perfectly feel that Enscombe\r
-could not make him happy, and that whenever he were attached, he would\r
-willingly give up much of wealth to be allowed an early establishment.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER VII\r
-\r
-\r
-Emma’s very good opinion of Frank Churchill was a little shaken the\r
-following day, by hearing that he was gone off to London, merely to have\r
-his hair cut. A sudden freak seemed to have seized him at breakfast, and\r
-he had sent for a chaise and set off, intending to return to dinner,\r
-but with no more important view that appeared than having his hair cut.\r
-There was certainly no harm in his travelling sixteen miles twice over\r
-on such an errand; but there was an air of foppery and nonsense in it\r
-which she could not approve. It did not accord with the rationality of\r
-plan, the moderation in expense, or even the unselfish warmth of heart,\r
-which she had believed herself to discern in him yesterday. Vanity,\r
-extravagance, love of change, restlessness of temper, which must be\r
-doing something, good or bad; heedlessness as to the pleasure of his\r
-father and Mrs. Weston, indifferent as to how his conduct might appear\r
-in general; he became liable to all these charges. His father only\r
-called him a coxcomb, and thought it a very good story; but that Mrs.\r
-Weston did not like it, was clear enough, by her passing it over as\r
-quickly as possible, and making no other comment than that “all young\r
-people would have their little whims.”\r
-\r
-With the exception of this little blot, Emma found that his visit\r
-hitherto had given her friend only good ideas of him. Mrs. Weston\r
-was very ready to say how attentive and pleasant a companion he made\r
-himself--how much she saw to like in his disposition altogether. He\r
-appeared to have a very open temper--certainly a very cheerful and\r
-lively one; she could observe nothing wrong in his notions, a great deal\r
-decidedly right; he spoke of his uncle with warm regard, was fond of\r
-talking of him--said he would be the best man in the world if he were\r
-left to himself; and though there was no being attached to the aunt, he\r
-acknowledged her kindness with gratitude, and seemed to mean always to\r
-speak of her with respect. This was all very promising; and, but for\r
-such an unfortunate fancy for having his hair cut, there was nothing to\r
-denote him unworthy of the distinguished honour which her imagination\r
-had given him; the honour, if not of being really in love with her,\r
-of being at least very near it, and saved only by her own\r
-indifference--(for still her resolution held of never marrying)--the\r
-honour, in short, of being marked out for her by all their joint\r
-acquaintance.\r
-\r
-Mr. Weston, on his side, added a virtue to the account which must\r
-have some weight. He gave her to understand that Frank admired her\r
-extremely--thought her very beautiful and very charming; and with so\r
-much to be said for him altogether, she found she must not judge him\r
-harshly. As Mrs. Weston observed, “all young people would have their\r
-little whims.”\r
-\r
-There was one person among his new acquaintance in Surry, not so\r
-leniently disposed. In general he was judged, throughout the parishes of\r
-Donwell and Highbury, with great candour; liberal allowances were made\r
-for the little excesses of such a handsome young man--one who smiled so\r
-often and bowed so well; but there was one spirit among them not to be\r
-softened, from its power of censure, by bows or smiles--Mr. Knightley.\r
-The circumstance was told him at Hartfield; for the moment, he was\r
-silent; but Emma heard him almost immediately afterwards say to himself,\r
-over a newspaper he held in his hand, “Hum! just the trifling, silly\r
-fellow I took him for.” She had half a mind to resent; but an instant’s\r
-observation convinced her that it was really said only to relieve his\r
-own feelings, and not meant to provoke; and therefore she let it pass.\r
-\r
-Although in one instance the bearers of not good tidings, Mr. and\r
-Mrs. Weston’s visit this morning was in another respect particularly\r
-opportune. Something occurred while they were at Hartfield, to make Emma\r
-want their advice; and, which was still more lucky, she wanted exactly\r
-the advice they gave.\r
-\r
-This was the occurrence:--The Coles had been settled some years in\r
-Highbury, and were very good sort of people--friendly, liberal, and\r
-unpretending; but, on the other hand, they were of low origin, in trade,\r
-and only moderately genteel. On their first coming into the country,\r
-they had lived in proportion to their income, quietly, keeping little\r
-company, and that little unexpensively; but the last year or two had\r
-brought them a considerable increase of means--the house in town had\r
-yielded greater profits, and fortune in general had smiled on them. With\r
-their wealth, their views increased; their want of a larger house, their\r
-inclination for more company. They added to their house, to their number\r
-of servants, to their expenses of every sort; and by this time were,\r
-in fortune and style of living, second only to the family at Hartfield.\r
-Their love of society, and their new dining-room, prepared every body\r
-for their keeping dinner-company; and a few parties, chiefly among the\r
-single men, had already taken place. The regular and best families Emma\r
-could hardly suppose they would presume to invite--neither Donwell, nor\r
-Hartfield, nor Randalls. Nothing should tempt _her_ to go, if they did;\r
-and she regretted that her father’s known habits would be giving\r
-her refusal less meaning than she could wish. The Coles were very\r
-respectable in their way, but they ought to be taught that it was not\r
-for them to arrange the terms on which the superior families would visit\r
-them. This lesson, she very much feared, they would receive only from\r
-herself; she had little hope of Mr. Knightley, none of Mr. Weston.\r
-\r
-But she had made up her mind how to meet this presumption so many weeks\r
-before it appeared, that when the insult came at last, it found her\r
-very differently affected. Donwell and Randalls had received their\r
-invitation, and none had come for her father and herself; and Mrs.\r
-Weston’s accounting for it with “I suppose they will not take the\r
-liberty with you; they know you do not dine out,” was not quite\r
-sufficient. She felt that she should like to have had the power of\r
-refusal; and afterwards, as the idea of the party to be assembled there,\r
-consisting precisely of those whose society was dearest to her, occurred\r
-again and again, she did not know that she might not have been tempted\r
-to accept. Harriet was to be there in the evening, and the Bateses. They\r
-had been speaking of it as they walked about Highbury the day before,\r
-and Frank Churchill had most earnestly lamented her absence. Might\r
-not the evening end in a dance? had been a question of his. The bare\r
-possibility of it acted as a farther irritation on her spirits; and\r
-her being left in solitary grandeur, even supposing the omission to be\r
-intended as a compliment, was but poor comfort.\r
-\r
-It was the arrival of this very invitation while the Westons were at\r
-Hartfield, which made their presence so acceptable; for though her first\r
-remark, on reading it, was that “of course it must be declined,” she so\r
-very soon proceeded to ask them what they advised her to do, that their\r
-advice for her going was most prompt and successful.\r
-\r
-She owned that, considering every thing, she was not absolutely\r
-without inclination for the party. The Coles expressed themselves so\r
-properly--there was so much real attention in the manner of it--so much\r
-consideration for her father. “They would have solicited the honour\r
-earlier, but had been waiting the arrival of a folding-screen from\r
-London, which they hoped might keep Mr. Woodhouse from any draught of\r
-air, and therefore induce him the more readily to give them the honour\r
-of his company.” Upon the whole, she was very persuadable; and it being\r
-briefly settled among themselves how it might be done without neglecting\r
-his comfort--how certainly Mrs. Goddard, if not Mrs. Bates, might be\r
-depended on for bearing him company--Mr. Woodhouse was to be talked\r
-into an acquiescence of his daughter’s going out to dinner on a day now\r
-near at hand, and spending the whole evening away from him. As for _his_\r
-going, Emma did not wish him to think it possible, the hours would be\r
-too late, and the party too numerous. He was soon pretty well resigned.\r
-\r
-“I am not fond of dinner-visiting,” said he--“I never was. No more is\r
-Emma. Late hours do not agree with us. I am sorry Mr. and Mrs. Cole\r
-should have done it. I think it would be much better if they would come\r
-in one afternoon next summer, and take their tea with us--take us\r
-in their afternoon walk; which they might do, as our hours are so\r
-reasonable, and yet get home without being out in the damp of the\r
-evening. The dews of a summer evening are what I would not expose any\r
-body to. However, as they are so very desirous to have dear Emma dine\r
-with them, and as you will both be there, and Mr. Knightley too, to take\r
-care of her, I cannot wish to prevent it, provided the weather be what\r
-it ought, neither damp, nor cold, nor windy.” Then turning to Mrs.\r
-Weston, with a look of gentle reproach--“Ah! Miss Taylor, if you had not\r
-married, you would have staid at home with me.”\r
-\r
-“Well, sir,” cried Mr. Weston, “as I took Miss Taylor away, it is\r
-incumbent on me to supply her place, if I can; and I will step to Mrs.\r
-Goddard in a moment, if you wish it.”\r
-\r
-But the idea of any thing to be done in a _moment_, was increasing,\r
-not lessening, Mr. Woodhouse’s agitation. The ladies knew better how\r
-to allay it. Mr. Weston must be quiet, and every thing deliberately\r
-arranged.\r
-\r
-With this treatment, Mr. Woodhouse was soon composed enough for talking\r
-as usual. “He should be happy to see Mrs. Goddard. He had a great regard\r
-for Mrs. Goddard; and Emma should write a line, and invite her. James\r
-could take the note. But first of all, there must be an answer written\r
-to Mrs. Cole.”\r
-\r
-“You will make my excuses, my dear, as civilly as possible. You will say\r
-that I am quite an invalid, and go no where, and therefore must decline\r
-their obliging invitation; beginning with my _compliments_, of course.\r
-But you will do every thing right. I need not tell you what is to be\r
-done. We must remember to let James know that the carriage will be\r
-wanted on Tuesday. I shall have no fears for you with him. We have never\r
-been there above once since the new approach was made; but still I have\r
-no doubt that James will take you very safely. And when you get there,\r
-you must tell him at what time you would have him come for you again;\r
-and you had better name an early hour. You will not like staying late.\r
-You will get very tired when tea is over.”\r
-\r
-“But you would not wish me to come away before I am tired, papa?”\r
-\r
-“Oh! no, my love; but you will soon be tired. There will be a great many\r
-people talking at once. You will not like the noise.”\r
-\r
-“But, my dear sir,” cried Mr. Weston, “if Emma comes away early, it will\r
-be breaking up the party.”\r
-\r
-“And no great harm if it does,” said Mr. Woodhouse. “The sooner every\r
-party breaks up, the better.”\r
-\r
-“But you do not consider how it may appear to the Coles. Emma’s going\r
-away directly after tea might be giving offence. They are good-natured\r
-people, and think little of their own claims; but still they must\r
-feel that any body’s hurrying away is no great compliment; and Miss\r
-Woodhouse’s doing it would be more thought of than any other person’s in\r
-the room. You would not wish to disappoint and mortify the Coles, I am\r
-sure, sir; friendly, good sort of people as ever lived, and who have\r
-been your neighbours these _ten_ years.”\r
-\r
-“No, upon no account in the world, Mr. Weston; I am much obliged to\r
-you for reminding me. I should be extremely sorry to be giving them any\r
-pain. I know what worthy people they are. Perry tells me that Mr. Cole\r
-never touches malt liquor. You would not think it to look at him, but\r
-he is bilious--Mr. Cole is very bilious. No, I would not be the means\r
-of giving them any pain. My dear Emma, we must consider this. I am sure,\r
-rather than run the risk of hurting Mr. and Mrs. Cole, you would stay a\r
-little longer than you might wish. You will not regard being tired. You\r
-will be perfectly safe, you know, among your friends.”\r
-\r
-“Oh yes, papa. I have no fears at all for myself; and I should have no\r
-scruples of staying as late as Mrs. Weston, but on your account. I am\r
-only afraid of your sitting up for me. I am not afraid of your not being\r
-exceedingly comfortable with Mrs. Goddard. She loves piquet, you\r
-know; but when she is gone home, I am afraid you will be sitting up by\r
-yourself, instead of going to bed at your usual time--and the idea of\r
-that would entirely destroy my comfort. You must promise me not to sit\r
-up.”\r
-\r
-He did, on the condition of some promises on her side: such as that,\r
-if she came home cold, she would be sure to warm herself thoroughly; if\r
-hungry, that she would take something to eat; that her own maid should\r
-sit up for her; and that Serle and the butler should see that every\r
-thing were safe in the house, as usual.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER VIII\r
-\r
-\r
-Frank Churchill came back again; and if he kept his father’s dinner\r
-waiting, it was not known at Hartfield; for Mrs. Weston was too anxious\r
-for his being a favourite with Mr. Woodhouse, to betray any imperfection\r
-which could be concealed.\r
-\r
-He came back, had had his hair cut, and laughed at himself with a very\r
-good grace, but without seeming really at all ashamed of what he had\r
-done. He had no reason to wish his hair longer, to conceal any confusion\r
-of face; no reason to wish the money unspent, to improve his spirits.\r
-He was quite as undaunted and as lively as ever; and, after seeing him,\r
-Emma thus moralised to herself:--\r
-\r
-“I do not know whether it ought to be so, but certainly silly things\r
-do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent\r
-way. Wickedness is always wickedness, but folly is not always folly.--It\r
-depends upon the character of those who handle it. Mr. Knightley, he is\r
-_not_ a trifling, silly young man. If he were, he would have done this\r
-differently. He would either have gloried in the achievement, or\r
-been ashamed of it. There would have been either the ostentation of\r
-a coxcomb, or the evasions of a mind too weak to defend its own\r
-vanities.--No, I am perfectly sure that he is not trifling or silly.”\r
-\r
-With Tuesday came the agreeable prospect of seeing him again, and for\r
-a longer time than hitherto; of judging of his general manners, and by\r
-inference, of the meaning of his manners towards herself; of guessing\r
-how soon it might be necessary for her to throw coldness into her air;\r
-and of fancying what the observations of all those might be, who were\r
-now seeing them together for the first time.\r
-\r
-She meant to be very happy, in spite of the scene being laid at Mr.\r
-Cole’s; and without being able to forget that among the failings of Mr.\r
-Elton, even in the days of his favour, none had disturbed her more than\r
-his propensity to dine with Mr. Cole.\r
-\r
-Her father’s comfort was amply secured, Mrs. Bates as well as Mrs.\r
-Goddard being able to come; and her last pleasing duty, before she left\r
-the house, was to pay her respects to them as they sat together after\r
-dinner; and while her father was fondly noticing the beauty of her\r
-dress, to make the two ladies all the amends in her power, by helping\r
-them to large slices of cake and full glasses of wine, for whatever\r
-unwilling self-denial his care of their constitution might have obliged\r
-them to practise during the meal.--She had provided a plentiful dinner\r
-for them; she wished she could know that they had been allowed to eat\r
-it.\r
-\r
-She followed another carriage to Mr. Cole’s door; and was pleased to see\r
-that it was Mr. Knightley’s; for Mr. Knightley keeping no horses,\r
-having little spare money and a great deal of health, activity, and\r
-independence, was too apt, in Emma’s opinion, to get about as he could,\r
-and not use his carriage so often as became the owner of Donwell Abbey.\r
-She had an opportunity now of speaking her approbation while warm from\r
-her heart, for he stopped to hand her out.\r
-\r
-“This is coming as you should do,” said she; “like a gentleman.--I am\r
-quite glad to see you.”\r
-\r
-He thanked her, observing, “How lucky that we should arrive at the same\r
-moment! for, if we had met first in the drawing-room, I doubt whether\r
-you would have discerned me to be more of a gentleman than usual.--You\r
-might not have distinguished how I came, by my look or manner.”\r
-\r
-“Yes I should, I am sure I should. There is always a look of\r
-consciousness or bustle when people come in a way which they know to be\r
-beneath them. You think you carry it off very well, I dare say, but\r
-with you it is a sort of bravado, an air of affected unconcern; I always\r
-observe it whenever I meet you under those circumstances. _Now_ you have\r
-nothing to try for. You are not afraid of being supposed ashamed. You\r
-are not striving to look taller than any body else. _Now_ I shall really\r
-be very happy to walk into the same room with you.”\r
-\r
-“Nonsensical girl!” was his reply, but not at all in anger.\r
-\r
-Emma had as much reason to be satisfied with the rest of the party as\r
-with Mr. Knightley. She was received with a cordial respect which could\r
-not but please, and given all the consequence she could wish for.\r
-When the Westons arrived, the kindest looks of love, the strongest of\r
-admiration were for her, from both husband and wife; the son approached\r
-her with a cheerful eagerness which marked her as his peculiar object,\r
-and at dinner she found him seated by her--and, as she firmly believed,\r
-not without some dexterity on his side.\r
-\r
-The party was rather large, as it included one other family, a proper\r
-unobjectionable country family, whom the Coles had the advantage of\r
-naming among their acquaintance, and the male part of Mr. Cox’s family,\r
-the lawyer of Highbury. The less worthy females were to come in the\r
-evening, with Miss Bates, Miss Fairfax, and Miss Smith; but already,\r
-at dinner, they were too numerous for any subject of conversation to be\r
-general; and, while politics and Mr. Elton were talked over, Emma could\r
-fairly surrender all her attention to the pleasantness of her neighbour.\r
-The first remote sound to which she felt herself obliged to attend, was\r
-the name of Jane Fairfax. Mrs. Cole seemed to be relating something of\r
-her that was expected to be very interesting. She listened, and found\r
-it well worth listening to. That very dear part of Emma, her fancy,\r
-received an amusing supply. Mrs. Cole was telling that she had been\r
-calling on Miss Bates, and as soon as she entered the room had\r
-been struck by the sight of a pianoforte--a very elegant looking\r
-instrument--not a grand, but a large-sized square pianoforte; and the\r
-substance of the story, the end of all the dialogue which ensued of\r
-surprize, and inquiry, and congratulations on her side, and explanations\r
-on Miss Bates’s, was, that this pianoforte had arrived from\r
-Broadwood’s the day before, to the great astonishment of both aunt and\r
-niece--entirely unexpected; that at first, by Miss Bates’s account,\r
-Jane herself was quite at a loss, quite bewildered to think who could\r
-possibly have ordered it--but now, they were both perfectly satisfied\r
-that it could be from only one quarter;--of course it must be from\r
-Colonel Campbell.\r
-\r
-“One can suppose nothing else,” added Mrs. Cole, “and I was only\r
-surprized that there could ever have been a doubt. But Jane, it seems,\r
-had a letter from them very lately, and not a word was said about it.\r
-She knows their ways best; but I should not consider their silence as\r
-any reason for their not meaning to make the present. They might chuse\r
-to surprize her.”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Cole had many to agree with her; every body who spoke on the\r
-subject was equally convinced that it must come from Colonel Campbell,\r
-and equally rejoiced that such a present had been made; and there were\r
-enough ready to speak to allow Emma to think her own way, and still\r
-listen to Mrs. Cole.\r
-\r
-“I declare, I do not know when I have heard any thing that has given me\r
-more satisfaction!--It always has quite hurt me that Jane Fairfax, who\r
-plays so delightfully, should not have an instrument. It seemed quite\r
-a shame, especially considering how many houses there are where fine\r
-instruments are absolutely thrown away. This is like giving ourselves\r
-a slap, to be sure! and it was but yesterday I was telling Mr. Cole,\r
-I really was ashamed to look at our new grand pianoforte in the\r
-drawing-room, while I do not know one note from another, and our little\r
-girls, who are but just beginning, perhaps may never make any thing of\r
-it; and there is poor Jane Fairfax, who is mistress of music, has not\r
-any thing of the nature of an instrument, not even the pitifullest old\r
-spinet in the world, to amuse herself with.--I was saying this to\r
-Mr. Cole but yesterday, and he quite agreed with me; only he is so\r
-particularly fond of music that he could not help indulging himself\r
-in the purchase, hoping that some of our good neighbours might be so\r
-obliging occasionally to put it to a better use than we can; and that\r
-really is the reason why the instrument was bought--or else I am sure\r
-we ought to be ashamed of it.--We are in great hopes that Miss Woodhouse\r
-may be prevailed with to try it this evening.”\r
-\r
-Miss Woodhouse made the proper acquiescence; and finding that nothing\r
-more was to be entrapped from any communication of Mrs. Cole’s, turned\r
-to Frank Churchill.\r
-\r
-“Why do you smile?” said she.\r
-\r
-“Nay, why do you?”\r
-\r
-“Me!--I suppose I smile for pleasure at Colonel Campbell’s being so rich\r
-and so liberal.--It is a handsome present.”\r
-\r
-“Very.”\r
-\r
-“I rather wonder that it was never made before.”\r
-\r
-“Perhaps Miss Fairfax has never been staying here so long before.”\r
-\r
-“Or that he did not give her the use of their own instrument--which must\r
-now be shut up in London, untouched by any body.”\r
-\r
-“That is a grand pianoforte, and he might think it too large for Mrs.\r
-Bates’s house.”\r
-\r
-“You may _say_ what you chuse--but your countenance testifies that your\r
-_thoughts_ on this subject are very much like mine.”\r
-\r
-“I do not know. I rather believe you are giving me more credit for\r
-acuteness than I deserve. I smile because you smile, and shall probably\r
-suspect whatever I find you suspect; but at present I do not see what\r
-there is to question. If Colonel Campbell is not the person, who can\r
-be?”\r
-\r
-“What do you say to Mrs. Dixon?”\r
-\r
-“Mrs. Dixon! very true indeed. I had not thought of Mrs. Dixon. She must\r
-know as well as her father, how acceptable an instrument would be; and\r
-perhaps the mode of it, the mystery, the surprize, is more like a young\r
-woman’s scheme than an elderly man’s. It is Mrs. Dixon, I dare say. I\r
-told you that your suspicions would guide mine.”\r
-\r
-“If so, you must extend your suspicions and comprehend _Mr_. Dixon in\r
-them.”\r
-\r
-“Mr. Dixon.--Very well. Yes, I immediately perceive that it must be the\r
-joint present of Mr. and Mrs. Dixon. We were speaking the other day, you\r
-know, of his being so warm an admirer of her performance.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, and what you told me on that head, confirmed an idea which I had\r
-entertained before.--I do not mean to reflect upon the good intentions\r
-of either Mr. Dixon or Miss Fairfax, but I cannot help suspecting either\r
-that, after making his proposals to her friend, he had the misfortune\r
-to fall in love with _her_, or that he became conscious of a little\r
-attachment on her side. One might guess twenty things without guessing\r
-exactly the right; but I am sure there must be a particular cause for\r
-her chusing to come to Highbury instead of going with the Campbells\r
-to Ireland. Here, she must be leading a life of privation and penance;\r
-there it would have been all enjoyment. As to the pretence of trying her\r
-native air, I look upon that as a mere excuse.--In the summer it might\r
-have passed; but what can any body’s native air do for them in the\r
-months of January, February, and March? Good fires and carriages would\r
-be much more to the purpose in most cases of delicate health, and I dare\r
-say in her’s. I do not require you to adopt all my suspicions, though\r
-you make so noble a profession of doing it, but I honestly tell you what\r
-they are.”\r
-\r
-“And, upon my word, they have an air of great probability. Mr. Dixon’s\r
-preference of her music to her friend’s, I can answer for being very\r
-decided.”\r
-\r
-“And then, he saved her life. Did you ever hear of that?--A water\r
-party; and by some accident she was falling overboard. He caught her.”\r
-\r
-“He did. I was there--one of the party.”\r
-\r
-“Were you really?--Well!--But you observed nothing of course, for it\r
-seems to be a new idea to you.--If I had been there, I think I should\r
-have made some discoveries.”\r
-\r
-“I dare say you would; but I, simple I, saw nothing but the fact, that\r
-Miss Fairfax was nearly dashed from the vessel and that Mr. Dixon caught\r
-her.--It was the work of a moment. And though the consequent shock and\r
-alarm was very great and much more durable--indeed I believe it was\r
-half an hour before any of us were comfortable again--yet that was too\r
-general a sensation for any thing of peculiar anxiety to be\r
-observable. I do not mean to say, however, that you might not have made\r
-discoveries.”\r
-\r
-The conversation was here interrupted. They were called on to share\r
-in the awkwardness of a rather long interval between the courses, and\r
-obliged to be as formal and as orderly as the others; but when the table\r
-was again safely covered, when every corner dish was placed exactly\r
-right, and occupation and ease were generally restored, Emma said,\r
-\r
-“The arrival of this pianoforte is decisive with me. I wanted to know\r
-a little more, and this tells me quite enough. Depend upon it, we shall\r
-soon hear that it is a present from Mr. and Mrs. Dixon.”\r
-\r
-“And if the Dixons should absolutely deny all knowledge of it we must\r
-conclude it to come from the Campbells.”\r
-\r
-“No, I am sure it is not from the Campbells. Miss Fairfax knows it is\r
-not from the Campbells, or they would have been guessed at first. She\r
-would not have been puzzled, had she dared fix on them. I may not have\r
-convinced you perhaps, but I am perfectly convinced myself that Mr.\r
-Dixon is a principal in the business.”\r
-\r
-“Indeed you injure me if you suppose me unconvinced. Your reasonings\r
-carry my judgment along with them entirely. At first, while I supposed\r
-you satisfied that Colonel Campbell was the giver, I saw it only as\r
-paternal kindness, and thought it the most natural thing in the world.\r
-But when you mentioned Mrs. Dixon, I felt how much more probable that it\r
-should be the tribute of warm female friendship. And now I can see it in\r
-no other light than as an offering of love.”\r
-\r
-There was no occasion to press the matter farther. The conviction seemed\r
-real; he looked as if he felt it. She said no more, other subjects\r
-took their turn; and the rest of the dinner passed away; the dessert\r
-succeeded, the children came in, and were talked to and admired amid the\r
-usual rate of conversation; a few clever things said, a few downright\r
-silly, but by much the larger proportion neither the one nor the\r
-other--nothing worse than everyday remarks, dull repetitions, old news,\r
-and heavy jokes.\r
-\r
-The ladies had not been long in the drawing-room, before the other\r
-ladies, in their different divisions, arrived. Emma watched the entree\r
-of her own particular little friend; and if she could not exult in her\r
-dignity and grace, she could not only love the blooming sweetness and\r
-the artless manner, but could most heartily rejoice in that light,\r
-cheerful, unsentimental disposition which allowed her so many\r
-alleviations of pleasure, in the midst of the pangs of disappointed\r
-affection. There she sat--and who would have guessed how many tears she\r
-had been lately shedding? To be in company, nicely dressed herself and\r
-seeing others nicely dressed, to sit and smile and look pretty, and say\r
-nothing, was enough for the happiness of the present hour. Jane Fairfax\r
-did look and move superior; but Emma suspected she might have been\r
-glad to change feelings with Harriet, very glad to have purchased the\r
-mortification of having loved--yes, of having loved even Mr. Elton in\r
-vain--by the surrender of all the dangerous pleasure of knowing herself\r
-beloved by the husband of her friend.\r
-\r
-In so large a party it was not necessary that Emma should approach her.\r
-She did not wish to speak of the pianoforte, she felt too much in the\r
-secret herself, to think the appearance of curiosity or interest fair,\r
-and therefore purposely kept at a distance; but by the others, the\r
-subject was almost immediately introduced, and she saw the blush of\r
-consciousness with which congratulations were received, the blush\r
-of guilt which accompanied the name of “my excellent friend Colonel\r
-Campbell.”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston, kind-hearted and musical, was particularly interested\r
-by the circumstance, and Emma could not help being amused at her\r
-perseverance in dwelling on the subject; and having so much to ask and\r
-to say as to tone, touch, and pedal, totally unsuspicious of that wish\r
-of saying as little about it as possible, which she plainly read in the\r
-fair heroine’s countenance.\r
-\r
-They were soon joined by some of the gentlemen; and the very first\r
-of the early was Frank Churchill. In he walked, the first and the\r
-handsomest; and after paying his compliments en passant to Miss Bates\r
-and her niece, made his way directly to the opposite side of the circle,\r
-where sat Miss Woodhouse; and till he could find a seat by her, would\r
-not sit at all. Emma divined what every body present must be thinking.\r
-She was his object, and every body must perceive it. She introduced him\r
-to her friend, Miss Smith, and, at convenient moments afterwards, heard\r
-what each thought of the other. “He had never seen so lovely a face, and\r
-was delighted with her naivete.” And she, “Only to be sure it was paying\r
-him too great a compliment, but she did think there were some looks a\r
-little like Mr. Elton.” Emma restrained her indignation, and only turned\r
-from her in silence.\r
-\r
-Smiles of intelligence passed between her and the gentleman on first\r
-glancing towards Miss Fairfax; but it was most prudent to avoid speech.\r
-He told her that he had been impatient to leave the dining-room--hated\r
-sitting long--was always the first to move when he could--that his\r
-father, Mr. Knightley, Mr. Cox, and Mr. Cole, were left very busy over\r
-parish business--that as long as he had staid, however, it had been\r
-pleasant enough, as he had found them in general a set of gentlemanlike,\r
-sensible men; and spoke so handsomely of Highbury altogether--thought it\r
-so abundant in agreeable families--that Emma began to feel she had been\r
-used to despise the place rather too much. She questioned him as to the\r
-society in Yorkshire--the extent of the neighbourhood about Enscombe,\r
-and the sort; and could make out from his answers that, as far as\r
-Enscombe was concerned, there was very little going on, that their\r
-visitings were among a range of great families, none very near; and\r
-that even when days were fixed, and invitations accepted, it was an even\r
-chance that Mrs. Churchill were not in health and spirits for going;\r
-that they made a point of visiting no fresh person; and that, though\r
-he had his separate engagements, it was not without difficulty, without\r
-considerable address _at_ _times_, that he could get away, or introduce\r
-an acquaintance for a night.\r
-\r
-She saw that Enscombe could not satisfy, and that Highbury, taken at\r
-its best, might reasonably please a young man who had more retirement at\r
-home than he liked. His importance at Enscombe was very evident. He did\r
-not boast, but it naturally betrayed itself, that he had persuaded his\r
-aunt where his uncle could do nothing, and on her laughing and noticing\r
-it, he owned that he believed (excepting one or two points) he could\r
-_with_ _time_ persuade her to any thing. One of those points on which\r
-his influence failed, he then mentioned. He had wanted very much to\r
-go abroad--had been very eager indeed to be allowed to travel--but she\r
-would not hear of it. This had happened the year before. _Now_, he said,\r
-he was beginning to have no longer the same wish.\r
-\r
-The unpersuadable point, which he did not mention, Emma guessed to be\r
-good behaviour to his father.\r
-\r
-“I have made a most wretched discovery,” said he, after a short pause.--\r
-“I have been here a week to-morrow--half my time. I never knew days fly\r
-so fast. A week to-morrow!--And I have hardly begun to enjoy myself.\r
-But just got acquainted with Mrs. Weston, and others!--I hate the\r
-recollection.”\r
-\r
-“Perhaps you may now begin to regret that you spent one whole day, out\r
-of so few, in having your hair cut.”\r
-\r
-“No,” said he, smiling, “that is no subject of regret at all. I have\r
-no pleasure in seeing my friends, unless I can believe myself fit to be\r
-seen.”\r
-\r
-The rest of the gentlemen being now in the room, Emma found herself\r
-obliged to turn from him for a few minutes, and listen to Mr. Cole. When\r
-Mr. Cole had moved away, and her attention could be restored as before,\r
-she saw Frank Churchill looking intently across the room at Miss\r
-Fairfax, who was sitting exactly opposite.\r
-\r
-“What is the matter?” said she.\r
-\r
-He started. “Thank you for rousing me,” he replied. “I believe I have\r
-been very rude; but really Miss Fairfax has done her hair in so odd a\r
-way--so very odd a way--that I cannot keep my eyes from her. I never saw\r
-any thing so outree!--Those curls!--This must be a fancy of her own. I\r
-see nobody else looking like her!--I must go and ask her whether it\r
-is an Irish fashion. Shall I?--Yes, I will--I declare I will--and you\r
-shall see how she takes it;--whether she colours.”\r
-\r
-He was gone immediately; and Emma soon saw him standing before Miss\r
-Fairfax, and talking to her; but as to its effect on the young lady,\r
-as he had improvidently placed himself exactly between them, exactly in\r
-front of Miss Fairfax, she could absolutely distinguish nothing.\r
-\r
-Before he could return to his chair, it was taken by Mrs. Weston.\r
-\r
-“This is the luxury of a large party,” said she:--“one can get near\r
-every body, and say every thing. My dear Emma, I am longing to talk\r
-to you. I have been making discoveries and forming plans, just like\r
-yourself, and I must tell them while the idea is fresh. Do you know how\r
-Miss Bates and her niece came here?”\r
-\r
-“How?--They were invited, were not they?”\r
-\r
-“Oh! yes--but how they were conveyed hither?--the manner of their\r
-coming?”\r
-\r
-“They walked, I conclude. How else could they come?”\r
-\r
-“Very true.--Well, a little while ago it occurred to me how very sad\r
-it would be to have Jane Fairfax walking home again, late at night, and\r
-cold as the nights are now. And as I looked at her, though I never saw\r
-her appear to more advantage, it struck me that she was heated, and\r
-would therefore be particularly liable to take cold. Poor girl! I could\r
-not bear the idea of it; so, as soon as Mr. Weston came into the room,\r
-and I could get at him, I spoke to him about the carriage. You may guess\r
-how readily he came into my wishes; and having his approbation, I made\r
-my way directly to Miss Bates, to assure her that the carriage would be\r
-at her service before it took us home; for I thought it would be making\r
-her comfortable at once. Good soul! she was as grateful as possible, you\r
-may be sure. ‘Nobody was ever so fortunate as herself!’--but with many,\r
-many thanks--‘there was no occasion to trouble us, for Mr. Knightley’s\r
-carriage had brought, and was to take them home again.’ I was quite\r
-surprized;--very glad, I am sure; but really quite surprized. Such a\r
-very kind attention--and so thoughtful an attention!--the sort of thing\r
-that so few men would think of. And, in short, from knowing his\r
-usual ways, I am very much inclined to think that it was for their\r
-accommodation the carriage was used at all. I do suspect he would not\r
-have had a pair of horses for himself, and that it was only as an excuse\r
-for assisting them.”\r
-\r
-“Very likely,” said Emma--“nothing more likely. I know no man more\r
-likely than Mr. Knightley to do the sort of thing--to do any thing\r
-really good-natured, useful, considerate, or benevolent. He is not a\r
-gallant man, but he is a very humane one; and this, considering Jane\r
-Fairfax’s ill-health, would appear a case of humanity to him;--and for\r
-an act of unostentatious kindness, there is nobody whom I would fix on\r
-more than on Mr. Knightley. I know he had horses to-day--for we arrived\r
-together; and I laughed at him about it, but he said not a word that\r
-could betray.”\r
-\r
-“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, smiling, “you give him credit for more simple,\r
-disinterested benevolence in this instance than I do; for while Miss\r
-Bates was speaking, a suspicion darted into my head, and I have never\r
-been able to get it out again. The more I think of it, the more probable\r
-it appears. In short, I have made a match between Mr. Knightley and Jane\r
-Fairfax. See the consequence of keeping you company!--What do you say to\r
-it?”\r
-\r
-“Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax!” exclaimed Emma. “Dear Mrs. Weston, how\r
-could you think of such a thing?--Mr. Knightley!--Mr. Knightley must not\r
-marry!--You would not have little Henry cut out from Donwell?--Oh! no,\r
-no, Henry must have Donwell. I cannot at all consent to Mr. Knightley’s\r
-marrying; and I am sure it is not at all likely. I am amazed that you\r
-should think of such a thing.”\r
-\r
-“My dear Emma, I have told you what led me to think of it. I do not want\r
-the match--I do not want to injure dear little Henry--but the idea has\r
-been given me by circumstances; and if Mr. Knightley really wished to\r
-marry, you would not have him refrain on Henry’s account, a boy of six\r
-years old, who knows nothing of the matter?”\r
-\r
-“Yes, I would. I could not bear to have Henry supplanted.--Mr.\r
-Knightley marry!--No, I have never had such an idea, and I cannot adopt\r
-it now. And Jane Fairfax, too, of all women!”\r
-\r
-“Nay, she has always been a first favourite with him, as you very well\r
-know.”\r
-\r
-“But the imprudence of such a match!”\r
-\r
-“I am not speaking of its prudence; merely its probability.”\r
-\r
-“I see no probability in it, unless you have any better foundation than\r
-what you mention. His good-nature, his humanity, as I tell you, would\r
-be quite enough to account for the horses. He has a great regard for the\r
-Bateses, you know, independent of Jane Fairfax--and is always glad to\r
-shew them attention. My dear Mrs. Weston, do not take to match-making.\r
-You do it very ill. Jane Fairfax mistress of the Abbey!--Oh! no,\r
-no;--every feeling revolts. For his own sake, I would not have him do so\r
-mad a thing.”\r
-\r
-“Imprudent, if you please--but not mad. Excepting inequality of fortune,\r
-and perhaps a little disparity of age, I can see nothing unsuitable.”\r
-\r
-“But Mr. Knightley does not want to marry. I am sure he has not the\r
-least idea of it. Do not put it into his head. Why should he marry?--He\r
-is as happy as possible by himself; with his farm, and his sheep, and\r
-his library, and all the parish to manage; and he is extremely fond of\r
-his brother’s children. He has no occasion to marry, either to fill up\r
-his time or his heart.”\r
-\r
-“My dear Emma, as long as he thinks so, it is so; but if he really loves\r
-Jane Fairfax--”\r
-\r
-“Nonsense! He does not care about Jane Fairfax. In the way of love, I am\r
-sure he does not. He would do any good to her, or her family; but--”\r
-\r
-“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, laughing, “perhaps the greatest good he could\r
-do them, would be to give Jane such a respectable home.”\r
-\r
-“If it would be good to her, I am sure it would be evil to himself; a\r
-very shameful and degrading connexion. How would he bear to have Miss\r
-Bates belonging to him?--To have her haunting the Abbey, and thanking\r
-him all day long for his great kindness in marrying Jane?--‘So very\r
-kind and obliging!--But he always had been such a very kind neighbour!’\r
-And then fly off, through half a sentence, to her mother’s old\r
-petticoat. ‘Not that it was such a very old petticoat either--for still\r
-it would last a great while--and, indeed, she must thankfully say that\r
-their petticoats were all very strong.’”\r
-\r
-“For shame, Emma! Do not mimic her. You divert me against my conscience.\r
-And, upon my word, I do not think Mr. Knightley would be much disturbed\r
-by Miss Bates. Little things do not irritate him. She might talk on; and\r
-if he wanted to say any thing himself, he would only talk louder, and\r
-drown her voice. But the question is not, whether it would be a bad\r
-connexion for him, but whether he wishes it; and I think he does. I have\r
-heard him speak, and so must you, so very highly of Jane Fairfax! The\r
-interest he takes in her--his anxiety about her health--his concern that\r
-she should have no happier prospect! I have heard him express himself\r
-so warmly on those points!--Such an admirer of her performance on the\r
-pianoforte, and of her voice! I have heard him say that he could listen\r
-to her for ever. Oh! and I had almost forgotten one idea that occurred\r
-to me--this pianoforte that has been sent here by somebody--though\r
-we have all been so well satisfied to consider it a present from the\r
-Campbells, may it not be from Mr. Knightley? I cannot help suspecting\r
-him. I think he is just the person to do it, even without being in\r
-love.”\r
-\r
-“Then it can be no argument to prove that he is in love. But I do not\r
-think it is at all a likely thing for him to do. Mr. Knightley does\r
-nothing mysteriously.”\r
-\r
-“I have heard him lamenting her having no instrument repeatedly; oftener\r
-than I should suppose such a circumstance would, in the common course of\r
-things, occur to him.”\r
-\r
-“Very well; and if he had intended to give her one, he would have told\r
-her so.”\r
-\r
-“There might be scruples of delicacy, my dear Emma. I have a very strong\r
-notion that it comes from him. I am sure he was particularly silent when\r
-Mrs. Cole told us of it at dinner.”\r
-\r
-“You take up an idea, Mrs. Weston, and run away with it; as you have\r
-many a time reproached me with doing. I see no sign of attachment--I\r
-believe nothing of the pianoforte--and proof only shall convince me that\r
-Mr. Knightley has any thought of marrying Jane Fairfax.”\r
-\r
-They combated the point some time longer in the same way; Emma rather\r
-gaining ground over the mind of her friend; for Mrs. Weston was the most\r
-used of the two to yield; till a little bustle in the room shewed them\r
-that tea was over, and the instrument in preparation;--and at the same\r
-moment Mr. Cole approaching to entreat Miss Woodhouse would do them the\r
-honour of trying it. Frank Churchill, of whom, in the eagerness of her\r
-conversation with Mrs. Weston, she had been seeing nothing, except that\r
-he had found a seat by Miss Fairfax, followed Mr. Cole, to add his very\r
-pressing entreaties; and as, in every respect, it suited Emma best to\r
-lead, she gave a very proper compliance.\r
-\r
-She knew the limitations of her own powers too well to attempt more than\r
-she could perform with credit; she wanted neither taste nor spirit in\r
-the little things which are generally acceptable, and could accompany\r
-her own voice well. One accompaniment to her song took her agreeably by\r
-surprize--a second, slightly but correctly taken by Frank Churchill. Her\r
-pardon was duly begged at the close of the song, and every thing usual\r
-followed. He was accused of having a delightful voice, and a perfect\r
-knowledge of music; which was properly denied; and that he knew nothing\r
-of the matter, and had no voice at all, roundly asserted. They sang\r
-together once more; and Emma would then resign her place to Miss\r
-Fairfax, whose performance, both vocal and instrumental, she never could\r
-attempt to conceal from herself, was infinitely superior to her own.\r
-\r
-With mixed feelings, she seated herself at a little distance from the\r
-numbers round the instrument, to listen. Frank Churchill sang again.\r
-They had sung together once or twice, it appeared, at Weymouth. But the\r
-sight of Mr. Knightley among the most attentive, soon drew away half\r
-Emma’s mind; and she fell into a train of thinking on the subject of\r
-Mrs. Weston’s suspicions, to which the sweet sounds of the united voices\r
-gave only momentary interruptions. Her objections to Mr. Knightley’s\r
-marrying did not in the least subside. She could see nothing but evil\r
-in it. It would be a great disappointment to Mr. John Knightley;\r
-consequently to Isabella. A real injury to the children--a most\r
-mortifying change, and material loss to them all;--a very great\r
-deduction from her father’s daily comfort--and, as to herself, she could\r
-not at all endure the idea of Jane Fairfax at Donwell Abbey. A Mrs.\r
-Knightley for them all to give way to!--No--Mr. Knightley must never\r
-marry. Little Henry must remain the heir of Donwell.\r
-\r
-Presently Mr. Knightley looked back, and came and sat down by her. They\r
-talked at first only of the performance. His admiration was certainly\r
-very warm; yet she thought, but for Mrs. Weston, it would not have\r
-struck her. As a sort of touchstone, however, she began to speak of his\r
-kindness in conveying the aunt and niece; and though his answer was in\r
-the spirit of cutting the matter short, she believed it to indicate only\r
-his disinclination to dwell on any kindness of his own.\r
-\r
-“I often feel concern,” said she, “that I dare not make our carriage\r
-more useful on such occasions. It is not that I am without the wish; but\r
-you know how impossible my father would deem it that James should put-to\r
-for such a purpose.”\r
-\r
-“Quite out of the question, quite out of the question,” he\r
-replied;--“but you must often wish it, I am sure.” And he smiled with\r
-such seeming pleasure at the conviction, that she must proceed another\r
-step.\r
-\r
-“This present from the Campbells,” said she--“this pianoforte is very\r
-kindly given.”\r
-\r
-“Yes,” he replied, and without the smallest apparent\r
-embarrassment.--“But they would have done better had they given\r
-her notice of it. Surprizes are foolish things. The pleasure is not\r
-enhanced, and the inconvenience is often considerable. I should have\r
-expected better judgment in Colonel Campbell.”\r
-\r
-From that moment, Emma could have taken her oath that Mr. Knightley had\r
-had no concern in giving the instrument. But whether he were\r
-entirely free from peculiar attachment--whether there were no actual\r
-preference--remained a little longer doubtful. Towards the end of Jane’s\r
-second song, her voice grew thick.\r
-\r
-“That will do,” said he, when it was finished, thinking aloud--“you have\r
-sung quite enough for one evening--now be quiet.”\r
-\r
-Another song, however, was soon begged for. “One more;--they would not\r
-fatigue Miss Fairfax on any account, and would only ask for one more.”\r
- And Frank Churchill was heard to say, “I think you could manage this\r
-without effort; the first part is so very trifling. The strength of the\r
-song falls on the second.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley grew angry.\r
-\r
-“That fellow,” said he, indignantly, “thinks of nothing but shewing off\r
-his own voice. This must not be.” And touching Miss Bates, who at that\r
-moment passed near--“Miss Bates, are you mad, to let your niece sing\r
-herself hoarse in this manner? Go, and interfere. They have no mercy on\r
-her.”\r
-\r
-Miss Bates, in her real anxiety for Jane, could hardly stay even to\r
-be grateful, before she stept forward and put an end to all farther\r
-singing. Here ceased the concert part of the evening, for Miss Woodhouse\r
-and Miss Fairfax were the only young lady performers; but soon (within\r
-five minutes) the proposal of dancing--originating nobody exactly knew\r
-where--was so effectually promoted by Mr. and Mrs. Cole, that every\r
-thing was rapidly clearing away, to give proper space. Mrs. Weston,\r
-capital in her country-dances, was seated, and beginning an irresistible\r
-waltz; and Frank Churchill, coming up with most becoming gallantry to\r
-Emma, had secured her hand, and led her up to the top.\r
-\r
-While waiting till the other young people could pair themselves off,\r
-Emma found time, in spite of the compliments she was receiving on\r
-her voice and her taste, to look about, and see what became of Mr.\r
-Knightley. This would be a trial. He was no dancer in general. If he\r
-were to be very alert in engaging Jane Fairfax now, it might augur\r
-something. There was no immediate appearance. No; he was talking to Mrs.\r
-Cole--he was looking on unconcerned; Jane was asked by somebody else,\r
-and he was still talking to Mrs. Cole.\r
-\r
-Emma had no longer an alarm for Henry; his interest was yet safe; and\r
-she led off the dance with genuine spirit and enjoyment. Not more than\r
-five couple could be mustered; but the rarity and the suddenness of\r
-it made it very delightful, and she found herself well matched in a\r
-partner. They were a couple worth looking at.\r
-\r
-Two dances, unfortunately, were all that could be allowed. It was\r
-growing late, and Miss Bates became anxious to get home, on her mother’s\r
-account. After some attempts, therefore, to be permitted to begin again,\r
-they were obliged to thank Mrs. Weston, look sorrowful, and have done.\r
-\r
-“Perhaps it is as well,” said Frank Churchill, as he attended Emma to\r
-her carriage. “I must have asked Miss Fairfax, and her languid dancing\r
-would not have agreed with me, after yours.”\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER IX\r
-\r
-\r
-Emma did not repent her condescension in going to the Coles. The visit\r
-afforded her many pleasant recollections the next day; and all that she\r
-might be supposed to have lost on the side of dignified seclusion, must\r
-be amply repaid in the splendour of popularity. She must have delighted\r
-the Coles--worthy people, who deserved to be made happy!--And left a\r
-name behind her that would not soon die away.\r
-\r
-Perfect happiness, even in memory, is not common; and there were two\r
-points on which she was not quite easy. She doubted whether she had not\r
-transgressed the duty of woman by woman, in betraying her suspicions of\r
-Jane Fairfax’s feelings to Frank Churchill. It was hardly right; but it\r
-had been so strong an idea, that it would escape her, and his submission\r
-to all that she told, was a compliment to her penetration, which made\r
-it difficult for her to be quite certain that she ought to have held her\r
-tongue.\r
-\r
-The other circumstance of regret related also to Jane Fairfax; and\r
-there she had no doubt. She did unfeignedly and unequivocally regret the\r
-inferiority of her own playing and singing. She did most heartily\r
-grieve over the idleness of her childhood--and sat down and practised\r
-vigorously an hour and a half.\r
-\r
-She was then interrupted by Harriet’s coming in; and if Harriet’s praise\r
-could have satisfied her, she might soon have been comforted.\r
-\r
-“Oh! if I could but play as well as you and Miss Fairfax!”\r
-\r
-“Don’t class us together, Harriet. My playing is no more like her’s,\r
-than a lamp is like sunshine.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! dear--I think you play the best of the two. I think you play quite\r
-as well as she does. I am sure I had much rather hear you. Every body\r
-last night said how well you played.”\r
-\r
-“Those who knew any thing about it, must have felt the difference. The\r
-truth is, Harriet, that my playing is just good enough to be praised,\r
-but Jane Fairfax’s is much beyond it.”\r
-\r
-“Well, I always shall think that you play quite as well as she does, or\r
-that if there is any difference nobody would ever find it out. Mr. Cole\r
-said how much taste you had; and Mr. Frank Churchill talked a great deal\r
-about your taste, and that he valued taste much more than execution.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! but Jane Fairfax has them both, Harriet.”\r
-\r
-“Are you sure? I saw she had execution, but I did not know she had any\r
-taste. Nobody talked about it. And I hate Italian singing.--There is no\r
-understanding a word of it. Besides, if she does play so very well, you\r
-know, it is no more than she is obliged to do, because she will have to\r
-teach. The Coxes were wondering last night whether she would get into\r
-any great family. How did you think the Coxes looked?”\r
-\r
-“Just as they always do--very vulgar.”\r
-\r
-“They told me something,” said Harriet rather hesitatingly; “but it is\r
-nothing of any consequence.”\r
-\r
-Emma was obliged to ask what they had told her, though fearful of its\r
-producing Mr. Elton.\r
-\r
-“They told me--that Mr. Martin dined with them last Saturday.”\r
-\r
-“Oh!”\r
-\r
-“He came to their father upon some business, and he asked him to stay to\r
-dinner.”\r
-\r
-“Oh!”\r
-\r
-“They talked a great deal about him, especially Anne Cox. I do not know\r
-what she meant, but she asked me if I thought I should go and stay there\r
-again next summer.”\r
-\r
-“She meant to be impertinently curious, just as such an Anne Cox should\r
-be.”\r
-\r
-“She said he was very agreeable the day he dined there. He sat by her at\r
-dinner. Miss Nash thinks either of the Coxes would be very glad to marry\r
-him.”\r
-\r
-“Very likely.--I think they are, without exception, the most vulgar\r
-girls in Highbury.”\r
-\r
-Harriet had business at Ford’s.--Emma thought it most prudent to go with\r
-her. Another accidental meeting with the Martins was possible, and in\r
-her present state, would be dangerous.\r
-\r
-Harriet, tempted by every thing and swayed by half a word, was always\r
-very long at a purchase; and while she was still hanging over muslins\r
-and changing her mind, Emma went to the door for amusement.--Much could\r
-not be hoped from the traffic of even the busiest part of Highbury;--Mr.\r
-Perry walking hastily by, Mr. William Cox letting himself in at the\r
-office-door, Mr. Cole’s carriage-horses returning from exercise, or a\r
-stray letter-boy on an obstinate mule, were the liveliest objects she\r
-could presume to expect; and when her eyes fell only on the butcher with\r
-his tray, a tidy old woman travelling homewards from shop with her full\r
-basket, two curs quarrelling over a dirty bone, and a string of dawdling\r
-children round the baker’s little bow-window eyeing the gingerbread, she\r
-knew she had no reason to complain, and was amused enough; quite enough\r
-still to stand at the door. A mind lively and at ease, can do with\r
-seeing nothing, and can see nothing that does not answer.\r
-\r
-She looked down the Randalls road. The scene enlarged; two persons\r
-appeared; Mrs. Weston and her son-in-law; they were walking into\r
-Highbury;--to Hartfield of course. They were stopping, however, in the\r
-first place at Mrs. Bates’s; whose house was a little nearer\r
-Randalls than Ford’s; and had all but knocked, when Emma caught their\r
-eye.--Immediately they crossed the road and came forward to her; and the\r
-agreeableness of yesterday’s engagement seemed to give fresh pleasure to\r
-the present meeting. Mrs. Weston informed her that she was going to call\r
-on the Bateses, in order to hear the new instrument.\r
-\r
-“For my companion tells me,” said she, “that I absolutely promised Miss\r
-Bates last night, that I would come this morning. I was not aware of it\r
-myself. I did not know that I had fixed a day, but as he says I did, I\r
-am going now.”\r
-\r
-“And while Mrs. Weston pays her visit, I may be allowed, I hope,” said\r
-Frank Churchill, “to join your party and wait for her at Hartfield--if\r
-you are going home.”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston was disappointed.\r
-\r
-“I thought you meant to go with me. They would be very much pleased.”\r
-\r
-“Me! I should be quite in the way. But, perhaps--I may be equally in the\r
-way here. Miss Woodhouse looks as if she did not want me. My aunt always\r
-sends me off when she is shopping. She says I fidget her to death; and\r
-Miss Woodhouse looks as if she could almost say the same. What am I to\r
-do?”\r
-\r
-“I am here on no business of my own,” said Emma; “I am only waiting for\r
-my friend. She will probably have soon done, and then we shall go home.\r
-But you had better go with Mrs. Weston and hear the instrument.”\r
-\r
-“Well--if you advise it.--But (with a smile) if Colonel Campbell should\r
-have employed a careless friend, and if it should prove to have an\r
-indifferent tone--what shall I say? I shall be no support to Mrs.\r
-Weston. She might do very well by herself. A disagreeable truth would be\r
-palatable through her lips, but I am the wretchedest being in the world\r
-at a civil falsehood.”\r
-\r
-“I do not believe any such thing,” replied Emma.--“I am persuaded that\r
-you can be as insincere as your neighbours, when it is necessary; but\r
-there is no reason to suppose the instrument is indifferent. Quite\r
-otherwise indeed, if I understood Miss Fairfax’s opinion last night.”\r
-\r
-“Do come with me,” said Mrs. Weston, “if it be not very disagreeable to\r
-you. It need not detain us long. We will go to Hartfield afterwards.\r
-We will follow them to Hartfield. I really wish you to call with me. It\r
-will be felt so great an attention! and I always thought you meant it.”\r
-\r
-He could say no more; and with the hope of Hartfield to reward him,\r
-returned with Mrs. Weston to Mrs. Bates’s door. Emma watched them in,\r
-and then joined Harriet at the interesting counter,--trying, with all\r
-the force of her own mind, to convince her that if she wanted plain\r
-muslin it was of no use to look at figured; and that a blue ribbon, be\r
-it ever so beautiful, would still never match her yellow pattern. At\r
-last it was all settled, even to the destination of the parcel.\r
-\r
-“Should I send it to Mrs. Goddard’s, ma’am?” asked Mrs.\r
-Ford.--“Yes--no--yes, to Mrs. Goddard’s. Only my pattern gown is at\r
-Hartfield. No, you shall send it to Hartfield, if you please. But then,\r
-Mrs. Goddard will want to see it.--And I could take the pattern gown\r
-home any day. But I shall want the ribbon directly--so it had better go\r
-to Hartfield--at least the ribbon. You could make it into two parcels,\r
-Mrs. Ford, could not you?”\r
-\r
-“It is not worth while, Harriet, to give Mrs. Ford the trouble of two\r
-parcels.”\r
-\r
-“No more it is.”\r
-\r
-“No trouble in the world, ma’am,” said the obliging Mrs. Ford.\r
-\r
-“Oh! but indeed I would much rather have it only in one. Then, if you\r
-please, you shall send it all to Mrs. Goddard’s--I do not know--No, I\r
-think, Miss Woodhouse, I may just as well have it sent to Hartfield, and\r
-take it home with me at night. What do you advise?”\r
-\r
-“That you do not give another half-second to the subject. To Hartfield,\r
-if you please, Mrs. Ford.”\r
-\r
-“Aye, that will be much best,” said Harriet, quite satisfied, “I should\r
-not at all like to have it sent to Mrs. Goddard’s.”\r
-\r
-Voices approached the shop--or rather one voice and two ladies: Mrs.\r
-Weston and Miss Bates met them at the door.\r
-\r
-“My dear Miss Woodhouse,” said the latter, “I am just run across to\r
-entreat the favour of you to come and sit down with us a little while,\r
-and give us your opinion of our new instrument; you and Miss Smith. How\r
-do you do, Miss Smith?--Very well I thank you.--And I begged Mrs. Weston\r
-to come with me, that I might be sure of succeeding.”\r
-\r
-“I hope Mrs. Bates and Miss Fairfax are--”\r
-\r
-“Very well, I am much obliged to you. My mother is delightfully well;\r
-and Jane caught no cold last night. How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad\r
-to hear such a good account. Mrs. Weston told me you were here.--Oh!\r
-then, said I, I must run across, I am sure Miss Woodhouse will allow me\r
-just to run across and entreat her to come in; my mother will be so\r
-very happy to see her--and now we are such a nice party, she cannot\r
-refuse.--‘Aye, pray do,’ said Mr. Frank Churchill, ‘Miss Woodhouse’s\r
-opinion of the instrument will be worth having.’--But, said I, I shall\r
-be more sure of succeeding if one of you will go with me.--‘Oh,’ said\r
-he, ‘wait half a minute, till I have finished my job;’--For, would you\r
-believe it, Miss Woodhouse, there he is, in the most obliging manner in\r
-the world, fastening in the rivet of my mother’s spectacles.--The rivet\r
-came out, you know, this morning.--So very obliging!--For my mother had\r
-no use of her spectacles--could not put them on. And, by the bye, every\r
-body ought to have two pair of spectacles; they should indeed. Jane said\r
-so. I meant to take them over to John Saunders the first thing I did,\r
-but something or other hindered me all the morning; first one thing,\r
-then another, there is no saying what, you know. At one time Patty came\r
-to say she thought the kitchen chimney wanted sweeping. Oh, said I,\r
-Patty do not come with your bad news to me. Here is the rivet of your\r
-mistress’s spectacles out. Then the baked apples came home, Mrs. Wallis\r
-sent them by her boy; they are extremely civil and obliging to us, the\r
-Wallises, always--I have heard some people say that Mrs. Wallis can be\r
-uncivil and give a very rude answer, but we have never known any thing\r
-but the greatest attention from them. And it cannot be for the value\r
-of our custom now, for what is our consumption of bread, you know?\r
-Only three of us.--besides dear Jane at present--and she really eats\r
-nothing--makes such a shocking breakfast, you would be quite frightened\r
-if you saw it. I dare not let my mother know how little she eats--so I\r
-say one thing and then I say another, and it passes off. But about the\r
-middle of the day she gets hungry, and there is nothing she likes so\r
-well as these baked apples, and they are extremely wholesome, for I took\r
-the opportunity the other day of asking Mr. Perry; I happened to meet\r
-him in the street. Not that I had any doubt before--I have so often\r
-heard Mr. Woodhouse recommend a baked apple. I believe it is the only\r
-way that Mr. Woodhouse thinks the fruit thoroughly wholesome. We\r
-have apple-dumplings, however, very often. Patty makes an excellent\r
-apple-dumpling. Well, Mrs. Weston, you have prevailed, I hope, and these\r
-ladies will oblige us.”\r
-\r
-Emma would be “very happy to wait on Mrs. Bates, &c.,” and they did at\r
-last move out of the shop, with no farther delay from Miss Bates than,\r
-\r
-“How do you do, Mrs. Ford? I beg your pardon. I did not see you before.\r
-I hear you have a charming collection of new ribbons from town. Jane\r
-came back delighted yesterday. Thank ye, the gloves do very well--only a\r
-little too large about the wrist; but Jane is taking them in.”\r
-\r
-“What was I talking of?” said she, beginning again when they were all in\r
-the street.\r
-\r
-Emma wondered on what, of all the medley, she would fix.\r
-\r
-“I declare I cannot recollect what I was talking of.--Oh! my mother’s\r
-spectacles. So very obliging of Mr. Frank Churchill! ‘Oh!’ said he,\r
-‘I do think I can fasten the rivet; I like a job of this kind\r
-excessively.’--Which you know shewed him to be so very.... Indeed I must\r
-say that, much as I had heard of him before and much as I had expected,\r
-he very far exceeds any thing.... I do congratulate you, Mrs. Weston,\r
-most warmly. He seems every thing the fondest parent could....\r
-‘Oh!’ said he, ‘I can fasten the rivet. I like a job of that sort\r
-excessively.’ I never shall forget his manner. And when I brought out\r
-the baked apples from the closet, and hoped our friends would be so very\r
-obliging as to take some, ‘Oh!’ said he directly, ‘there is nothing\r
-in the way of fruit half so good, and these are the finest-looking\r
-home-baked apples I ever saw in my life.’ That, you know, was so\r
-very.... And I am sure, by his manner, it was no compliment. Indeed they\r
-are very delightful apples, and Mrs. Wallis does them full justice--only\r
-we do not have them baked more than twice, and Mr. Woodhouse made us\r
-promise to have them done three times--but Miss Woodhouse will be so\r
-good as not to mention it. The apples themselves are the very finest\r
-sort for baking, beyond a doubt; all from Donwell--some of Mr.\r
-Knightley’s most liberal supply. He sends us a sack every year; and\r
-certainly there never was such a keeping apple anywhere as one of his\r
-trees--I believe there is two of them. My mother says the orchard was\r
-always famous in her younger days. But I was really quite shocked the\r
-other day--for Mr. Knightley called one morning, and Jane was eating\r
-these apples, and we talked about them and said how much she enjoyed\r
-them, and he asked whether we were not got to the end of our stock. ‘I\r
-am sure you must be,’ said he, ‘and I will send you another supply; for\r
-I have a great many more than I can ever use. William Larkins let me\r
-keep a larger quantity than usual this year. I will send you some more,\r
-before they get good for nothing.’ So I begged he would not--for really\r
-as to ours being gone, I could not absolutely say that we had a great\r
-many left--it was but half a dozen indeed; but they should be all kept\r
-for Jane; and I could not at all bear that he should be sending us more,\r
-so liberal as he had been already; and Jane said the same. And when\r
-he was gone, she almost quarrelled with me--No, I should not say\r
-quarrelled, for we never had a quarrel in our lives; but she was quite\r
-distressed that I had owned the apples were so nearly gone; she wished\r
-I had made him believe we had a great many left. Oh, said I, my dear,\r
-I did say as much as I could. However, the very same evening William\r
-Larkins came over with a large basket of apples, the same sort of\r
-apples, a bushel at least, and I was very much obliged, and went down\r
-and spoke to William Larkins and said every thing, as you may suppose.\r
-William Larkins is such an old acquaintance! I am always glad to see\r
-him. But, however, I found afterwards from Patty, that William said it\r
-was all the apples of _that_ sort his master had; he had brought them\r
-all--and now his master had not one left to bake or boil. William did\r
-not seem to mind it himself, he was so pleased to think his master had\r
-sold so many; for William, you know, thinks more of his master’s profit\r
-than any thing; but Mrs. Hodges, he said, was quite displeased at their\r
-being all sent away. She could not bear that her master should not be\r
-able to have another apple-tart this spring. He told Patty this, but bid\r
-her not mind it, and be sure not to say any thing to us about it, for\r
-Mrs. Hodges _would_ be cross sometimes, and as long as so many sacks\r
-were sold, it did not signify who ate the remainder. And so Patty told\r
-me, and I was excessively shocked indeed! I would not have Mr. Knightley\r
-know any thing about it for the world! He would be so very.... I wanted\r
-to keep it from Jane’s knowledge; but, unluckily, I had mentioned it\r
-before I was aware.”\r
-\r
-Miss Bates had just done as Patty opened the door; and her visitors\r
-walked upstairs without having any regular narration to attend to,\r
-pursued only by the sounds of her desultory good-will.\r
-\r
-“Pray take care, Mrs. Weston, there is a step at the turning. Pray take\r
-care, Miss Woodhouse, ours is rather a dark staircase--rather darker\r
-and narrower than one could wish. Miss Smith, pray take care. Miss\r
-Woodhouse, I am quite concerned, I am sure you hit your foot. Miss\r
-Smith, the step at the turning.”\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER X\r
-\r
-\r
-The appearance of the little sitting-room as they entered, was\r
-tranquillity itself; Mrs. Bates, deprived of her usual employment,\r
-slumbering on one side of the fire, Frank Churchill, at a table near\r
-her, most deedily occupied about her spectacles, and Jane Fairfax,\r
-standing with her back to them, intent on her pianoforte.\r
-\r
-Busy as he was, however, the young man was yet able to shew a most happy\r
-countenance on seeing Emma again.\r
-\r
-“This is a pleasure,” said he, in rather a low voice, “coming at least\r
-ten minutes earlier than I had calculated. You find me trying to be\r
-useful; tell me if you think I shall succeed.”\r
-\r
-“What!” said Mrs. Weston, “have not you finished it yet? you would not\r
-earn a very good livelihood as a working silversmith at this rate.”\r
-\r
-“I have not been working uninterruptedly,” he replied, “I have been\r
-assisting Miss Fairfax in trying to make her instrument stand steadily,\r
-it was not quite firm; an unevenness in the floor, I believe. You see\r
-we have been wedging one leg with paper. This was very kind of you to be\r
-persuaded to come. I was almost afraid you would be hurrying home.”\r
-\r
-He contrived that she should be seated by him; and was sufficiently\r
-employed in looking out the best baked apple for her, and trying to make\r
-her help or advise him in his work, till Jane Fairfax was quite ready\r
-to sit down to the pianoforte again. That she was not immediately ready,\r
-Emma did suspect to arise from the state of her nerves; she had not yet\r
-possessed the instrument long enough to touch it without emotion; she\r
-must reason herself into the power of performance; and Emma could not\r
-but pity such feelings, whatever their origin, and could not but resolve\r
-never to expose them to her neighbour again.\r
-\r
-At last Jane began, and though the first bars were feebly given, the\r
-powers of the instrument were gradually done full justice to. Mrs.\r
-Weston had been delighted before, and was delighted again; Emma\r
-joined her in all her praise; and the pianoforte, with every proper\r
-discrimination, was pronounced to be altogether of the highest promise.\r
-\r
-“Whoever Colonel Campbell might employ,” said Frank Churchill, with a\r
-smile at Emma, “the person has not chosen ill. I heard a good deal of\r
-Colonel Campbell’s taste at Weymouth; and the softness of the upper\r
-notes I am sure is exactly what he and _all_ _that_ _party_ would\r
-particularly prize. I dare say, Miss Fairfax, that he either gave his\r
-friend very minute directions, or wrote to Broadwood himself. Do not you\r
-think so?”\r
-\r
-Jane did not look round. She was not obliged to hear. Mrs. Weston had\r
-been speaking to her at the same moment.\r
-\r
-“It is not fair,” said Emma, in a whisper; “mine was a random guess. Do\r
-not distress her.”\r
-\r
-He shook his head with a smile, and looked as if he had very little\r
-doubt and very little mercy. Soon afterwards he began again,\r
-\r
-“How much your friends in Ireland must be enjoying your pleasure on this\r
-occasion, Miss Fairfax. I dare say they often think of you, and wonder\r
-which will be the day, the precise day of the instrument’s coming to\r
-hand. Do you imagine Colonel Campbell knows the business to be going\r
-forward just at this time?--Do you imagine it to be the consequence\r
-of an immediate commission from him, or that he may have sent only\r
-a general direction, an order indefinite as to time, to depend upon\r
-contingencies and conveniences?”\r
-\r
-He paused. She could not but hear; she could not avoid answering,\r
-\r
-“Till I have a letter from Colonel Campbell,” said she, in a voice of\r
-forced calmness, “I can imagine nothing with any confidence. It must be\r
-all conjecture.”\r
-\r
-“Conjecture--aye, sometimes one conjectures right, and sometimes one\r
-conjectures wrong. I wish I could conjecture how soon I shall make this\r
-rivet quite firm. What nonsense one talks, Miss Woodhouse, when hard\r
-at work, if one talks at all;--your real workmen, I suppose, hold their\r
-tongues; but we gentlemen labourers if we get hold of a word--Miss\r
-Fairfax said something about conjecturing. There, it is done. I have the\r
-pleasure, madam, (to Mrs. Bates,) of restoring your spectacles, healed\r
-for the present.”\r
-\r
-He was very warmly thanked both by mother and daughter; to escape a\r
-little from the latter, he went to the pianoforte, and begged Miss\r
-Fairfax, who was still sitting at it, to play something more.\r
-\r
-“If you are very kind,” said he, “it will be one of the waltzes we\r
-danced last night;--let me live them over again. You did not enjoy them\r
-as I did; you appeared tired the whole time. I believe you were glad we\r
-danced no longer; but I would have given worlds--all the worlds one ever\r
-has to give--for another half-hour.”\r
-\r
-She played.\r
-\r
-“What felicity it is to hear a tune again which _has_ made one\r
-happy!--If I mistake not that was danced at Weymouth.”\r
-\r
-She looked up at him for a moment, coloured deeply, and played something\r
-else. He took some music from a chair near the pianoforte, and turning\r
-to Emma, said,\r
-\r
-“Here is something quite new to me. Do you know it?--Cramer.--And here\r
-are a new set of Irish melodies. That, from such a quarter, one might\r
-expect. This was all sent with the instrument. Very thoughtful of\r
-Colonel Campbell, was not it?--He knew Miss Fairfax could have no music\r
-here. I honour that part of the attention particularly; it shews it to\r
-have been so thoroughly from the heart. Nothing hastily done; nothing\r
-incomplete. True affection only could have prompted it.”\r
-\r
-Emma wished he would be less pointed, yet could not help being amused;\r
-and when on glancing her eye towards Jane Fairfax she caught the remains\r
-of a smile, when she saw that with all the deep blush of consciousness,\r
-there had been a smile of secret delight, she had less scruple in the\r
-amusement, and much less compunction with respect to her.--This\r
-amiable, upright, perfect Jane Fairfax was apparently cherishing very\r
-reprehensible feelings.\r
-\r
-He brought all the music to her, and they looked it over together.--Emma\r
-took the opportunity of whispering,\r
-\r
-“You speak too plain. She must understand you.”\r
-\r
-“I hope she does. I would have her understand me. I am not in the least\r
-ashamed of my meaning.”\r
-\r
-“But really, I am half ashamed, and wish I had never taken up the idea.”\r
-\r
-“I am very glad you did, and that you communicated it to me. I have now\r
-a key to all her odd looks and ways. Leave shame to her. If she does\r
-wrong, she ought to feel it.”\r
-\r
-“She is not entirely without it, I think.”\r
-\r
-“I do not see much sign of it. She is playing _Robin_ _Adair_ at this\r
-moment--_his_ favourite.”\r
-\r
-Shortly afterwards Miss Bates, passing near the window, descried Mr.\r
-Knightley on horse-back not far off.\r
-\r
-“Mr. Knightley I declare!--I must speak to him if possible, just to\r
-thank him. I will not open the window here; it would give you all cold;\r
-but I can go into my mother’s room you know. I dare say he will come\r
-in when he knows who is here. Quite delightful to have you all meet\r
-so!--Our little room so honoured!”\r
-\r
-She was in the adjoining chamber while she still spoke, and opening the\r
-casement there, immediately called Mr. Knightley’s attention, and every\r
-syllable of their conversation was as distinctly heard by the others, as\r
-if it had passed within the same apartment.\r
-\r
-“How d’ ye do?--how d’ye do?--Very well, I thank you. So obliged to you\r
-for the carriage last night. We were just in time; my mother just ready\r
-for us. Pray come in; do come in. You will find some friends here.”\r
-\r
-So began Miss Bates; and Mr. Knightley seemed determined to be heard in\r
-his turn, for most resolutely and commandingly did he say,\r
-\r
-“How is your niece, Miss Bates?--I want to inquire after you all, but\r
-particularly your niece. How is Miss Fairfax?--I hope she caught no cold\r
-last night. How is she to-day? Tell me how Miss Fairfax is.”\r
-\r
-And Miss Bates was obliged to give a direct answer before he would hear\r
-her in any thing else. The listeners were amused; and Mrs. Weston gave\r
-Emma a look of particular meaning. But Emma still shook her head in\r
-steady scepticism.\r
-\r
-“So obliged to you!--so very much obliged to you for the carriage,”\r
- resumed Miss Bates.\r
-\r
-He cut her short with,\r
-\r
-“I am going to Kingston. Can I do any thing for you?”\r
-\r
-“Oh! dear, Kingston--are you?--Mrs. Cole was saying the other day she\r
-wanted something from Kingston.”\r
-\r
-“Mrs. Cole has servants to send. Can I do any thing for _you_?”\r
-\r
-“No, I thank you. But do come in. Who do you think is here?--Miss\r
-Woodhouse and Miss Smith; so kind as to call to hear the new pianoforte.\r
-Do put up your horse at the Crown, and come in.”\r
-\r
-“Well,” said he, in a deliberating manner, “for five minutes, perhaps.”\r
-\r
-“And here is Mrs. Weston and Mr. Frank Churchill too!--Quite delightful;\r
-so many friends!”\r
-\r
-“No, not now, I thank you. I could not stay two minutes. I must get on\r
-to Kingston as fast as I can.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! do come in. They will be so very happy to see you.”\r
-\r
-“No, no; your room is full enough. I will call another day, and hear the\r
-pianoforte.”\r
-\r
-“Well, I am so sorry!--Oh! Mr. Knightley, what a delightful party last\r
-night; how extremely pleasant.--Did you ever see such dancing?--Was not\r
-it delightful?--Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill; I never saw any\r
-thing equal to it.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! very delightful indeed; I can say nothing less, for I suppose Miss\r
-Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill are hearing every thing that passes.\r
-And (raising his voice still more) I do not see why Miss Fairfax should\r
-not be mentioned too. I think Miss Fairfax dances very well; and Mrs.\r
-Weston is the very best country-dance player, without exception,\r
-in England. Now, if your friends have any gratitude, they will say\r
-something pretty loud about you and me in return; but I cannot stay to\r
-hear it.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! Mr. Knightley, one moment more; something of consequence--so\r
-shocked!--Jane and I are both so shocked about the apples!”\r
-\r
-“What is the matter now?”\r
-\r
-“To think of your sending us all your store apples. You said you had\r
-a great many, and now you have not one left. We really are so shocked!\r
-Mrs. Hodges may well be angry. William Larkins mentioned it here. You\r
-should not have done it, indeed you should not. Ah! he is off. He never\r
-can bear to be thanked. But I thought he would have staid now, and it\r
-would have been a pity not to have mentioned.... Well, (returning to the\r
-room,) I have not been able to succeed. Mr. Knightley cannot stop. He is\r
-going to Kingston. He asked me if he could do any thing....”\r
-\r
-“Yes,” said Jane, “we heard his kind offers, we heard every thing.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! yes, my dear, I dare say you might, because you know, the door was\r
-open, and the window was open, and Mr. Knightley spoke loud. You must\r
-have heard every thing to be sure. ‘Can I do any thing for you at\r
-Kingston?’ said he; so I just mentioned.... Oh! Miss Woodhouse, must you\r
-be going?--You seem but just come--so very obliging of you.”\r
-\r
-Emma found it really time to be at home; the visit had already lasted\r
-long; and on examining watches, so much of the morning was perceived\r
-to be gone, that Mrs. Weston and her companion taking leave also, could\r
-allow themselves only to walk with the two young ladies to Hartfield\r
-gates, before they set off for Randalls.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XI\r
-\r
-\r
-It may be possible to do without dancing entirely. Instances have been\r
-known of young people passing many, many months successively, without\r
-being at any ball of any description, and no material injury accrue\r
-either to body or mind;--but when a beginning is made--when the\r
-felicities of rapid motion have once been, though slightly, felt--it\r
-must be a very heavy set that does not ask for more.\r
-\r
-Frank Churchill had danced once at Highbury, and longed to dance again;\r
-and the last half-hour of an evening which Mr. Woodhouse was persuaded\r
-to spend with his daughter at Randalls, was passed by the two young\r
-people in schemes on the subject. Frank’s was the first idea; and his\r
-the greatest zeal in pursuing it; for the lady was the best judge of the\r
-difficulties, and the most solicitous for accommodation and appearance.\r
-But still she had inclination enough for shewing people again how\r
-delightfully Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse danced--for\r
-doing that in which she need not blush to compare herself with Jane\r
-Fairfax--and even for simple dancing itself, without any of the wicked\r
-aids of vanity--to assist him first in pacing out the room they were in\r
-to see what it could be made to hold--and then in taking the dimensions\r
-of the other parlour, in the hope of discovering, in spite of all that\r
-Mr. Weston could say of their exactly equal size, that it was a little\r
-the largest.\r
-\r
-His first proposition and request, that the dance begun at Mr. Cole’s\r
-should be finished there--that the same party should be collected,\r
-and the same musician engaged, met with the readiest acquiescence. Mr.\r
-Weston entered into the idea with thorough enjoyment, and Mrs. Weston\r
-most willingly undertook to play as long as they could wish to dance;\r
-and the interesting employment had followed, of reckoning up exactly who\r
-there would be, and portioning out the indispensable division of space\r
-to every couple.\r
-\r
-“You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss\r
-Coxes five,” had been repeated many times over. “And there will be the\r
-two Gilberts, young Cox, my father, and myself, besides Mr. Knightley.\r
-Yes, that will be quite enough for pleasure. You and Miss Smith, and\r
-Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five; and for five\r
-couple there will be plenty of room.”\r
-\r
-But soon it came to be on one side,\r
-\r
-“But will there be good room for five couple?--I really do not think\r
-there will.”\r
-\r
-On another,\r
-\r
-“And after all, five couple are not enough to make it worth while to\r
-stand up. Five couple are nothing, when one thinks seriously about it.\r
-It will not do to _invite_ five couple. It can be allowable only as the\r
-thought of the moment.”\r
-\r
-Somebody said that _Miss_ Gilbert was expected at her brother’s, and\r
-must be invited with the rest. Somebody else believed _Mrs_. Gilbert\r
-would have danced the other evening, if she had been asked. A word was\r
-put in for a second young Cox; and at last, Mr. Weston naming one family\r
-of cousins who must be included, and another of very old acquaintance\r
-who could not be left out, it became a certainty that the five couple\r
-would be at least ten, and a very interesting speculation in what\r
-possible manner they could be disposed of.\r
-\r
-The doors of the two rooms were just opposite each other. “Might not\r
-they use both rooms, and dance across the passage?” It seemed the\r
-best scheme; and yet it was not so good but that many of them wanted a\r
-better. Emma said it would be awkward; Mrs. Weston was in distress about\r
-the supper; and Mr. Woodhouse opposed it earnestly, on the score of\r
-health. It made him so very unhappy, indeed, that it could not be\r
-persevered in.\r
-\r
-“Oh! no,” said he; “it would be the extreme of imprudence. I could not\r
-bear it for Emma!--Emma is not strong. She would catch a dreadful cold.\r
-So would poor little Harriet. So you would all. Mrs. Weston, you would\r
-be quite laid up; do not let them talk of such a wild thing. Pray do\r
-not let them talk of it. That young man (speaking lower) is very\r
-thoughtless. Do not tell his father, but that young man is not quite\r
-the thing. He has been opening the doors very often this evening,\r
-and keeping them open very inconsiderately. He does not think of the\r
-draught. I do not mean to set you against him, but indeed he is not\r
-quite the thing!”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston was sorry for such a charge. She knew the importance of\r
-it, and said every thing in her power to do it away. Every door was now\r
-closed, the passage plan given up, and the first scheme of dancing only\r
-in the room they were in resorted to again; and with such good-will on\r
-Frank Churchill’s part, that the space which a quarter of an hour before\r
-had been deemed barely sufficient for five couple, was now endeavoured\r
-to be made out quite enough for ten.\r
-\r
-“We were too magnificent,” said he. “We allowed unnecessary room. Ten\r
-couple may stand here very well.”\r
-\r
-Emma demurred. “It would be a crowd--a sad crowd; and what could be\r
-worse than dancing without space to turn in?”\r
-\r
-“Very true,” he gravely replied; “it was very bad.” But still he went on\r
-measuring, and still he ended with,\r
-\r
-“I think there will be very tolerable room for ten couple.”\r
-\r
-“No, no,” said she, “you are quite unreasonable. It would be dreadful\r
-to be standing so close! Nothing can be farther from pleasure than to be\r
-dancing in a crowd--and a crowd in a little room!”\r
-\r
-“There is no denying it,” he replied. “I agree with you exactly. A crowd\r
-in a little room--Miss Woodhouse, you have the art of giving pictures\r
-in a few words. Exquisite, quite exquisite!--Still, however, having\r
-proceeded so far, one is unwilling to give the matter up. It would be\r
-a disappointment to my father--and altogether--I do not know that--I am\r
-rather of opinion that ten couple might stand here very well.”\r
-\r
-Emma perceived that the nature of his gallantry was a little\r
-self-willed, and that he would rather oppose than lose the pleasure of\r
-dancing with her; but she took the compliment, and forgave the rest.\r
-Had she intended ever to _marry_ him, it might have been worth while to\r
-pause and consider, and try to understand the value of his preference,\r
-and the character of his temper; but for all the purposes of their\r
-acquaintance, he was quite amiable enough.\r
-\r
-Before the middle of the next day, he was at Hartfield; and he entered\r
-the room with such an agreeable smile as certified the continuance of\r
-the scheme. It soon appeared that he came to announce an improvement.\r
-\r
-“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” he almost immediately began, “your inclination\r
-for dancing has not been quite frightened away, I hope, by the terrors\r
-of my father’s little rooms. I bring a new proposal on the subject:--a\r
-thought of my father’s, which waits only your approbation to be acted\r
-upon. May I hope for the honour of your hand for the two first dances\r
-of this little projected ball, to be given, not at Randalls, but at the\r
-Crown Inn?”\r
-\r
-“The Crown!”\r
-\r
-“Yes; if you and Mr. Woodhouse see no objection, and I trust you cannot,\r
-my father hopes his friends will be so kind as to visit him there.\r
-Better accommodations, he can promise them, and not a less grateful\r
-welcome than at Randalls. It is his own idea. Mrs. Weston sees no\r
-objection to it, provided you are satisfied. This is what we all feel.\r
-Oh! you were perfectly right! Ten couple, in either of the Randalls\r
-rooms, would have been insufferable!--Dreadful!--I felt how right you\r
-were the whole time, but was too anxious for securing _any_ _thing_\r
-to like to yield. Is not it a good exchange?--You consent--I hope you\r
-consent?”\r
-\r
-“It appears to me a plan that nobody can object to, if Mr. and Mrs.\r
-Weston do not. I think it admirable; and, as far as I can answer for\r
-myself, shall be most happy--It seems the only improvement that could\r
-be. Papa, do you not think it an excellent improvement?”\r
-\r
-She was obliged to repeat and explain it, before it was fully\r
-comprehended; and then, being quite new, farther representations were\r
-necessary to make it acceptable.\r
-\r
-“No; he thought it very far from an improvement--a very bad plan--much\r
-worse than the other. A room at an inn was always damp and dangerous;\r
-never properly aired, or fit to be inhabited. If they must dance, they\r
-had better dance at Randalls. He had never been in the room at the Crown\r
-in his life--did not know the people who kept it by sight.--Oh! no--a\r
-very bad plan. They would catch worse colds at the Crown than anywhere.”\r
-\r
-“I was going to observe, sir,” said Frank Churchill, “that one of the\r
-great recommendations of this change would be the very little danger\r
-of any body’s catching cold--so much less danger at the Crown than at\r
-Randalls! Mr. Perry might have reason to regret the alteration, but\r
-nobody else could.”\r
-\r
-“Sir,” said Mr. Woodhouse, rather warmly, “you are very much mistaken\r
-if you suppose Mr. Perry to be that sort of character. Mr. Perry is\r
-extremely concerned when any of us are ill. But I do not understand how\r
-the room at the Crown can be safer for you than your father’s house.”\r
-\r
-“From the very circumstance of its being larger, sir. We shall have no\r
-occasion to open the windows at all--not once the whole evening; and it\r
-is that dreadful habit of opening the windows, letting in cold air upon\r
-heated bodies, which (as you well know, sir) does the mischief.”\r
-\r
-“Open the windows!--but surely, Mr. Churchill, nobody would think of\r
-opening the windows at Randalls. Nobody could be so imprudent! I never\r
-heard of such a thing. Dancing with open windows!--I am sure, neither\r
-your father nor Mrs. Weston (poor Miss Taylor that was) would suffer\r
-it.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! sir--but a thoughtless young person will sometimes step behind a\r
-window-curtain, and throw up a sash, without its being suspected. I have\r
-often known it done myself.”\r
-\r
-“Have you indeed, sir?--Bless me! I never could have supposed it. But I\r
-live out of the world, and am often astonished at what I hear. However,\r
-this does make a difference; and, perhaps, when we come to talk it\r
-over--but these sort of things require a good deal of consideration. One\r
-cannot resolve upon them in a hurry. If Mr. and Mrs. Weston will be so\r
-obliging as to call here one morning, we may talk it over, and see what\r
-can be done.”\r
-\r
-“But, unfortunately, sir, my time is so limited--”\r
-\r
-“Oh!” interrupted Emma, “there will be plenty of time for talking every\r
-thing over. There is no hurry at all. If it can be contrived to be at\r
-the Crown, papa, it will be very convenient for the horses. They will be\r
-so near their own stable.”\r
-\r
-“So they will, my dear. That is a great thing. Not that James ever\r
-complains; but it is right to spare our horses when we can. If I could\r
-be sure of the rooms being thoroughly aired--but is Mrs. Stokes to be\r
-trusted? I doubt it. I do not know her, even by sight.”\r
-\r
-“I can answer for every thing of that nature, sir, because it will be\r
-under Mrs. Weston’s care. Mrs. Weston undertakes to direct the whole.”\r
-\r
-“There, papa!--Now you must be satisfied--Our own dear Mrs. Weston, who\r
-is carefulness itself. Do not you remember what Mr. Perry said, so many\r
-years ago, when I had the measles? ‘If _Miss_ _Taylor_ undertakes to\r
-wrap Miss Emma up, you need not have any fears, sir.’ How often have I\r
-heard you speak of it as such a compliment to her!”\r
-\r
-“Aye, very true. Mr. Perry did say so. I shall never forget it. Poor\r
-little Emma! You were very bad with the measles; that is, you would have\r
-been very bad, but for Perry’s great attention. He came four times a day\r
-for a week. He said, from the first, it was a very good sort--which\r
-was our great comfort; but the measles are a dreadful complaint. I hope\r
-whenever poor Isabella’s little ones have the measles, she will send for\r
-Perry.”\r
-\r
-“My father and Mrs. Weston are at the Crown at this moment,” said Frank\r
-Churchill, “examining the capabilities of the house. I left them there\r
-and came on to Hartfield, impatient for your opinion, and hoping you\r
-might be persuaded to join them and give your advice on the spot. I was\r
-desired to say so from both. It would be the greatest pleasure to\r
-them, if you could allow me to attend you there. They can do nothing\r
-satisfactorily without you.”\r
-\r
-Emma was most happy to be called to such a council; and her father,\r
-engaging to think it all over while she was gone, the two young people\r
-set off together without delay for the Crown. There were Mr. and Mrs.\r
-Weston; delighted to see her and receive her approbation, very busy and\r
-very happy in their different way; she, in some little distress; and he,\r
-finding every thing perfect.\r
-\r
-“Emma,” said she, “this paper is worse than I expected. Look! in places\r
-you see it is dreadfully dirty; and the wainscot is more yellow and\r
-forlorn than any thing I could have imagined.”\r
-\r
-“My dear, you are too particular,” said her husband. “What does all that\r
-signify? You will see nothing of it by candlelight. It will be as\r
-clean as Randalls by candlelight. We never see any thing of it on our\r
-club-nights.”\r
-\r
-The ladies here probably exchanged looks which meant, “Men never know\r
-when things are dirty or not;” and the gentlemen perhaps thought each to\r
-himself, “Women will have their little nonsenses and needless cares.”\r
-\r
-One perplexity, however, arose, which the gentlemen did not disdain.\r
-It regarded a supper-room. At the time of the ballroom’s being built,\r
-suppers had not been in question; and a small card-room adjoining, was\r
-the only addition. What was to be done? This card-room would be wanted\r
-as a card-room now; or, if cards were conveniently voted unnecessary\r
-by their four selves, still was it not too small for any comfortable\r
-supper? Another room of much better size might be secured for the\r
-purpose; but it was at the other end of the house, and a long awkward\r
-passage must be gone through to get at it. This made a difficulty. Mrs.\r
-Weston was afraid of draughts for the young people in that passage;\r
-and neither Emma nor the gentlemen could tolerate the prospect of being\r
-miserably crowded at supper.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston proposed having no regular supper; merely sandwiches,\r
-&c., set out in the little room; but that was scouted as a wretched\r
-suggestion. A private dance, without sitting down to supper, was\r
-pronounced an infamous fraud upon the rights of men and women; and\r
-Mrs. Weston must not speak of it again. She then took another line of\r
-expediency, and looking into the doubtful room, observed,\r
-\r
-“I do not think it _is_ so very small. We shall not be many, you know.”\r
-\r
-And Mr. Weston at the same time, walking briskly with long steps through\r
-the passage, was calling out,\r
-\r
-“You talk a great deal of the length of this passage, my dear. It is a\r
-mere nothing after all; and not the least draught from the stairs.”\r
-\r
-“I wish,” said Mrs. Weston, “one could know which arrangement our guests\r
-in general would like best. To do what would be most generally pleasing\r
-must be our object--if one could but tell what that would be.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, very true,” cried Frank, “very true. You want your neighbours’\r
-opinions. I do not wonder at you. If one could ascertain what the chief\r
-of them--the Coles, for instance. They are not far off. Shall I call\r
-upon them? Or Miss Bates? She is still nearer.--And I do not know\r
-whether Miss Bates is not as likely to understand the inclinations of\r
-the rest of the people as any body. I think we do want a larger council.\r
-Suppose I go and invite Miss Bates to join us?”\r
-\r
-“Well--if you please,” said Mrs. Weston rather hesitating, “if you think\r
-she will be of any use.”\r
-\r
-“You will get nothing to the purpose from Miss Bates,” said Emma. “She\r
-will be all delight and gratitude, but she will tell you nothing. She\r
-will not even listen to your questions. I see no advantage in consulting\r
-Miss Bates.”\r
-\r
-“But she is so amusing, so extremely amusing! I am very fond of hearing\r
-Miss Bates talk. And I need not bring the whole family, you know.”\r
-\r
-Here Mr. Weston joined them, and on hearing what was proposed, gave it\r
-his decided approbation.\r
-\r
-“Aye, do, Frank.--Go and fetch Miss Bates, and let us end the matter at\r
-once. She will enjoy the scheme, I am sure; and I do not know a properer\r
-person for shewing us how to do away difficulties. Fetch Miss Bates.\r
-We are growing a little too nice. She is a standing lesson of how to be\r
-happy. But fetch them both. Invite them both.”\r
-\r
-“Both sir! Can the old lady?”...\r
-\r
-“The old lady! No, the young lady, to be sure. I shall think you a great\r
-blockhead, Frank, if you bring the aunt without the niece.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! I beg your pardon, sir. I did not immediately recollect.\r
-Undoubtedly if you wish it, I will endeavour to persuade them both.” And\r
-away he ran.\r
-\r
-Long before he reappeared, attending the short, neat, brisk-moving aunt,\r
-and her elegant niece,--Mrs. Weston, like a sweet-tempered woman and\r
-a good wife, had examined the passage again, and found the evils of it\r
-much less than she had supposed before--indeed very trifling; and here\r
-ended the difficulties of decision. All the rest, in speculation at\r
-least, was perfectly smooth. All the minor arrangements of table and\r
-chair, lights and music, tea and supper, made themselves; or were left\r
-as mere trifles to be settled at any time between Mrs. Weston and Mrs.\r
-Stokes.--Every body invited, was certainly to come; Frank had already\r
-written to Enscombe to propose staying a few days beyond his fortnight,\r
-which could not possibly be refused. And a delightful dance it was to\r
-be.\r
-\r
-Most cordially, when Miss Bates arrived, did she agree that it must.\r
-As a counsellor she was not wanted; but as an approver, (a much safer\r
-character,) she was truly welcome. Her approbation, at once general\r
-and minute, warm and incessant, could not but please; and for another\r
-half-hour they were all walking to and fro, between the different rooms,\r
-some suggesting, some attending, and all in happy enjoyment of the\r
-future. The party did not break up without Emma’s being positively\r
-secured for the two first dances by the hero of the evening, nor without\r
-her overhearing Mr. Weston whisper to his wife, “He has asked her, my\r
-dear. That’s right. I knew he would!”\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XII\r
-\r
-\r
-One thing only was wanting to make the prospect of the ball completely\r
-satisfactory to Emma--its being fixed for a day within the granted\r
-term of Frank Churchill’s stay in Surry; for, in spite of Mr. Weston’s\r
-confidence, she could not think it so very impossible that the\r
-Churchills might not allow their nephew to remain a day beyond his\r
-fortnight. But this was not judged feasible. The preparations must take\r
-their time, nothing could be properly ready till the third week were\r
-entered on, and for a few days they must be planning, proceeding and\r
-hoping in uncertainty--at the risk--in her opinion, the great risk, of\r
-its being all in vain.\r
-\r
-Enscombe however was gracious, gracious in fact, if not in word. His\r
-wish of staying longer evidently did not please; but it was not opposed.\r
-All was safe and prosperous; and as the removal of one solicitude\r
-generally makes way for another, Emma, being now certain of her\r
-ball, began to adopt as the next vexation Mr. Knightley’s provoking\r
-indifference about it. Either because he did not dance himself, or\r
-because the plan had been formed without his being consulted, he\r
-seemed resolved that it should not interest him, determined against its\r
-exciting any present curiosity, or affording him any future amusement.\r
-To her voluntary communications Emma could get no more approving reply,\r
-than,\r
-\r
-“Very well. If the Westons think it worth while to be at all this\r
-trouble for a few hours of noisy entertainment, I have nothing to say\r
-against it, but that they shall not chuse pleasures for me.--Oh! yes,\r
-I must be there; I could not refuse; and I will keep as much awake as\r
-I can; but I would rather be at home, looking over William Larkins’s\r
-week’s account; much rather, I confess.--Pleasure in seeing\r
-dancing!--not I, indeed--I never look at it--I do not know who\r
-does.--Fine dancing, I believe, like virtue, must be its own reward.\r
-Those who are standing by are usually thinking of something very\r
-different.”\r
-\r
-This Emma felt was aimed at her; and it made her quite angry. It was not\r
-in compliment to Jane Fairfax however that he was so indifferent, or so\r
-indignant; he was not guided by _her_ feelings in reprobating the ball,\r
-for _she_ enjoyed the thought of it to an extraordinary degree. It made\r
-her animated--open hearted--she voluntarily said;--\r
-\r
-“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, I hope nothing may happen to prevent the ball.\r
-What a disappointment it would be! I do look forward to it, I own, with\r
-_very_ great pleasure.”\r
-\r
-It was not to oblige Jane Fairfax therefore that he would have preferred\r
-the society of William Larkins. No!--she was more and more convinced\r
-that Mrs. Weston was quite mistaken in that surmise. There was a great\r
-deal of friendly and of compassionate attachment on his side--but no\r
-love.\r
-\r
-Alas! there was soon no leisure for quarrelling with Mr. Knightley. Two\r
-days of joyful security were immediately followed by the over-throw of\r
-every thing. A letter arrived from Mr. Churchill to urge his nephew’s\r
-instant return. Mrs. Churchill was unwell--far too unwell to do without\r
-him; she had been in a very suffering state (so said her husband)\r
-when writing to her nephew two days before, though from her usual\r
-unwillingness to give pain, and constant habit of never thinking of\r
-herself, she had not mentioned it; but now she was too ill to trifle,\r
-and must entreat him to set off for Enscombe without delay.\r
-\r
-The substance of this letter was forwarded to Emma, in a note from Mrs.\r
-Weston, instantly. As to his going, it was inevitable. He must be gone\r
-within a few hours, though without feeling any real alarm for his aunt,\r
-to lessen his repugnance. He knew her illnesses; they never occurred but\r
-for her own convenience.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston added, “that he could only allow himself time to hurry to\r
-Highbury, after breakfast, and take leave of the few friends there\r
-whom he could suppose to feel any interest in him; and that he might be\r
-expected at Hartfield very soon.”\r
-\r
-This wretched note was the finale of Emma’s breakfast. When once it had\r
-been read, there was no doing any thing, but lament and exclaim. The\r
-loss of the ball--the loss of the young man--and all that the young man\r
-might be feeling!--It was too wretched!--Such a delightful evening as\r
-it would have been!--Every body so happy! and she and her partner the\r
-happiest!--“I said it would be so,” was the only consolation.\r
-\r
-Her father’s feelings were quite distinct. He thought principally of\r
-Mrs. Churchill’s illness, and wanted to know how she was treated; and as\r
-for the ball, it was shocking to have dear Emma disappointed; but they\r
-would all be safer at home.\r
-\r
-Emma was ready for her visitor some time before he appeared; but if this\r
-reflected at all upon his impatience, his sorrowful look and total want\r
-of spirits when he did come might redeem him. He felt the going away\r
-almost too much to speak of it. His dejection was most evident. He\r
-sat really lost in thought for the first few minutes; and when rousing\r
-himself, it was only to say,\r
-\r
-“Of all horrid things, leave-taking is the worst.”\r
-\r
-“But you will come again,” said Emma. “This will not be your only visit\r
-to Randalls.”\r
-\r
-“Ah!--(shaking his head)--the uncertainty of when I may be able to\r
-return!--I shall try for it with a zeal!--It will be the object of\r
-all my thoughts and cares!--and if my uncle and aunt go to town this\r
-spring--but I am afraid--they did not stir last spring--I am afraid it\r
-is a custom gone for ever.”\r
-\r
-“Our poor ball must be quite given up.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! that ball!--why did we wait for any thing?--why not seize the\r
-pleasure at once?--How often is happiness destroyed by preparation,\r
-foolish preparation!--You told us it would be so.--Oh! Miss Woodhouse,\r
-why are you always so right?”\r
-\r
-“Indeed, I am very sorry to be right in this instance. I would much\r
-rather have been merry than wise.”\r
-\r
-“If I can come again, we are still to have our ball. My father depends\r
-on it. Do not forget your engagement.”\r
-\r
-Emma looked graciously.\r
-\r
-“Such a fortnight as it has been!” he continued; “every day more\r
-precious and more delightful than the day before!--every day making\r
-me less fit to bear any other place. Happy those, who can remain at\r
-Highbury!”\r
-\r
-“As you do us such ample justice now,” said Emma, laughing, “I will\r
-venture to ask, whether you did not come a little doubtfully at first?\r
-Do not we rather surpass your expectations? I am sure we do. I am sure\r
-you did not much expect to like us. You would not have been so long in\r
-coming, if you had had a pleasant idea of Highbury.”\r
-\r
-He laughed rather consciously; and though denying the sentiment, Emma\r
-was convinced that it had been so.\r
-\r
-“And you must be off this very morning?”\r
-\r
-“Yes; my father is to join me here: we shall walk back together, and I\r
-must be off immediately. I am almost afraid that every moment will bring\r
-him.”\r
-\r
-“Not five minutes to spare even for your friends Miss Fairfax and Miss\r
-Bates? How unlucky! Miss Bates’s powerful, argumentative mind might have\r
-strengthened yours.”\r
-\r
-“Yes--I _have_ called there; passing the door, I thought it better. It\r
-was a right thing to do. I went in for three minutes, and was detained\r
-by Miss Bates’s being absent. She was out; and I felt it impossible not\r
-to wait till she came in. She is a woman that one may, that one _must_\r
-laugh at; but that one would not wish to slight. It was better to pay my\r
-visit, then”--\r
-\r
-He hesitated, got up, walked to a window.\r
-\r
-“In short,” said he, “perhaps, Miss Woodhouse--I think you can hardly be\r
-quite without suspicion”--\r
-\r
-He looked at her, as if wanting to read her thoughts. She hardly knew\r
-what to say. It seemed like the forerunner of something absolutely\r
-serious, which she did not wish. Forcing herself to speak, therefore, in\r
-the hope of putting it by, she calmly said,\r
-\r
-“You are quite in the right; it was most natural to pay your visit,\r
-then”--\r
-\r
-He was silent. She believed he was looking at her; probably reflecting\r
-on what she had said, and trying to understand the manner. She heard\r
-him sigh. It was natural for him to feel that he had _cause_ to sigh.\r
-He could not believe her to be encouraging him. A few awkward moments\r
-passed, and he sat down again; and in a more determined manner said,\r
-\r
-“It was something to feel that all the rest of my time might be given to\r
-Hartfield. My regard for Hartfield is most warm”--\r
-\r
-He stopt again, rose again, and seemed quite embarrassed.--He was more\r
-in love with her than Emma had supposed; and who can say how it might\r
-have ended, if his father had not made his appearance? Mr. Woodhouse\r
-soon followed; and the necessity of exertion made him composed.\r
-\r
-A very few minutes more, however, completed the present trial. Mr.\r
-Weston, always alert when business was to be done, and as incapable of\r
-procrastinating any evil that was inevitable, as of foreseeing any that\r
-was doubtful, said, “It was time to go;” and the young man, though he\r
-might and did sigh, could not but agree, to take leave.\r
-\r
-“I shall hear about you all,” said he; “that is my chief consolation.\r
-I shall hear of every thing that is going on among you. I have engaged\r
-Mrs. Weston to correspond with me. She has been so kind as to promise\r
-it. Oh! the blessing of a female correspondent, when one is really\r
-interested in the absent!--she will tell me every thing. In her letters\r
-I shall be at dear Highbury again.”\r
-\r
-A very friendly shake of the hand, a very earnest “Good-bye,” closed the\r
-speech, and the door had soon shut out Frank Churchill. Short had been\r
-the notice--short their meeting; he was gone; and Emma felt so sorry\r
-to part, and foresaw so great a loss to their little society from his\r
-absence as to begin to be afraid of being too sorry, and feeling it too\r
-much.\r
-\r
-It was a sad change. They had been meeting almost every day since his\r
-arrival. Certainly his being at Randalls had given great spirit to\r
-the last two weeks--indescribable spirit; the idea, the expectation\r
-of seeing him which every morning had brought, the assurance of his\r
-attentions, his liveliness, his manners! It had been a very happy\r
-fortnight, and forlorn must be the sinking from it into the common\r
-course of Hartfield days. To complete every other recommendation, he had\r
-_almost_ told her that he loved her. What strength, or what constancy of\r
-affection he might be subject to, was another point; but at present\r
-she could not doubt his having a decidedly warm admiration, a conscious\r
-preference of herself; and this persuasion, joined to all the rest,\r
-made her think that she _must_ be a little in love with him, in spite of\r
-every previous determination against it.\r
-\r
-“I certainly must,” said she. “This sensation of listlessness,\r
-weariness, stupidity, this disinclination to sit down and employ myself,\r
-this feeling of every thing’s being dull and insipid about the house!--\r
-I must be in love; I should be the oddest creature in the world if I\r
-were not--for a few weeks at least. Well! evil to some is always good to\r
-others. I shall have many fellow-mourners for the ball, if not for Frank\r
-Churchill; but Mr. Knightley will be happy. He may spend the evening\r
-with his dear William Larkins now if he likes.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley, however, shewed no triumphant happiness. He could not say\r
-that he was sorry on his own account; his very cheerful look would have\r
-contradicted him if he had; but he said, and very steadily, that he\r
-was sorry for the disappointment of the others, and with considerable\r
-kindness added,\r
-\r
-“You, Emma, who have so few opportunities of dancing, you are really out\r
-of luck; you are very much out of luck!”\r
-\r
-It was some days before she saw Jane Fairfax, to judge of her honest\r
-regret in this woeful change; but when they did meet, her composure\r
-was odious. She had been particularly unwell, however, suffering from\r
-headache to a degree, which made her aunt declare, that had the ball\r
-taken place, she did not think Jane could have attended it; and it was\r
-charity to impute some of her unbecoming indifference to the languor of\r
-ill-health.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XIII\r
-\r
-\r
-Emma continued to entertain no doubt of her being in love. Her ideas\r
-only varied as to the how much. At first, she thought it was a good\r
-deal; and afterwards, but little. She had great pleasure in hearing\r
-Frank Churchill talked of; and, for his sake, greater pleasure than ever\r
-in seeing Mr. and Mrs. Weston; she was very often thinking of him, and\r
-quite impatient for a letter, that she might know how he was, how were\r
-his spirits, how was his aunt, and what was the chance of his coming to\r
-Randalls again this spring. But, on the other hand, she could not admit\r
-herself to be unhappy, nor, after the first morning, to be less disposed\r
-for employment than usual; she was still busy and cheerful; and,\r
-pleasing as he was, she could yet imagine him to have faults; and\r
-farther, though thinking of him so much, and, as she sat drawing or\r
-working, forming a thousand amusing schemes for the progress and close\r
-of their attachment, fancying interesting dialogues, and inventing\r
-elegant letters; the conclusion of every imaginary declaration on his\r
-side was that she _refused_ _him_. Their affection was always to subside\r
-into friendship. Every thing tender and charming was to mark their\r
-parting; but still they were to part. When she became sensible of this,\r
-it struck her that she could not be very much in love; for in spite of\r
-her previous and fixed determination never to quit her father, never\r
-to marry, a strong attachment certainly must produce more of a struggle\r
-than she could foresee in her own feelings.\r
-\r
-“I do not find myself making any use of the word _sacrifice_,” said\r
-she.--“In not one of all my clever replies, my delicate negatives, is\r
-there any allusion to making a sacrifice. I do suspect that he is not\r
-really necessary to my happiness. So much the better. I certainly will\r
-not persuade myself to feel more than I do. I am quite enough in love. I\r
-should be sorry to be more.”\r
-\r
-Upon the whole, she was equally contented with her view of his feelings.\r
-\r
-“_He_ is undoubtedly very much in love--every thing denotes it--very\r
-much in love indeed!--and when he comes again, if his affection\r
-continue, I must be on my guard not to encourage it.--It would be most\r
-inexcusable to do otherwise, as my own mind is quite made up. Not that I\r
-imagine he can think I have been encouraging him hitherto. No, if he\r
-had believed me at all to share his feelings, he would not have been\r
-so wretched. Could he have thought himself encouraged, his looks and\r
-language at parting would have been different.--Still, however, I must\r
-be on my guard. This is in the supposition of his attachment continuing\r
-what it now is; but I do not know that I expect it will; I do not look\r
-upon him to be quite the sort of man--I do not altogether build upon\r
-his steadiness or constancy.--His feelings are warm, but I can imagine\r
-them rather changeable.--Every consideration of the subject, in short,\r
-makes me thankful that my happiness is not more deeply involved.--I\r
-shall do very well again after a little while--and then, it will be a\r
-good thing over; for they say every body is in love once in their lives,\r
-and I shall have been let off easily.”\r
-\r
-When his letter to Mrs. Weston arrived, Emma had the perusal of it; and\r
-she read it with a degree of pleasure and admiration which made her\r
-at first shake her head over her own sensations, and think she had\r
-undervalued their strength. It was a long, well-written letter, giving\r
-the particulars of his journey and of his feelings, expressing all the\r
-affection, gratitude, and respect which was natural and honourable,\r
-and describing every thing exterior and local that could be supposed\r
-attractive, with spirit and precision. No suspicious flourishes now of\r
-apology or concern; it was the language of real feeling towards Mrs.\r
-Weston; and the transition from Highbury to Enscombe, the contrast\r
-between the places in some of the first blessings of social life was\r
-just enough touched on to shew how keenly it was felt, and how much more\r
-might have been said but for the restraints of propriety.--The charm\r
-of her own name was not wanting. _Miss_ _Woodhouse_ appeared more than\r
-once, and never without a something of pleasing connexion, either a\r
-compliment to her taste, or a remembrance of what she had said; and in\r
-the very last time of its meeting her eye, unadorned as it was by any\r
-such broad wreath of gallantry, she yet could discern the effect of\r
-her influence and acknowledge the greatest compliment perhaps of all\r
-conveyed. Compressed into the very lowest vacant corner were these\r
-words--“I had not a spare moment on Tuesday, as you know, for Miss\r
-Woodhouse’s beautiful little friend. Pray make my excuses and adieus\r
-to her.” This, Emma could not doubt, was all for herself. Harriet was\r
-remembered only from being _her_ friend. His information and prospects\r
-as to Enscombe were neither worse nor better than had been anticipated;\r
-Mrs. Churchill was recovering, and he dared not yet, even in his own\r
-imagination, fix a time for coming to Randalls again.\r
-\r
-Gratifying, however, and stimulative as was the letter in the material\r
-part, its sentiments, she yet found, when it was folded up and returned\r
-to Mrs. Weston, that it had not added any lasting warmth, that she could\r
-still do without the writer, and that he must learn to do without her.\r
-Her intentions were unchanged. Her resolution of refusal only grew more\r
-interesting by the addition of a scheme for his subsequent consolation\r
-and happiness. His recollection of Harriet, and the words which\r
-clothed it, the “beautiful little friend,” suggested to her the\r
-idea of Harriet’s succeeding her in his affections. Was it\r
-impossible?--No.--Harriet undoubtedly was greatly his inferior in\r
-understanding; but he had been very much struck with the loveliness\r
-of her face and the warm simplicity of her manner; and all the\r
-probabilities of circumstance and connexion were in her favour.--For\r
-Harriet, it would be advantageous and delightful indeed.\r
-\r
-“I must not dwell upon it,” said she.--“I must not think of it. I know\r
-the danger of indulging such speculations. But stranger things have\r
-happened; and when we cease to care for each other as we do now, it\r
-will be the means of confirming us in that sort of true disinterested\r
-friendship which I can already look forward to with pleasure.”\r
-\r
-It was well to have a comfort in store on Harriet’s behalf, though it\r
-might be wise to let the fancy touch it seldom; for evil in that quarter\r
-was at hand. As Frank Churchill’s arrival had succeeded Mr. Elton’s\r
-engagement in the conversation of Highbury, as the latest interest\r
-had entirely borne down the first, so now upon Frank Churchill’s\r
-disappearance, Mr. Elton’s concerns were assuming the most irresistible\r
-form.--His wedding-day was named. He would soon be among them again; Mr.\r
-Elton and his bride. There was hardly time to talk over the first letter\r
-from Enscombe before “Mr. Elton and his bride” was in every body’s\r
-mouth, and Frank Churchill was forgotten. Emma grew sick at the sound.\r
-She had had three weeks of happy exemption from Mr. Elton; and Harriet’s\r
-mind, she had been willing to hope, had been lately gaining strength.\r
-With Mr. Weston’s ball in view at least, there had been a great deal of\r
-insensibility to other things; but it was now too evident that she had\r
-not attained such a state of composure as could stand against the actual\r
-approach--new carriage, bell-ringing, and all.\r
-\r
-Poor Harriet was in a flutter of spirits which required all the\r
-reasonings and soothings and attentions of every kind that Emma could\r
-give. Emma felt that she could not do too much for her, that Harriet had\r
-a right to all her ingenuity and all her patience; but it was heavy work\r
-to be for ever convincing without producing any effect, for ever agreed\r
-to, without being able to make their opinions the same. Harriet listened\r
-submissively, and said “it was very true--it was just as Miss Woodhouse\r
-described--it was not worth while to think about them--and she would not\r
-think about them any longer” but no change of subject could avail, and\r
-the next half-hour saw her as anxious and restless about the Eltons as\r
-before. At last Emma attacked her on another ground.\r
-\r
-“Your allowing yourself to be so occupied and so unhappy about Mr.\r
-Elton’s marrying, Harriet, is the strongest reproach you can make _me_.\r
-You could not give me a greater reproof for the mistake I fell into.\r
-It was all my doing, I know. I have not forgotten it, I assure\r
-you.--Deceived myself, I did very miserably deceive you--and it will\r
-be a painful reflection to me for ever. Do not imagine me in danger of\r
-forgetting it.”\r
-\r
-Harriet felt this too much to utter more than a few words of eager\r
-exclamation. Emma continued,\r
-\r
-“I have not said, exert yourself Harriet for my sake; think less, talk\r
-less of Mr. Elton for my sake; because for your own sake rather, I\r
-would wish it to be done, for the sake of what is more important than my\r
-comfort, a habit of self-command in you, a consideration of what is your\r
-duty, an attention to propriety, an endeavour to avoid the suspicions of\r
-others, to save your health and credit, and restore your tranquillity.\r
-These are the motives which I have been pressing on you. They are very\r
-important--and sorry I am that you cannot feel them sufficiently to act\r
-upon them. My being saved from pain is a very secondary consideration.\r
-I want you to save yourself from greater pain. Perhaps I may sometimes\r
-have felt that Harriet would not forget what was due--or rather what\r
-would be kind by me.”\r
-\r
-This appeal to her affections did more than all the rest. The idea of\r
-wanting gratitude and consideration for Miss Woodhouse, whom she really\r
-loved extremely, made her wretched for a while, and when the violence\r
-of grief was comforted away, still remained powerful enough to prompt to\r
-what was right and support her in it very tolerably.\r
-\r
-“You, who have been the best friend I ever had in my life--Want\r
-gratitude to you!--Nobody is equal to you!--I care for nobody as I do\r
-for you!--Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how ungrateful I have been!”\r
-\r
-Such expressions, assisted as they were by every thing that look and\r
-manner could do, made Emma feel that she had never loved Harriet so\r
-well, nor valued her affection so highly before.\r
-\r
-“There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart,” said she afterwards to\r
-herself. “There is nothing to be compared to it. Warmth and tenderness\r
-of heart, with an affectionate, open manner, will beat all the\r
-clearness of head in the world, for attraction, I am sure it will. It\r
-is tenderness of heart which makes my dear father so generally\r
-beloved--which gives Isabella all her popularity.--I have it not--but\r
-I know how to prize and respect it.--Harriet is my superior in all the\r
-charm and all the felicity it gives. Dear Harriet!--I would not change\r
-you for the clearest-headed, longest-sighted, best-judging female\r
-breathing. Oh! the coldness of a Jane Fairfax!--Harriet is worth a\r
-hundred such--And for a wife--a sensible man’s wife--it is invaluable. I\r
-mention no names; but happy the man who changes Emma for Harriet!”\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XIV\r
-\r
-\r
-Mrs. Elton was first seen at church: but though devotion might be\r
-interrupted, curiosity could not be satisfied by a bride in a pew, and\r
-it must be left for the visits in form which were then to be paid, to\r
-settle whether she were very pretty indeed, or only rather pretty, or\r
-not pretty at all.\r
-\r
-Emma had feelings, less of curiosity than of pride or propriety, to make\r
-her resolve on not being the last to pay her respects; and she made a\r
-point of Harriet’s going with her, that the worst of the business might\r
-be gone through as soon as possible.\r
-\r
-She could not enter the house again, could not be in the same room to\r
-which she had with such vain artifice retreated three months ago, to\r
-lace up her boot, without _recollecting_. A thousand vexatious thoughts\r
-would recur. Compliments, charades, and horrible blunders; and it was\r
-not to be supposed that poor Harriet should not be recollecting too; but\r
-she behaved very well, and was only rather pale and silent. The visit\r
-was of course short; and there was so much embarrassment and occupation\r
-of mind to shorten it, that Emma would not allow herself entirely to\r
-form an opinion of the lady, and on no account to give one, beyond the\r
-nothing-meaning terms of being “elegantly dressed, and very pleasing.”\r
-\r
-She did not really like her. She would not be in a hurry to find fault,\r
-but she suspected that there was no elegance;--ease, but not elegance.--\r
-She was almost sure that for a young woman, a stranger, a bride, there\r
-was too much ease. Her person was rather good; her face not unpretty;\r
-but neither feature, nor air, nor voice, nor manner, were elegant. Emma\r
-thought at least it would turn out so.\r
-\r
-As for Mr. Elton, his manners did not appear--but no, she would not\r
-permit a hasty or a witty word from herself about his manners. It was an\r
-awkward ceremony at any time to be receiving wedding visits, and a man\r
-had need be all grace to acquit himself well through it. The woman\r
-was better off; she might have the assistance of fine clothes, and the\r
-privilege of bashfulness, but the man had only his own good sense to\r
-depend on; and when she considered how peculiarly unlucky poor Mr.\r
-Elton was in being in the same room at once with the woman he had just\r
-married, the woman he had wanted to marry, and the woman whom he had\r
-been expected to marry, she must allow him to have the right to look as\r
-little wise, and to be as much affectedly, and as little really easy as\r
-could be.\r
-\r
-“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” said Harriet, when they had quitted the\r
-house, and after waiting in vain for her friend to begin; “Well, Miss\r
-Woodhouse, (with a gentle sigh,) what do you think of her?--Is not she\r
-very charming?”\r
-\r
-There was a little hesitation in Emma’s answer.\r
-\r
-“Oh! yes--very--a very pleasing young woman.”\r
-\r
-“I think her beautiful, quite beautiful.”\r
-\r
-“Very nicely dressed, indeed; a remarkably elegant gown.”\r
-\r
-“I am not at all surprized that he should have fallen in love.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! no--there is nothing to surprize one at all.--A pretty fortune; and\r
-she came in his way.”\r
-\r
-“I dare say,” returned Harriet, sighing again, “I dare say she was very\r
-much attached to him.”\r
-\r
-“Perhaps she might; but it is not every man’s fate to marry the woman\r
-who loves him best. Miss Hawkins perhaps wanted a home, and thought this\r
-the best offer she was likely to have.”\r
-\r
-“Yes,” said Harriet earnestly, “and well she might, nobody could ever\r
-have a better. Well, I wish them happy with all my heart. And now, Miss\r
-Woodhouse, I do not think I shall mind seeing them again. He is just as\r
-superior as ever;--but being married, you know, it is quite a different\r
-thing. No, indeed, Miss Woodhouse, you need not be afraid; I can sit and\r
-admire him now without any great misery. To know that he has not thrown\r
-himself away, is such a comfort!--She does seem a charming young woman,\r
-just what he deserves. Happy creature! He called her ‘Augusta.’ How\r
-delightful!”\r
-\r
-When the visit was returned, Emma made up her mind. She could then see\r
-more and judge better. From Harriet’s happening not to be at Hartfield,\r
-and her father’s being present to engage Mr. Elton, she had a quarter\r
-of an hour of the lady’s conversation to herself, and could composedly\r
-attend to her; and the quarter of an hour quite convinced her that\r
-Mrs. Elton was a vain woman, extremely well satisfied with herself, and\r
-thinking much of her own importance; that she meant to shine and be very\r
-superior, but with manners which had been formed in a bad school, pert\r
-and familiar; that all her notions were drawn from one set of people,\r
-and one style of living; that if not foolish she was ignorant, and that\r
-her society would certainly do Mr. Elton no good.\r
-\r
-Harriet would have been a better match. If not wise or refined herself,\r
-she would have connected him with those who were; but Miss Hawkins, it\r
-might be fairly supposed from her easy conceit, had been the best of\r
-her own set. The rich brother-in-law near Bristol was the pride of the\r
-alliance, and his place and his carriages were the pride of him.\r
-\r
-The very first subject after being seated was Maple Grove, “My brother\r
-Mr. Suckling’s seat;”--a comparison of Hartfield to Maple Grove. The\r
-grounds of Hartfield were small, but neat and pretty; and the house was\r
-modern and well-built. Mrs. Elton seemed most favourably impressed\r
-by the size of the room, the entrance, and all that she could see or\r
-imagine. “Very like Maple Grove indeed!--She was quite struck by the\r
-likeness!--That room was the very shape and size of the morning-room\r
-at Maple Grove; her sister’s favourite room.”--Mr. Elton was appealed\r
-to.--“Was not it astonishingly like?--She could really almost fancy\r
-herself at Maple Grove.”\r
-\r
-“And the staircase--You know, as I came in, I observed how very like the\r
-staircase was; placed exactly in the same part of the house. I really\r
-could not help exclaiming! I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, it is very\r
-delightful to me, to be reminded of a place I am so extremely partial to\r
-as Maple Grove. I have spent so many happy months there! (with a little\r
-sigh of sentiment). A charming place, undoubtedly. Every body who\r
-sees it is struck by its beauty; but to me, it has been quite a home.\r
-Whenever you are transplanted, like me, Miss Woodhouse, you will\r
-understand how very delightful it is to meet with any thing at all like\r
-what one has left behind. I always say this is quite one of the evils of\r
-matrimony.”\r
-\r
-Emma made as slight a reply as she could; but it was fully sufficient\r
-for Mrs. Elton, who only wanted to be talking herself.\r
-\r
-“So extremely like Maple Grove! And it is not merely the house--the\r
-grounds, I assure you, as far as I could observe, are strikingly like.\r
-The laurels at Maple Grove are in the same profusion as here, and stand\r
-very much in the same way--just across the lawn; and I had a glimpse\r
-of a fine large tree, with a bench round it, which put me so exactly in\r
-mind! My brother and sister will be enchanted with this place. People\r
-who have extensive grounds themselves are always pleased with any thing\r
-in the same style.”\r
-\r
-Emma doubted the truth of this sentiment. She had a great idea that\r
-people who had extensive grounds themselves cared very little for the\r
-extensive grounds of any body else; but it was not worth while to attack\r
-an error so double-dyed, and therefore only said in reply,\r
-\r
-“When you have seen more of this country, I am afraid you will think you\r
-have overrated Hartfield. Surry is full of beauties.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! yes, I am quite aware of that. It is the garden of England, you\r
-know. Surry is the garden of England.”\r
-\r
-“Yes; but we must not rest our claims on that distinction. Many\r
-counties, I believe, are called the garden of England, as well as\r
-Surry.”\r
-\r
-“No, I fancy not,” replied Mrs. Elton, with a most satisfied smile.\r
-“I never heard any county but Surry called so.”\r
-\r
-Emma was silenced.\r
-\r
-“My brother and sister have promised us a visit in the spring, or summer\r
-at farthest,” continued Mrs. Elton; “and that will be our time for\r
-exploring. While they are with us, we shall explore a great deal, I dare\r
-say. They will have their barouche-landau, of course, which holds four\r
-perfectly; and therefore, without saying any thing of _our_ carriage,\r
-we should be able to explore the different beauties extremely well. They\r
-would hardly come in their chaise, I think, at that season of the\r
-year. Indeed, when the time draws on, I shall decidedly recommend their\r
-bringing the barouche-landau; it will be so very much preferable.\r
-When people come into a beautiful country of this sort, you know, Miss\r
-Woodhouse, one naturally wishes them to see as much as possible; and Mr.\r
-Suckling is extremely fond of exploring. We explored to King’s-Weston\r
-twice last summer, in that way, most delightfully, just after their\r
-first having the barouche-landau. You have many parties of that kind\r
-here, I suppose, Miss Woodhouse, every summer?”\r
-\r
-“No; not immediately here. We are rather out of distance of the very\r
-striking beauties which attract the sort of parties you speak of; and we\r
-are a very quiet set of people, I believe; more disposed to stay at home\r
-than engage in schemes of pleasure.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. Nobody can\r
-be more devoted to home than I am. I was quite a proverb for it at Maple\r
-Grove. Many a time has Selina said, when she has been going to Bristol,\r
-‘I really cannot get this girl to move from the house. I absolutely must\r
-go in by myself, though I hate being stuck up in the barouche-landau\r
-without a companion; but Augusta, I believe, with her own good-will,\r
-would never stir beyond the park paling.’ Many a time has she said so;\r
-and yet I am no advocate for entire seclusion. I think, on the contrary,\r
-when people shut themselves up entirely from society, it is a very\r
-bad thing; and that it is much more advisable to mix in the world in\r
-a proper degree, without living in it either too much or too little. I\r
-perfectly understand your situation, however, Miss Woodhouse--(looking\r
-towards Mr. Woodhouse), Your father’s state of health must be a great\r
-drawback. Why does not he try Bath?--Indeed he should. Let me recommend\r
-Bath to you. I assure you I have no doubt of its doing Mr. Woodhouse\r
-good.”\r
-\r
-“My father tried it more than once, formerly; but without receiving any\r
-benefit; and Mr. Perry, whose name, I dare say, is not unknown to you,\r
-does not conceive it would be at all more likely to be useful now.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! that’s a great pity; for I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, where the\r
-waters do agree, it is quite wonderful the relief they give. In my Bath\r
-life, I have seen such instances of it! And it is so cheerful a place,\r
-that it could not fail of being of use to Mr. Woodhouse’s spirits,\r
-which, I understand, are sometimes much depressed. And as to its\r
-recommendations to _you_, I fancy I need not take much pains to dwell\r
-on them. The advantages of Bath to the young are pretty generally\r
-understood. It would be a charming introduction for you, who have lived\r
-so secluded a life; and I could immediately secure you some of the best\r
-society in the place. A line from me would bring you a little host of\r
-acquaintance; and my particular friend, Mrs. Partridge, the lady I have\r
-always resided with when in Bath, would be most happy to shew you any\r
-attentions, and would be the very person for you to go into public\r
-with.”\r
-\r
-It was as much as Emma could bear, without being impolite. The idea\r
-of her being indebted to Mrs. Elton for what was called an\r
-_introduction_--of her going into public under the auspices of a friend\r
-of Mrs. Elton’s--probably some vulgar, dashing widow, who, with the\r
-help of a boarder, just made a shift to live!--The dignity of Miss\r
-Woodhouse, of Hartfield, was sunk indeed!\r
-\r
-She restrained herself, however, from any of the reproofs she could have\r
-given, and only thanked Mrs. Elton coolly; “but their going to Bath was\r
-quite out of the question; and she was not perfectly convinced that\r
-the place might suit her better than her father.” And then, to prevent\r
-farther outrage and indignation, changed the subject directly.\r
-\r
-“I do not ask whether you are musical, Mrs. Elton. Upon these occasions,\r
-a lady’s character generally precedes her; and Highbury has long known\r
-that you are a superior performer.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! no, indeed; I must protest against any such idea. A superior\r
-performer!--very far from it, I assure you. Consider from how partial\r
-a quarter your information came. I am doatingly fond of\r
-music--passionately fond;--and my friends say I am not entirely devoid\r
-of taste; but as to any thing else, upon my honour my performance is\r
-_mediocre_ to the last degree. You, Miss Woodhouse, I well know, play\r
-delightfully. I assure you it has been the greatest satisfaction,\r
-comfort, and delight to me, to hear what a musical society I am got\r
-into. I absolutely cannot do without music. It is a necessary of life to\r
-me; and having always been used to a very musical society, both at\r
-Maple Grove and in Bath, it would have been a most serious sacrifice. I\r
-honestly said as much to Mr. E. when he was speaking of my future\r
-home, and expressing his fears lest the retirement of it should be\r
-disagreeable; and the inferiority of the house too--knowing what I had\r
-been accustomed to--of course he was not wholly without apprehension.\r
-When he was speaking of it in that way, I honestly said that _the_\r
-_world_ I could give up--parties, balls, plays--for I had no fear of\r
-retirement. Blessed with so many resources within myself, the world was\r
-not necessary to _me_. I could do very well without it. To those who had\r
-no resources it was a different thing; but my resources made me quite\r
-independent. And as to smaller-sized rooms than I had been used to, I\r
-really could not give it a thought. I hoped I was perfectly equal to any\r
-sacrifice of that description. Certainly I had been accustomed to every\r
-luxury at Maple Grove; but I did assure him that two carriages were not\r
-necessary to my happiness, nor were spacious apartments. ‘But,’ said I,\r
-‘to be quite honest, I do not think I can live without something of a\r
-musical society. I condition for nothing else; but without music, life\r
-would be a blank to me.’”\r
-\r
-“We cannot suppose,” said Emma, smiling, “that Mr. Elton would hesitate\r
-to assure you of there being a _very_ musical society in Highbury; and\r
-I hope you will not find he has outstepped the truth more than may be\r
-pardoned, in consideration of the motive.”\r
-\r
-“No, indeed, I have no doubts at all on that head. I am delighted to\r
-find myself in such a circle. I hope we shall have many sweet little\r
-concerts together. I think, Miss Woodhouse, you and I must establish a\r
-musical club, and have regular weekly meetings at your house, or ours.\r
-Will not it be a good plan? If _we_ exert ourselves, I think we shall\r
-not be long in want of allies. Something of that nature would be\r
-particularly desirable for _me_, as an inducement to keep me in\r
-practice; for married women, you know--there is a sad story against\r
-them, in general. They are but too apt to give up music.”\r
-\r
-“But you, who are so extremely fond of it--there can be no danger,\r
-surely?”\r
-\r
-“I should hope not; but really when I look around among my acquaintance,\r
-I tremble. Selina has entirely given up music--never touches the\r
-instrument--though she played sweetly. And the same may be said of Mrs.\r
-Jeffereys--Clara Partridge, that was--and of the two Milmans, now Mrs.\r
-Bird and Mrs. James Cooper; and of more than I can enumerate. Upon my\r
-word it is enough to put one in a fright. I used to be quite angry with\r
-Selina; but really I begin now to comprehend that a married woman has\r
-many things to call her attention. I believe I was half an hour this\r
-morning shut up with my housekeeper.”\r
-\r
-“But every thing of that kind,” said Emma, “will soon be in so regular a\r
-train--”\r
-\r
-“Well,” said Mrs. Elton, laughing, “we shall see.”\r
-\r
-Emma, finding her so determined upon neglecting her music, had nothing\r
-more to say; and, after a moment’s pause, Mrs. Elton chose another\r
-subject.\r
-\r
-“We have been calling at Randalls,” said she, “and found them both at\r
-home; and very pleasant people they seem to be. I like them extremely.\r
-Mr. Weston seems an excellent creature--quite a first-rate favourite\r
-with me already, I assure you. And _she_ appears so truly good--there is\r
-something so motherly and kind-hearted about her, that it wins upon one\r
-directly. She was your governess, I think?”\r
-\r
-Emma was almost too much astonished to answer; but Mrs. Elton hardly\r
-waited for the affirmative before she went on.\r
-\r
-“Having understood as much, I was rather astonished to find her so very\r
-lady-like! But she is really quite the gentlewoman.”\r
-\r
-“Mrs. Weston’s manners,” said Emma, “were always particularly good.\r
-Their propriety, simplicity, and elegance, would make them the safest\r
-model for any young woman.”\r
-\r
-“And who do you think came in while we were there?”\r
-\r
-Emma was quite at a loss. The tone implied some old acquaintance--and\r
-how could she possibly guess?\r
-\r
-“Knightley!” continued Mrs. Elton; “Knightley himself!--Was not it\r
-lucky?--for, not being within when he called the other day, I had never\r
-seen him before; and of course, as so particular a friend of Mr. E.’s,\r
-I had a great curiosity. ‘My friend Knightley’ had been so often\r
-mentioned, that I was really impatient to see him; and I must do my\r
-caro sposo the justice to say that he need not be ashamed of his friend.\r
-Knightley is quite the gentleman. I like him very much. Decidedly, I\r
-think, a very gentleman-like man.”\r
-\r
-Happily, it was now time to be gone. They were off; and Emma could\r
-breathe.\r
-\r
-“Insufferable woman!” was her immediate exclamation. “Worse than I had\r
-supposed. Absolutely insufferable! Knightley!--I could not have\r
-believed it. Knightley!--never seen him in her life before, and call\r
-him Knightley!--and discover that he is a gentleman! A little upstart,\r
-vulgar being, with her Mr. E., and her _caro_ _sposo_, and her\r
-resources, and all her airs of pert pretension and underbred finery.\r
-Actually to discover that Mr. Knightley is a gentleman! I doubt whether\r
-he will return the compliment, and discover her to be a lady. I could\r
-not have believed it! And to propose that she and I should unite to\r
-form a musical club! One would fancy we were bosom friends! And Mrs.\r
-Weston!--Astonished that the person who had brought me up should be a\r
-gentlewoman! Worse and worse. I never met with her equal. Much beyond\r
-my hopes. Harriet is disgraced by any comparison. Oh! what would Frank\r
-Churchill say to her, if he were here? How angry and how diverted he\r
-would be! Ah! there I am--thinking of him directly. Always the first\r
-person to be thought of! How I catch myself out! Frank Churchill comes\r
-as regularly into my mind!”--\r
-\r
-All this ran so glibly through her thoughts, that by the time her father\r
-had arranged himself, after the bustle of the Eltons’ departure, and was\r
-ready to speak, she was very tolerably capable of attending.\r
-\r
-“Well, my dear,” he deliberately began, “considering we never saw her\r
-before, she seems a very pretty sort of young lady; and I dare say she\r
-was very much pleased with you. She speaks a little too quick. A little\r
-quickness of voice there is which rather hurts the ear. But I believe\r
-I am nice; I do not like strange voices; and nobody speaks like you and\r
-poor Miss Taylor. However, she seems a very obliging, pretty-behaved\r
-young lady, and no doubt will make him a very good wife. Though I think\r
-he had better not have married. I made the best excuses I could for not\r
-having been able to wait on him and Mrs. Elton on this happy occasion; I\r
-said that I hoped I _should_ in the course of the summer. But I ought to\r
-have gone before. Not to wait upon a bride is very remiss. Ah! it shews\r
-what a sad invalid I am! But I do not like the corner into Vicarage\r
-Lane.”\r
-\r
-“I dare say your apologies were accepted, sir. Mr. Elton knows you.”\r
-\r
-“Yes: but a young lady--a bride--I ought to have paid my respects to her\r
-if possible. It was being very deficient.”\r
-\r
-“But, my dear papa, you are no friend to matrimony; and therefore why\r
-should you be so anxious to pay your respects to a _bride_? It ought to\r
-be no recommendation to _you_. It is encouraging people to marry if you\r
-make so much of them.”\r
-\r
-“No, my dear, I never encouraged any body to marry, but I would always\r
-wish to pay every proper attention to a lady--and a bride, especially,\r
-is never to be neglected. More is avowedly due to _her_. A bride, you\r
-know, my dear, is always the first in company, let the others be who\r
-they may.”\r
-\r
-“Well, papa, if this is not encouragement to marry, I do not know what\r
-is. And I should never have expected you to be lending your sanction to\r
-such vanity-baits for poor young ladies.”\r
-\r
-“My dear, you do not understand me. This is a matter of mere\r
-common politeness and good-breeding, and has nothing to do with any\r
-encouragement to people to marry.”\r
-\r
-Emma had done. Her father was growing nervous, and could not understand\r
-_her_. Her mind returned to Mrs. Elton’s offences, and long, very long,\r
-did they occupy her.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XV\r
-\r
-\r
-Emma was not required, by any subsequent discovery, to retract her ill\r
-opinion of Mrs. Elton. Her observation had been pretty correct. Such as\r
-Mrs. Elton appeared to her on this second interview, such she appeared\r
-whenever they met again,--self-important, presuming, familiar, ignorant,\r
-and ill-bred. She had a little beauty and a little accomplishment,\r
-but so little judgment that she thought herself coming with superior\r
-knowledge of the world, to enliven and improve a country neighbourhood;\r
-and conceived Miss Hawkins to have held such a place in society as Mrs.\r
-Elton’s consequence only could surpass.\r
-\r
-There was no reason to suppose Mr. Elton thought at all differently from\r
-his wife. He seemed not merely happy with her, but proud. He had the air\r
-of congratulating himself on having brought such a woman to Highbury,\r
-as not even Miss Woodhouse could equal; and the greater part of her\r
-new acquaintance, disposed to commend, or not in the habit of judging,\r
-following the lead of Miss Bates’s good-will, or taking it for granted\r
-that the bride must be as clever and as agreeable as she professed\r
-herself, were very well satisfied; so that Mrs. Elton’s praise\r
-passed from one mouth to another as it ought to do, unimpeded by Miss\r
-Woodhouse, who readily continued her first contribution and talked with\r
-a good grace of her being “very pleasant and very elegantly dressed.”\r
-\r
-In one respect Mrs. Elton grew even worse than she had appeared at\r
-first. Her feelings altered towards Emma.--Offended, probably, by the\r
-little encouragement which her proposals of intimacy met with, she drew\r
-back in her turn and gradually became much more cold and distant; and\r
-though the effect was agreeable, the ill-will which produced it was\r
-necessarily increasing Emma’s dislike. Her manners, too--and Mr.\r
-Elton’s, were unpleasant towards Harriet. They were sneering and\r
-negligent. Emma hoped it must rapidly work Harriet’s cure; but the\r
-sensations which could prompt such behaviour sunk them both very\r
-much.--It was not to be doubted that poor Harriet’s attachment had been\r
-an offering to conjugal unreserve, and her own share in the story, under\r
-a colouring the least favourable to her and the most soothing to him,\r
-had in all likelihood been given also. She was, of course, the object\r
-of their joint dislike.--When they had nothing else to say, it must be\r
-always easy to begin abusing Miss Woodhouse; and the enmity which\r
-they dared not shew in open disrespect to her, found a broader vent in\r
-contemptuous treatment of Harriet.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Elton took a great fancy to Jane Fairfax; and from the first. Not\r
-merely when a state of warfare with one young lady might be supposed to\r
-recommend the other, but from the very first; and she was not satisfied\r
-with expressing a natural and reasonable admiration--but without\r
-solicitation, or plea, or privilege, she must be wanting to assist and\r
-befriend her.--Before Emma had forfeited her confidence, and about the\r
-third time of their meeting, she heard all Mrs. Elton’s knight-errantry\r
-on the subject.--\r
-\r
-“Jane Fairfax is absolutely charming, Miss Woodhouse.--I quite rave\r
-about Jane Fairfax.--A sweet, interesting creature. So mild and\r
-ladylike--and with such talents!--I assure you I think she has very\r
-extraordinary talents. I do not scruple to say that she plays extremely\r
-well. I know enough of music to speak decidedly on that point. Oh! she\r
-is absolutely charming! You will laugh at my warmth--but, upon my word,\r
-I talk of nothing but Jane Fairfax.--And her situation is so calculated\r
-to affect one!--Miss Woodhouse, we must exert ourselves and endeavour\r
-to do something for her. We must bring her forward. Such talent as hers\r
-must not be suffered to remain unknown.--I dare say you have heard those\r
-charming lines of the poet,\r
-\r
- ‘Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,\r
- ‘And waste its fragrance on the desert air.’\r
-\r
-We must not allow them to be verified in sweet Jane Fairfax.”\r
-\r
-“I cannot think there is any danger of it,” was Emma’s calm answer--“and\r
-when you are better acquainted with Miss Fairfax’s situation and\r
-understand what her home has been, with Colonel and Mrs. Campbell, I\r
-have no idea that you will suppose her talents can be unknown.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! but dear Miss Woodhouse, she is now in such retirement, such\r
-obscurity, so thrown away.--Whatever advantages she may have enjoyed\r
-with the Campbells are so palpably at an end! And I think she feels it.\r
-I am sure she does. She is very timid and silent. One can see that she\r
-feels the want of encouragement. I like her the better for it. I\r
-must confess it is a recommendation to me. I am a great advocate for\r
-timidity--and I am sure one does not often meet with it.--But in those\r
-who are at all inferior, it is extremely prepossessing. Oh! I assure\r
-you, Jane Fairfax is a very delightful character, and interests me more\r
-than I can express.”\r
-\r
-“You appear to feel a great deal--but I am not aware how you or any of\r
-Miss Fairfax’s acquaintance here, any of those who have known her longer\r
-than yourself, can shew her any other attention than”--\r
-\r
-“My dear Miss Woodhouse, a vast deal may be done by those who dare to\r
-act. You and I need not be afraid. If _we_ set the example, many will\r
-follow it as far as they can; though all have not our situations. _We_\r
-have carriages to fetch and convey her home, and _we_ live in a style\r
-which could not make the addition of Jane Fairfax, at any time, the\r
-least inconvenient.--I should be extremely displeased if Wright were to\r
-send us up such a dinner, as could make me regret having asked _more_\r
-than Jane Fairfax to partake of it. I have no idea of that sort of\r
-thing. It is not likely that I _should_, considering what I have been\r
-used to. My greatest danger, perhaps, in housekeeping, may be quite the\r
-other way, in doing too much, and being too careless of expense. Maple\r
-Grove will probably be my model more than it ought to be--for we do not\r
-at all affect to equal my brother, Mr. Suckling, in income.--However, my\r
-resolution is taken as to noticing Jane Fairfax.--I shall certainly have\r
-her very often at my house, shall introduce her wherever I can, shall\r
-have musical parties to draw out her talents, and shall be constantly\r
-on the watch for an eligible situation. My acquaintance is so very\r
-extensive, that I have little doubt of hearing of something to suit\r
-her shortly.--I shall introduce her, of course, very particularly to my\r
-brother and sister when they come to us. I am sure they will like her\r
-extremely; and when she gets a little acquainted with them, her fears\r
-will completely wear off, for there really is nothing in the manners\r
-of either but what is highly conciliating.--I shall have her very often\r
-indeed while they are with me, and I dare say we shall sometimes find a\r
-seat for her in the barouche-landau in some of our exploring parties.”\r
-\r
-“Poor Jane Fairfax!”--thought Emma.--“You have not deserved this. You\r
-may have done wrong with regard to Mr. Dixon, but this is a punishment\r
-beyond what you can have merited!--The kindness and protection of Mrs.\r
-Elton!--‘Jane Fairfax and Jane Fairfax.’ Heavens! Let me not suppose\r
-that she dares go about, Emma Woodhouse-ing me!--But upon my honour,\r
-there seems no limits to the licentiousness of that woman’s tongue!”\r
-\r
-Emma had not to listen to such paradings again--to any so exclusively\r
-addressed to herself--so disgustingly decorated with a “dear Miss\r
-Woodhouse.” The change on Mrs. Elton’s side soon afterwards appeared,\r
-and she was left in peace--neither forced to be the very particular\r
-friend of Mrs. Elton, nor, under Mrs. Elton’s guidance, the very active\r
-patroness of Jane Fairfax, and only sharing with others in a general\r
-way, in knowing what was felt, what was meditated, what was done.\r
-\r
-She looked on with some amusement.--Miss Bates’s gratitude for\r
-Mrs. Elton’s attentions to Jane was in the first style of guileless\r
-simplicity and warmth. She was quite one of her worthies--the\r
-most amiable, affable, delightful woman--just as accomplished and\r
-condescending as Mrs. Elton meant to be considered. Emma’s only surprize\r
-was that Jane Fairfax should accept those attentions and tolerate Mrs.\r
-Elton as she seemed to do. She heard of her walking with the Eltons,\r
-sitting with the Eltons, spending a day with the Eltons! This was\r
-astonishing!--She could not have believed it possible that the taste or\r
-the pride of Miss Fairfax could endure such society and friendship as\r
-the Vicarage had to offer.\r
-\r
-“She is a riddle, quite a riddle!” said she.--“To chuse to remain here\r
-month after month, under privations of every sort! And now to chuse the\r
-mortification of Mrs. Elton’s notice and the penury of her conversation,\r
-rather than return to the superior companions who have always loved her\r
-with such real, generous affection.”\r
-\r
-Jane had come to Highbury professedly for three months; the Campbells\r
-were gone to Ireland for three months; but now the Campbells had\r
-promised their daughter to stay at least till Midsummer, and fresh\r
-invitations had arrived for her to join them there. According to Miss\r
-Bates--it all came from her--Mrs. Dixon had written most pressingly.\r
-Would Jane but go, means were to be found, servants sent, friends\r
-contrived--no travelling difficulty allowed to exist; but still she had\r
-declined it!\r
-\r
-“She must have some motive, more powerful than appears, for refusing\r
-this invitation,” was Emma’s conclusion. “She must be under some sort\r
-of penance, inflicted either by the Campbells or herself. There is great\r
-fear, great caution, great resolution somewhere.--She is _not_ to be\r
-with the _Dixons_. The decree is issued by somebody. But why must she\r
-consent to be with the Eltons?--Here is quite a separate puzzle.”\r
-\r
-Upon her speaking her wonder aloud on that part of the subject, before\r
-the few who knew her opinion of Mrs. Elton, Mrs. Weston ventured this\r
-apology for Jane.\r
-\r
-“We cannot suppose that she has any great enjoyment at the Vicarage,\r
-my dear Emma--but it is better than being always at home. Her aunt is a\r
-good creature, but, as a constant companion, must be very tiresome. We\r
-must consider what Miss Fairfax quits, before we condemn her taste for\r
-what she goes to.”\r
-\r
-“You are right, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “Miss Fairfax\r
-is as capable as any of us of forming a just opinion of Mrs. Elton.\r
-Could she have chosen with whom to associate, she would not have chosen\r
-her. But (with a reproachful smile at Emma) she receives attentions from\r
-Mrs. Elton, which nobody else pays her.”\r
-\r
-Emma felt that Mrs. Weston was giving her a momentary glance; and she\r
-was herself struck by his warmth. With a faint blush, she presently\r
-replied,\r
-\r
-“Such attentions as Mrs. Elton’s, I should have imagined, would rather\r
-disgust than gratify Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton’s invitations I should\r
-have imagined any thing but inviting.”\r
-\r
-“I should not wonder,” said Mrs. Weston, “if Miss Fairfax were to have\r
-been drawn on beyond her own inclination, by her aunt’s eagerness in\r
-accepting Mrs. Elton’s civilities for her. Poor Miss Bates may\r
-very likely have committed her niece and hurried her into a greater\r
-appearance of intimacy than her own good sense would have dictated, in\r
-spite of the very natural wish of a little change.”\r
-\r
-Both felt rather anxious to hear him speak again; and after a few\r
-minutes silence, he said,\r
-\r
-“Another thing must be taken into consideration too--Mrs. Elton does\r
-not talk _to_ Miss Fairfax as she speaks _of_ her. We all know the\r
-difference between the pronouns he or she and thou, the plainest spoken\r
-amongst us; we all feel the influence of a something beyond common\r
-civility in our personal intercourse with each other--a something more\r
-early implanted. We cannot give any body the disagreeable hints that we\r
-may have been very full of the hour before. We feel things differently.\r
-And besides the operation of this, as a general principle, you may be\r
-sure that Miss Fairfax awes Mrs. Elton by her superiority both of mind\r
-and manner; and that, face to face, Mrs. Elton treats her with all the\r
-respect which she has a claim to. Such a woman as Jane Fairfax probably\r
-never fell in Mrs. Elton’s way before--and no degree of vanity can\r
-prevent her acknowledging her own comparative littleness in action, if\r
-not in consciousness.”\r
-\r
-“I know how highly you think of Jane Fairfax,” said Emma. Little Henry\r
-was in her thoughts, and a mixture of alarm and delicacy made her\r
-irresolute what else to say.\r
-\r
-“Yes,” he replied, “any body may know how highly I think of her.”\r
-\r
-“And yet,” said Emma, beginning hastily and with an arch look, but soon\r
-stopping--it was better, however, to know the worst at once--she hurried\r
-on--“And yet, perhaps, you may hardly be aware yourself how highly it\r
-is. The extent of your admiration may take you by surprize some day or\r
-other.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley was hard at work upon the lower buttons of his thick\r
-leather gaiters, and either the exertion of getting them together, or\r
-some other cause, brought the colour into his face, as he answered,\r
-\r
-“Oh! are you there?--But you are miserably behindhand. Mr. Cole gave me\r
-a hint of it six weeks ago.”\r
-\r
-He stopped.--Emma felt her foot pressed by Mrs. Weston, and did not\r
-herself know what to think. In a moment he went on--\r
-\r
-“That will never be, however, I can assure you. Miss Fairfax, I dare\r
-say, would not have me if I were to ask her--and I am very sure I shall\r
-never ask her.”\r
-\r
-Emma returned her friend’s pressure with interest; and was pleased\r
-enough to exclaim,\r
-\r
-“You are not vain, Mr. Knightley. I will say that for you.”\r
-\r
-He seemed hardly to hear her; he was thoughtful--and in a manner which\r
-shewed him not pleased, soon afterwards said,\r
-\r
-“So you have been settling that I should marry Jane Fairfax?”\r
-\r
-“No indeed I have not. You have scolded me too much for match-making,\r
-for me to presume to take such a liberty with you. What I said just now,\r
-meant nothing. One says those sort of things, of course, without any\r
-idea of a serious meaning. Oh! no, upon my word I have not the smallest\r
-wish for your marrying Jane Fairfax or Jane any body. You would not come\r
-in and sit with us in this comfortable way, if you were married.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley was thoughtful again. The result of his reverie was, “No,\r
-Emma, I do not think the extent of my admiration for her will ever take\r
-me by surprize.--I never had a thought of her in that way, I assure\r
-you.” And soon afterwards, “Jane Fairfax is a very charming young\r
-woman--but not even Jane Fairfax is perfect. She has a fault. She has\r
-not the open temper which a man would wish for in a wife.”\r
-\r
-Emma could not but rejoice to hear that she had a fault. “Well,” said\r
-she, “and you soon silenced Mr. Cole, I suppose?”\r
-\r
-“Yes, very soon. He gave me a quiet hint; I told him he was mistaken;\r
-he asked my pardon and said no more. Cole does not want to be wiser or\r
-wittier than his neighbours.”\r
-\r
-“In that respect how unlike dear Mrs. Elton, who wants to be wiser and\r
-wittier than all the world! I wonder how she speaks of the Coles--what\r
-she calls them! How can she find any appellation for them, deep enough\r
-in familiar vulgarity? She calls you, Knightley--what can she do for\r
-Mr. Cole? And so I am not to be surprized that Jane Fairfax accepts\r
-her civilities and consents to be with her. Mrs. Weston, your argument\r
-weighs most with me. I can much more readily enter into the temptation\r
-of getting away from Miss Bates, than I can believe in the triumph of\r
-Miss Fairfax’s mind over Mrs. Elton. I have no faith in Mrs. Elton’s\r
-acknowledging herself the inferior in thought, word, or deed; or in her\r
-being under any restraint beyond her own scanty rule of good-breeding.\r
-I cannot imagine that she will not be continually insulting her visitor\r
-with praise, encouragement, and offers of service; that she will not be\r
-continually detailing her magnificent intentions, from the procuring her\r
-a permanent situation to the including her in those delightful exploring\r
-parties which are to take place in the barouche-landau.”\r
-\r
-“Jane Fairfax has feeling,” said Mr. Knightley--“I do not accuse her\r
-of want of feeling. Her sensibilities, I suspect, are strong--and her\r
-temper excellent in its power of forbearance, patience, self-control;\r
-but it wants openness. She is reserved, more reserved, I think, than\r
-she used to be--And I love an open temper. No--till Cole alluded to my\r
-supposed attachment, it had never entered my head. I saw Jane Fairfax\r
-and conversed with her, with admiration and pleasure always--but with no\r
-thought beyond.”\r
-\r
-“Well, Mrs. Weston,” said Emma triumphantly when he left them, “what do\r
-you say now to Mr. Knightley’s marrying Jane Fairfax?”\r
-\r
-“Why, really, dear Emma, I say that he is so very much occupied by the\r
-idea of _not_ being in love with her, that I should not wonder if it\r
-were to end in his being so at last. Do not beat me.”\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XVI\r
-\r
-\r
-Every body in and about Highbury who had ever visited Mr. Elton, was\r
-disposed to pay him attention on his marriage. Dinner-parties and\r
-evening-parties were made for him and his lady; and invitations flowed\r
-in so fast that she had soon the pleasure of apprehending they were\r
-never to have a disengaged day.\r
-\r
-“I see how it is,” said she. “I see what a life I am to lead among you.\r
-Upon my word we shall be absolutely dissipated. We really seem quite\r
-the fashion. If this is living in the country, it is nothing very\r
-formidable. From Monday next to Saturday, I assure you we have not a\r
-disengaged day!--A woman with fewer resources than I have, need not have\r
-been at a loss.”\r
-\r
-No invitation came amiss to her. Her Bath habits made evening-parties\r
-perfectly natural to her, and Maple Grove had given her a taste for\r
-dinners. She was a little shocked at the want of two drawing rooms, at\r
-the poor attempt at rout-cakes, and there being no ice in the Highbury\r
-card-parties. Mrs. Bates, Mrs. Perry, Mrs. Goddard and others, were a\r
-good deal behind-hand in knowledge of the world, but she would soon shew\r
-them how every thing ought to be arranged. In the course of the spring\r
-she must return their civilities by one very superior party--in which\r
-her card-tables should be set out with their separate candles and\r
-unbroken packs in the true style--and more waiters engaged for the\r
-evening than their own establishment could furnish, to carry round the\r
-refreshments at exactly the proper hour, and in the proper order.\r
-\r
-Emma, in the meanwhile, could not be satisfied without a dinner at\r
-Hartfield for the Eltons. They must not do less than others, or she\r
-should be exposed to odious suspicions, and imagined capable of pitiful\r
-resentment. A dinner there must be. After Emma had talked about it for\r
-ten minutes, Mr. Woodhouse felt no unwillingness, and only made the\r
-usual stipulation of not sitting at the bottom of the table himself,\r
-with the usual regular difficulty of deciding who should do it for him.\r
-\r
-The persons to be invited, required little thought. Besides the\r
-Eltons, it must be the Westons and Mr. Knightley; so far it was all of\r
-course--and it was hardly less inevitable that poor little Harriet must\r
-be asked to make the eighth:--but this invitation was not given with\r
-equal satisfaction, and on many accounts Emma was particularly pleased\r
-by Harriet’s begging to be allowed to decline it. “She would rather not\r
-be in his company more than she could help. She was not yet quite\r
-able to see him and his charming happy wife together, without feeling\r
-uncomfortable. If Miss Woodhouse would not be displeased, she would\r
-rather stay at home.” It was precisely what Emma would have wished, had\r
-she deemed it possible enough for wishing. She was delighted with the\r
-fortitude of her little friend--for fortitude she knew it was in her to\r
-give up being in company and stay at home; and she could now invite the\r
-very person whom she really wanted to make the eighth, Jane Fairfax.--\r
-Since her last conversation with Mrs. Weston and Mr. Knightley, she\r
-was more conscience-stricken about Jane Fairfax than she had often\r
-been.--Mr. Knightley’s words dwelt with her. He had said that Jane\r
-Fairfax received attentions from Mrs. Elton which nobody else paid her.\r
-\r
-“This is very true,” said she, “at least as far as relates to me, which\r
-was all that was meant--and it is very shameful.--Of the same age--and\r
-always knowing her--I ought to have been more her friend.--She will\r
-never like me now. I have neglected her too long. But I will shew her\r
-greater attention than I have done.”\r
-\r
-Every invitation was successful. They were all disengaged and all\r
-happy.--The preparatory interest of this dinner, however, was not yet\r
-over. A circumstance rather unlucky occurred. The two eldest little\r
-Knightleys were engaged to pay their grandpapa and aunt a visit of some\r
-weeks in the spring, and their papa now proposed bringing them, and\r
-staying one whole day at Hartfield--which one day would be the very day\r
-of this party.--His professional engagements did not allow of his being\r
-put off, but both father and daughter were disturbed by its happening\r
-so. Mr. Woodhouse considered eight persons at dinner together as the\r
-utmost that his nerves could bear--and here would be a ninth--and Emma\r
-apprehended that it would be a ninth very much out of humour at not\r
-being able to come even to Hartfield for forty-eight hours without\r
-falling in with a dinner-party.\r
-\r
-She comforted her father better than she could comfort herself, by\r
-representing that though he certainly would make them nine, yet\r
-he always said so little, that the increase of noise would be very\r
-immaterial. She thought it in reality a sad exchange for herself, to\r
-have him with his grave looks and reluctant conversation opposed to her\r
-instead of his brother.\r
-\r
-The event was more favourable to Mr. Woodhouse than to Emma. John\r
-Knightley came; but Mr. Weston was unexpectedly summoned to town and\r
-must be absent on the very day. He might be able to join them in the\r
-evening, but certainly not to dinner. Mr. Woodhouse was quite at ease;\r
-and the seeing him so, with the arrival of the little boys and the\r
-philosophic composure of her brother on hearing his fate, removed the\r
-chief of even Emma’s vexation.\r
-\r
-The day came, the party were punctually assembled, and Mr. John\r
-Knightley seemed early to devote himself to the business of being\r
-agreeable. Instead of drawing his brother off to a window while they\r
-waited for dinner, he was talking to Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton,\r
-as elegant as lace and pearls could make her, he looked at in\r
-silence--wanting only to observe enough for Isabella’s information--but\r
-Miss Fairfax was an old acquaintance and a quiet girl, and he could talk\r
-to her. He had met her before breakfast as he was returning from a walk\r
-with his little boys, when it had been just beginning to rain. It was\r
-natural to have some civil hopes on the subject, and he said,\r
-\r
-“I hope you did not venture far, Miss Fairfax, this morning, or I am\r
-sure you must have been wet.--We scarcely got home in time. I hope you\r
-turned directly.”\r
-\r
-“I went only to the post-office,” said she, “and reached home before the\r
-rain was much. It is my daily errand. I always fetch the letters when\r
-I am here. It saves trouble, and is a something to get me out. A walk\r
-before breakfast does me good.”\r
-\r
-“Not a walk in the rain, I should imagine.”\r
-\r
-“No, but it did not absolutely rain when I set out.”\r
-\r
-Mr. John Knightley smiled, and replied,\r
-\r
-“That is to say, you chose to have your walk, for you were not six yards\r
-from your own door when I had the pleasure of meeting you; and Henry\r
-and John had seen more drops than they could count long before. The\r
-post-office has a great charm at one period of our lives. When you have\r
-lived to my age, you will begin to think letters are never worth going\r
-through the rain for.”\r
-\r
-There was a little blush, and then this answer,\r
-\r
-“I must not hope to be ever situated as you are, in the midst of every\r
-dearest connexion, and therefore I cannot expect that simply growing\r
-older should make me indifferent about letters.”\r
-\r
-“Indifferent! Oh! no--I never conceived you could become indifferent.\r
-Letters are no matter of indifference; they are generally a very\r
-positive curse.”\r
-\r
-“You are speaking of letters of business; mine are letters of\r
-friendship.”\r
-\r
-“I have often thought them the worst of the two,” replied he coolly.\r
-“Business, you know, may bring money, but friendship hardly ever does.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! you are not serious now. I know Mr. John Knightley too well--I am\r
-very sure he understands the value of friendship as well as any body. I\r
-can easily believe that letters are very little to you, much less than\r
-to me, but it is not your being ten years older than myself which\r
-makes the difference, it is not age, but situation. You have every\r
-body dearest to you always at hand, I, probably, never shall again;\r
-and therefore till I have outlived all my affections, a post-office,\r
-I think, must always have power to draw me out, in worse weather than\r
-to-day.”\r
-\r
-“When I talked of your being altered by time, by the progress of years,”\r
- said John Knightley, “I meant to imply the change of situation which\r
-time usually brings. I consider one as including the other. Time will\r
-generally lessen the interest of every attachment not within the daily\r
-circle--but that is not the change I had in view for you. As an old\r
-friend, you will allow me to hope, Miss Fairfax, that ten years hence\r
-you may have as many concentrated objects as I have.”\r
-\r
-It was kindly said, and very far from giving offence. A pleasant “thank\r
-you” seemed meant to laugh it off, but a blush, a quivering lip, a tear\r
-in the eye, shewed that it was felt beyond a laugh. Her attention was\r
-now claimed by Mr. Woodhouse, who being, according to his custom on such\r
-occasions, making the circle of his guests, and paying his particular\r
-compliments to the ladies, was ending with her--and with all his mildest\r
-urbanity, said,\r
-\r
-“I am very sorry to hear, Miss Fairfax, of your being out this morning\r
-in the rain. Young ladies should take care of themselves.--Young ladies\r
-are delicate plants. They should take care of their health and their\r
-complexion. My dear, did you change your stockings?”\r
-\r
-“Yes, sir, I did indeed; and I am very much obliged by your kind\r
-solicitude about me.”\r
-\r
-“My dear Miss Fairfax, young ladies are very sure to be cared for.--I\r
-hope your good grand-mama and aunt are well. They are some of my very\r
-old friends. I wish my health allowed me to be a better neighbour. You\r
-do us a great deal of honour to-day, I am sure. My daughter and I\r
-are both highly sensible of your goodness, and have the greatest\r
-satisfaction in seeing you at Hartfield.”\r
-\r
-The kind-hearted, polite old man might then sit down and feel that he\r
-had done his duty, and made every fair lady welcome and easy.\r
-\r
-By this time, the walk in the rain had reached Mrs. Elton, and her\r
-remonstrances now opened upon Jane.\r
-\r
-“My dear Jane, what is this I hear?--Going to the post-office in the\r
-rain!--This must not be, I assure you.--You sad girl, how could you do\r
-such a thing?--It is a sign I was not there to take care of you.”\r
-\r
-Jane very patiently assured her that she had not caught any cold.\r
-\r
-“Oh! do not tell _me_. You really are a very sad girl, and do not know\r
-how to take care of yourself.--To the post-office indeed! Mrs. Weston,\r
-did you ever hear the like? You and I must positively exert our\r
-authority.”\r
-\r
-“My advice,” said Mrs. Weston kindly and persuasively, “I certainly do\r
-feel tempted to give. Miss Fairfax, you must not run such risks.--Liable\r
-as you have been to severe colds, indeed you ought to be particularly\r
-careful, especially at this time of year. The spring I always think\r
-requires more than common care. Better wait an hour or two, or even\r
-half a day for your letters, than run the risk of bringing on your cough\r
-again. Now do not you feel that you had? Yes, I am sure you are much too\r
-reasonable. You look as if you would not do such a thing again.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! she _shall_ _not_ do such a thing again,” eagerly rejoined Mrs.\r
-Elton. “We will not allow her to do such a thing again:”--and nodding\r
-significantly--“there must be some arrangement made, there must indeed.\r
-I shall speak to Mr. E. The man who fetches our letters every morning\r
-(one of our men, I forget his name) shall inquire for yours too and\r
-bring them to you. That will obviate all difficulties you know; and from\r
-_us_ I really think, my dear Jane, you can have no scruple to accept\r
-such an accommodation.”\r
-\r
-“You are extremely kind,” said Jane; “but I cannot give up my early\r
-walk. I am advised to be out of doors as much as I can, I must walk\r
-somewhere, and the post-office is an object; and upon my word, I have\r
-scarcely ever had a bad morning before.”\r
-\r
-“My dear Jane, say no more about it. The thing is determined, that is\r
-(laughing affectedly) as far as I can presume to determine any thing\r
-without the concurrence of my lord and master. You know, Mrs. Weston,\r
-you and I must be cautious how we express ourselves. But I do flatter\r
-myself, my dear Jane, that my influence is not entirely worn out. If I\r
-meet with no insuperable difficulties therefore, consider that point as\r
-settled.”\r
-\r
-“Excuse me,” said Jane earnestly, “I cannot by any means consent to such\r
-an arrangement, so needlessly troublesome to your servant. If the errand\r
-were not a pleasure to me, it could be done, as it always is when I am\r
-not here, by my grandmama’s.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! my dear; but so much as Patty has to do!--And it is a kindness to\r
-employ our men.”\r
-\r
-Jane looked as if she did not mean to be conquered; but instead of\r
-answering, she began speaking again to Mr. John Knightley.\r
-\r
-“The post-office is a wonderful establishment!” said she.--“The\r
-regularity and despatch of it! If one thinks of all that it has to do,\r
-and all that it does so well, it is really astonishing!”\r
-\r
-“It is certainly very well regulated.”\r
-\r
-“So seldom that any negligence or blunder appears! So seldom that\r
-a letter, among the thousands that are constantly passing about the\r
-kingdom, is even carried wrong--and not one in a million, I suppose,\r
-actually lost! And when one considers the variety of hands, and of bad\r
-hands too, that are to be deciphered, it increases the wonder.”\r
-\r
-“The clerks grow expert from habit.--They must begin with some quickness\r
-of sight and hand, and exercise improves them. If you want any farther\r
-explanation,” continued he, smiling, “they are paid for it. That is\r
-the key to a great deal of capacity. The public pays and must be served\r
-well.”\r
-\r
-The varieties of handwriting were farther talked of, and the usual\r
-observations made.\r
-\r
-“I have heard it asserted,” said John Knightley, “that the same sort\r
-of handwriting often prevails in a family; and where the same master\r
-teaches, it is natural enough. But for that reason, I should imagine\r
-the likeness must be chiefly confined to the females, for boys have very\r
-little teaching after an early age, and scramble into any hand they can\r
-get. Isabella and Emma, I think, do write very much alike. I have not\r
-always known their writing apart.”\r
-\r
-“Yes,” said his brother hesitatingly, “there is a likeness. I know what\r
-you mean--but Emma’s hand is the strongest.”\r
-\r
-“Isabella and Emma both write beautifully,” said Mr. Woodhouse; “and\r
-always did. And so does poor Mrs. Weston”--with half a sigh and half a\r
-smile at her.\r
-\r
-“I never saw any gentleman’s handwriting”--Emma began, looking also at\r
-Mrs. Weston; but stopped, on perceiving that Mrs. Weston was attending\r
-to some one else--and the pause gave her time to reflect, “Now, how am\r
-I going to introduce him?--Am I unequal to speaking his name at once\r
-before all these people? Is it necessary for me to use any roundabout\r
-phrase?--Your Yorkshire friend--your correspondent in Yorkshire;--that\r
-would be the way, I suppose, if I were very bad.--No, I can pronounce\r
-his name without the smallest distress. I certainly get better and\r
-better.--Now for it.”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston was disengaged and Emma began again--“Mr. Frank Churchill\r
-writes one of the best gentleman’s hands I ever saw.”\r
-\r
-“I do not admire it,” said Mr. Knightley. “It is too small--wants\r
-strength. It is like a woman’s writing.”\r
-\r
-This was not submitted to by either lady. They vindicated him against\r
-the base aspersion. “No, it by no means wanted strength--it was not a\r
-large hand, but very clear and certainly strong. Had not Mrs. Weston any\r
-letter about her to produce?” No, she had heard from him very lately,\r
-but having answered the letter, had put it away.\r
-\r
-“If we were in the other room,” said Emma, “if I had my writing-desk, I\r
-am sure I could produce a specimen. I have a note of his.--Do not you\r
-remember, Mrs. Weston, employing him to write for you one day?”\r
-\r
-“He chose to say he was employed”--\r
-\r
-“Well, well, I have that note; and can shew it after dinner to convince\r
-Mr. Knightley.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! when a gallant young man, like Mr. Frank Churchill,” said Mr.\r
-Knightley dryly, “writes to a fair lady like Miss Woodhouse, he will, of\r
-course, put forth his best.”\r
-\r
-Dinner was on table.--Mrs. Elton, before she could be spoken to, was\r
-ready; and before Mr. Woodhouse had reached her with his request to be\r
-allowed to hand her into the dining-parlour, was saying--\r
-\r
-“Must I go first? I really am ashamed of always leading the way.”\r
-\r
-Jane’s solicitude about fetching her own letters had not escaped Emma.\r
-She had heard and seen it all; and felt some curiosity to know whether\r
-the wet walk of this morning had produced any. She suspected that it\r
-_had_; that it would not have been so resolutely encountered but in full\r
-expectation of hearing from some one very dear, and that it had not been\r
-in vain. She thought there was an air of greater happiness than usual--a\r
-glow both of complexion and spirits.\r
-\r
-She could have made an inquiry or two, as to the expedition and the\r
-expense of the Irish mails;--it was at her tongue’s end--but she\r
-abstained. She was quite determined not to utter a word that should hurt\r
-Jane Fairfax’s feelings; and they followed the other ladies out of the\r
-room, arm in arm, with an appearance of good-will highly becoming to the\r
-beauty and grace of each.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XVII\r
-\r
-\r
-When the ladies returned to the drawing-room after dinner, Emma found it\r
-hardly possible to prevent their making two distinct parties;--with so\r
-much perseverance in judging and behaving ill did Mrs. Elton engross\r
-Jane Fairfax and slight herself. She and Mrs. Weston were obliged to\r
-be almost always either talking together or silent together. Mrs. Elton\r
-left them no choice. If Jane repressed her for a little time, she\r
-soon began again; and though much that passed between them was in a\r
-half-whisper, especially on Mrs. Elton’s side, there was no avoiding\r
-a knowledge of their principal subjects: The post-office--catching\r
-cold--fetching letters--and friendship, were long under discussion;\r
-and to them succeeded one, which must be at least equally unpleasant\r
-to Jane--inquiries whether she had yet heard of any situation likely to\r
-suit her, and professions of Mrs. Elton’s meditated activity.\r
-\r
-“Here is April come!” said she, “I get quite anxious about you. June\r
-will soon be here.”\r
-\r
-“But I have never fixed on June or any other month--merely looked\r
-forward to the summer in general.”\r
-\r
-“But have you really heard of nothing?”\r
-\r
-“I have not even made any inquiry; I do not wish to make any yet.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! my dear, we cannot begin too early; you are not aware of the\r
-difficulty of procuring exactly the desirable thing.”\r
-\r
-“I not aware!” said Jane, shaking her head; “dear Mrs. Elton, who can\r
-have thought of it as I have done?”\r
-\r
-“But you have not seen so much of the world as I have. You do not know\r
-how many candidates there always are for the _first_ situations. I saw\r
-a vast deal of that in the neighbourhood round Maple Grove. A cousin of\r
-Mr. Suckling, Mrs. Bragge, had such an infinity of applications; every\r
-body was anxious to be in her family, for she moves in the first circle.\r
-Wax-candles in the schoolroom! You may imagine how desirable! Of all\r
-houses in the kingdom Mrs. Bragge’s is the one I would most wish to see\r
-you in.”\r
-\r
-“Colonel and Mrs. Campbell are to be in town again by midsummer,”\r
- said Jane. “I must spend some time with them; I am sure they will want\r
-it;--afterwards I may probably be glad to dispose of myself. But I would\r
-not wish you to take the trouble of making any inquiries at present.”\r
-\r
-“Trouble! aye, I know your scruples. You are afraid of giving me\r
-trouble; but I assure you, my dear Jane, the Campbells can hardly be\r
-more interested about you than I am. I shall write to Mrs. Partridge in\r
-a day or two, and shall give her a strict charge to be on the look-out\r
-for any thing eligible.”\r
-\r
-“Thank you, but I would rather you did not mention the subject to\r
-her; till the time draws nearer, I do not wish to be giving any body\r
-trouble.”\r
-\r
-“But, my dear child, the time is drawing near; here is April, and June,\r
-or say even July, is very near, with such business to accomplish before\r
-us. Your inexperience really amuses me! A situation such as you deserve,\r
-and your friends would require for you, is no everyday occurrence,\r
-is not obtained at a moment’s notice; indeed, indeed, we must begin\r
-inquiring directly.”\r
-\r
-“Excuse me, ma’am, but this is by no means my intention; I make no\r
-inquiry myself, and should be sorry to have any made by my friends. When\r
-I am quite determined as to the time, I am not at all afraid of being\r
-long unemployed. There are places in town, offices, where inquiry\r
-would soon produce something--Offices for the sale--not quite of human\r
-flesh--but of human intellect.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! my dear, human flesh! You quite shock me; if you mean a fling at\r
-the slave-trade, I assure you Mr. Suckling was always rather a friend to\r
-the abolition.”\r
-\r
-“I did not mean, I was not thinking of the slave-trade,” replied Jane;\r
-“governess-trade, I assure you, was all that I had in view; widely\r
-different certainly as to the guilt of those who carry it on; but as to\r
-the greater misery of the victims, I do not know where it lies. But\r
-I only mean to say that there are advertising offices, and that by\r
-applying to them I should have no doubt of very soon meeting with\r
-something that would do.”\r
-\r
-“Something that would do!” repeated Mrs. Elton. “Aye, _that_ may suit\r
-your humble ideas of yourself;--I know what a modest creature you are;\r
-but it will not satisfy your friends to have you taking up with any\r
-thing that may offer, any inferior, commonplace situation, in a family\r
-not moving in a certain circle, or able to command the elegancies of\r
-life.”\r
-\r
-“You are very obliging; but as to all that, I am very indifferent;\r
-it would be no object to me to be with the rich; my mortifications, I\r
-think, would only be the greater; I should suffer more from comparison.\r
-A gentleman’s family is all that I should condition for.”\r
-\r
-“I know you, I know you; you would take up with any thing; but I shall\r
-be a little more nice, and I am sure the good Campbells will be quite\r
-on my side; with your superior talents, you have a right to move in the\r
-first circle. Your musical knowledge alone would entitle you to name\r
-your own terms, have as many rooms as you like, and mix in the family\r
-as much as you chose;--that is--I do not know--if you knew the harp, you\r
-might do all that, I am very sure; but you sing as well as play;--yes, I\r
-really believe you might, even without the harp, stipulate for what\r
-you chose;--and you must and shall be delightfully, honourably and\r
-comfortably settled before the Campbells or I have any rest.”\r
-\r
-“You may well class the delight, the honour, and the comfort of such\r
-a situation together,” said Jane, “they are pretty sure to be equal;\r
-however, I am very serious in not wishing any thing to be attempted\r
-at present for me. I am exceedingly obliged to you, Mrs. Elton, I am\r
-obliged to any body who feels for me, but I am quite serious in wishing\r
-nothing to be done till the summer. For two or three months longer I\r
-shall remain where I am, and as I am.”\r
-\r
-“And I am quite serious too, I assure you,” replied Mrs. Elton gaily,\r
-“in resolving to be always on the watch, and employing my friends to\r
-watch also, that nothing really unexceptionable may pass us.”\r
-\r
-In this style she ran on; never thoroughly stopped by any thing till Mr.\r
-Woodhouse came into the room; her vanity had then a change of object,\r
-and Emma heard her saying in the same half-whisper to Jane,\r
-\r
-“Here comes this dear old beau of mine, I protest!--Only think of his\r
-gallantry in coming away before the other men!--what a dear creature\r
-he is;--I assure you I like him excessively. I admire all that quaint,\r
-old-fashioned politeness; it is much more to my taste than modern ease;\r
-modern ease often disgusts me. But this good old Mr. Woodhouse, I wish\r
-you had heard his gallant speeches to me at dinner. Oh! I assure you I\r
-began to think my caro sposo would be absolutely jealous. I fancy I\r
-am rather a favourite; he took notice of my gown. How do you like\r
-it?--Selina’s choice--handsome, I think, but I do not know whether it\r
-is not over-trimmed; I have the greatest dislike to the idea of being\r
-over-trimmed--quite a horror of finery. I must put on a few ornaments\r
-now, because it is expected of me. A bride, you know, must appear like\r
-a bride, but my natural taste is all for simplicity; a simple style\r
-of dress is so infinitely preferable to finery. But I am quite in the\r
-minority, I believe; few people seem to value simplicity of dress,--show\r
-and finery are every thing. I have some notion of putting such a\r
-trimming as this to my white and silver poplin. Do you think it will\r
-look well?”\r
-\r
-The whole party were but just reassembled in the drawing-room when Mr.\r
-Weston made his appearance among them. He had returned to a late dinner,\r
-and walked to Hartfield as soon as it was over. He had been too much\r
-expected by the best judges, for surprize--but there was great joy. Mr.\r
-Woodhouse was almost as glad to see him now, as he would have been sorry\r
-to see him before. John Knightley only was in mute astonishment.--That\r
-a man who might have spent his evening quietly at home after a day\r
-of business in London, should set off again, and walk half a mile\r
-to another man’s house, for the sake of being in mixed company till\r
-bed-time, of finishing his day in the efforts of civility and the noise\r
-of numbers, was a circumstance to strike him deeply. A man who had been\r
-in motion since eight o’clock in the morning, and might now have been\r
-still, who had been long talking, and might have been silent, who had\r
-been in more than one crowd, and might have been alone!--Such a man, to\r
-quit the tranquillity and independence of his own fireside, and on the\r
-evening of a cold sleety April day rush out again into the world!--Could\r
-he by a touch of his finger have instantly taken back his wife, there\r
-would have been a motive; but his coming would probably prolong rather\r
-than break up the party. John Knightley looked at him with amazement,\r
-then shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I could not have believed it\r
-even of _him_.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Weston meanwhile, perfectly unsuspicious of the indignation he was\r
-exciting, happy and cheerful as usual, and with all the right of being\r
-principal talker, which a day spent anywhere from home confers, was\r
-making himself agreeable among the rest; and having satisfied the\r
-inquiries of his wife as to his dinner, convincing her that none of all\r
-her careful directions to the servants had been forgotten, and spread\r
-abroad what public news he had heard, was proceeding to a family\r
-communication, which, though principally addressed to Mrs. Weston, he\r
-had not the smallest doubt of being highly interesting to every body in\r
-the room. He gave her a letter, it was from Frank, and to herself; he\r
-had met with it in his way, and had taken the liberty of opening it.\r
-\r
-“Read it, read it,” said he, “it will give you pleasure; only a few\r
-lines--will not take you long; read it to Emma.”\r
-\r
-The two ladies looked over it together; and he sat smiling and talking\r
-to them the whole time, in a voice a little subdued, but very audible to\r
-every body.\r
-\r
-“Well, he is coming, you see; good news, I think. Well, what do you say\r
-to it?--I always told you he would be here again soon, did not I?--Anne,\r
-my dear, did not I always tell you so, and you would not believe me?--In\r
-town next week, you see--at the latest, I dare say; for _she_ is as\r
-impatient as the black gentleman when any thing is to be done; most\r
-likely they will be there to-morrow or Saturday. As to her illness, all\r
-nothing of course. But it is an excellent thing to have Frank among us\r
-again, so near as town. They will stay a good while when they do come,\r
-and he will be half his time with us. This is precisely what I wanted.\r
-Well, pretty good news, is not it? Have you finished it? Has Emma read\r
-it all? Put it up, put it up; we will have a good talk about it some\r
-other time, but it will not do now. I shall only just mention the\r
-circumstance to the others in a common way.”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston was most comfortably pleased on the occasion. Her looks\r
-and words had nothing to restrain them. She was happy, she knew she was\r
-happy, and knew she ought to be happy. Her congratulations were warm and\r
-open; but Emma could not speak so fluently. _She_ was a little occupied\r
-in weighing her own feelings, and trying to understand the degree of her\r
-agitation, which she rather thought was considerable.\r
-\r
-Mr. Weston, however, too eager to be very observant, too communicative\r
-to want others to talk, was very well satisfied with what she did say,\r
-and soon moved away to make the rest of his friends happy by a partial\r
-communication of what the whole room must have overheard already.\r
-\r
-It was well that he took every body’s joy for granted, or he might\r
-not have thought either Mr. Woodhouse or Mr. Knightley particularly\r
-delighted. They were the first entitled, after Mrs. Weston and Emma, to\r
-be made happy;--from them he would have proceeded to Miss Fairfax, but\r
-she was so deep in conversation with John Knightley, that it would have\r
-been too positive an interruption; and finding himself close to Mrs.\r
-Elton, and her attention disengaged, he necessarily began on the subject\r
-with her.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XVIII\r
-\r
-\r
-“I hope I shall soon have the pleasure of introducing my son to you,”\r
- said Mr. Weston.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Elton, very willing to suppose a particular compliment intended her\r
-by such a hope, smiled most graciously.\r
-\r
-“You have heard of a certain Frank Churchill, I presume,” he\r
-continued--“and know him to be my son, though he does not bear my name.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! yes, and I shall be very happy in his acquaintance. I am sure Mr.\r
-Elton will lose no time in calling on him; and we shall both have great\r
-pleasure in seeing him at the Vicarage.”\r
-\r
-“You are very obliging.--Frank will be extremely happy, I am sure.--\r
-He is to be in town next week, if not sooner. We have notice of it in a\r
-letter to-day. I met the letters in my way this morning, and seeing my\r
-son’s hand, presumed to open it--though it was not directed to me--it\r
-was to Mrs. Weston. She is his principal correspondent, I assure you. I\r
-hardly ever get a letter.”\r
-\r
-“And so you absolutely opened what was directed to her! Oh! Mr.\r
-Weston--(laughing affectedly) I must protest against that.--A most\r
-dangerous precedent indeed!--I beg you will not let your neighbours\r
-follow your example.--Upon my word, if this is what I am to expect, we\r
-married women must begin to exert ourselves!--Oh! Mr. Weston, I could\r
-not have believed it of you!”\r
-\r
-“Aye, we men are sad fellows. You must take care of yourself, Mrs.\r
-Elton.--This letter tells us--it is a short letter--written in a hurry,\r
-merely to give us notice--it tells us that they are all coming up to\r
-town directly, on Mrs. Churchill’s account--she has not been well the\r
-whole winter, and thinks Enscombe too cold for her--so they are all to\r
-move southward without loss of time.”\r
-\r
-“Indeed!--from Yorkshire, I think. Enscombe is in Yorkshire?”\r
-\r
-“Yes, they are about one hundred and ninety miles from London, a\r
-considerable journey.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, upon my word, very considerable. Sixty-five miles farther than\r
-from Maple Grove to London. But what is distance, Mr. Weston, to people\r
-of large fortune?--You would be amazed to hear how my brother, Mr.\r
-Suckling, sometimes flies about. You will hardly believe me--but twice\r
-in one week he and Mr. Bragge went to London and back again with four\r
-horses.”\r
-\r
-“The evil of the distance from Enscombe,” said Mr. Weston, “is, that\r
-Mrs. Churchill, _as_ _we_ _understand_, has not been able to leave the\r
-sofa for a week together. In Frank’s last letter she complained, he\r
-said, of being too weak to get into her conservatory without having\r
-both his arm and his uncle’s! This, you know, speaks a great degree of\r
-weakness--but now she is so impatient to be in town, that she means to\r
-sleep only two nights on the road.--So Frank writes word. Certainly,\r
-delicate ladies have very extraordinary constitutions, Mrs. Elton. You\r
-must grant me that.”\r
-\r
-“No, indeed, I shall grant you nothing. I always take the part of my\r
-own sex. I do indeed. I give you notice--You will find me a formidable\r
-antagonist on that point. I always stand up for women--and I assure you,\r
-if you knew how Selina feels with respect to sleeping at an inn, you\r
-would not wonder at Mrs. Churchill’s making incredible exertions to\r
-avoid it. Selina says it is quite horror to her--and I believe I have\r
-caught a little of her nicety. She always travels with her own sheets;\r
-an excellent precaution. Does Mrs. Churchill do the same?”\r
-\r
-“Depend upon it, Mrs. Churchill does every thing that any other fine\r
-lady ever did. Mrs. Churchill will not be second to any lady in the land\r
-for”--\r
-\r
-Mrs. Elton eagerly interposed with,\r
-\r
-“Oh! Mr. Weston, do not mistake me. Selina is no fine lady, I assure\r
-you. Do not run away with such an idea.”\r
-\r
-“Is not she? Then she is no rule for Mrs. Churchill, who is as thorough\r
-a fine lady as any body ever beheld.”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Elton began to think she had been wrong in disclaiming so warmly.\r
-It was by no means her object to have it believed that her sister was\r
-_not_ a fine lady; perhaps there was want of spirit in the pretence of\r
-it;--and she was considering in what way she had best retract, when Mr.\r
-Weston went on.\r
-\r
-“Mrs. Churchill is not much in my good graces, as you may suspect--but\r
-this is quite between ourselves. She is very fond of Frank, and\r
-therefore I would not speak ill of her. Besides, she is out of health\r
-now; but _that_ indeed, by her own account, she has always been. I would\r
-not say so to every body, Mrs. Elton, but I have not much faith in Mrs.\r
-Churchill’s illness.”\r
-\r
-“If she is really ill, why not go to Bath, Mr. Weston?--To Bath, or to\r
-Clifton?” “She has taken it into her head that Enscombe is too cold for\r
-her. The fact is, I suppose, that she is tired of Enscombe. She has now\r
-been a longer time stationary there, than she ever was before, and she\r
-begins to want change. It is a retired place. A fine place, but very\r
-retired.”\r
-\r
-“Aye--like Maple Grove, I dare say. Nothing can stand more retired from\r
-the road than Maple Grove. Such an immense plantation all round it! You\r
-seem shut out from every thing--in the most complete retirement.--And\r
-Mrs. Churchill probably has not health or spirits like Selina to enjoy\r
-that sort of seclusion. Or, perhaps she may not have resources enough in\r
-herself to be qualified for a country life. I always say a woman cannot\r
-have too many resources--and I feel very thankful that I have so many\r
-myself as to be quite independent of society.”\r
-\r
-“Frank was here in February for a fortnight.”\r
-\r
-“So I remember to have heard. He will find an _addition_ to the society\r
-of Highbury when he comes again; that is, if I may presume to call\r
-myself an addition. But perhaps he may never have heard of there being\r
-such a creature in the world.”\r
-\r
-This was too loud a call for a compliment to be passed by, and Mr.\r
-Weston, with a very good grace, immediately exclaimed,\r
-\r
-“My dear madam! Nobody but yourself could imagine such a thing possible.\r
-Not heard of you!--I believe Mrs. Weston’s letters lately have been full\r
-of very little else than Mrs. Elton.”\r
-\r
-He had done his duty and could return to his son.\r
-\r
-“When Frank left us,” continued he, “it was quite uncertain when we\r
-might see him again, which makes this day’s news doubly welcome. It has\r
-been completely unexpected. That is, _I_ always had a strong persuasion\r
-he would be here again soon, I was sure something favourable would turn\r
-up--but nobody believed me. He and Mrs. Weston were both dreadfully\r
-desponding. ‘How could he contrive to come? And how could it be supposed\r
-that his uncle and aunt would spare him again?’ and so forth--I always\r
-felt that something would happen in our favour; and so it has, you see.\r
-I have observed, Mrs. Elton, in the course of my life, that if things\r
-are going untowardly one month, they are sure to mend the next.”\r
-\r
-“Very true, Mr. Weston, perfectly true. It is just what I used to say to\r
-a certain gentleman in company in the days of courtship, when, because\r
-things did not go quite right, did not proceed with all the rapidity\r
-which suited his feelings, he was apt to be in despair, and exclaim that\r
-he was sure at this rate it would be _May_ before Hymen’s saffron robe\r
-would be put on for us. Oh! the pains I have been at to dispel those\r
-gloomy ideas and give him cheerfuller views! The carriage--we had\r
-disappointments about the carriage;--one morning, I remember, he came to\r
-me quite in despair.”\r
-\r
-She was stopped by a slight fit of coughing, and Mr. Weston instantly\r
-seized the opportunity of going on.\r
-\r
-“You were mentioning May. May is the very month which Mrs. Churchill\r
-is ordered, or has ordered herself, to spend in some warmer place than\r
-Enscombe--in short, to spend in London; so that we have the agreeable\r
-prospect of frequent visits from Frank the whole spring--precisely the\r
-season of the year which one should have chosen for it: days almost at\r
-the longest; weather genial and pleasant, always inviting one out, and\r
-never too hot for exercise. When he was here before, we made the best\r
-of it; but there was a good deal of wet, damp, cheerless weather;\r
-there always is in February, you know, and we could not do half that we\r
-intended. Now will be the time. This will be complete enjoyment; and I\r
-do not know, Mrs. Elton, whether the uncertainty of our meetings, the\r
-sort of constant expectation there will be of his coming in to-day or\r
-to-morrow, and at any hour, may not be more friendly to happiness than\r
-having him actually in the house. I think it is so. I think it is the\r
-state of mind which gives most spirit and delight. I hope you will be\r
-pleased with my son; but you must not expect a prodigy. He is generally\r
-thought a fine young man, but do not expect a prodigy. Mrs. Weston’s\r
-partiality for him is very great, and, as you may suppose, most\r
-gratifying to me. She thinks nobody equal to him.”\r
-\r
-“And I assure you, Mr. Weston, I have very little doubt that my opinion\r
-will be decidedly in his favour. I have heard so much in praise of Mr.\r
-Frank Churchill.--At the same time it is fair to observe, that I am one\r
-of those who always judge for themselves, and are by no means implicitly\r
-guided by others. I give you notice that as I find your son, so I shall\r
-judge of him.--I am no flatterer.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Weston was musing.\r
-\r
-“I hope,” said he presently, “I have not been severe upon poor Mrs.\r
-Churchill. If she is ill I should be sorry to do her injustice; but\r
-there are some traits in her character which make it difficult for me to\r
-speak of her with the forbearance I could wish. You cannot be ignorant,\r
-Mrs. Elton, of my connexion with the family, nor of the treatment I have\r
-met with; and, between ourselves, the whole blame of it is to be laid\r
-to her. She was the instigator. Frank’s mother would never have been\r
-slighted as she was but for her. Mr. Churchill has pride; but his pride\r
-is nothing to his wife’s: his is a quiet, indolent, gentlemanlike sort\r
-of pride that would harm nobody, and only make himself a little helpless\r
-and tiresome; but her pride is arrogance and insolence! And what\r
-inclines one less to bear, she has no fair pretence of family or blood.\r
-She was nobody when he married her, barely the daughter of a gentleman;\r
-but ever since her being turned into a Churchill she has out-Churchill’d\r
-them all in high and mighty claims: but in herself, I assure you, she is\r
-an upstart.”\r
-\r
-“Only think! well, that must be infinitely provoking! I have quite\r
-a horror of upstarts. Maple Grove has given me a thorough disgust to\r
-people of that sort; for there is a family in that neighbourhood who\r
-are such an annoyance to my brother and sister from the airs they give\r
-themselves! Your description of Mrs. Churchill made me think of them\r
-directly. People of the name of Tupman, very lately settled there, and\r
-encumbered with many low connexions, but giving themselves immense airs,\r
-and expecting to be on a footing with the old established families.\r
-A year and a half is the very utmost that they can have lived at West\r
-Hall; and how they got their fortune nobody knows. They came from\r
-Birmingham, which is not a place to promise much, you know, Mr. Weston.\r
-One has not great hopes from Birmingham. I always say there is something\r
-direful in the sound: but nothing more is positively known of the\r
-Tupmans, though a good many things I assure you are suspected; and\r
-yet by their manners they evidently think themselves equal even to\r
-my brother, Mr. Suckling, who happens to be one of their nearest\r
-neighbours. It is infinitely too bad. Mr. Suckling, who has been eleven\r
-years a resident at Maple Grove, and whose father had it before him--I\r
-believe, at least--I am almost sure that old Mr. Suckling had completed\r
-the purchase before his death.”\r
-\r
-They were interrupted. Tea was carrying round, and Mr. Weston, having\r
-said all that he wanted, soon took the opportunity of walking away.\r
-\r
-After tea, Mr. and Mrs. Weston, and Mr. Elton sat down with Mr.\r
-Woodhouse to cards. The remaining five were left to their own powers,\r
-and Emma doubted their getting on very well; for Mr. Knightley seemed\r
-little disposed for conversation; Mrs. Elton was wanting notice, which\r
-nobody had inclination to pay, and she was herself in a worry of spirits\r
-which would have made her prefer being silent.\r
-\r
-Mr. John Knightley proved more talkative than his brother. He was to\r
-leave them early the next day; and he soon began with--\r
-\r
-“Well, Emma, I do not believe I have any thing more to say about the\r
-boys; but you have your sister’s letter, and every thing is down at full\r
-length there we may be sure. My charge would be much more concise than\r
-her’s, and probably not much in the same spirit; all that I have to\r
-recommend being comprised in, do not spoil them, and do not physic\r
-them.”\r
-\r
-“I rather hope to satisfy you both,” said Emma, “for I shall do all\r
-in my power to make them happy, which will be enough for Isabella; and\r
-happiness must preclude false indulgence and physic.”\r
-\r
-“And if you find them troublesome, you must send them home again.”\r
-\r
-“That is very likely. You think so, do not you?”\r
-\r
-“I hope I am aware that they may be too noisy for your father--or even\r
-may be some encumbrance to you, if your visiting engagements continue to\r
-increase as much as they have done lately.”\r
-\r
-“Increase!”\r
-\r
-“Certainly; you must be sensible that the last half-year has made a\r
-great difference in your way of life.”\r
-\r
-“Difference! No indeed I am not.”\r
-\r
-“There can be no doubt of your being much more engaged with company than\r
-you used to be. Witness this very time. Here am I come down for only\r
-one day, and you are engaged with a dinner-party!--When did it happen\r
-before, or any thing like it? Your neighbourhood is increasing, and you\r
-mix more with it. A little while ago, every letter to Isabella brought\r
-an account of fresh gaieties; dinners at Mr. Cole’s, or balls at the\r
-Crown. The difference which Randalls, Randalls alone makes in your\r
-goings-on, is very great.”\r
-\r
-“Yes,” said his brother quickly, “it is Randalls that does it all.”\r
-\r
-“Very well--and as Randalls, I suppose, is not likely to have less\r
-influence than heretofore, it strikes me as a possible thing, Emma, that\r
-Henry and John may be sometimes in the way. And if they are, I only beg\r
-you to send them home.”\r
-\r
-“No,” cried Mr. Knightley, “that need not be the consequence. Let them\r
-be sent to Donwell. I shall certainly be at leisure.”\r
-\r
-“Upon my word,” exclaimed Emma, “you amuse me! I should like to know how\r
-many of all my numerous engagements take place without your being of\r
-the party; and why I am to be supposed in danger of wanting leisure to\r
-attend to the little boys. These amazing engagements of mine--what have\r
-they been? Dining once with the Coles--and having a ball talked of,\r
-which never took place. I can understand you--(nodding at Mr. John\r
-Knightley)--your good fortune in meeting with so many of your friends at\r
-once here, delights you too much to pass unnoticed. But you, (turning to\r
-Mr. Knightley,) who know how very, very seldom I am ever two hours from\r
-Hartfield, why you should foresee such a series of dissipation for me, I\r
-cannot imagine. And as to my dear little boys, I must say, that if Aunt\r
-Emma has not time for them, I do not think they would fare much better\r
-with Uncle Knightley, who is absent from home about five hours where she\r
-is absent one--and who, when he is at home, is either reading to himself\r
-or settling his accounts.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley seemed to be trying not to smile; and succeeded without\r
-difficulty, upon Mrs. Elton’s beginning to talk to him.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-VOLUME III\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER I\r
-\r
-\r
-A very little quiet reflection was enough to satisfy Emma as to the\r
-nature of her agitation on hearing this news of Frank Churchill. She\r
-was soon convinced that it was not for herself she was feeling at all\r
-apprehensive or embarrassed; it was for him. Her own attachment had\r
-really subsided into a mere nothing; it was not worth thinking of;--but\r
-if he, who had undoubtedly been always so much the most in love of the\r
-two, were to be returning with the same warmth of sentiment which he had\r
-taken away, it would be very distressing. If a separation of two\r
-months should not have cooled him, there were dangers and evils before\r
-her:--caution for him and for herself would be necessary. She did\r
-not mean to have her own affections entangled again, and it would be\r
-incumbent on her to avoid any encouragement of his.\r
-\r
-She wished she might be able to keep him from an absolute declaration.\r
-That would be so very painful a conclusion of their present\r
-acquaintance! and yet, she could not help rather anticipating something\r
-decisive. She felt as if the spring would not pass without bringing a\r
-crisis, an event, a something to alter her present composed and tranquil\r
-state.\r
-\r
-It was not very long, though rather longer than Mr. Weston had foreseen,\r
-before she had the power of forming some opinion of Frank Churchill’s\r
-feelings. The Enscombe family were not in town quite so soon as had been\r
-imagined, but he was at Highbury very soon afterwards. He rode down\r
-for a couple of hours; he could not yet do more; but as he came from\r
-Randalls immediately to Hartfield, she could then exercise all her quick\r
-observation, and speedily determine how he was influenced, and how she\r
-must act. They met with the utmost friendliness. There could be no doubt\r
-of his great pleasure in seeing her. But she had an almost instant doubt\r
-of his caring for her as he had done, of his feeling the same tenderness\r
-in the same degree. She watched him well. It was a clear thing he was\r
-less in love than he had been. Absence, with the conviction probably\r
-of her indifference, had produced this very natural and very desirable\r
-effect.\r
-\r
-He was in high spirits; as ready to talk and laugh as ever, and seemed\r
-delighted to speak of his former visit, and recur to old stories: and he\r
-was not without agitation. It was not in his calmness that she read\r
-his comparative difference. He was not calm; his spirits were evidently\r
-fluttered; there was restlessness about him. Lively as he was, it seemed\r
-a liveliness that did not satisfy himself; but what decided her belief\r
-on the subject, was his staying only a quarter of an hour, and hurrying\r
-away to make other calls in Highbury. “He had seen a group of old\r
-acquaintance in the street as he passed--he had not stopped, he would\r
-not stop for more than a word--but he had the vanity to think they would\r
-be disappointed if he did not call, and much as he wished to stay longer\r
-at Hartfield, he must hurry off.” She had no doubt as to his being less\r
-in love--but neither his agitated spirits, nor his hurrying away, seemed\r
-like a perfect cure; and she was rather inclined to think it implied a\r
-dread of her returning power, and a discreet resolution of not trusting\r
-himself with her long.\r
-\r
-This was the only visit from Frank Churchill in the course of ten days.\r
-He was often hoping, intending to come--but was always prevented. His\r
-aunt could not bear to have him leave her. Such was his own account at\r
-Randall’s. If he were quite sincere, if he really tried to come, it was\r
-to be inferred that Mrs. Churchill’s removal to London had been of no\r
-service to the wilful or nervous part of her disorder. That she was\r
-really ill was very certain; he had declared himself convinced of it, at\r
-Randalls. Though much might be fancy, he could not doubt, when he looked\r
-back, that she was in a weaker state of health than she had been half a\r
-year ago. He did not believe it to proceed from any thing that care\r
-and medicine might not remove, or at least that she might not have many\r
-years of existence before her; but he could not be prevailed on, by all\r
-his father’s doubts, to say that her complaints were merely imaginary,\r
-or that she was as strong as ever.\r
-\r
-It soon appeared that London was not the place for her. She could\r
-not endure its noise. Her nerves were under continual irritation and\r
-suffering; and by the ten days’ end, her nephew’s letter to Randalls\r
-communicated a change of plan. They were going to remove immediately to\r
-Richmond. Mrs. Churchill had been recommended to the medical skill of\r
-an eminent person there, and had otherwise a fancy for the place. A\r
-ready-furnished house in a favourite spot was engaged, and much benefit\r
-expected from the change.\r
-\r
-Emma heard that Frank wrote in the highest spirits of this arrangement,\r
-and seemed most fully to appreciate the blessing of having two months\r
-before him of such near neighbourhood to many dear friends--for the\r
-house was taken for May and June. She was told that now he wrote with\r
-the greatest confidence of being often with them, almost as often as he\r
-could even wish.\r
-\r
-Emma saw how Mr. Weston understood these joyous prospects. He was\r
-considering her as the source of all the happiness they offered. She\r
-hoped it was not so. Two months must bring it to the proof.\r
-\r
-Mr. Weston’s own happiness was indisputable. He was quite delighted.\r
-It was the very circumstance he could have wished for. Now, it would be\r
-really having Frank in their neighbourhood. What were nine miles to\r
-a young man?--An hour’s ride. He would be always coming over. The\r
-difference in that respect of Richmond and London was enough to make\r
-the whole difference of seeing him always and seeing him never. Sixteen\r
-miles--nay, eighteen--it must be full eighteen to Manchester-street--was\r
-a serious obstacle. Were he ever able to get away, the day would be\r
-spent in coming and returning. There was no comfort in having him in\r
-London; he might as well be at Enscombe; but Richmond was the very\r
-distance for easy intercourse. Better than nearer!\r
-\r
-One good thing was immediately brought to a certainty by this\r
-removal,--the ball at the Crown. It had not been forgotten before,\r
-but it had been soon acknowledged vain to attempt to fix a day. Now,\r
-however, it was absolutely to be; every preparation was resumed, and\r
-very soon after the Churchills had removed to Richmond, a few lines from\r
-Frank, to say that his aunt felt already much better for the change, and\r
-that he had no doubt of being able to join them for twenty-four hours at\r
-any given time, induced them to name as early a day as possible.\r
-\r
-Mr. Weston’s ball was to be a real thing. A very few to-morrows stood\r
-between the young people of Highbury and happiness.\r
-\r
-Mr. Woodhouse was resigned. The time of year lightened the evil to him.\r
-May was better for every thing than February. Mrs. Bates was engaged to\r
-spend the evening at Hartfield, James had due notice, and he sanguinely\r
-hoped that neither dear little Henry nor dear little John would have any\r
-thing the matter with them, while dear Emma were gone.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER II\r
-\r
-\r
-No misfortune occurred, again to prevent the ball. The day approached,\r
-the day arrived; and after a morning of some anxious watching, Frank\r
-Churchill, in all the certainty of his own self, reached Randalls before\r
-dinner, and every thing was safe.\r
-\r
-No second meeting had there yet been between him and Emma. The room\r
-at the Crown was to witness it;--but it would be better than a\r
-common meeting in a crowd. Mr. Weston had been so very earnest in his\r
-entreaties for her arriving there as soon as possible after themselves,\r
-for the purpose of taking her opinion as to the propriety and comfort of\r
-the rooms before any other persons came, that she could not refuse him,\r
-and must therefore spend some quiet interval in the young man’s company.\r
-She was to convey Harriet, and they drove to the Crown in good time, the\r
-Randalls party just sufficiently before them.\r
-\r
-Frank Churchill seemed to have been on the watch; and though he did not\r
-say much, his eyes declared that he meant to have a delightful evening.\r
-They all walked about together, to see that every thing was as it should\r
-be; and within a few minutes were joined by the contents of another\r
-carriage, which Emma could not hear the sound of at first, without great\r
-surprize. “So unreasonably early!” she was going to exclaim; but she\r
-presently found that it was a family of old friends, who were coming,\r
-like herself, by particular desire, to help Mr. Weston’s judgment; and\r
-they were so very closely followed by another carriage of cousins,\r
-who had been entreated to come early with the same distinguishing\r
-earnestness, on the same errand, that it seemed as if half the company\r
-might soon be collected together for the purpose of preparatory\r
-inspection.\r
-\r
-Emma perceived that her taste was not the only taste on which Mr. Weston\r
-depended, and felt, that to be the favourite and intimate of a man\r
-who had so many intimates and confidantes, was not the very first\r
-distinction in the scale of vanity. She liked his open manners, but\r
-a little less of open-heartedness would have made him a higher\r
-character.--General benevolence, but not general friendship, made a\r
-man what he ought to be.--She could fancy such a man. The whole party\r
-walked about, and looked, and praised again; and then, having nothing\r
-else to do, formed a sort of half-circle round the fire, to observe\r
-in their various modes, till other subjects were started, that, though\r
-_May_, a fire in the evening was still very pleasant.\r
-\r
-Emma found that it was not Mr. Weston’s fault that the number of privy\r
-councillors was not yet larger. They had stopped at Mrs. Bates’s door\r
-to offer the use of their carriage, but the aunt and niece were to be\r
-brought by the Eltons.\r
-\r
-Frank was standing by her, but not steadily; there was a restlessness,\r
-which shewed a mind not at ease. He was looking about, he was going to\r
-the door, he was watching for the sound of other carriages,--impatient\r
-to begin, or afraid of being always near her.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Elton was spoken of. “I think she must be here soon,” said he. “I\r
-have a great curiosity to see Mrs. Elton, I have heard so much of her.\r
-It cannot be long, I think, before she comes.”\r
-\r
-A carriage was heard. He was on the move immediately; but coming back,\r
-said,\r
-\r
-“I am forgetting that I am not acquainted with her. I have never seen\r
-either Mr. or Mrs. Elton. I have no business to put myself forward.”\r
-\r
-Mr. and Mrs. Elton appeared; and all the smiles and the proprieties\r
-passed.\r
-\r
-“But Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax!” said Mr. Weston, looking about. “We\r
-thought you were to bring them.”\r
-\r
-The mistake had been slight. The carriage was sent for them now. Emma\r
-longed to know what Frank’s first opinion of Mrs. Elton might be; how\r
-he was affected by the studied elegance of her dress, and her smiles of\r
-graciousness. He was immediately qualifying himself to form an opinion,\r
-by giving her very proper attention, after the introduction had passed.\r
-\r
-In a few minutes the carriage returned.--Somebody talked of rain.--“I\r
-will see that there are umbrellas, sir,” said Frank to his father:\r
-“Miss Bates must not be forgotten:” and away he went. Mr. Weston was\r
-following; but Mrs. Elton detained him, to gratify him by her opinion\r
-of his son; and so briskly did she begin, that the young man himself,\r
-though by no means moving slowly, could hardly be out of hearing.\r
-\r
-“A very fine young man indeed, Mr. Weston. You know I candidly told you\r
-I should form my own opinion; and I am happy to say that I am extremely\r
-pleased with him.--You may believe me. I never compliment. I think him\r
-a very handsome young man, and his manners are precisely what I like and\r
-approve--so truly the gentleman, without the least conceit or puppyism.\r
-You must know I have a vast dislike to puppies--quite a horror of them.\r
-They were never tolerated at Maple Grove. Neither Mr. Suckling nor\r
-me had ever any patience with them; and we used sometimes to say very\r
-cutting things! Selina, who is mild almost to a fault, bore with them\r
-much better.”\r
-\r
-While she talked of his son, Mr. Weston’s attention was chained; but\r
-when she got to Maple Grove, he could recollect that there were ladies\r
-just arriving to be attended to, and with happy smiles must hurry away.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Elton turned to Mrs. Weston. “I have no doubt of its being our\r
-carriage with Miss Bates and Jane. Our coachman and horses are so\r
-extremely expeditious!--I believe we drive faster than any body.--What\r
-a pleasure it is to send one’s carriage for a friend!--I understand you\r
-were so kind as to offer, but another time it will be quite unnecessary.\r
-You may be very sure I shall always take care of _them_.”\r
-\r
-Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax, escorted by the two gentlemen, walked into\r
-the room; and Mrs. Elton seemed to think it as much her duty as Mrs.\r
-Weston’s to receive them. Her gestures and movements might be understood\r
-by any one who looked on like Emma; but her words, every body’s words,\r
-were soon lost under the incessant flow of Miss Bates, who came in\r
-talking, and had not finished her speech under many minutes after her\r
-being admitted into the circle at the fire. As the door opened she was\r
-heard,\r
-\r
-“So very obliging of you!--No rain at all. Nothing to signify. I do not\r
-care for myself. Quite thick shoes. And Jane declares--Well!--(as soon\r
-as she was within the door) Well! This is brilliant indeed!--This is\r
-admirable!--Excellently contrived, upon my word. Nothing wanting. Could\r
-not have imagined it.--So well lighted up!--Jane, Jane, look!--did you\r
-ever see any thing? Oh! Mr. Weston, you must really have had Aladdin’s\r
-lamp. Good Mrs. Stokes would not know her own room again. I saw her as\r
-I came in; she was standing in the entrance. ‘Oh! Mrs. Stokes,’ said\r
-I--but I had not time for more.” She was now met by Mrs. Weston.--“Very\r
-well, I thank you, ma’am. I hope you are quite well. Very happy to hear\r
-it. So afraid you might have a headache!--seeing you pass by so often,\r
-and knowing how much trouble you must have. Delighted to hear it indeed.\r
-Ah! dear Mrs. Elton, so obliged to you for the carriage!--excellent\r
-time. Jane and I quite ready. Did not keep the horses a moment. Most\r
-comfortable carriage.--Oh! and I am sure our thanks are due to you,\r
-Mrs. Weston, on that score. Mrs. Elton had most kindly sent Jane a note,\r
-or we should have been.--But two such offers in one day!--Never were\r
-such neighbours. I said to my mother, ‘Upon my word, ma’am--.’ Thank\r
-you, my mother is remarkably well. Gone to Mr. Woodhouse’s. I made her\r
-take her shawl--for the evenings are not warm--her large new shawl--\r
-Mrs. Dixon’s wedding-present.--So kind of her to think of my mother!\r
-Bought at Weymouth, you know--Mr. Dixon’s choice. There were three\r
-others, Jane says, which they hesitated about some time. Colonel\r
-Campbell rather preferred an olive. My dear Jane, are you sure you did\r
-not wet your feet?--It was but a drop or two, but I am so afraid:--but\r
-Mr. Frank Churchill was so extremely--and there was a mat to step\r
-upon--I shall never forget his extreme politeness.--Oh! Mr. Frank\r
-Churchill, I must tell you my mother’s spectacles have never been in\r
-fault since; the rivet never came out again. My mother often talks of\r
-your good-nature. Does not she, Jane?--Do not we often talk of Mr. Frank\r
-Churchill?--Ah! here’s Miss Woodhouse.--Dear Miss Woodhouse, how do\r
-you do?--Very well I thank you, quite well. This is meeting quite\r
-in fairy-land!--Such a transformation!--Must not compliment, I know\r
-(eyeing Emma most complacently)--that would be rude--but upon my word,\r
-Miss Woodhouse, you do look--how do you like Jane’s hair?--You are\r
-a judge.--She did it all herself. Quite wonderful how she does her\r
-hair!--No hairdresser from London I think could.--Ah! Dr. Hughes I\r
-declare--and Mrs. Hughes. Must go and speak to Dr. and Mrs. Hughes for a\r
-moment.--How do you do? How do you do?--Very well, I thank you. This\r
-is delightful, is not it?--Where’s dear Mr. Richard?--Oh! there he is.\r
-Don’t disturb him. Much better employed talking to the young ladies. How\r
-do you do, Mr. Richard?--I saw you the other day as you rode through\r
-the town--Mrs. Otway, I protest!--and good Mr. Otway, and Miss Otway\r
-and Miss Caroline.--Such a host of friends!--and Mr. George and Mr.\r
-Arthur!--How do you do? How do you all do?--Quite well, I am much\r
-obliged to you. Never better.--Don’t I hear another carriage?--Who can\r
-this be?--very likely the worthy Coles.--Upon my word, this is charming\r
-to be standing about among such friends! And such a noble fire!--I am\r
-quite roasted. No coffee, I thank you, for me--never take coffee.--A\r
-little tea if you please, sir, by and bye,--no hurry--Oh! here it comes.\r
-Every thing so good!”\r
-\r
-Frank Churchill returned to his station by Emma; and as soon as Miss\r
-Bates was quiet, she found herself necessarily overhearing the discourse\r
-of Mrs. Elton and Miss Fairfax, who were standing a little way behind\r
-her.--He was thoughtful. Whether he were overhearing too, she could not\r
-determine. After a good many compliments to Jane on her dress and look,\r
-compliments very quietly and properly taken, Mrs. Elton was evidently\r
-wanting to be complimented herself--and it was, “How do you like\r
-my gown?--How do you like my trimming?--How has Wright done my\r
-hair?”--with many other relative questions, all answered with patient\r
-politeness. Mrs. Elton then said, “Nobody can think less of dress in\r
-general than I do--but upon such an occasion as this, when every body’s\r
-eyes are so much upon me, and in compliment to the Westons--who I have\r
-no doubt are giving this ball chiefly to do me honour--I would not wish\r
-to be inferior to others. And I see very few pearls in the room except\r
-mine.--So Frank Churchill is a capital dancer, I understand.--We shall\r
-see if our styles suit.--A fine young man certainly is Frank Churchill.\r
-I like him very well.”\r
-\r
-At this moment Frank began talking so vigorously, that Emma could not\r
-but imagine he had overheard his own praises, and did not want to hear\r
-more;--and the voices of the ladies were drowned for a while, till\r
-another suspension brought Mrs. Elton’s tones again distinctly\r
-forward.--Mr. Elton had just joined them, and his wife was exclaiming,\r
-\r
-“Oh! you have found us out at last, have you, in our seclusion?--I was\r
-this moment telling Jane, I thought you would begin to be impatient for\r
-tidings of us.”\r
-\r
-“Jane!”--repeated Frank Churchill, with a look of surprize and\r
-displeasure.--“That is easy--but Miss Fairfax does not disapprove it, I\r
-suppose.”\r
-\r
-“How do you like Mrs. Elton?” said Emma in a whisper.\r
-\r
-“Not at all.”\r
-\r
-“You are ungrateful.”\r
-\r
-“Ungrateful!--What do you mean?” Then changing from a frown to a\r
-smile--“No, do not tell me--I do not want to know what you mean.--Where\r
-is my father?--When are we to begin dancing?”\r
-\r
-Emma could hardly understand him; he seemed in an odd humour. He walked\r
-off to find his father, but was quickly back again with both Mr. and\r
-Mrs. Weston. He had met with them in a little perplexity, which must be\r
-laid before Emma. It had just occurred to Mrs. Weston that Mrs. Elton\r
-must be asked to begin the ball; that she would expect it; which\r
-interfered with all their wishes of giving Emma that distinction.--Emma\r
-heard the sad truth with fortitude.\r
-\r
-“And what are we to do for a proper partner for her?” said Mr. Weston.\r
-“She will think Frank ought to ask her.”\r
-\r
-Frank turned instantly to Emma, to claim her former promise; and\r
-boasted himself an engaged man, which his father looked his most perfect\r
-approbation of--and it then appeared that Mrs. Weston was wanting _him_\r
-to dance with Mrs. Elton himself, and that their business was to help to\r
-persuade him into it, which was done pretty soon.--Mr. Weston and Mrs.\r
-Elton led the way, Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse followed.\r
-Emma must submit to stand second to Mrs. Elton, though she had always\r
-considered the ball as peculiarly for her. It was almost enough to make\r
-her think of marrying. Mrs. Elton had undoubtedly the advantage, at this\r
-time, in vanity completely gratified; for though she had intended to\r
-begin with Frank Churchill, she could not lose by the change. Mr. Weston\r
-might be his son’s superior.--In spite of this little rub, however,\r
-Emma was smiling with enjoyment, delighted to see the respectable length\r
-of the set as it was forming, and to feel that she had so many hours\r
-of unusual festivity before her.--She was more disturbed by Mr.\r
-Knightley’s not dancing than by any thing else.--There he was, among\r
-the standers-by, where he ought not to be; he ought to be dancing,--not\r
-classing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and whist-players, who\r
-were pretending to feel an interest in the dance till their rubbers were\r
-made up,--so young as he looked!--He could not have appeared to greater\r
-advantage perhaps anywhere, than where he had placed himself. His tall,\r
-firm, upright figure, among the bulky forms and stooping shoulders of\r
-the elderly men, was such as Emma felt must draw every body’s eyes;\r
-and, excepting her own partner, there was not one among the whole row of\r
-young men who could be compared with him.--He moved a few steps nearer,\r
-and those few steps were enough to prove in how gentlemanlike a manner,\r
-with what natural grace, he must have danced, would he but take the\r
-trouble.--Whenever she caught his eye, she forced him to smile; but\r
-in general he was looking grave. She wished he could love a ballroom\r
-better, and could like Frank Churchill better.--He seemed often\r
-observing her. She must not flatter herself that he thought of her\r
-dancing, but if he were criticising her behaviour, she did not feel\r
-afraid. There was nothing like flirtation between her and her partner.\r
-They seemed more like cheerful, easy friends, than lovers. That Frank\r
-Churchill thought less of her than he had done, was indubitable.\r
-\r
-The ball proceeded pleasantly. The anxious cares, the incessant\r
-attentions of Mrs. Weston, were not thrown away. Every body seemed\r
-happy; and the praise of being a delightful ball, which is seldom\r
-bestowed till after a ball has ceased to be, was repeatedly given in\r
-the very beginning of the existence of this. Of very important, very\r
-recordable events, it was not more productive than such meetings usually\r
-are. There was one, however, which Emma thought something of.--The two\r
-last dances before supper were begun, and Harriet had no partner;--the\r
-only young lady sitting down;--and so equal had been hitherto the\r
-number of dancers, that how there could be any one disengaged was the\r
-wonder!--But Emma’s wonder lessened soon afterwards, on seeing Mr. Elton\r
-sauntering about. He would not ask Harriet to dance if it were possible\r
-to be avoided: she was sure he would not--and she was expecting him\r
-every moment to escape into the card-room.\r
-\r
-Escape, however, was not his plan. He came to the part of the room where\r
-the sitters-by were collected, spoke to some, and walked about in front\r
-of them, as if to shew his liberty, and his resolution of maintaining\r
-it. He did not omit being sometimes directly before Miss Smith, or\r
-speaking to those who were close to her.--Emma saw it. She was not yet\r
-dancing; she was working her way up from the bottom, and had therefore\r
-leisure to look around, and by only turning her head a little she saw\r
-it all. When she was half-way up the set, the whole group were exactly\r
-behind her, and she would no longer allow her eyes to watch; but Mr.\r
-Elton was so near, that she heard every syllable of a dialogue which\r
-just then took place between him and Mrs. Weston; and she perceived that\r
-his wife, who was standing immediately above her, was not only\r
-listening also, but even encouraging him by significant glances.--The\r
-kind-hearted, gentle Mrs. Weston had left her seat to join him and say,\r
-“Do not you dance, Mr. Elton?” to which his prompt reply was, “Most\r
-readily, Mrs. Weston, if you will dance with me.”\r
-\r
-“Me!--oh! no--I would get you a better partner than myself. I am no\r
-dancer.”\r
-\r
-“If Mrs. Gilbert wishes to dance,” said he, “I shall have great\r
-pleasure, I am sure--for, though beginning to feel myself rather an old\r
-married man, and that my dancing days are over, it would give me very\r
-great pleasure at any time to stand up with an old friend like Mrs.\r
-Gilbert.”\r
-\r
-“Mrs. Gilbert does not mean to dance, but there is a young lady\r
-disengaged whom I should be very glad to see dancing--Miss Smith.” “Miss\r
-Smith!--oh!--I had not observed.--You are extremely obliging--and if I\r
-were not an old married man.--But my dancing days are over, Mrs. Weston.\r
-You will excuse me. Any thing else I should be most happy to do, at your\r
-command--but my dancing days are over.”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston said no more; and Emma could imagine with what surprize and\r
-mortification she must be returning to her seat. This was Mr. Elton! the\r
-amiable, obliging, gentle Mr. Elton.--She looked round for a moment; he\r
-had joined Mr. Knightley at a little distance, and was arranging himself\r
-for settled conversation, while smiles of high glee passed between him\r
-and his wife.\r
-\r
-She would not look again. Her heart was in a glow, and she feared her\r
-face might be as hot.\r
-\r
-In another moment a happier sight caught her;--Mr. Knightley leading\r
-Harriet to the set!--Never had she been more surprized, seldom more\r
-delighted, than at that instant. She was all pleasure and gratitude,\r
-both for Harriet and herself, and longed to be thanking him; and though\r
-too distant for speech, her countenance said much, as soon as she could\r
-catch his eye again.\r
-\r
-His dancing proved to be just what she had believed it, extremely good;\r
-and Harriet would have seemed almost too lucky, if it had not been for\r
-the cruel state of things before, and for the very complete enjoyment\r
-and very high sense of the distinction which her happy features\r
-announced. It was not thrown away on her, she bounded higher than ever,\r
-flew farther down the middle, and was in a continual course of smiles.\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton had retreated into the card-room, looking (Emma trusted) very\r
-foolish. She did not think he was quite so hardened as his wife, though\r
-growing very like her;--_she_ spoke some of her feelings, by observing\r
-audibly to her partner,\r
-\r
-“Knightley has taken pity on poor little Miss Smith!--Very good-natured,\r
-I declare.”\r
-\r
-Supper was announced. The move began; and Miss Bates might be heard from\r
-that moment, without interruption, till her being seated at table and\r
-taking up her spoon.\r
-\r
-“Jane, Jane, my dear Jane, where are you?--Here is your tippet. Mrs.\r
-Weston begs you to put on your tippet. She says she is afraid there will\r
-be draughts in the passage, though every thing has been done--One door\r
-nailed up--Quantities of matting--My dear Jane, indeed you must.\r
-Mr. Churchill, oh! you are too obliging! How well you put it on!--so\r
-gratified! Excellent dancing indeed!--Yes, my dear, I ran home, as I\r
-said I should, to help grandmama to bed, and got back again, and\r
-nobody missed me.--I set off without saying a word, just as I told you.\r
-Grandmama was quite well, had a charming evening with Mr. Woodhouse, a\r
-vast deal of chat, and backgammon.--Tea was made downstairs, biscuits\r
-and baked apples and wine before she came away: amazing luck in some\r
-of her throws: and she inquired a great deal about you, how you were\r
-amused, and who were your partners. ‘Oh!’ said I, ‘I shall not forestall\r
-Jane; I left her dancing with Mr. George Otway; she will love to tell\r
-you all about it herself to-morrow: her first partner was Mr. Elton,\r
-I do not know who will ask her next, perhaps Mr. William Cox.’ My dear\r
-sir, you are too obliging.--Is there nobody you would not rather?--I am\r
-not helpless. Sir, you are most kind. Upon my word, Jane on one arm, and\r
-me on the other!--Stop, stop, let us stand a little back, Mrs. Elton is\r
-going; dear Mrs. Elton, how elegant she looks!--Beautiful lace!--Now we\r
-all follow in her train. Quite the queen of the evening!--Well, here we\r
-are at the passage. Two steps, Jane, take care of the two steps. Oh! no,\r
-there is but one. Well, I was persuaded there were two. How very odd!\r
-I was convinced there were two, and there is but one. I never saw any\r
-thing equal to the comfort and style--Candles everywhere.--I was telling\r
-you of your grandmama, Jane,--There was a little disappointment.--The\r
-baked apples and biscuits, excellent in their way, you know; but there\r
-was a delicate fricassee of sweetbread and some asparagus brought in at\r
-first, and good Mr. Woodhouse, not thinking the asparagus quite boiled\r
-enough, sent it all out again. Now there is nothing grandmama loves\r
-better than sweetbread and asparagus--so she was rather disappointed,\r
-but we agreed we would not speak of it to any body, for fear of\r
-its getting round to dear Miss Woodhouse, who would be so very much\r
-concerned!--Well, this is brilliant! I am all amazement! could not have\r
-supposed any thing!--Such elegance and profusion!--I have seen nothing\r
-like it since--Well, where shall we sit? where shall we sit? Anywhere,\r
-so that Jane is not in a draught. Where _I_ sit is of no consequence.\r
-Oh! do you recommend this side?--Well, I am sure, Mr. Churchill--only\r
-it seems too good--but just as you please. What you direct in this house\r
-cannot be wrong. Dear Jane, how shall we ever recollect half the dishes\r
-for grandmama? Soup too! Bless me! I should not be helped so soon, but\r
-it smells most excellent, and I cannot help beginning.”\r
-\r
-Emma had no opportunity of speaking to Mr. Knightley till after supper;\r
-but, when they were all in the ballroom again, her eyes invited\r
-him irresistibly to come to her and be thanked. He was warm in his\r
-reprobation of Mr. Elton’s conduct; it had been unpardonable rudeness;\r
-and Mrs. Elton’s looks also received the due share of censure.\r
-\r
-“They aimed at wounding more than Harriet,” said he. “Emma, why is it\r
-that they are your enemies?”\r
-\r
-He looked with smiling penetration; and, on receiving no answer, added,\r
-“_She_ ought not to be angry with you, I suspect, whatever he may\r
-be.--To that surmise, you say nothing, of course; but confess, Emma,\r
-that you did want him to marry Harriet.”\r
-\r
-“I did,” replied Emma, “and they cannot forgive me.”\r
-\r
-He shook his head; but there was a smile of indulgence with it, and he\r
-only said,\r
-\r
-“I shall not scold you. I leave you to your own reflections.”\r
-\r
-“Can you trust me with such flatterers?--Does my vain spirit ever tell\r
-me I am wrong?”\r
-\r
-“Not your vain spirit, but your serious spirit.--If one leads you wrong,\r
-I am sure the other tells you of it.”\r
-\r
-“I do own myself to have been completely mistaken in Mr. Elton. There is\r
-a littleness about him which you discovered, and which I did not: and I\r
-was fully convinced of his being in love with Harriet. It was through a\r
-series of strange blunders!”\r
-\r
-“And, in return for your acknowledging so much, I will do you the\r
-justice to say, that you would have chosen for him better than he has\r
-chosen for himself.--Harriet Smith has some first-rate qualities, which\r
-Mrs. Elton is totally without. An unpretending, single-minded, artless\r
-girl--infinitely to be preferred by any man of sense and taste to such a\r
-woman as Mrs. Elton. I found Harriet more conversable than I expected.”\r
-\r
-Emma was extremely gratified.--They were interrupted by the bustle of\r
-Mr. Weston calling on every body to begin dancing again.\r
-\r
-“Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you all\r
-doing?--Come Emma, set your companions the example. Every body is lazy!\r
-Every body is asleep!”\r
-\r
-“I am ready,” said Emma, “whenever I am wanted.”\r
-\r
-“Whom are you going to dance with?” asked Mr. Knightley.\r
-\r
-She hesitated a moment, and then replied, “With you, if you will ask\r
-me.”\r
-\r
-“Will you?” said he, offering his hand.\r
-\r
-“Indeed I will. You have shewn that you can dance, and you know we are\r
-not really so much brother and sister as to make it at all improper.”\r
-\r
-“Brother and sister! no, indeed.”\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER III\r
-\r
-\r
-This little explanation with Mr. Knightley gave Emma considerable\r
-pleasure. It was one of the agreeable recollections of the ball, which\r
-she walked about the lawn the next morning to enjoy.--She was extremely\r
-glad that they had come to so good an understanding respecting the\r
-Eltons, and that their opinions of both husband and wife were so much\r
-alike; and his praise of Harriet, his concession in her favour, was\r
-peculiarly gratifying. The impertinence of the Eltons, which for a few\r
-minutes had threatened to ruin the rest of her evening, had been the\r
-occasion of some of its highest satisfactions; and she looked forward\r
-to another happy result--the cure of Harriet’s infatuation.--From\r
-Harriet’s manner of speaking of the circumstance before they quitted the\r
-ballroom, she had strong hopes. It seemed as if her eyes were suddenly\r
-opened, and she were enabled to see that Mr. Elton was not the superior\r
-creature she had believed him. The fever was over, and Emma could\r
-harbour little fear of the pulse being quickened again by injurious\r
-courtesy. She depended on the evil feelings of the Eltons for\r
-supplying all the discipline of pointed neglect that could be farther\r
-requisite.--Harriet rational, Frank Churchill not too much in love, and\r
-Mr. Knightley not wanting to quarrel with her, how very happy a summer\r
-must be before her!\r
-\r
-She was not to see Frank Churchill this morning. He had told her that he\r
-could not allow himself the pleasure of stopping at Hartfield, as he was\r
-to be at home by the middle of the day. She did not regret it.\r
-\r
-Having arranged all these matters, looked them through, and put them all\r
-to rights, she was just turning to the house with spirits freshened up\r
-for the demands of the two little boys, as well as of their grandpapa,\r
-when the great iron sweep-gate opened, and two persons entered whom she\r
-had never less expected to see together--Frank Churchill, with Harriet\r
-leaning on his arm--actually Harriet!--A moment sufficed to convince\r
-her that something extraordinary had happened. Harriet looked white\r
-and frightened, and he was trying to cheer her.--The iron gates and the\r
-front-door were not twenty yards asunder;--they were all three soon in\r
-the hall, and Harriet immediately sinking into a chair fainted away.\r
-\r
-A young lady who faints, must be recovered; questions must be answered,\r
-and surprizes be explained. Such events are very interesting, but the\r
-suspense of them cannot last long. A few minutes made Emma acquainted\r
-with the whole.\r
-\r
-Miss Smith, and Miss Bickerton, another parlour boarder at Mrs.\r
-Goddard’s, who had been also at the ball, had walked out together, and\r
-taken a road, the Richmond road, which, though apparently public enough\r
-for safety, had led them into alarm.--About half a mile beyond Highbury,\r
-making a sudden turn, and deeply shaded by elms on each side, it became\r
-for a considerable stretch very retired; and when the young ladies\r
-had advanced some way into it, they had suddenly perceived at a small\r
-distance before them, on a broader patch of greensward by the side, a\r
-party of gipsies. A child on the watch, came towards them to beg; and\r
-Miss Bickerton, excessively frightened, gave a great scream, and calling\r
-on Harriet to follow her, ran up a steep bank, cleared a slight hedge at\r
-the top, and made the best of her way by a short cut back to Highbury.\r
-But poor Harriet could not follow. She had suffered very much from cramp\r
-after dancing, and her first attempt to mount the bank brought on such\r
-a return of it as made her absolutely powerless--and in this state, and\r
-exceedingly terrified, she had been obliged to remain.\r
-\r
-How the trampers might have behaved, had the young ladies been more\r
-courageous, must be doubtful; but such an invitation for attack could\r
-not be resisted; and Harriet was soon assailed by half a dozen children,\r
-headed by a stout woman and a great boy, all clamorous, and impertinent\r
-in look, though not absolutely in word.--More and more frightened, she\r
-immediately promised them money, and taking out her purse, gave them a\r
-shilling, and begged them not to want more, or to use her ill.--She\r
-was then able to walk, though but slowly, and was moving away--but her\r
-terror and her purse were too tempting, and she was followed, or rather\r
-surrounded, by the whole gang, demanding more.\r
-\r
-In this state Frank Churchill had found her, she trembling and\r
-conditioning, they loud and insolent. By a most fortunate chance his\r
-leaving Highbury had been delayed so as to bring him to her assistance\r
-at this critical moment. The pleasantness of the morning had induced\r
-him to walk forward, and leave his horses to meet him by another road,\r
-a mile or two beyond Highbury--and happening to have borrowed a pair\r
-of scissors the night before of Miss Bates, and to have forgotten to\r
-restore them, he had been obliged to stop at her door, and go in for a\r
-few minutes: he was therefore later than he had intended; and being\r
-on foot, was unseen by the whole party till almost close to them. The\r
-terror which the woman and boy had been creating in Harriet was then\r
-their own portion. He had left them completely frightened; and Harriet\r
-eagerly clinging to him, and hardly able to speak, had just strength\r
-enough to reach Hartfield, before her spirits were quite overcome.\r
-It was his idea to bring her to Hartfield: he had thought of no other\r
-place.\r
-\r
-This was the amount of the whole story,--of his communication and of\r
-Harriet’s as soon as she had recovered her senses and speech.--He dared\r
-not stay longer than to see her well; these several delays left him\r
-not another minute to lose; and Emma engaging to give assurance of her\r
-safety to Mrs. Goddard, and notice of there being such a set of people\r
-in the neighbourhood to Mr. Knightley, he set off, with all the grateful\r
-blessings that she could utter for her friend and herself.\r
-\r
-Such an adventure as this,--a fine young man and a lovely young woman\r
-thrown together in such a way, could hardly fail of suggesting certain\r
-ideas to the coldest heart and the steadiest brain. So Emma thought, at\r
-least. Could a linguist, could a grammarian, could even a mathematician\r
-have seen what she did, have witnessed their appearance together, and\r
-heard their history of it, without feeling that circumstances had been\r
-at work to make them peculiarly interesting to each other?--How much\r
-more must an imaginist, like herself, be on fire with speculation and\r
-foresight!--especially with such a groundwork of anticipation as her\r
-mind had already made.\r
-\r
-It was a very extraordinary thing! Nothing of the sort had ever\r
-occurred before to any young ladies in the place, within her memory; no\r
-rencontre, no alarm of the kind;--and now it had happened to the very\r
-person, and at the very hour, when the other very person was chancing\r
-to pass by to rescue her!--It certainly was very extraordinary!--And\r
-knowing, as she did, the favourable state of mind of each at this\r
-period, it struck her the more. He was wishing to get the better of his\r
-attachment to herself, she just recovering from her mania for Mr. Elton.\r
-It seemed as if every thing united to promise the most interesting\r
-consequences. It was not possible that the occurrence should not be\r
-strongly recommending each to the other.\r
-\r
-In the few minutes’ conversation which she had yet had with him, while\r
-Harriet had been partially insensible, he had spoken of her terror,\r
-her naivete, her fervour as she seized and clung to his arm, with a\r
-sensibility amused and delighted; and just at last, after Harriet’s\r
-own account had been given, he had expressed his indignation at the\r
-abominable folly of Miss Bickerton in the warmest terms. Every thing was\r
-to take its natural course, however, neither impelled nor assisted.\r
-She would not stir a step, nor drop a hint. No, she had had enough of\r
-interference. There could be no harm in a scheme, a mere passive scheme.\r
-It was no more than a wish. Beyond it she would on no account proceed.\r
-\r
-Emma’s first resolution was to keep her father from the knowledge of\r
-what had passed,--aware of the anxiety and alarm it would occasion: but\r
-she soon felt that concealment must be impossible. Within half an hour\r
-it was known all over Highbury. It was the very event to engage those\r
-who talk most, the young and the low; and all the youth and servants in\r
-the place were soon in the happiness of frightful news. The last night’s\r
-ball seemed lost in the gipsies. Poor Mr. Woodhouse trembled as he sat,\r
-and, as Emma had foreseen, would scarcely be satisfied without their\r
-promising never to go beyond the shrubbery again. It was some comfort\r
-to him that many inquiries after himself and Miss Woodhouse (for his\r
-neighbours knew that he loved to be inquired after), as well as Miss\r
-Smith, were coming in during the rest of the day; and he had\r
-the pleasure of returning for answer, that they were all very\r
-indifferent--which, though not exactly true, for she was perfectly well,\r
-and Harriet not much otherwise, Emma would not interfere with. She had\r
-an unhappy state of health in general for the child of such a man,\r
-for she hardly knew what indisposition was; and if he did not invent\r
-illnesses for her, she could make no figure in a message.\r
-\r
-The gipsies did not wait for the operations of justice; they took\r
-themselves off in a hurry. The young ladies of Highbury might have\r
-walked again in safety before their panic began, and the whole history\r
-dwindled soon into a matter of little importance but to Emma and her\r
-nephews:--in her imagination it maintained its ground, and Henry and\r
-John were still asking every day for the story of Harriet and the\r
-gipsies, and still tenaciously setting her right if she varied in the\r
-slightest particular from the original recital.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER IV\r
-\r
-\r
-A very few days had passed after this adventure, when Harriet came one\r
-morning to Emma with a small parcel in her hand, and after sitting down\r
-and hesitating, thus began:\r
-\r
-“Miss Woodhouse--if you are at leisure--I have something that I should\r
-like to tell you--a sort of confession to make--and then, you know, it\r
-will be over.”\r
-\r
-Emma was a good deal surprized; but begged her to speak. There was a\r
-seriousness in Harriet’s manner which prepared her, quite as much as her\r
-words, for something more than ordinary.\r
-\r
-“It is my duty, and I am sure it is my wish,” she continued, “to have\r
-no reserves with you on this subject. As I am happily quite an altered\r
-creature in _one_ _respect_, it is very fit that you should have\r
-the satisfaction of knowing it. I do not want to say more than is\r
-necessary--I am too much ashamed of having given way as I have done, and\r
-I dare say you understand me.”\r
-\r
-“Yes,” said Emma, “I hope I do.”\r
-\r
-“How I could so long a time be fancying myself!...” cried Harriet,\r
-warmly. “It seems like madness! I can see nothing at all extraordinary\r
-in him now.--I do not care whether I meet him or not--except that of the\r
-two I had rather not see him--and indeed I would go any distance round\r
-to avoid him--but I do not envy his wife in the least; I neither admire\r
-her nor envy her, as I have done: she is very charming, I dare say, and\r
-all that, but I think her very ill-tempered and disagreeable--I shall\r
-never forget her look the other night!--However, I assure you, Miss\r
-Woodhouse, I wish her no evil.--No, let them be ever so happy together,\r
-it will not give me another moment’s pang: and to convince you that I\r
-have been speaking truth, I am now going to destroy--what I ought to\r
-have destroyed long ago--what I ought never to have kept--I know that\r
-very well (blushing as she spoke).--However, now I will destroy it\r
-all--and it is my particular wish to do it in your presence, that you\r
-may see how rational I am grown. Cannot you guess what this parcel\r
-holds?” said she, with a conscious look.\r
-\r
-“Not the least in the world.--Did he ever give you any thing?”\r
-\r
-“No--I cannot call them gifts; but they are things that I have valued\r
-very much.”\r
-\r
-She held the parcel towards her, and Emma read the words _Most_\r
-_precious_ _treasures_ on the top. Her curiosity was greatly excited.\r
-Harriet unfolded the parcel, and she looked on with impatience. Within\r
-abundance of silver paper was a pretty little Tunbridge-ware box,\r
-which Harriet opened: it was well lined with the softest cotton; but,\r
-excepting the cotton, Emma saw only a small piece of court-plaister.\r
-\r
-“Now,” said Harriet, “you _must_ recollect.”\r
-\r
-“No, indeed I do not.”\r
-\r
-“Dear me! I should not have thought it possible you could forget what\r
-passed in this very room about court-plaister, one of the very last\r
-times we ever met in it!--It was but a very few days before I had my\r
-sore throat--just before Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley came--I think the\r
-very evening.--Do not you remember his cutting his finger with your new\r
-penknife, and your recommending court-plaister?--But, as you had none\r
-about you, and knew I had, you desired me to supply him; and so I took\r
-mine out and cut him a piece; but it was a great deal too large, and he\r
-cut it smaller, and kept playing some time with what was left, before he\r
-gave it back to me. And so then, in my nonsense, I could not help making\r
-a treasure of it--so I put it by never to be used, and looked at it now\r
-and then as a great treat.”\r
-\r
-“My dearest Harriet!” cried Emma, putting her hand before her face,\r
-and jumping up, “you make me more ashamed of myself than I can bear.\r
-Remember it? Aye, I remember it all now; all, except your saving this\r
-relic--I knew nothing of that till this moment--but the cutting the\r
-finger, and my recommending court-plaister, and saying I had none\r
-about me!--Oh! my sins, my sins!--And I had plenty all the while in my\r
-pocket!--One of my senseless tricks!--I deserve to be under a continual\r
-blush all the rest of my life.--Well--(sitting down again)--go on--what\r
-else?”\r
-\r
-“And had you really some at hand yourself? I am sure I never suspected\r
-it, you did it so naturally.”\r
-\r
-“And so you actually put this piece of court-plaister by for his sake!”\r
- said Emma, recovering from her state of shame and feeling divided\r
-between wonder and amusement. And secretly she added to herself, “Lord\r
-bless me! when should I ever have thought of putting by in cotton a\r
-piece of court-plaister that Frank Churchill had been pulling about! I\r
-never was equal to this.”\r
-\r
-“Here,” resumed Harriet, turning to her box again, “here is something\r
-still more valuable, I mean that _has_ _been_ more valuable, because\r
-this is what did really once belong to him, which the court-plaister\r
-never did.”\r
-\r
-Emma was quite eager to see this superior treasure. It was the end of an\r
-old pencil,--the part without any lead.\r
-\r
-“This was really his,” said Harriet.--“Do not you remember one\r
-morning?--no, I dare say you do not. But one morning--I forget exactly\r
-the day--but perhaps it was the Tuesday or Wednesday before _that_\r
-_evening_, he wanted to make a memorandum in his pocket-book; it was\r
-about spruce-beer. Mr. Knightley had been telling him something about\r
-brewing spruce-beer, and he wanted to put it down; but when he took out\r
-his pencil, there was so little lead that he soon cut it all away, and\r
-it would not do, so you lent him another, and this was left upon the\r
-table as good for nothing. But I kept my eye on it; and, as soon as I\r
-dared, caught it up, and never parted with it again from that moment.”\r
-\r
-“I do remember it,” cried Emma; “I perfectly remember it.--Talking\r
-about spruce-beer.--Oh! yes--Mr. Knightley and I both saying we\r
-liked it, and Mr. Elton’s seeming resolved to learn to like it too. I\r
-perfectly remember it.--Stop; Mr. Knightley was standing just here, was\r
-not he? I have an idea he was standing just here.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! I do not know. I cannot recollect.--It is very odd, but I cannot\r
-recollect.--Mr. Elton was sitting here, I remember, much about where I\r
-am now.”--\r
-\r
-“Well, go on.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! that’s all. I have nothing more to shew you, or to say--except that\r
-I am now going to throw them both behind the fire, and I wish you to see\r
-me do it.”\r
-\r
-“My poor dear Harriet! and have you actually found happiness in\r
-treasuring up these things?”\r
-\r
-“Yes, simpleton as I was!--but I am quite ashamed of it now, and wish I\r
-could forget as easily as I can burn them. It was very wrong of me, you\r
-know, to keep any remembrances, after he was married. I knew it was--but\r
-had not resolution enough to part with them.”\r
-\r
-“But, Harriet, is it necessary to burn the court-plaister?--I have not\r
-a word to say for the bit of old pencil, but the court-plaister might be\r
-useful.”\r
-\r
-“I shall be happier to burn it,” replied Harriet. “It has a disagreeable\r
-look to me. I must get rid of every thing.--There it goes, and there is\r
-an end, thank Heaven! of Mr. Elton.”\r
-\r
-“And when,” thought Emma, “will there be a beginning of Mr. Churchill?”\r
-\r
-She had soon afterwards reason to believe that the beginning was already\r
-made, and could not but hope that the gipsy, though she had _told_ no\r
-fortune, might be proved to have made Harriet’s.--About a fortnight\r
-after the alarm, they came to a sufficient explanation, and quite\r
-undesignedly. Emma was not thinking of it at the moment, which made the\r
-information she received more valuable. She merely said, in the course\r
-of some trivial chat, “Well, Harriet, whenever you marry I would advise\r
-you to do so and so”--and thought no more of it, till after a minute’s\r
-silence she heard Harriet say in a very serious tone, “I shall never\r
-marry.”\r
-\r
-Emma then looked up, and immediately saw how it was; and after a\r
-moment’s debate, as to whether it should pass unnoticed or not, replied,\r
-\r
-“Never marry!--This is a new resolution.”\r
-\r
-“It is one that I shall never change, however.”\r
-\r
-After another short hesitation, “I hope it does not proceed from--I hope\r
-it is not in compliment to Mr. Elton?”\r
-\r
-“Mr. Elton indeed!” cried Harriet indignantly.--“Oh! no”--and Emma could\r
-just catch the words, “so superior to Mr. Elton!”\r
-\r
-She then took a longer time for consideration. Should she proceed no\r
-farther?--should she let it pass, and seem to suspect nothing?--Perhaps\r
-Harriet might think her cold or angry if she did; or perhaps if she were\r
-totally silent, it might only drive Harriet into asking her to hear too\r
-much; and against any thing like such an unreserve as had been, such\r
-an open and frequent discussion of hopes and chances, she was perfectly\r
-resolved.--She believed it would be wiser for her to say and know at\r
-once, all that she meant to say and know. Plain dealing was always\r
-best. She had previously determined how far she would proceed, on any\r
-application of the sort; and it would be safer for both, to have the\r
-judicious law of her own brain laid down with speed.--She was decided,\r
-and thus spoke--\r
-\r
-“Harriet, I will not affect to be in doubt of your meaning. Your\r
-resolution, or rather your expectation of never marrying, results from\r
-an idea that the person whom you might prefer, would be too greatly your\r
-superior in situation to think of you. Is not it so?”\r
-\r
-“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, believe me I have not the presumption to suppose--\r
-Indeed I am not so mad.--But it is a pleasure to me to admire him at a\r
-distance--and to think of his infinite superiority to all the rest of\r
-the world, with the gratitude, wonder, and veneration, which are so\r
-proper, in me especially.”\r
-\r
-“I am not at all surprized at you, Harriet. The service he rendered you\r
-was enough to warm your heart.”\r
-\r
-“Service! oh! it was such an inexpressible obligation!--The very\r
-recollection of it, and all that I felt at the time--when I saw him\r
-coming--his noble look--and my wretchedness before. Such a change! In\r
-one moment such a change! From perfect misery to perfect happiness!”\r
-\r
-“It is very natural. It is natural, and it is honourable.--Yes,\r
-honourable, I think, to chuse so well and so gratefully.--But that\r
-it will be a fortunate preference is more than I can promise. I do not\r
-advise you to give way to it, Harriet. I do not by any means engage\r
-for its being returned. Consider what you are about. Perhaps it will be\r
-wisest in you to check your feelings while you can: at any rate do not\r
-let them carry you far, unless you are persuaded of his liking you. Be\r
-observant of him. Let his behaviour be the guide of your sensations. I\r
-give you this caution now, because I shall never speak to you again on\r
-the subject. I am determined against all interference. Henceforward I\r
-know nothing of the matter. Let no name ever pass our lips. We were very\r
-wrong before; we will be cautious now.--He is your superior, no doubt,\r
-and there do seem objections and obstacles of a very serious nature; but\r
-yet, Harriet, more wonderful things have taken place, there have been\r
-matches of greater disparity. But take care of yourself. I would not\r
-have you too sanguine; though, however it may end, be assured your\r
-raising your thoughts to _him_, is a mark of good taste which I shall\r
-always know how to value.”\r
-\r
-Harriet kissed her hand in silent and submissive gratitude. Emma was\r
-very decided in thinking such an attachment no bad thing for her friend.\r
-Its tendency would be to raise and refine her mind--and it must be\r
-saving her from the danger of degradation.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER V\r
-\r
-\r
-In this state of schemes, and hopes, and connivance, June opened upon\r
-Hartfield. To Highbury in general it brought no material change. The\r
-Eltons were still talking of a visit from the Sucklings, and of the use\r
-to be made of their barouche-landau; and Jane Fairfax was still at her\r
-grandmother’s; and as the return of the Campbells from Ireland was again\r
-delayed, and August, instead of Midsummer, fixed for it, she was likely\r
-to remain there full two months longer, provided at least she were able\r
-to defeat Mrs. Elton’s activity in her service, and save herself from\r
-being hurried into a delightful situation against her will.\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley, who, for some reason best known to himself, had certainly\r
-taken an early dislike to Frank Churchill, was only growing to dislike\r
-him more. He began to suspect him of some double dealing in his pursuit\r
-of Emma. That Emma was his object appeared indisputable. Every thing\r
-declared it; his own attentions, his father’s hints, his mother-in-law’s\r
-guarded silence; it was all in unison; words, conduct, discretion, and\r
-indiscretion, told the same story. But while so many were devoting him\r
-to Emma, and Emma herself making him over to Harriet, Mr. Knightley\r
-began to suspect him of some inclination to trifle with Jane Fairfax. He\r
-could not understand it; but there were symptoms of intelligence between\r
-them--he thought so at least--symptoms of admiration on his side, which,\r
-having once observed, he could not persuade himself to think entirely\r
-void of meaning, however he might wish to escape any of Emma’s errors\r
-of imagination. _She_ was not present when the suspicion first arose.\r
-He was dining with the Randalls family, and Jane, at the Eltons’; and he\r
-had seen a look, more than a single look, at Miss Fairfax, which, from\r
-the admirer of Miss Woodhouse, seemed somewhat out of place. When he was\r
-again in their company, he could not help remembering what he had seen;\r
-nor could he avoid observations which, unless it were like Cowper and\r
-his fire at twilight,\r
-\r
-“Myself creating what I saw,”\r
-\r
-brought him yet stronger suspicion of there being a something of private\r
-liking, of private understanding even, between Frank Churchill and Jane.\r
-\r
-He had walked up one day after dinner, as he very often did, to spend\r
-his evening at Hartfield. Emma and Harriet were going to walk; he joined\r
-them; and, on returning, they fell in with a larger party, who, like\r
-themselves, judged it wisest to take their exercise early, as the\r
-weather threatened rain; Mr. and Mrs. Weston and their son, Miss Bates\r
-and her niece, who had accidentally met. They all united; and, on\r
-reaching Hartfield gates, Emma, who knew it was exactly the sort of\r
-visiting that would be welcome to her father, pressed them all to go in\r
-and drink tea with him. The Randalls party agreed to it immediately; and\r
-after a pretty long speech from Miss Bates, which few persons listened\r
-to, she also found it possible to accept dear Miss Woodhouse’s most\r
-obliging invitation.\r
-\r
-As they were turning into the grounds, Mr. Perry passed by on horseback.\r
-The gentlemen spoke of his horse.\r
-\r
-“By the bye,” said Frank Churchill to Mrs. Weston presently, “what\r
-became of Mr. Perry’s plan of setting up his carriage?”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston looked surprized, and said, “I did not know that he ever had\r
-any such plan.”\r
-\r
-“Nay, I had it from you. You wrote me word of it three months ago.”\r
-\r
-“Me! impossible!”\r
-\r
-“Indeed you did. I remember it perfectly. You mentioned it as what\r
-was certainly to be very soon. Mrs. Perry had told somebody, and was\r
-extremely happy about it. It was owing to _her_ persuasion, as she\r
-thought his being out in bad weather did him a great deal of harm. You\r
-must remember it now?”\r
-\r
-“Upon my word I never heard of it till this moment.”\r
-\r
-“Never! really, never!--Bless me! how could it be?--Then I must have\r
-dreamt it--but I was completely persuaded--Miss Smith, you walk as if\r
-you were tired. You will not be sorry to find yourself at home.”\r
-\r
-“What is this?--What is this?” cried Mr. Weston, “about Perry and a\r
-carriage? Is Perry going to set up his carriage, Frank? I am glad he can\r
-afford it. You had it from himself, had you?”\r
-\r
-“No, sir,” replied his son, laughing, “I seem to have had it from\r
-nobody.--Very odd!--I really was persuaded of Mrs. Weston’s having\r
-mentioned it in one of her letters to Enscombe, many weeks ago, with all\r
-these particulars--but as she declares she never heard a syllable of\r
-it before, of course it must have been a dream. I am a great dreamer.\r
-I dream of every body at Highbury when I am away--and when I have gone\r
-through my particular friends, then I begin dreaming of Mr. and Mrs.\r
-Perry.”\r
-\r
-“It is odd though,” observed his father, “that you should have had such\r
-a regular connected dream about people whom it was not very likely you\r
-should be thinking of at Enscombe. Perry’s setting up his carriage! and\r
-his wife’s persuading him to it, out of care for his health--just\r
-what will happen, I have no doubt, some time or other; only a little\r
-premature. What an air of probability sometimes runs through a dream!\r
-And at others, what a heap of absurdities it is! Well, Frank, your dream\r
-certainly shews that Highbury is in your thoughts when you are absent.\r
-Emma, you are a great dreamer, I think?”\r
-\r
-Emma was out of hearing. She had hurried on before her guests to\r
-prepare her father for their appearance, and was beyond the reach of Mr.\r
-Weston’s hint.\r
-\r
-“Why, to own the truth,” cried Miss Bates, who had been trying in vain\r
-to be heard the last two minutes, “if I must speak on this subject,\r
-there is no denying that Mr. Frank Churchill might have--I do not mean\r
-to say that he did not dream it--I am sure I have sometimes the oddest\r
-dreams in the world--but if I am questioned about it, I must acknowledge\r
-that there was such an idea last spring; for Mrs. Perry herself\r
-mentioned it to my mother, and the Coles knew of it as well as\r
-ourselves--but it was quite a secret, known to nobody else, and only\r
-thought of about three days. Mrs. Perry was very anxious that he should\r
-have a carriage, and came to my mother in great spirits one morning\r
-because she thought she had prevailed. Jane, don’t you remember\r
-grandmama’s telling us of it when we got home? I forget where we\r
-had been walking to--very likely to Randalls; yes, I think it was to\r
-Randalls. Mrs. Perry was always particularly fond of my mother--indeed\r
-I do not know who is not--and she had mentioned it to her in confidence;\r
-she had no objection to her telling us, of course, but it was not to go\r
-beyond: and, from that day to this, I never mentioned it to a soul that\r
-I know of. At the same time, I will not positively answer for my having\r
-never dropt a hint, because I know I do sometimes pop out a thing before\r
-I am aware. I am a talker, you know; I am rather a talker; and now and\r
-then I have let a thing escape me which I should not. I am not like\r
-Jane; I wish I were. I will answer for it _she_ never betrayed the least\r
-thing in the world. Where is she?--Oh! just behind. Perfectly remember\r
-Mrs. Perry’s coming.--Extraordinary dream, indeed!”\r
-\r
-They were entering the hall. Mr. Knightley’s eyes had preceded Miss\r
-Bates’s in a glance at Jane. From Frank Churchill’s face, where\r
-he thought he saw confusion suppressed or laughed away, he had\r
-involuntarily turned to hers; but she was indeed behind, and too busy\r
-with her shawl. Mr. Weston had walked in. The two other gentlemen waited\r
-at the door to let her pass. Mr. Knightley suspected in Frank\r
-Churchill the determination of catching her eye--he seemed watching her\r
-intently--in vain, however, if it were so--Jane passed between them\r
-into the hall, and looked at neither.\r
-\r
-There was no time for farther remark or explanation. The dream must be\r
-borne with, and Mr. Knightley must take his seat with the rest round the\r
-large modern circular table which Emma had introduced at Hartfield, and\r
-which none but Emma could have had power to place there and persuade her\r
-father to use, instead of the small-sized Pembroke, on which two of his\r
-daily meals had, for forty years been crowded. Tea passed pleasantly,\r
-and nobody seemed in a hurry to move.\r
-\r
-“Miss Woodhouse,” said Frank Churchill, after examining a table behind\r
-him, which he could reach as he sat, “have your nephews taken away their\r
-alphabets--their box of letters? It used to stand here. Where is it?\r
-This is a sort of dull-looking evening, that ought to be treated rather\r
-as winter than summer. We had great amusement with those letters one\r
-morning. I want to puzzle you again.”\r
-\r
-Emma was pleased with the thought; and producing the box, the table\r
-was quickly scattered over with alphabets, which no one seemed so much\r
-disposed to employ as their two selves. They were rapidly forming words\r
-for each other, or for any body else who would be puzzled. The quietness\r
-of the game made it particularly eligible for Mr. Woodhouse, who had\r
-often been distressed by the more animated sort, which Mr. Weston had\r
-occasionally introduced, and who now sat happily occupied in lamenting,\r
-with tender melancholy, over the departure of the “poor little boys,”\r
- or in fondly pointing out, as he took up any stray letter near him, how\r
-beautifully Emma had written it.\r
-\r
-Frank Churchill placed a word before Miss Fairfax. She gave a slight\r
-glance round the table, and applied herself to it. Frank was next to\r
-Emma, Jane opposite to them--and Mr. Knightley so placed as to see them\r
-all; and it was his object to see as much as he could, with as little\r
-apparent observation. The word was discovered, and with a faint smile\r
-pushed away. If meant to be immediately mixed with the others, and\r
-buried from sight, she should have looked on the table instead of\r
-looking just across, for it was not mixed; and Harriet, eager after\r
-every fresh word, and finding out none, directly took it up, and fell to\r
-work. She was sitting by Mr. Knightley, and turned to him for help. The\r
-word was _blunder_; and as Harriet exultingly proclaimed it, there was a\r
-blush on Jane’s cheek which gave it a meaning not otherwise ostensible.\r
-Mr. Knightley connected it with the dream; but how it could all be,\r
-was beyond his comprehension. How the delicacy, the discretion of his\r
-favourite could have been so lain asleep! He feared there must be some\r
-decided involvement. Disingenuousness and double dealing seemed to meet\r
-him at every turn. These letters were but the vehicle for gallantry and\r
-trick. It was a child’s play, chosen to conceal a deeper game on Frank\r
-Churchill’s part.\r
-\r
-With great indignation did he continue to observe him; with great alarm\r
-and distrust, to observe also his two blinded companions. He saw a short\r
-word prepared for Emma, and given to her with a look sly and demure. He\r
-saw that Emma had soon made it out, and found it highly entertaining,\r
-though it was something which she judged it proper to appear to censure;\r
-for she said, “Nonsense! for shame!” He heard Frank Churchill next say,\r
-with a glance towards Jane, “I will give it to her--shall I?”--and as\r
-clearly heard Emma opposing it with eager laughing warmth. “No, no, you\r
-must not; you shall not, indeed.”\r
-\r
-It was done however. This gallant young man, who seemed to love without\r
-feeling, and to recommend himself without complaisance, directly handed\r
-over the word to Miss Fairfax, and with a particular degree of sedate\r
-civility entreated her to study it. Mr. Knightley’s excessive curiosity\r
-to know what this word might be, made him seize every possible moment\r
-for darting his eye towards it, and it was not long before he saw it\r
-to be _Dixon_. Jane Fairfax’s perception seemed to accompany his;\r
-her comprehension was certainly more equal to the covert meaning,\r
-the superior intelligence, of those five letters so arranged. She was\r
-evidently displeased; looked up, and seeing herself watched, blushed\r
-more deeply than he had ever perceived her, and saying only, “I did not\r
-know that proper names were allowed,” pushed away the letters with even\r
-an angry spirit, and looked resolved to be engaged by no other word\r
-that could be offered. Her face was averted from those who had made the\r
-attack, and turned towards her aunt.\r
-\r
-“Aye, very true, my dear,” cried the latter, though Jane had not spoken\r
-a word--“I was just going to say the same thing. It is time for us to be\r
-going indeed. The evening is closing in, and grandmama will be looking\r
-for us. My dear sir, you are too obliging. We really must wish you good\r
-night.”\r
-\r
-Jane’s alertness in moving, proved her as ready as her aunt had\r
-preconceived. She was immediately up, and wanting to quit the table; but\r
-so many were also moving, that she could not get away; and Mr. Knightley\r
-thought he saw another collection of letters anxiously pushed towards\r
-her, and resolutely swept away by her unexamined. She was afterwards\r
-looking for her shawl--Frank Churchill was looking also--it was growing\r
-dusk, and the room was in confusion; and how they parted, Mr. Knightley\r
-could not tell.\r
-\r
-He remained at Hartfield after all the rest, his thoughts full of\r
-what he had seen; so full, that when the candles came to assist his\r
-observations, he must--yes, he certainly must, as a friend--an anxious\r
-friend--give Emma some hint, ask her some question. He could not see her\r
-in a situation of such danger, without trying to preserve her. It was\r
-his duty.\r
-\r
-“Pray, Emma,” said he, “may I ask in what lay the great amusement, the\r
-poignant sting of the last word given to you and Miss Fairfax? I saw the\r
-word, and am curious to know how it could be so very entertaining to the\r
-one, and so very distressing to the other.”\r
-\r
-Emma was extremely confused. She could not endure to give him the true\r
-explanation; for though her suspicions were by no means removed, she was\r
-really ashamed of having ever imparted them.\r
-\r
-“Oh!” she cried in evident embarrassment, “it all meant nothing; a mere\r
-joke among ourselves.”\r
-\r
-“The joke,” he replied gravely, “seemed confined to you and Mr.\r
-Churchill.”\r
-\r
-He had hoped she would speak again, but she did not. She would rather\r
-busy herself about any thing than speak. He sat a little while in\r
-doubt. A variety of evils crossed his mind. Interference--fruitless\r
-interference. Emma’s confusion, and the acknowledged intimacy, seemed to\r
-declare her affection engaged. Yet he would speak. He owed it to her,\r
-to risk any thing that might be involved in an unwelcome interference,\r
-rather than her welfare; to encounter any thing, rather than the\r
-remembrance of neglect in such a cause.\r
-\r
-“My dear Emma,” said he at last, with earnest kindness, “do you\r
-think you perfectly understand the degree of acquaintance between the\r
-gentleman and lady we have been speaking of?”\r
-\r
-“Between Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax? Oh! yes, perfectly.--Why\r
-do you make a doubt of it?”\r
-\r
-“Have you never at any time had reason to think that he admired her, or\r
-that she admired him?”\r
-\r
-“Never, never!” she cried with a most open eagerness--“Never, for the\r
-twentieth part of a moment, did such an idea occur to me. And how could\r
-it possibly come into your head?”\r
-\r
-“I have lately imagined that I saw symptoms of attachment between\r
-them--certain expressive looks, which I did not believe meant to be\r
-public.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! you amuse me excessively. I am delighted to find that you can\r
-vouchsafe to let your imagination wander--but it will not do--very sorry\r
-to check you in your first essay--but indeed it will not do. There is no\r
-admiration between them, I do assure you; and the appearances which\r
-have caught you, have arisen from some peculiar circumstances--feelings\r
-rather of a totally different nature--it is impossible exactly to\r
-explain:--there is a good deal of nonsense in it--but the part which is\r
-capable of being communicated, which is sense, is, that they are as far\r
-from any attachment or admiration for one another, as any two beings in\r
-the world can be. That is, I _presume_ it to be so on her side, and I\r
-can _answer_ for its being so on his. I will answer for the gentleman’s\r
-indifference.”\r
-\r
-She spoke with a confidence which staggered, with a satisfaction\r
-which silenced, Mr. Knightley. She was in gay spirits, and would have\r
-prolonged the conversation, wanting to hear the particulars of his\r
-suspicions, every look described, and all the wheres and hows of a\r
-circumstance which highly entertained her: but his gaiety did not meet\r
-hers. He found he could not be useful, and his feelings were too much\r
-irritated for talking. That he might not be irritated into an absolute\r
-fever, by the fire which Mr. Woodhouse’s tender habits required almost\r
-every evening throughout the year, he soon afterwards took a hasty\r
-leave, and walked home to the coolness and solitude of Donwell Abbey.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER VI\r
-\r
-\r
-After being long fed with hopes of a speedy visit from Mr. and Mrs.\r
-Suckling, the Highbury world were obliged to endure the mortification\r
-of hearing that they could not possibly come till the autumn. No such\r
-importation of novelties could enrich their intellectual stores at\r
-present. In the daily interchange of news, they must be again restricted\r
-to the other topics with which for a while the Sucklings’ coming had\r
-been united, such as the last accounts of Mrs. Churchill, whose health\r
-seemed every day to supply a different report, and the situation of Mrs.\r
-Weston, whose happiness it was to be hoped might eventually be as much\r
-increased by the arrival of a child, as that of all her neighbours was\r
-by the approach of it.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Elton was very much disappointed. It was the delay of a great deal\r
-of pleasure and parade. Her introductions and recommendations must all\r
-wait, and every projected party be still only talked of. So she thought\r
-at first;--but a little consideration convinced her that every thing\r
-need not be put off. Why should not they explore to Box Hill though\r
-the Sucklings did not come? They could go there again with them in the\r
-autumn. It was settled that they should go to Box Hill. That there was\r
-to be such a party had been long generally known: it had even given the\r
-idea of another. Emma had never been to Box Hill; she wished to see what\r
-every body found so well worth seeing, and she and Mr. Weston had agreed\r
-to chuse some fine morning and drive thither. Two or three more of the\r
-chosen only were to be admitted to join them, and it was to be done in a\r
-quiet, unpretending, elegant way, infinitely superior to the bustle and\r
-preparation, the regular eating and drinking, and picnic parade of the\r
-Eltons and the Sucklings.\r
-\r
-This was so very well understood between them, that Emma could not but\r
-feel some surprise, and a little displeasure, on hearing from Mr. Weston\r
-that he had been proposing to Mrs. Elton, as her brother and sister had\r
-failed her, that the two parties should unite, and go together; and that\r
-as Mrs. Elton had very readily acceded to it, so it was to be, if she\r
-had no objection. Now, as her objection was nothing but her very great\r
-dislike of Mrs. Elton, of which Mr. Weston must already be perfectly\r
-aware, it was not worth bringing forward again:--it could not be done\r
-without a reproof to him, which would be giving pain to his wife; and\r
-she found herself therefore obliged to consent to an arrangement which\r
-she would have done a great deal to avoid; an arrangement which would\r
-probably expose her even to the degradation of being said to be of Mrs.\r
-Elton’s party! Every feeling was offended; and the forbearance of her\r
-outward submission left a heavy arrear due of secret severity in her\r
-reflections on the unmanageable goodwill of Mr. Weston’s temper.\r
-\r
-“I am glad you approve of what I have done,” said he very comfortably.\r
-“But I thought you would. Such schemes as these are nothing without\r
-numbers. One cannot have too large a party. A large party secures its\r
-own amusement. And she is a good-natured woman after all. One could not\r
-leave her out.”\r
-\r
-Emma denied none of it aloud, and agreed to none of it in private.\r
-\r
-It was now the middle of June, and the weather fine; and Mrs. Elton\r
-was growing impatient to name the day, and settle with Mr. Weston as to\r
-pigeon-pies and cold lamb, when a lame carriage-horse threw every thing\r
-into sad uncertainty. It might be weeks, it might be only a few days,\r
-before the horse were useable; but no preparations could be ventured\r
-on, and it was all melancholy stagnation. Mrs. Elton’s resources were\r
-inadequate to such an attack.\r
-\r
-“Is not this most vexatious, Knightley?” she cried.--“And such weather\r
-for exploring!--These delays and disappointments are quite odious. What\r
-are we to do?--The year will wear away at this rate, and nothing\r
-done. Before this time last year I assure you we had had a delightful\r
-exploring party from Maple Grove to Kings Weston.”\r
-\r
-“You had better explore to Donwell,” replied Mr. Knightley. “That may\r
-be done without horses. Come, and eat my strawberries. They are ripening\r
-fast.”\r
-\r
-If Mr. Knightley did not begin seriously, he was obliged to proceed so,\r
-for his proposal was caught at with delight; and the “Oh! I should like\r
-it of all things,” was not plainer in words than manner. Donwell was\r
-famous for its strawberry-beds, which seemed a plea for the invitation:\r
-but no plea was necessary; cabbage-beds would have been enough to tempt\r
-the lady, who only wanted to be going somewhere. She promised him again\r
-and again to come--much oftener than he doubted--and was extremely\r
-gratified by such a proof of intimacy, such a distinguishing compliment\r
-as she chose to consider it.\r
-\r
-“You may depend upon me,” said she. “I certainly will come. Name your\r
-day, and I will come. You will allow me to bring Jane Fairfax?”\r
-\r
-“I cannot name a day,” said he, “till I have spoken to some others whom\r
-I would wish to meet you.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! leave all that to me. Only give me a carte-blanche.--I am Lady\r
-Patroness, you know. It is my party. I will bring friends with me.”\r
-\r
-“I hope you will bring Elton,” said he: “but I will not trouble you to\r
-give any other invitations.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! now you are looking very sly. But consider--you need not be afraid\r
-of delegating power to _me_. I am no young lady on her preferment.\r
-Married women, you know, may be safely authorised. It is my party. Leave\r
-it all to me. I will invite your guests.”\r
-\r
-“No,”--he calmly replied,--“there is but one married woman in the world\r
-whom I can ever allow to invite what guests she pleases to Donwell, and\r
-that one is--”\r
-\r
-“--Mrs. Weston, I suppose,” interrupted Mrs. Elton, rather mortified.\r
-\r
-“No--Mrs. Knightley;--and till she is in being, I will manage such\r
-matters myself.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! you are an odd creature!” she cried, satisfied to have no one\r
-preferred to herself.--“You are a humourist, and may say what you\r
-like. Quite a humourist. Well, I shall bring Jane with me--Jane and her\r
-aunt.--The rest I leave to you. I have no objections at all to meeting\r
-the Hartfield family. Don’t scruple. I know you are attached to them.”\r
-\r
-“You certainly will meet them if I can prevail; and I shall call on Miss\r
-Bates in my way home.”\r
-\r
-“That’s quite unnecessary; I see Jane every day:--but as you like. It\r
-is to be a morning scheme, you know, Knightley; quite a simple thing. I\r
-shall wear a large bonnet, and bring one of my little baskets hanging\r
-on my arm. Here,--probably this basket with pink ribbon. Nothing can be\r
-more simple, you see. And Jane will have such another. There is to be\r
-no form or parade--a sort of gipsy party. We are to walk about\r
-your gardens, and gather the strawberries ourselves, and sit under\r
-trees;--and whatever else you may like to provide, it is to be all out\r
-of doors--a table spread in the shade, you know. Every thing as natural\r
-and simple as possible. Is not that your idea?”\r
-\r
-“Not quite. My idea of the simple and the natural will be to have\r
-the table spread in the dining-room. The nature and the simplicity of\r
-gentlemen and ladies, with their servants and furniture, I think is\r
-best observed by meals within doors. When you are tired of eating\r
-strawberries in the garden, there shall be cold meat in the house.”\r
-\r
-“Well--as you please; only don’t have a great set out. And, by the bye,\r
-can I or my housekeeper be of any use to you with our opinion?--Pray be\r
-sincere, Knightley. If you wish me to talk to Mrs. Hodges, or to inspect\r
-anything--”\r
-\r
-“I have not the least wish for it, I thank you.”\r
-\r
-“Well--but if any difficulties should arise, my housekeeper is extremely\r
-clever.”\r
-\r
-“I will answer for it, that mine thinks herself full as clever, and\r
-would spurn any body’s assistance.”\r
-\r
-“I wish we had a donkey. The thing would be for us all to come on\r
-donkeys, Jane, Miss Bates, and me--and my caro sposo walking by. I\r
-really must talk to him about purchasing a donkey. In a country life\r
-I conceive it to be a sort of necessary; for, let a woman have ever\r
-so many resources, it is not possible for her to be always shut up at\r
-home;--and very long walks, you know--in summer there is dust, and in\r
-winter there is dirt.”\r
-\r
-“You will not find either, between Donwell and Highbury. Donwell Lane is\r
-never dusty, and now it is perfectly dry. Come on a donkey, however, if\r
-you prefer it. You can borrow Mrs. Cole’s. I would wish every thing to\r
-be as much to your taste as possible.”\r
-\r
-“That I am sure you would. Indeed I do you justice, my good friend.\r
-Under that peculiar sort of dry, blunt manner, I know you have the\r
-warmest heart. As I tell Mr. E., you are a thorough humourist.--Yes,\r
-believe me, Knightley, I am fully sensible of your attention to me in\r
-the whole of this scheme. You have hit upon the very thing to please\r
-me.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley had another reason for avoiding a table in the shade. He\r
-wished to persuade Mr. Woodhouse, as well as Emma, to join the party;\r
-and he knew that to have any of them sitting down out of doors to\r
-eat would inevitably make him ill. Mr. Woodhouse must not, under the\r
-specious pretence of a morning drive, and an hour or two spent at\r
-Donwell, be tempted away to his misery.\r
-\r
-He was invited on good faith. No lurking horrors were to upbraid him for\r
-his easy credulity. He did consent. He had not been at Donwell for two\r
-years. “Some very fine morning, he, and Emma, and Harriet, could go\r
-very well; and he could sit still with Mrs. Weston, while the dear girls\r
-walked about the gardens. He did not suppose they could be damp now,\r
-in the middle of the day. He should like to see the old house again\r
-exceedingly, and should be very happy to meet Mr. and Mrs. Elton, and\r
-any other of his neighbours.--He could not see any objection at all to\r
-his, and Emma’s, and Harriet’s going there some very fine morning. He\r
-thought it very well done of Mr. Knightley to invite them--very kind\r
-and sensible--much cleverer than dining out.--He was not fond of dining\r
-out.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley was fortunate in every body’s most ready concurrence. The\r
-invitation was everywhere so well received, that it seemed as if, like\r
-Mrs. Elton, they were all taking the scheme as a particular compliment\r
-to themselves.--Emma and Harriet professed very high expectations of\r
-pleasure from it; and Mr. Weston, unasked, promised to get Frank over to\r
-join them, if possible; a proof of approbation and gratitude which could\r
-have been dispensed with.--Mr. Knightley was then obliged to say that\r
-he should be glad to see him; and Mr. Weston engaged to lose no time in\r
-writing, and spare no arguments to induce him to come.\r
-\r
-In the meanwhile the lame horse recovered so fast, that the party to\r
-Box Hill was again under happy consideration; and at last Donwell was\r
-settled for one day, and Box Hill for the next,--the weather appearing\r
-exactly right.\r
-\r
-Under a bright mid-day sun, at almost Midsummer, Mr. Woodhouse was\r
-safely conveyed in his carriage, with one window down, to partake of\r
-this al-fresco party; and in one of the most comfortable rooms in the\r
-Abbey, especially prepared for him by a fire all the morning, he was\r
-happily placed, quite at his ease, ready to talk with pleasure of what\r
-had been achieved, and advise every body to come and sit down, and not\r
-to heat themselves.--Mrs. Weston, who seemed to have walked there on\r
-purpose to be tired, and sit all the time with him, remained, when\r
-all the others were invited or persuaded out, his patient listener and\r
-sympathiser.\r
-\r
-It was so long since Emma had been at the Abbey, that as soon as she was\r
-satisfied of her father’s comfort, she was glad to leave him, and look\r
-around her; eager to refresh and correct her memory with more particular\r
-observation, more exact understanding of a house and grounds which must\r
-ever be so interesting to her and all her family.\r
-\r
-She felt all the honest pride and complacency which her alliance with\r
-the present and future proprietor could fairly warrant, as she viewed\r
-the respectable size and style of the building, its suitable, becoming,\r
-characteristic situation, low and sheltered--its ample gardens\r
-stretching down to meadows washed by a stream, of which the Abbey, with\r
-all the old neglect of prospect, had scarcely a sight--and its abundance\r
-of timber in rows and avenues, which neither fashion nor extravagance\r
-had rooted up.--The house was larger than Hartfield, and totally unlike\r
-it, covering a good deal of ground, rambling and irregular, with many\r
-comfortable, and one or two handsome rooms.--It was just what it ought\r
-to be, and it looked what it was--and Emma felt an increasing respect\r
-for it, as the residence of a family of such true gentility, untainted\r
-in blood and understanding.--Some faults of temper John Knightley had;\r
-but Isabella had connected herself unexceptionably. She had given them\r
-neither men, nor names, nor places, that could raise a blush. These were\r
-pleasant feelings, and she walked about and indulged them till it\r
-was necessary to do as the others did, and collect round the\r
-strawberry-beds.--The whole party were assembled, excepting Frank\r
-Churchill, who was expected every moment from Richmond; and Mrs. Elton,\r
-in all her apparatus of happiness, her large bonnet and her basket,\r
-was very ready to lead the way in gathering, accepting, or\r
-talking--strawberries, and only strawberries, could now be thought or\r
-spoken of.--“The best fruit in England--every body’s favourite--always\r
-wholesome.--These the finest beds and finest sorts.--Delightful to\r
-gather for one’s self--the only way of really enjoying them.--Morning\r
-decidedly the best time--never tired--every sort good--hautboy\r
-infinitely superior--no comparison--the others hardly eatable--hautboys\r
-very scarce--Chili preferred--white wood finest flavour of all--price\r
-of strawberries in London--abundance about Bristol--Maple\r
-Grove--cultivation--beds when to be renewed--gardeners thinking exactly\r
-different--no general rule--gardeners never to be put out of their\r
-way--delicious fruit--only too rich to be eaten much of--inferior\r
-to cherries--currants more refreshing--only objection to gathering\r
-strawberries the stooping--glaring sun--tired to death--could bear it no\r
-longer--must go and sit in the shade.”\r
-\r
-Such, for half an hour, was the conversation--interrupted only once by\r
-Mrs. Weston, who came out, in her solicitude after her son-in-law, to\r
-inquire if he were come--and she was a little uneasy.--She had some\r
-fears of his horse.\r
-\r
-Seats tolerably in the shade were found; and now Emma was obliged\r
-to overhear what Mrs. Elton and Jane Fairfax were talking of.--A\r
-situation, a most desirable situation, was in question. Mrs. Elton had\r
-received notice of it that morning, and was in raptures. It was not\r
-with Mrs. Suckling, it was not with Mrs. Bragge, but in felicity and\r
-splendour it fell short only of them: it was with a cousin of Mrs.\r
-Bragge, an acquaintance of Mrs. Suckling, a lady known at Maple Grove.\r
-Delightful, charming, superior, first circles, spheres, lines, ranks,\r
-every thing--and Mrs. Elton was wild to have the offer closed with\r
-immediately.--On her side, all was warmth, energy, and triumph--and she\r
-positively refused to take her friend’s negative, though Miss Fairfax\r
-continued to assure her that she would not at present engage in any\r
-thing, repeating the same motives which she had been heard to urge\r
-before.--Still Mrs. Elton insisted on being authorised to write an\r
-acquiescence by the morrow’s post.--How Jane could bear it at all, was\r
-astonishing to Emma.--She did look vexed, she did speak pointedly--and\r
-at last, with a decision of action unusual to her, proposed a\r
-removal.--“Should not they walk? Would not Mr. Knightley shew them the\r
-gardens--all the gardens?--She wished to see the whole extent.”--The\r
-pertinacity of her friend seemed more than she could bear.\r
-\r
-It was hot; and after walking some time over the gardens in a scattered,\r
-dispersed way, scarcely any three together, they insensibly followed one\r
-another to the delicious shade of a broad short avenue of limes, which\r
-stretching beyond the garden at an equal distance from the river, seemed\r
-the finish of the pleasure grounds.--It led to nothing; nothing but a\r
-view at the end over a low stone wall with high pillars, which seemed\r
-intended, in their erection, to give the appearance of an approach to\r
-the house, which never had been there. Disputable, however, as might be\r
-the taste of such a termination, it was in itself a charming walk, and\r
-the view which closed it extremely pretty.--The considerable slope, at\r
-nearly the foot of which the Abbey stood, gradually acquired a steeper\r
-form beyond its grounds; and at half a mile distant was a bank of\r
-considerable abruptness and grandeur, well clothed with wood;--and at\r
-the bottom of this bank, favourably placed and sheltered, rose the\r
-Abbey Mill Farm, with meadows in front, and the river making a close and\r
-handsome curve around it.\r
-\r
-It was a sweet view--sweet to the eye and the mind. English verdure,\r
-English culture, English comfort, seen under a sun bright, without being\r
-oppressive.\r
-\r
-In this walk Emma and Mr. Weston found all the others assembled; and\r
-towards this view she immediately perceived Mr. Knightley and Harriet\r
-distinct from the rest, quietly leading the way. Mr. Knightley and\r
-Harriet!--It was an odd tete-a-tete; but she was glad to see it.--There\r
-had been a time when he would have scorned her as a companion, and\r
-turned from her with little ceremony. Now they seemed in pleasant\r
-conversation. There had been a time also when Emma would have been sorry\r
-to see Harriet in a spot so favourable for the Abbey Mill Farm; but now\r
-she feared it not. It might be safely viewed with all its appendages of\r
-prosperity and beauty, its rich pastures, spreading flocks, orchard in\r
-blossom, and light column of smoke ascending.--She joined them at the\r
-wall, and found them more engaged in talking than in looking around. He\r
-was giving Harriet information as to modes of agriculture, etc. and Emma\r
-received a smile which seemed to say, “These are my own concerns. I have\r
-a right to talk on such subjects, without being suspected of\r
-introducing Robert Martin.”--She did not suspect him. It was too old\r
-a story.--Robert Martin had probably ceased to think of Harriet.--They\r
-took a few turns together along the walk.--The shade was most\r
-refreshing, and Emma found it the pleasantest part of the day.\r
-\r
-The next remove was to the house; they must all go in and eat;--and they\r
-were all seated and busy, and still Frank Churchill did not come. Mrs.\r
-Weston looked, and looked in vain. His father would not own himself\r
-uneasy, and laughed at her fears; but she could not be cured of wishing\r
-that he would part with his black mare. He had expressed himself as to\r
-coming, with more than common certainty. “His aunt was so much better,\r
-that he had not a doubt of getting over to them.”--Mrs. Churchill’s\r
-state, however, as many were ready to remind her, was liable to such\r
-sudden variation as might disappoint her nephew in the most reasonable\r
-dependence--and Mrs. Weston was at last persuaded to believe, or to say,\r
-that it must be by some attack of Mrs. Churchill that he was\r
-prevented coming.--Emma looked at Harriet while the point was under\r
-consideration; she behaved very well, and betrayed no emotion.\r
-\r
-The cold repast was over, and the party were to go out once more to see\r
-what had not yet been seen, the old Abbey fish-ponds; perhaps get as far\r
-as the clover, which was to be begun cutting on the morrow, or, at\r
-any rate, have the pleasure of being hot, and growing cool again.--Mr.\r
-Woodhouse, who had already taken his little round in the highest part\r
-of the gardens, where no damps from the river were imagined even by him,\r
-stirred no more; and his daughter resolved to remain with him, that\r
-Mrs. Weston might be persuaded away by her husband to the exercise and\r
-variety which her spirits seemed to need.\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley had done all in his power for Mr. Woodhouse’s\r
-entertainment. Books of engravings, drawers of medals, cameos, corals,\r
-shells, and every other family collection within his cabinets, had been\r
-prepared for his old friend, to while away the morning; and the kindness\r
-had perfectly answered. Mr. Woodhouse had been exceedingly well amused.\r
-Mrs. Weston had been shewing them all to him, and now he would shew them\r
-all to Emma;--fortunate in having no other resemblance to a child, than\r
-in a total want of taste for what he saw, for he was slow, constant, and\r
-methodical.--Before this second looking over was begun, however, Emma\r
-walked into the hall for the sake of a few moments’ free observation of\r
-the entrance and ground-plot of the house--and was hardly there, when\r
-Jane Fairfax appeared, coming quickly in from the garden, and with a\r
-look of escape.--Little expecting to meet Miss Woodhouse so soon, there\r
-was a start at first; but Miss Woodhouse was the very person she was in\r
-quest of.\r
-\r
-“Will you be so kind,” said she, “when I am missed, as to say that I am\r
-gone home?--I am going this moment.--My aunt is not aware how late it\r
-is, nor how long we have been absent--but I am sure we shall be wanted,\r
-and I am determined to go directly.--I have said nothing about it to any\r
-body. It would only be giving trouble and distress. Some are gone to the\r
-ponds, and some to the lime walk. Till they all come in I shall not be\r
-missed; and when they do, will you have the goodness to say that I am\r
-gone?”\r
-\r
-“Certainly, if you wish it;--but you are not going to walk to Highbury\r
-alone?”\r
-\r
-“Yes--what should hurt me?--I walk fast. I shall be at home in twenty\r
-minutes.”\r
-\r
-“But it is too far, indeed it is, to be walking quite alone. Let my\r
-father’s servant go with you.--Let me order the carriage. It can be\r
-round in five minutes.”\r
-\r
-“Thank you, thank you--but on no account.--I would rather walk.--And\r
-for _me_ to be afraid of walking alone!--I, who may so soon have to\r
-guard others!”\r
-\r
-She spoke with great agitation; and Emma very feelingly replied, “That\r
-can be no reason for your being exposed to danger now. I must order the\r
-carriage. The heat even would be danger.--You are fatigued already.”\r
-\r
-“I am,”--she answered--“I am fatigued; but it is not the sort of\r
-fatigue--quick walking will refresh me.--Miss Woodhouse, we all know\r
-at times what it is to be wearied in spirits. Mine, I confess, are\r
-exhausted. The greatest kindness you can shew me, will be to let me have\r
-my own way, and only say that I am gone when it is necessary.”\r
-\r
-Emma had not another word to oppose. She saw it all; and entering into\r
-her feelings, promoted her quitting the house immediately, and\r
-watched her safely off with the zeal of a friend. Her parting look was\r
-grateful--and her parting words, “Oh! Miss Woodhouse, the comfort of\r
-being sometimes alone!”--seemed to burst from an overcharged heart, and\r
-to describe somewhat of the continual endurance to be practised by her,\r
-even towards some of those who loved her best.\r
-\r
-“Such a home, indeed! such an aunt!” said Emma, as she turned back into\r
-the hall again. “I do pity you. And the more sensibility you betray of\r
-their just horrors, the more I shall like you.”\r
-\r
-Jane had not been gone a quarter of an hour, and they had only\r
-accomplished some views of St. Mark’s Place, Venice, when Frank\r
-Churchill entered the room. Emma had not been thinking of him, she had\r
-forgotten to think of him--but she was very glad to see him. Mrs. Weston\r
-would be at ease. The black mare was blameless; _they_ were right\r
-who had named Mrs. Churchill as the cause. He had been detained by\r
-a temporary increase of illness in her; a nervous seizure, which had\r
-lasted some hours--and he had quite given up every thought of coming,\r
-till very late;--and had he known how hot a ride he should have, and\r
-how late, with all his hurry, he must be, he believed he should not have\r
-come at all. The heat was excessive; he had never suffered any thing\r
-like it--almost wished he had staid at home--nothing killed him\r
-like heat--he could bear any degree of cold, etc., but heat was\r
-intolerable--and he sat down, at the greatest possible distance from the\r
-slight remains of Mr. Woodhouse’s fire, looking very deplorable.\r
-\r
-“You will soon be cooler, if you sit still,” said Emma.\r
-\r
-“As soon as I am cooler I shall go back again. I could very ill be\r
-spared--but such a point had been made of my coming! You will all be\r
-going soon I suppose; the whole party breaking up. I met _one_ as I\r
-came--Madness in such weather!--absolute madness!”\r
-\r
-Emma listened, and looked, and soon perceived that Frank Churchill’s\r
-state might be best defined by the expressive phrase of being out of\r
-humour. Some people were always cross when they were hot. Such might be\r
-his constitution; and as she knew that eating and drinking were often\r
-the cure of such incidental complaints, she recommended his taking\r
-some refreshment; he would find abundance of every thing in the\r
-dining-room--and she humanely pointed out the door.\r
-\r
-“No--he should not eat. He was not hungry; it would only make him\r
-hotter.” In two minutes, however, he relented in his own favour; and\r
-muttering something about spruce-beer, walked off. Emma returned all her\r
-attention to her father, saying in secret--\r
-\r
-“I am glad I have done being in love with him. I should not like a man\r
-who is so soon discomposed by a hot morning. Harriet’s sweet easy temper\r
-will not mind it.”\r
-\r
-He was gone long enough to have had a very comfortable meal, and came\r
-back all the better--grown quite cool--and, with good manners, like\r
-himself--able to draw a chair close to them, take an interest in their\r
-employment; and regret, in a reasonable way, that he should be so late.\r
-He was not in his best spirits, but seemed trying to improve them; and,\r
-at last, made himself talk nonsense very agreeably. They were looking\r
-over views in Swisserland.\r
-\r
-“As soon as my aunt gets well, I shall go abroad,” said he. “I shall\r
-never be easy till I have seen some of these places. You will have my\r
-sketches, some time or other, to look at--or my tour to read--or my\r
-poem. I shall do something to expose myself.”\r
-\r
-“That may be--but not by sketches in Swisserland. You will never go to\r
-Swisserland. Your uncle and aunt will never allow you to leave England.”\r
-\r
-“They may be induced to go too. A warm climate may be prescribed for\r
-her. I have more than half an expectation of our all going abroad. I\r
-assure you I have. I feel a strong persuasion, this morning, that I\r
-shall soon be abroad. I ought to travel. I am tired of doing nothing. I\r
-want a change. I am serious, Miss Woodhouse, whatever your penetrating\r
-eyes may fancy--I am sick of England--and would leave it to-morrow, if\r
-I could.”\r
-\r
-“You are sick of prosperity and indulgence. Cannot you invent a few\r
-hardships for yourself, and be contented to stay?”\r
-\r
-“_I_ sick of prosperity and indulgence! You are quite mistaken. I do\r
-not look upon myself as either prosperous or indulged. I am thwarted\r
-in every thing material. I do not consider myself at all a fortunate\r
-person.”\r
-\r
-“You are not quite so miserable, though, as when you first came. Go and\r
-eat and drink a little more, and you will do very well. Another slice of\r
-cold meat, another draught of Madeira and water, will make you nearly on\r
-a par with the rest of us.”\r
-\r
-“No--I shall not stir. I shall sit by you. You are my best cure.”\r
-\r
-“We are going to Box Hill to-morrow;--you will join us. It is not\r
-Swisserland, but it will be something for a young man so much in want of\r
-a change. You will stay, and go with us?”\r
-\r
-“No, certainly not; I shall go home in the cool of the evening.”\r
-\r
-“But you may come again in the cool of to-morrow morning.”\r
-\r
-“No--It will not be worth while. If I come, I shall be cross.”\r
-\r
-“Then pray stay at Richmond.”\r
-\r
-“But if I do, I shall be crosser still. I can never bear to think of you\r
-all there without me.”\r
-\r
-“These are difficulties which you must settle for yourself. Chuse your\r
-own degree of crossness. I shall press you no more.”\r
-\r
-The rest of the party were now returning, and all were soon collected.\r
-With some there was great joy at the sight of Frank Churchill; others\r
-took it very composedly; but there was a very general distress and\r
-disturbance on Miss Fairfax’s disappearance being explained. That it was\r
-time for every body to go, concluded the subject; and with a short final\r
-arrangement for the next day’s scheme, they parted. Frank Churchill’s\r
-little inclination to exclude himself increased so much, that his last\r
-words to Emma were,\r
-\r
-“Well;--if _you_ wish me to stay and join the party, I will.”\r
-\r
-She smiled her acceptance; and nothing less than a summons from Richmond\r
-was to take him back before the following evening.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER VII\r
-\r
-\r
-They had a very fine day for Box Hill; and all the other outward\r
-circumstances of arrangement, accommodation, and punctuality, were in\r
-favour of a pleasant party. Mr. Weston directed the whole, officiating\r
-safely between Hartfield and the Vicarage, and every body was in good\r
-time. Emma and Harriet went together; Miss Bates and her niece, with\r
-the Eltons; the gentlemen on horseback. Mrs. Weston remained with Mr.\r
-Woodhouse. Nothing was wanting but to be happy when they got there.\r
-Seven miles were travelled in expectation of enjoyment, and every body\r
-had a burst of admiration on first arriving; but in the general amount\r
-of the day there was deficiency. There was a languor, a want of spirits,\r
-a want of union, which could not be got over. They separated too much\r
-into parties. The Eltons walked together; Mr. Knightley took charge of\r
-Miss Bates and Jane; and Emma and Harriet belonged to Frank Churchill.\r
-And Mr. Weston tried, in vain, to make them harmonise better. It seemed\r
-at first an accidental division, but it never materially varied. Mr. and\r
-Mrs. Elton, indeed, shewed no unwillingness to mix, and be as agreeable\r
-as they could; but during the two whole hours that were spent on the\r
-hill, there seemed a principle of separation, between the other parties,\r
-too strong for any fine prospects, or any cold collation, or any\r
-cheerful Mr. Weston, to remove.\r
-\r
-At first it was downright dulness to Emma. She had never seen Frank\r
-Churchill so silent and stupid. He said nothing worth hearing--looked\r
-without seeing--admired without intelligence--listened without knowing\r
-what she said. While he was so dull, it was no wonder that Harriet\r
-should be dull likewise; and they were both insufferable.\r
-\r
-When they all sat down it was better; to her taste a great deal better,\r
-for Frank Churchill grew talkative and gay, making her his first object.\r
-Every distinguishing attention that could be paid, was paid to her.\r
-To amuse her, and be agreeable in her eyes, seemed all that he cared\r
-for--and Emma, glad to be enlivened, not sorry to be flattered, was gay\r
-and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragement, the admission\r
-to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first and most animating\r
-period of their acquaintance; but which now, in her own estimation,\r
-meant nothing, though in the judgment of most people looking on it must\r
-have had such an appearance as no English word but flirtation could very\r
-well describe. “Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse flirted together\r
-excessively.” They were laying themselves open to that very phrase--and\r
-to having it sent off in a letter to Maple Grove by one lady, to\r
-Ireland by another. Not that Emma was gay and thoughtless from any\r
-real felicity; it was rather because she felt less happy than she had\r
-expected. She laughed because she was disappointed; and though she liked\r
-him for his attentions, and thought them all, whether in friendship,\r
-admiration, or playfulness, extremely judicious, they were not winning\r
-back her heart. She still intended him for her friend.\r
-\r
-“How much I am obliged to you,” said he, “for telling me to come\r
-to-day!--If it had not been for you, I should certainly have lost all\r
-the happiness of this party. I had quite determined to go away again.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, you were very cross; and I do not know what about, except that you\r
-were too late for the best strawberries. I was a kinder friend than you\r
-deserved. But you were humble. You begged hard to be commanded to come.”\r
-\r
-“Don’t say I was cross. I was fatigued. The heat overcame me.”\r
-\r
-“It is hotter to-day.”\r
-\r
-“Not to my feelings. I am perfectly comfortable to-day.”\r
-\r
-“You are comfortable because you are under command.”\r
-\r
-“Your command?--Yes.”\r
-\r
-“Perhaps I intended you to say so, but I meant self-command. You had,\r
-somehow or other, broken bounds yesterday, and run away from your own\r
-management; but to-day you are got back again--and as I cannot be always\r
-with you, it is best to believe your temper under your own command\r
-rather than mine.”\r
-\r
-“It comes to the same thing. I can have no self-command without a\r
-motive. You order me, whether you speak or not. And you can be always\r
-with me. You are always with me.”\r
-\r
-“Dating from three o’clock yesterday. My perpetual influence could not\r
-begin earlier, or you would not have been so much out of humour before.”\r
-\r
-“Three o’clock yesterday! That is your date. I thought I had seen you\r
-first in February.”\r
-\r
-“Your gallantry is really unanswerable. But (lowering her voice)--nobody\r
-speaks except ourselves, and it is rather too much to be talking\r
-nonsense for the entertainment of seven silent people.”\r
-\r
-“I say nothing of which I am ashamed,” replied he, with lively\r
-impudence. “I saw you first in February. Let every body on the Hill\r
-hear me if they can. Let my accents swell to Mickleham on one side,\r
-and Dorking on the other. I saw you first in February.” And then\r
-whispering--“Our companions are excessively stupid. What shall we do\r
-to rouse them? Any nonsense will serve. They _shall_ talk. Ladies\r
-and gentlemen, I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse (who, wherever she is,\r
-presides) to say, that she desires to know what you are all thinking\r
-of?”\r
-\r
-Some laughed, and answered good-humouredly. Miss Bates said a great\r
-deal; Mrs. Elton swelled at the idea of Miss Woodhouse’s presiding; Mr.\r
-Knightley’s answer was the most distinct.\r
-\r
-“Is Miss Woodhouse sure that she would like to hear what we are all\r
-thinking of?”\r
-\r
-“Oh! no, no”--cried Emma, laughing as carelessly as she could--“Upon no\r
-account in the world. It is the very last thing I would stand the brunt\r
-of just now. Let me hear any thing rather than what you are all thinking\r
-of. I will not say quite all. There are one or two, perhaps, (glancing\r
-at Mr. Weston and Harriet,) whose thoughts I might not be afraid of\r
-knowing.”\r
-\r
-“It is a sort of thing,” cried Mrs. Elton emphatically, “which _I_\r
-should not have thought myself privileged to inquire into. Though,\r
-perhaps, as the _Chaperon_ of the party--_I_ never was in any\r
-circle--exploring parties--young ladies--married women--”\r
-\r
-Her mutterings were chiefly to her husband; and he murmured, in reply,\r
-\r
-“Very true, my love, very true. Exactly so, indeed--quite unheard\r
-of--but some ladies say any thing. Better pass it off as a joke. Every\r
-body knows what is due to _you_.”\r
-\r
-“It will not do,” whispered Frank to Emma; “they are most of them\r
-affronted. I will attack them with more address. Ladies and gentlemen--I\r
-am ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say, that she waives her right of\r
-knowing exactly what you may all be thinking of, and only requires\r
-something very entertaining from each of you, in a general way. Here\r
-are seven of you, besides myself, (who, she is pleased to say, am very\r
-entertaining already,) and she only demands from each of you either one\r
-thing very clever, be it prose or verse, original or repeated--or two\r
-things moderately clever--or three things very dull indeed, and she\r
-engages to laugh heartily at them all.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! very well,” exclaimed Miss Bates, “then I need not be uneasy.\r
-‘Three things very dull indeed.’ That will just do for me, you know. I\r
-shall be sure to say three dull things as soon as ever I open my mouth,\r
-shan’t I? (looking round with the most good-humoured dependence on every\r
-body’s assent)--Do not you all think I shall?”\r
-\r
-Emma could not resist.\r
-\r
-“Ah! ma’am, but there may be a difficulty. Pardon me--but you will be\r
-limited as to number--only three at once.”\r
-\r
-Miss Bates, deceived by the mock ceremony of her manner, did not\r
-immediately catch her meaning; but, when it burst on her, it could not\r
-anger, though a slight blush shewed that it could pain her.\r
-\r
-“Ah!--well--to be sure. Yes, I see what she means, (turning to Mr.\r
-Knightley,) and I will try to hold my tongue. I must make myself very\r
-disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing to an old friend.”\r
-\r
-“I like your plan,” cried Mr. Weston. “Agreed, agreed. I will do my\r
-best. I am making a conundrum. How will a conundrum reckon?”\r
-\r
-“Low, I am afraid, sir, very low,” answered his son;--“but we shall be\r
-indulgent--especially to any one who leads the way.”\r
-\r
-“No, no,” said Emma, “it will not reckon low. A conundrum of Mr.\r
-Weston’s shall clear him and his next neighbour. Come, sir, pray let me\r
-hear it.”\r
-\r
-“I doubt its being very clever myself,” said Mr. Weston. “It is too much\r
-a matter of fact, but here it is.--What two letters of the alphabet are\r
-there, that express perfection?”\r
-\r
-“What two letters!--express perfection! I am sure I do not know.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! you will never guess. You, (to Emma), I am certain, will never\r
-guess.--I will tell you.--M. and A.--Em-ma.--Do you understand?”\r
-\r
-Understanding and gratification came together. It might be a very\r
-indifferent piece of wit, but Emma found a great deal to laugh at and\r
-enjoy in it--and so did Frank and Harriet.--It did not seem to touch\r
-the rest of the party equally; some looked very stupid about it, and Mr.\r
-Knightley gravely said,\r
-\r
-“This explains the sort of clever thing that is wanted, and Mr. Weston\r
-has done very well for himself; but he must have knocked up every body\r
-else. _Perfection_ should not have come quite so soon.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! for myself, I protest I must be excused,” said Mrs. Elton; “_I_\r
-really cannot attempt--I am not at all fond of the sort of thing. I had\r
-an acrostic once sent to me upon my own name, which I was not at all\r
-pleased with. I knew who it came from. An abominable puppy!--You know\r
-who I mean (nodding to her husband). These kind of things are very\r
-well at Christmas, when one is sitting round the fire; but quite out of\r
-place, in my opinion, when one is exploring about the country in summer.\r
-Miss Woodhouse must excuse me. I am not one of those who have witty\r
-things at every body’s service. I do not pretend to be a wit. I have a\r
-great deal of vivacity in my own way, but I really must be allowed to\r
-judge when to speak and when to hold my tongue. Pass us, if you please,\r
-Mr. Churchill. Pass Mr. E., Knightley, Jane, and myself. We have nothing\r
-clever to say--not one of us.\r
-\r
-“Yes, yes, pray pass _me_,” added her husband, with a sort of sneering\r
-consciousness; “_I_ have nothing to say that can entertain Miss\r
-Woodhouse, or any other young lady. An old married man--quite good for\r
-nothing. Shall we walk, Augusta?”\r
-\r
-“With all my heart. I am really tired of exploring so long on one spot.\r
-Come, Jane, take my other arm.”\r
-\r
-Jane declined it, however, and the husband and wife walked off.\r
-“Happy couple!” said Frank Churchill, as soon as they were out of\r
-hearing:--“How well they suit one another!--Very lucky--marrying as they\r
-did, upon an acquaintance formed only in a public place!--They only knew\r
-each other, I think, a few weeks in Bath! Peculiarly lucky!--for as to\r
-any real knowledge of a person’s disposition that Bath, or any public\r
-place, can give--it is all nothing; there can be no knowledge. It is\r
-only by seeing women in their own homes, among their own set, just as\r
-they always are, that you can form any just judgment. Short of that, it\r
-is all guess and luck--and will generally be ill-luck. How many a man\r
-has committed himself on a short acquaintance, and rued it all the rest\r
-of his life!”\r
-\r
-Miss Fairfax, who had seldom spoken before, except among her own\r
-confederates, spoke now.\r
-\r
-“Such things do occur, undoubtedly.”--She was stopped by a cough. Frank\r
-Churchill turned towards her to listen.\r
-\r
-“You were speaking,” said he, gravely. She recovered her voice.\r
-\r
-“I was only going to observe, that though such unfortunate circumstances\r
-do sometimes occur both to men and women, I cannot imagine them to be\r
-very frequent. A hasty and imprudent attachment may arise--but there is\r
-generally time to recover from it afterwards. I would be understood to\r
-mean, that it can be only weak, irresolute characters, (whose happiness\r
-must be always at the mercy of chance,) who will suffer an unfortunate\r
-acquaintance to be an inconvenience, an oppression for ever.”\r
-\r
-He made no answer; merely looked, and bowed in submission; and soon\r
-afterwards said, in a lively tone,\r
-\r
-“Well, I have so little confidence in my own judgment, that whenever I\r
-marry, I hope some body will chuse my wife for me. Will you? (turning to\r
-Emma.) Will you chuse a wife for me?--I am sure I should like any body\r
-fixed on by you. You provide for the family, you know, (with a smile at\r
-his father). Find some body for me. I am in no hurry. Adopt her, educate\r
-her.”\r
-\r
-“And make her like myself.”\r
-\r
-“By all means, if you can.”\r
-\r
-“Very well. I undertake the commission. You shall have a charming wife.”\r
-\r
-“She must be very lively, and have hazle eyes. I care for nothing else.\r
-I shall go abroad for a couple of years--and when I return, I shall come\r
-to you for my wife. Remember.”\r
-\r
-Emma was in no danger of forgetting. It was a commission to touch every\r
-favourite feeling. Would not Harriet be the very creature described?\r
-Hazle eyes excepted, two years more might make her all that he wished.\r
-He might even have Harriet in his thoughts at the moment; who could say?\r
-Referring the education to her seemed to imply it.\r
-\r
-“Now, ma’am,” said Jane to her aunt, “shall we join Mrs. Elton?”\r
-\r
-“If you please, my dear. With all my heart. I am quite ready. I was\r
-ready to have gone with her, but this will do just as well. We shall\r
-soon overtake her. There she is--no, that’s somebody else. That’s one\r
-of the ladies in the Irish car party, not at all like her.--Well, I\r
-declare--”\r
-\r
-They walked off, followed in half a minute by Mr. Knightley. Mr. Weston,\r
-his son, Emma, and Harriet, only remained; and the young man’s spirits\r
-now rose to a pitch almost unpleasant. Even Emma grew tired at last of\r
-flattery and merriment, and wished herself rather walking quietly about\r
-with any of the others, or sitting almost alone, and quite unattended\r
-to, in tranquil observation of the beautiful views beneath her. The\r
-appearance of the servants looking out for them to give notice of the\r
-carriages was a joyful sight; and even the bustle of collecting and\r
-preparing to depart, and the solicitude of Mrs. Elton to have _her_\r
-carriage first, were gladly endured, in the prospect of the quiet drive\r
-home which was to close the very questionable enjoyments of this day of\r
-pleasure. Such another scheme, composed of so many ill-assorted people,\r
-she hoped never to be betrayed into again.\r
-\r
-While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr. Knightley by her side. He\r
-looked around, as if to see that no one were near, and then said,\r
-\r
-“Emma, I must once more speak to you as I have been used to do: a\r
-privilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I must still use it.\r
-I cannot see you acting wrong, without a remonstrance. How could you be\r
-so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent in your wit to\r
-a woman of her character, age, and situation?--Emma, I had not thought\r
-it possible.”\r
-\r
-Emma recollected, blushed, was sorry, but tried to laugh it off.\r
-\r
-“Nay, how could I help saying what I did?--Nobody could have helped it.\r
-It was not so very bad. I dare say she did not understand me.”\r
-\r
-“I assure you she did. She felt your full meaning. She has talked of\r
-it since. I wish you could have heard how she talked of it--with what\r
-candour and generosity. I wish you could have heard her honouring your\r
-forbearance, in being able to pay her such attentions, as she was for\r
-ever receiving from yourself and your father, when her society must be\r
-so irksome.”\r
-\r
-“Oh!” cried Emma, “I know there is not a better creature in the world:\r
-but you must allow, that what is good and what is ridiculous are most\r
-unfortunately blended in her.”\r
-\r
-“They are blended,” said he, “I acknowledge; and, were she prosperous,\r
-I could allow much for the occasional prevalence of the ridiculous over\r
-the good. Were she a woman of fortune, I would leave every harmless\r
-absurdity to take its chance, I would not quarrel with you for any\r
-liberties of manner. Were she your equal in situation--but, Emma,\r
-consider how far this is from being the case. She is poor; she has sunk\r
-from the comforts she was born to; and, if she live to old age, must\r
-probably sink more. Her situation should secure your compassion. It was\r
-badly done, indeed! You, whom she had known from an infant, whom she had\r
-seen grow up from a period when her notice was an honour, to have you\r
-now, in thoughtless spirits, and the pride of the moment, laugh at her,\r
-humble her--and before her niece, too--and before others, many of whom\r
-(certainly _some_,) would be entirely guided by _your_ treatment\r
-of her.--This is not pleasant to you, Emma--and it is very far from\r
-pleasant to me; but I must, I will,--I will tell you truths while I can;\r
-satisfied with proving myself your friend by very faithful counsel, and\r
-trusting that you will some time or other do me greater justice than you\r
-can do now.”\r
-\r
-While they talked, they were advancing towards the carriage; it was\r
-ready; and, before she could speak again, he had handed her in. He had\r
-misinterpreted the feelings which had kept her face averted, and her\r
-tongue motionless. They were combined only of anger against herself,\r
-mortification, and deep concern. She had not been able to speak; and, on\r
-entering the carriage, sunk back for a moment overcome--then reproaching\r
-herself for having taken no leave, making no acknowledgment, parting in\r
-apparent sullenness, she looked out with voice and hand eager to shew a\r
-difference; but it was just too late. He had turned away, and the horses\r
-were in motion. She continued to look back, but in vain; and soon, with\r
-what appeared unusual speed, they were half way down the hill, and\r
-every thing left far behind. She was vexed beyond what could have been\r
-expressed--almost beyond what she could conceal. Never had she felt so\r
-agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. She was\r
-most forcibly struck. The truth of this representation there was no\r
-denying. She felt it at her heart. How could she have been so brutal,\r
-so cruel to Miss Bates! How could she have exposed herself to such ill\r
-opinion in any one she valued! And how suffer him to leave her without\r
-saying one word of gratitude, of concurrence, of common kindness!\r
-\r
-Time did not compose her. As she reflected more, she seemed but to feel\r
-it more. She never had been so depressed. Happily it was not necessary\r
-to speak. There was only Harriet, who seemed not in spirits herself,\r
-fagged, and very willing to be silent; and Emma felt the tears running\r
-down her cheeks almost all the way home, without being at any trouble to\r
-check them, extraordinary as they were.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER VIII\r
-\r
-\r
-The wretchedness of a scheme to Box Hill was in Emma’s thoughts all the\r
-evening. How it might be considered by the rest of the party, she could\r
-not tell. They, in their different homes, and their different ways,\r
-might be looking back on it with pleasure; but in her view it was\r
-a morning more completely misspent, more totally bare of rational\r
-satisfaction at the time, and more to be abhorred in recollection, than\r
-any she had ever passed. A whole evening of back-gammon with her father,\r
-was felicity to it. _There_, indeed, lay real pleasure, for there she\r
-was giving up the sweetest hours of the twenty-four to his comfort; and\r
-feeling that, unmerited as might be the degree of his fond affection and\r
-confiding esteem, she could not, in her general conduct, be open to any\r
-severe reproach. As a daughter, she hoped she was not without a heart.\r
-She hoped no one could have said to her, “How could you be so unfeeling\r
-to your father?--I must, I will tell you truths while I can.” Miss\r
-Bates should never again--no, never! If attention, in future, could do\r
-away the past, she might hope to be forgiven. She had been often remiss,\r
-her conscience told her so; remiss, perhaps, more in thought than fact;\r
-scornful, ungracious. But it should be so no more. In the warmth of true\r
-contrition, she would call upon her the very next morning, and it should\r
-be the beginning, on her side, of a regular, equal, kindly intercourse.\r
-\r
-She was just as determined when the morrow came, and went early, that\r
-nothing might prevent her. It was not unlikely, she thought, that she\r
-might see Mr. Knightley in her way; or, perhaps, he might come in\r
-while she were paying her visit. She had no objection. She would not be\r
-ashamed of the appearance of the penitence, so justly and truly hers.\r
-Her eyes were towards Donwell as she walked, but she saw him not.\r
-\r
-“The ladies were all at home.” She had never rejoiced at the sound\r
-before, nor ever before entered the passage, nor walked up the stairs,\r
-with any wish of giving pleasure, but in conferring obligation, or of\r
-deriving it, except in subsequent ridicule.\r
-\r
-There was a bustle on her approach; a good deal of moving and talking.\r
-She heard Miss Bates’s voice, something was to be done in a hurry; the\r
-maid looked frightened and awkward; hoped she would be pleased to wait a\r
-moment, and then ushered her in too soon. The aunt and niece seemed both\r
-escaping into the adjoining room. Jane she had a distinct glimpse of,\r
-looking extremely ill; and, before the door had shut them out, she heard\r
-Miss Bates saying, “Well, my dear, I shall _say_ you are laid down upon\r
-the bed, and I am sure you are ill enough.”\r
-\r
-Poor old Mrs. Bates, civil and humble as usual, looked as if she did not\r
-quite understand what was going on.\r
-\r
-“I am afraid Jane is not very well,” said she, “but I do not know; they\r
-_tell_ me she is well. I dare say my daughter will be here presently,\r
-Miss Woodhouse. I hope you find a chair. I wish Hetty had not gone. I am\r
-very little able--Have you a chair, ma’am? Do you sit where you like? I\r
-am sure she will be here presently.”\r
-\r
-Emma seriously hoped she would. She had a moment’s fear of Miss Bates\r
-keeping away from her. But Miss Bates soon came--“Very happy and\r
-obliged”--but Emma’s conscience told her that there was not the same\r
-cheerful volubility as before--less ease of look and manner. A very\r
-friendly inquiry after Miss Fairfax, she hoped, might lead the way to a\r
-return of old feelings. The touch seemed immediate.\r
-\r
-“Ah! Miss Woodhouse, how kind you are!--I suppose you have heard--and\r
-are come to give us joy. This does not seem much like joy, indeed, in\r
-me--(twinkling away a tear or two)--but it will be very trying for us\r
-to part with her, after having had her so long, and she has a dreadful\r
-headache just now, writing all the morning:--such long letters, you\r
-know, to be written to Colonel Campbell, and Mrs. Dixon. ‘My dear,’ said\r
-I, ‘you will blind yourself’--for tears were in her eyes perpetually.\r
-One cannot wonder, one cannot wonder. It is a great change; and though\r
-she is amazingly fortunate--such a situation, I suppose, as no\r
-young woman before ever met with on first going out--do not think us\r
-ungrateful, Miss Woodhouse, for such surprising good fortune--(again\r
-dispersing her tears)--but, poor dear soul! if you were to see what a\r
-headache she has. When one is in great pain, you know one cannot feel\r
-any blessing quite as it may deserve. She is as low as possible. To\r
-look at her, nobody would think how delighted and happy she is to have\r
-secured such a situation. You will excuse her not coming to you--she is\r
-not able--she is gone into her own room--I want her to lie down upon the\r
-bed. ‘My dear,’ said I, ‘I shall say you are laid down upon the bed:’\r
-but, however, she is not; she is walking about the room. But, now that\r
-she has written her letters, she says she shall soon be well. She will\r
-be extremely sorry to miss seeing you, Miss Woodhouse, but your\r
-kindness will excuse her. You were kept waiting at the door--I was quite\r
-ashamed--but somehow there was a little bustle--for it so happened that\r
-we had not heard the knock, and till you were on the stairs, we did not\r
-know any body was coming. ‘It is only Mrs. Cole,’ said I, ‘depend upon\r
-it. Nobody else would come so early.’ ‘Well,’ said she, ‘it must be\r
-borne some time or other, and it may as well be now.’ But then Patty\r
-came in, and said it was you. ‘Oh!’ said I, ‘it is Miss Woodhouse: I am\r
-sure you will like to see her.’--‘I can see nobody,’ said she; and\r
-up she got, and would go away; and that was what made us keep you\r
-waiting--and extremely sorry and ashamed we were. ‘If you must go, my\r
-dear,’ said I, ‘you must, and I will say you are laid down upon the\r
-bed.’”\r
-\r
-Emma was most sincerely interested. Her heart had been long growing\r
-kinder towards Jane; and this picture of her present sufferings acted\r
-as a cure of every former ungenerous suspicion, and left her nothing but\r
-pity; and the remembrance of the less just and less gentle sensations of\r
-the past, obliged her to admit that Jane might very naturally resolve on\r
-seeing Mrs. Cole or any other steady friend, when she might not bear\r
-to see herself. She spoke as she felt, with earnest regret and\r
-solicitude--sincerely wishing that the circumstances which she collected\r
-from Miss Bates to be now actually determined on, might be as much for\r
-Miss Fairfax’s advantage and comfort as possible. “It must be a severe\r
-trial to them all. She had understood it was to be delayed till Colonel\r
-Campbell’s return.”\r
-\r
-“So very kind!” replied Miss Bates. “But you are always kind.”\r
-\r
-There was no bearing such an “always;” and to break through her dreadful\r
-gratitude, Emma made the direct inquiry of--\r
-\r
-“Where--may I ask?--is Miss Fairfax going?”\r
-\r
-“To a Mrs. Smallridge--charming woman--most superior--to have the charge\r
-of her three little girls--delightful children. Impossible that any\r
-situation could be more replete with comfort; if we except, perhaps,\r
-Mrs. Suckling’s own family, and Mrs. Bragge’s; but Mrs. Smallridge is\r
-intimate with both, and in the very same neighbourhood:--lives only four\r
-miles from Maple Grove. Jane will be only four miles from Maple Grove.”\r
-\r
-“Mrs. Elton, I suppose, has been the person to whom Miss Fairfax owes--”\r
-\r
-“Yes, our good Mrs. Elton. The most indefatigable, true friend. She\r
-would not take a denial. She would not let Jane say, ‘No;’ for when Jane\r
-first heard of it, (it was the day before yesterday, the very morning\r
-we were at Donwell,) when Jane first heard of it, she was quite decided\r
-against accepting the offer, and for the reasons you mention; exactly\r
-as you say, she had made up her mind to close with nothing till Colonel\r
-Campbell’s return, and nothing should induce her to enter into any\r
-engagement at present--and so she told Mrs. Elton over and over\r
-again--and I am sure I had no more idea that she would change her\r
-mind!--but that good Mrs. Elton, whose judgment never fails her, saw\r
-farther than I did. It is not every body that would have stood out in\r
-such a kind way as she did, and refuse to take Jane’s answer; but she\r
-positively declared she would _not_ write any such denial yesterday, as\r
-Jane wished her; she would wait--and, sure enough, yesterday evening it\r
-was all settled that Jane should go. Quite a surprize to me! I had not\r
-the least idea!--Jane took Mrs. Elton aside, and told her at once, that\r
-upon thinking over the advantages of Mrs. Smallridge’s situation, she\r
-had come to the resolution of accepting it.--I did not know a word of it\r
-till it was all settled.”\r
-\r
-“You spent the evening with Mrs. Elton?”\r
-\r
-“Yes, all of us; Mrs. Elton would have us come. It was settled so, upon\r
-the hill, while we were walking about with Mr. Knightley. ‘You _must_\r
-_all_ spend your evening with us,’ said she--‘I positively must have you\r
-_all_ come.’”\r
-\r
-“Mr. Knightley was there too, was he?”\r
-\r
-“No, not Mr. Knightley; he declined it from the first; and though I\r
-thought he would come, because Mrs. Elton declared she would not let him\r
-off, he did not;--but my mother, and Jane, and I, were all there, and\r
-a very agreeable evening we had. Such kind friends, you know, Miss\r
-Woodhouse, one must always find agreeable, though every body seemed\r
-rather fagged after the morning’s party. Even pleasure, you know, is\r
-fatiguing--and I cannot say that any of them seemed very much to have\r
-enjoyed it. However, _I_ shall always think it a very pleasant party,\r
-and feel extremely obliged to the kind friends who included me in it.”\r
-\r
-“Miss Fairfax, I suppose, though you were not aware of it, had been\r
-making up her mind the whole day?”\r
-\r
-“I dare say she had.”\r
-\r
-“Whenever the time may come, it must be unwelcome to her and all her\r
-friends--but I hope her engagement will have every alleviation that is\r
-possible--I mean, as to the character and manners of the family.”\r
-\r
-“Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse. Yes, indeed, there is every thing\r
-in the world that can make her happy in it. Except the Sucklings and\r
-Bragges, there is not such another nursery establishment, so liberal\r
-and elegant, in all Mrs. Elton’s acquaintance. Mrs. Smallridge, a most\r
-delightful woman!--A style of living almost equal to Maple Grove--and as\r
-to the children, except the little Sucklings and little Bragges, there\r
-are not such elegant sweet children anywhere. Jane will be treated with\r
-such regard and kindness!--It will be nothing but pleasure, a life of\r
-pleasure.--And her salary!--I really cannot venture to name her salary\r
-to you, Miss Woodhouse. Even you, used as you are to great sums, would\r
-hardly believe that so much could be given to a young person like Jane.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! madam,” cried Emma, “if other children are at all like what I\r
-remember to have been myself, I should think five times the amount of\r
-what I have ever yet heard named as a salary on such occasions, dearly\r
-earned.”\r
-\r
-“You are so noble in your ideas!”\r
-\r
-“And when is Miss Fairfax to leave you?”\r
-\r
-“Very soon, very soon, indeed; that’s the worst of it. Within a\r
-fortnight. Mrs. Smallridge is in a great hurry. My poor mother does not\r
-know how to bear it. So then, I try to put it out of her thoughts, and\r
-say, Come ma’am, do not let us think about it any more.”\r
-\r
-“Her friends must all be sorry to lose her; and will not Colonel and\r
-Mrs. Campbell be sorry to find that she has engaged herself before their\r
-return?”\r
-\r
-“Yes; Jane says she is sure they will; but yet, this is such a situation\r
-as she cannot feel herself justified in declining. I was so astonished\r
-when she first told me what she had been saying to Mrs. Elton, and when\r
-Mrs. Elton at the same moment came congratulating me upon it! It was\r
-before tea--stay--no, it could not be before tea, because we were\r
-just going to cards--and yet it was before tea, because I remember\r
-thinking--Oh! no, now I recollect, now I have it; something happened\r
-before tea, but not that. Mr. Elton was called out of the room before\r
-tea, old John Abdy’s son wanted to speak with him. Poor old John, I\r
-have a great regard for him; he was clerk to my poor father twenty-seven\r
-years; and now, poor old man, he is bed-ridden, and very poorly with the\r
-rheumatic gout in his joints--I must go and see him to-day; and so will\r
-Jane, I am sure, if she gets out at all. And poor John’s son came to\r
-talk to Mr. Elton about relief from the parish; he is very well to do\r
-himself, you know, being head man at the Crown, ostler, and every thing\r
-of that sort, but still he cannot keep his father without some help;\r
-and so, when Mr. Elton came back, he told us what John ostler had been\r
-telling him, and then it came out about the chaise having been sent to\r
-Randalls to take Mr. Frank Churchill to Richmond. That was what happened\r
-before tea. It was after tea that Jane spoke to Mrs. Elton.”\r
-\r
-Miss Bates would hardly give Emma time to say how perfectly new this\r
-circumstance was to her; but as without supposing it possible that she\r
-could be ignorant of any of the particulars of Mr. Frank Churchill’s\r
-going, she proceeded to give them all, it was of no consequence.\r
-\r
-What Mr. Elton had learned from the ostler on the subject, being the\r
-accumulation of the ostler’s own knowledge, and the knowledge of the\r
-servants at Randalls, was, that a messenger had come over from Richmond\r
-soon after the return of the party from Box Hill--which messenger,\r
-however, had been no more than was expected; and that Mr. Churchill had\r
-sent his nephew a few lines, containing, upon the whole, a tolerable\r
-account of Mrs. Churchill, and only wishing him not to delay coming\r
-back beyond the next morning early; but that Mr. Frank Churchill having\r
-resolved to go home directly, without waiting at all, and his horse\r
-seeming to have got a cold, Tom had been sent off immediately for the\r
-Crown chaise, and the ostler had stood out and seen it pass by, the boy\r
-going a good pace, and driving very steady.\r
-\r
-There was nothing in all this either to astonish or interest, and it\r
-caught Emma’s attention only as it united with the subject which already\r
-engaged her mind. The contrast between Mrs. Churchill’s importance in\r
-the world, and Jane Fairfax’s, struck her; one was every thing, the\r
-other nothing--and she sat musing on the difference of woman’s destiny,\r
-and quite unconscious on what her eyes were fixed, till roused by Miss\r
-Bates’s saying,\r
-\r
-“Aye, I see what you are thinking of, the pianoforte. What is to become\r
-of that?--Very true. Poor dear Jane was talking of it just now.--‘You\r
-must go,’ said she. ‘You and I must part. You will have no business\r
-here.--Let it stay, however,’ said she; ‘give it houseroom till Colonel\r
-Campbell comes back. I shall talk about it to him; he will settle for\r
-me; he will help me out of all my difficulties.’--And to this day, I do\r
-believe, she knows not whether it was his present or his daughter’s.”\r
-\r
-Now Emma was obliged to think of the pianoforte; and the remembrance of\r
-all her former fanciful and unfair conjectures was so little pleasing,\r
-that she soon allowed herself to believe her visit had been long enough;\r
-and, with a repetition of every thing that she could venture to say of\r
-the good wishes which she really felt, took leave.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER IX\r
-\r
-\r
-Emma’s pensive meditations, as she walked home, were not interrupted;\r
-but on entering the parlour, she found those who must rouse her. Mr.\r
-Knightley and Harriet had arrived during her absence, and were sitting\r
-with her father.--Mr. Knightley immediately got up, and in a manner\r
-decidedly graver than usual, said,\r
-\r
-“I would not go away without seeing you, but I have no time to spare,\r
-and therefore must now be gone directly. I am going to London, to spend\r
-a few days with John and Isabella. Have you any thing to send or say,\r
-besides the ‘love,’ which nobody carries?”\r
-\r
-“Nothing at all. But is not this a sudden scheme?”\r
-\r
-“Yes--rather--I have been thinking of it some little time.”\r
-\r
-Emma was sure he had not forgiven her; he looked unlike himself. Time,\r
-however, she thought, would tell him that they ought to be friends\r
-again. While he stood, as if meaning to go, but not going--her father\r
-began his inquiries.\r
-\r
-“Well, my dear, and did you get there safely?--And how did you find my\r
-worthy old friend and her daughter?--I dare say they must have been very\r
-much obliged to you for coming. Dear Emma has been to call on Mrs.\r
-and Miss Bates, Mr. Knightley, as I told you before. She is always so\r
-attentive to them!”\r
-\r
-Emma’s colour was heightened by this unjust praise; and with a\r
-smile, and shake of the head, which spoke much, she looked at Mr.\r
-Knightley.--It seemed as if there were an instantaneous impression in\r
-her favour, as if his eyes received the truth from hers, and all that\r
-had passed of good in her feelings were at once caught and honoured.--\r
-He looked at her with a glow of regard. She was warmly gratified--and in\r
-another moment still more so, by a little movement of more than common\r
-friendliness on his part.--He took her hand;--whether she had not\r
-herself made the first motion, she could not say--she might, perhaps,\r
-have rather offered it--but he took her hand, pressed it, and certainly\r
-was on the point of carrying it to his lips--when, from some fancy or\r
-other, he suddenly let it go.--Why he should feel such a scruple, why\r
-he should change his mind when it was all but done, she could not\r
-perceive.--He would have judged better, she thought, if he had not\r
-stopped.--The intention, however, was indubitable; and whether it was\r
-that his manners had in general so little gallantry, or however else it\r
-happened, but she thought nothing became him more.--It was with him,\r
-of so simple, yet so dignified a nature.--She could not but recall the\r
-attempt with great satisfaction. It spoke such perfect amity.--He left\r
-them immediately afterwards--gone in a moment. He always moved with the\r
-alertness of a mind which could neither be undecided nor dilatory, but\r
-now he seemed more sudden than usual in his disappearance.\r
-\r
-Emma could not regret her having gone to Miss Bates, but she wished she\r
-had left her ten minutes earlier;--it would have been a great pleasure\r
-to talk over Jane Fairfax’s situation with Mr. Knightley.--Neither\r
-would she regret that he should be going to Brunswick Square, for she\r
-knew how much his visit would be enjoyed--but it might have happened\r
-at a better time--and to have had longer notice of it, would have been\r
-pleasanter.--They parted thorough friends, however; she could not\r
-be deceived as to the meaning of his countenance, and his unfinished\r
-gallantry;--it was all done to assure her that she had fully recovered\r
-his good opinion.--He had been sitting with them half an hour, she\r
-found. It was a pity that she had not come back earlier!\r
-\r
-In the hope of diverting her father’s thoughts from the disagreeableness\r
-of Mr. Knightley’s going to London; and going so suddenly; and going on\r
-horseback, which she knew would be all very bad; Emma communicated her\r
-news of Jane Fairfax, and her dependence on the effect was justified;\r
-it supplied a very useful check,--interested, without disturbing him. He\r
-had long made up his mind to Jane Fairfax’s going out as governess, and\r
-could talk of it cheerfully, but Mr. Knightley’s going to London had\r
-been an unexpected blow.\r
-\r
-“I am very glad, indeed, my dear, to hear she is to be so comfortably\r
-settled. Mrs. Elton is very good-natured and agreeable, and I dare say\r
-her acquaintance are just what they ought to be. I hope it is a dry\r
-situation, and that her health will be taken good care of. It ought to\r
-be a first object, as I am sure poor Miss Taylor’s always was with me.\r
-You know, my dear, she is going to be to this new lady what Miss Taylor\r
-was to us. And I hope she will be better off in one respect, and not be\r
-induced to go away after it has been her home so long.”\r
-\r
-The following day brought news from Richmond to throw every thing else\r
-into the background. An express arrived at Randalls to announce the\r
-death of Mrs. Churchill! Though her nephew had had no particular reason\r
-to hasten back on her account, she had not lived above six-and-thirty\r
-hours after his return. A sudden seizure of a different nature from any\r
-thing foreboded by her general state, had carried her off after a short\r
-struggle. The great Mrs. Churchill was no more.\r
-\r
-It was felt as such things must be felt. Every body had a degree of\r
-gravity and sorrow; tenderness towards the departed, solicitude for the\r
-surviving friends; and, in a reasonable time, curiosity to know where\r
-she would be buried. Goldsmith tells us, that when lovely woman stoops\r
-to folly, she has nothing to do but to die; and when she stoops to be\r
-disagreeable, it is equally to be recommended as a clearer of ill-fame.\r
-Mrs. Churchill, after being disliked at least twenty-five years, was\r
-now spoken of with compassionate allowances. In one point she was fully\r
-justified. She had never been admitted before to be seriously ill. The\r
-event acquitted her of all the fancifulness, and all the selfishness of\r
-imaginary complaints.\r
-\r
-“Poor Mrs. Churchill! no doubt she had been suffering a great deal:\r
-more than any body had ever supposed--and continual pain would try the\r
-temper. It was a sad event--a great shock--with all her faults, what\r
-would Mr. Churchill do without her? Mr. Churchill’s loss would be\r
-dreadful indeed. Mr. Churchill would never get over it.”--Even Mr.\r
-Weston shook his head, and looked solemn, and said, “Ah! poor woman,\r
-who would have thought it!” and resolved, that his mourning should be as\r
-handsome as possible; and his wife sat sighing and moralising over her\r
-broad hems with a commiseration and good sense, true and steady. How it\r
-would affect Frank was among the earliest thoughts of both. It was also\r
-a very early speculation with Emma. The character of Mrs. Churchill,\r
-the grief of her husband--her mind glanced over them both with awe and\r
-compassion--and then rested with lightened feelings on how Frank might\r
-be affected by the event, how benefited, how freed. She saw in a moment\r
-all the possible good. Now, an attachment to Harriet Smith would have\r
-nothing to encounter. Mr. Churchill, independent of his wife, was feared\r
-by nobody; an easy, guidable man, to be persuaded into any thing by his\r
-nephew. All that remained to be wished was, that the nephew should form\r
-the attachment, as, with all her goodwill in the cause, Emma could feel\r
-no certainty of its being already formed.\r
-\r
-Harriet behaved extremely well on the occasion, with great self-command.\r
-What ever she might feel of brighter hope, she betrayed nothing. Emma\r
-was gratified, to observe such a proof in her of strengthened character,\r
-and refrained from any allusion that might endanger its maintenance.\r
-They spoke, therefore, of Mrs. Churchill’s death with mutual\r
-forbearance.\r
-\r
-Short letters from Frank were received at Randalls, communicating all\r
-that was immediately important of their state and plans. Mr. Churchill\r
-was better than could be expected; and their first removal, on the\r
-departure of the funeral for Yorkshire, was to be to the house of a very\r
-old friend in Windsor, to whom Mr. Churchill had been promising a\r
-visit the last ten years. At present, there was nothing to be done for\r
-Harriet; good wishes for the future were all that could yet be possible\r
-on Emma’s side.\r
-\r
-It was a more pressing concern to shew attention to Jane Fairfax, whose\r
-prospects were closing, while Harriet’s opened, and whose engagements\r
-now allowed of no delay in any one at Highbury, who wished to shew her\r
-kindness--and with Emma it was grown into a first wish. She had scarcely\r
-a stronger regret than for her past coldness; and the person, whom she\r
-had been so many months neglecting, was now the very one on whom she\r
-would have lavished every distinction of regard or sympathy. She wanted\r
-to be of use to her; wanted to shew a value for her society, and testify\r
-respect and consideration. She resolved to prevail on her to spend a day\r
-at Hartfield. A note was written to urge it. The invitation was refused,\r
-and by a verbal message. “Miss Fairfax was not well enough to write;”\r
- and when Mr. Perry called at Hartfield, the same morning, it appeared\r
-that she was so much indisposed as to have been visited, though against\r
-her own consent, by himself, and that she was suffering under severe\r
-headaches, and a nervous fever to a degree, which made him doubt the\r
-possibility of her going to Mrs. Smallridge’s at the time proposed.\r
-Her health seemed for the moment completely deranged--appetite quite\r
-gone--and though there were no absolutely alarming symptoms, nothing\r
-touching the pulmonary complaint, which was the standing apprehension\r
-of the family, Mr. Perry was uneasy about her. He thought she had\r
-undertaken more than she was equal to, and that she felt it so herself,\r
-though she would not own it. Her spirits seemed overcome. Her\r
-present home, he could not but observe, was unfavourable to a nervous\r
-disorder:--confined always to one room;--he could have wished it\r
-otherwise--and her good aunt, though his very old friend, he must\r
-acknowledge to be not the best companion for an invalid of that\r
-description. Her care and attention could not be questioned; they were,\r
-in fact, only too great. He very much feared that Miss Fairfax derived\r
-more evil than good from them. Emma listened with the warmest concern;\r
-grieved for her more and more, and looked around eager to discover some\r
-way of being useful. To take her--be it only an hour or two--from\r
-her aunt, to give her change of air and scene, and quiet rational\r
-conversation, even for an hour or two, might do her good; and the\r
-following morning she wrote again to say, in the most feeling language\r
-she could command, that she would call for her in the carriage at any\r
-hour that Jane would name--mentioning that she had Mr. Perry’s decided\r
-opinion, in favour of such exercise for his patient. The answer was only\r
-in this short note:\r
-\r
-“Miss Fairfax’s compliments and thanks, but is quite unequal to any\r
-exercise.”\r
-\r
-Emma felt that her own note had deserved something better; but it was\r
-impossible to quarrel with words, whose tremulous inequality shewed\r
-indisposition so plainly, and she thought only of how she might best\r
-counteract this unwillingness to be seen or assisted. In spite of the\r
-answer, therefore, she ordered the carriage, and drove to Mrs. Bates’s,\r
-in the hope that Jane would be induced to join her--but it would not\r
-do;--Miss Bates came to the carriage door, all gratitude, and agreeing\r
-with her most earnestly in thinking an airing might be of the greatest\r
-service--and every thing that message could do was tried--but all in\r
-vain. Miss Bates was obliged to return without success; Jane was\r
-quite unpersuadable; the mere proposal of going out seemed to make her\r
-worse.--Emma wished she could have seen her, and tried her own powers;\r
-but, almost before she could hint the wish, Miss Bates made it appear\r
-that she had promised her niece on no account to let Miss Woodhouse in.\r
-“Indeed, the truth was, that poor dear Jane could not bear to see any\r
-body--any body at all--Mrs. Elton, indeed, could not be denied--and\r
-Mrs. Cole had made such a point--and Mrs. Perry had said so much--but,\r
-except them, Jane would really see nobody.”\r
-\r
-Emma did not want to be classed with the Mrs. Eltons, the Mrs. Perrys,\r
-and the Mrs. Coles, who would force themselves anywhere; neither could\r
-she feel any right of preference herself--she submitted, therefore, and\r
-only questioned Miss Bates farther as to her niece’s appetite and diet,\r
-which she longed to be able to assist. On that subject poor Miss Bates\r
-was very unhappy, and very communicative; Jane would hardly eat any\r
-thing:--Mr. Perry recommended nourishing food; but every thing\r
-they could command (and never had any body such good neighbours) was\r
-distasteful.\r
-\r
-Emma, on reaching home, called the housekeeper directly, to an\r
-examination of her stores; and some arrowroot of very superior quality\r
-was speedily despatched to Miss Bates with a most friendly note. In half\r
-an hour the arrowroot was returned, with a thousand thanks from Miss\r
-Bates, but “dear Jane would not be satisfied without its being sent\r
-back; it was a thing she could not take--and, moreover, she insisted on\r
-her saying, that she was not at all in want of any thing.”\r
-\r
-When Emma afterwards heard that Jane Fairfax had been seen wandering\r
-about the meadows, at some distance from Highbury, on the afternoon of\r
-the very day on which she had, under the plea of being unequal to any\r
-exercise, so peremptorily refused to go out with her in the carriage,\r
-she could have no doubt--putting every thing together--that Jane was\r
-resolved to receive no kindness from _her_. She was sorry, very sorry.\r
-Her heart was grieved for a state which seemed but the more pitiable\r
-from this sort of irritation of spirits, inconsistency of action, and\r
-inequality of powers; and it mortified her that she was given so little\r
-credit for proper feeling, or esteemed so little worthy as a friend: but\r
-she had the consolation of knowing that her intentions were good, and of\r
-being able to say to herself, that could Mr. Knightley have been privy\r
-to all her attempts of assisting Jane Fairfax, could he even have seen\r
-into her heart, he would not, on this occasion, have found any thing to\r
-reprove.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER X\r
-\r
-\r
-One morning, about ten days after Mrs. Churchill’s decease, Emma was\r
-called downstairs to Mr. Weston, who “could not stay five minutes,\r
-and wanted particularly to speak with her.”--He met her at the\r
-parlour-door, and hardly asking her how she did, in the natural key of\r
-his voice, sunk it immediately, to say, unheard by her father,\r
-\r
-“Can you come to Randalls at any time this morning?--Do, if it be\r
-possible. Mrs. Weston wants to see you. She must see you.”\r
-\r
-“Is she unwell?”\r
-\r
-“No, no, not at all--only a little agitated. She would have ordered the\r
-carriage, and come to you, but she must see you _alone_, and that you\r
-know--(nodding towards her father)--Humph!--Can you come?”\r
-\r
-“Certainly. This moment, if you please. It is impossible to refuse what\r
-you ask in such a way. But what can be the matter?--Is she really not\r
-ill?”\r
-\r
-“Depend upon me--but ask no more questions. You will know it all in\r
-time. The most unaccountable business! But hush, hush!”\r
-\r
-To guess what all this meant, was impossible even for Emma. Something\r
-really important seemed announced by his looks; but, as her friend was\r
-well, she endeavoured not to be uneasy, and settling it with her father,\r
-that she would take her walk now, she and Mr. Weston were soon out of\r
-the house together and on their way at a quick pace for Randalls.\r
-\r
-“Now,”--said Emma, when they were fairly beyond the sweep gates,--“now\r
-Mr. Weston, do let me know what has happened.”\r
-\r
-“No, no,”--he gravely replied.--“Don’t ask me. I promised my wife to\r
-leave it all to her. She will break it to you better than I can. Do not\r
-be impatient, Emma; it will all come out too soon.”\r
-\r
-“Break it to me,” cried Emma, standing still with terror.--“Good\r
-God!--Mr. Weston, tell me at once.--Something has happened in Brunswick\r
-Square. I know it has. Tell me, I charge you tell me this moment what it\r
-is.”\r
-\r
-“No, indeed you are mistaken.”--\r
-\r
-“Mr. Weston do not trifle with me.--Consider how many of my dearest\r
-friends are now in Brunswick Square. Which of them is it?--I charge you\r
-by all that is sacred, not to attempt concealment.”\r
-\r
-“Upon my word, Emma.”--\r
-\r
-“Your word!--why not your honour!--why not say upon your honour, that\r
-it has nothing to do with any of them? Good Heavens!--What can be to be\r
-_broke_ to me, that does not relate to one of that family?”\r
-\r
-“Upon my honour,” said he very seriously, “it does not. It is not in\r
-the smallest degree connected with any human being of the name of\r
-Knightley.”\r
-\r
-Emma’s courage returned, and she walked on.\r
-\r
-“I was wrong,” he continued, “in talking of its being _broke_ to you.\r
-I should not have used the expression. In fact, it does not concern\r
-you--it concerns only myself,--that is, we hope.--Humph!--In short, my\r
-dear Emma, there is no occasion to be so uneasy about it. I don’t\r
-say that it is not a disagreeable business--but things might be much\r
-worse.--If we walk fast, we shall soon be at Randalls.”\r
-\r
-Emma found that she must wait; and now it required little effort. She\r
-asked no more questions therefore, merely employed her own fancy, and\r
-that soon pointed out to her the probability of its being some money\r
-concern--something just come to light, of a disagreeable nature in the\r
-circumstances of the family,--something which the late event at Richmond\r
-had brought forward. Her fancy was very active. Half a dozen natural\r
-children, perhaps--and poor Frank cut off!--This, though very\r
-undesirable, would be no matter of agony to her. It inspired little more\r
-than an animating curiosity.\r
-\r
-“Who is that gentleman on horseback?” said she, as they\r
-proceeded--speaking more to assist Mr. Weston in keeping his secret,\r
-than with any other view.\r
-\r
-“I do not know.--One of the Otways.--Not Frank;--it is not Frank, I\r
-assure you. You will not see him. He is half way to Windsor by this\r
-time.”\r
-\r
-“Has your son been with you, then?”\r
-\r
-“Oh! yes--did not you know?--Well, well, never mind.”\r
-\r
-For a moment he was silent; and then added, in a tone much more guarded\r
-and demure,\r
-\r
-“Yes, Frank came over this morning, just to ask us how we did.”\r
-\r
-They hurried on, and were speedily at Randalls.--“Well, my dear,” said\r
-he, as they entered the room--“I have brought her, and now I hope you\r
-will soon be better. I shall leave you together. There is no use in\r
-delay. I shall not be far off, if you want me.”--And Emma distinctly\r
-heard him add, in a lower tone, before he quitted the room,--“I have\r
-been as good as my word. She has not the least idea.”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston was looking so ill, and had an air of so much perturbation,\r
-that Emma’s uneasiness increased; and the moment they were alone, she\r
-eagerly said,\r
-\r
-“What is it my dear friend? Something of a very unpleasant nature, I\r
-find, has occurred;--do let me know directly what it is. I have been\r
-walking all this way in complete suspense. We both abhor suspense.\r
-Do not let mine continue longer. It will do you good to speak of your\r
-distress, whatever it may be.”\r
-\r
-“Have you indeed no idea?” said Mrs. Weston in a trembling voice.\r
-“Cannot you, my dear Emma--cannot you form a guess as to what you are to\r
-hear?”\r
-\r
-“So far as that it relates to Mr. Frank Churchill, I do guess.”\r
-\r
-“You are right. It does relate to him, and I will tell you directly;”\r
- (resuming her work, and seeming resolved against looking up.) “He has\r
-been here this very morning, on a most extraordinary errand. It is\r
-impossible to express our surprize. He came to speak to his father on a\r
-subject,--to announce an attachment--”\r
-\r
-She stopped to breathe. Emma thought first of herself, and then of\r
-Harriet.\r
-\r
-“More than an attachment, indeed,” resumed Mrs. Weston; “an\r
-engagement--a positive engagement.--What will you say, Emma--what will\r
-any body say, when it is known that Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax are\r
-engaged;--nay, that they have been long engaged!”\r
-\r
-Emma even jumped with surprize;--and, horror-struck, exclaimed,\r
-\r
-“Jane Fairfax!--Good God! You are not serious? You do not mean it?”\r
-\r
-“You may well be amazed,” returned Mrs. Weston, still averting her eyes,\r
-and talking on with eagerness, that Emma might have time to recover--\r
-“You may well be amazed. But it is even so. There has been a solemn\r
-engagement between them ever since October--formed at Weymouth, and\r
-kept a secret from every body. Not a creature knowing it but\r
-themselves--neither the Campbells, nor her family, nor his.--It is so\r
-wonderful, that though perfectly convinced of the fact, it is yet almost\r
-incredible to myself. I can hardly believe it.--I thought I knew him.”\r
-\r
-Emma scarcely heard what was said.--Her mind was divided between two\r
-ideas--her own former conversations with him about Miss Fairfax; and\r
-poor Harriet;--and for some time she could only exclaim, and require\r
-confirmation, repeated confirmation.\r
-\r
-“Well,” said she at last, trying to recover herself; “this is a\r
-circumstance which I must think of at least half a day, before I can at\r
-all comprehend it. What!--engaged to her all the winter--before either\r
-of them came to Highbury?”\r
-\r
-“Engaged since October,--secretly engaged.--It has hurt me, Emma, very\r
-much. It has hurt his father equally. _Some_ _part_ of his conduct we\r
-cannot excuse.”\r
-\r
-Emma pondered a moment, and then replied, “I will not pretend _not_ to\r
-understand you; and to give you all the relief in my power, be assured\r
-that no such effect has followed his attentions to me, as you are\r
-apprehensive of.”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston looked up, afraid to believe; but Emma’s countenance was as\r
-steady as her words.\r
-\r
-“That you may have less difficulty in believing this boast, of my\r
-present perfect indifference,” she continued, “I will farther tell you,\r
-that there was a period in the early part of our acquaintance, when I\r
-did like him, when I was very much disposed to be attached to him--nay,\r
-was attached--and how it came to cease, is perhaps the wonder.\r
-Fortunately, however, it did cease. I have really for some time past,\r
-for at least these three months, cared nothing about him. You may\r
-believe me, Mrs. Weston. This is the simple truth.”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston kissed her with tears of joy; and when she could find\r
-utterance, assured her, that this protestation had done her more good\r
-than any thing else in the world could do.\r
-\r
-“Mr. Weston will be almost as much relieved as myself,” said she. “On\r
-this point we have been wretched. It was our darling wish that you\r
-might be attached to each other--and we were persuaded that it was so.--\r
-Imagine what we have been feeling on your account.”\r
-\r
-“I have escaped; and that I should escape, may be a matter of grateful\r
-wonder to you and myself. But this does not acquit _him_, Mrs. Weston;\r
-and I must say, that I think him greatly to blame. What right had he\r
-to come among us with affection and faith engaged, and with manners\r
-so _very_ disengaged? What right had he to endeavour to please, as\r
-he certainly did--to distinguish any one young woman with persevering\r
-attention, as he certainly did--while he really belonged to\r
-another?--How could he tell what mischief he might be doing?--How could\r
-he tell that he might not be making me in love with him?--very wrong,\r
-very wrong indeed.”\r
-\r
-“From something that he said, my dear Emma, I rather imagine--”\r
-\r
-“And how could _she_ bear such behaviour! Composure with a witness!\r
-to look on, while repeated attentions were offering to another woman,\r
-before her face, and not resent it.--That is a degree of placidity,\r
-which I can neither comprehend nor respect.”\r
-\r
-“There were misunderstandings between them, Emma; he said so expressly.\r
-He had not time to enter into much explanation. He was here only a\r
-quarter of an hour, and in a state of agitation which did not allow\r
-the full use even of the time he could stay--but that there had been\r
-misunderstandings he decidedly said. The present crisis, indeed,\r
-seemed to be brought on by them; and those misunderstandings might very\r
-possibly arise from the impropriety of his conduct.”\r
-\r
-“Impropriety! Oh! Mrs. Weston--it is too calm a censure. Much, much\r
-beyond impropriety!--It has sunk him, I cannot say how it has sunk him\r
-in my opinion. So unlike what a man should be!--None of that upright\r
-integrity, that strict adherence to truth and principle, that disdain of\r
-trick and littleness, which a man should display in every transaction of\r
-his life.”\r
-\r
-“Nay, dear Emma, now I must take his part; for though he has been wrong\r
-in this instance, I have known him long enough to answer for his having\r
-many, very many, good qualities; and--”\r
-\r
-“Good God!” cried Emma, not attending to her.--“Mrs. Smallridge, too!\r
-Jane actually on the point of going as governess! What could he mean by\r
-such horrible indelicacy? To suffer her to engage herself--to suffer her\r
-even to think of such a measure!”\r
-\r
-“He knew nothing about it, Emma. On this article I can fully acquit\r
-him. It was a private resolution of hers, not communicated to him--or at\r
-least not communicated in a way to carry conviction.--Till yesterday, I\r
-know he said he was in the dark as to her plans. They burst on him, I do\r
-not know how, but by some letter or message--and it was the discovery of\r
-what she was doing, of this very project of hers, which determined him\r
-to come forward at once, own it all to his uncle, throw himself on\r
-his kindness, and, in short, put an end to the miserable state of\r
-concealment that had been carrying on so long.”\r
-\r
-Emma began to listen better.\r
-\r
-“I am to hear from him soon,” continued Mrs. Weston. “He told me at\r
-parting, that he should soon write; and he spoke in a manner which\r
-seemed to promise me many particulars that could not be given now. Let\r
-us wait, therefore, for this letter. It may bring many extenuations. It\r
-may make many things intelligible and excusable which now are not to\r
-be understood. Don’t let us be severe, don’t let us be in a hurry to\r
-condemn him. Let us have patience. I must love him; and now that I am\r
-satisfied on one point, the one material point, I am sincerely anxious\r
-for its all turning out well, and ready to hope that it may. They must\r
-both have suffered a great deal under such a system of secresy and\r
-concealment.”\r
-\r
-“_His_ sufferings,” replied Emma dryly, “do not appear to have done him\r
-much harm. Well, and how did Mr. Churchill take it?”\r
-\r
-“Most favourably for his nephew--gave his consent with scarcely a\r
-difficulty. Conceive what the events of a week have done in that family!\r
-While poor Mrs. Churchill lived, I suppose there could not have been a\r
-hope, a chance, a possibility;--but scarcely are her remains at rest in\r
-the family vault, than her husband is persuaded to act exactly opposite\r
-to what she would have required. What a blessing it is, when undue\r
-influence does not survive the grave!--He gave his consent with very\r
-little persuasion.”\r
-\r
-“Ah!” thought Emma, “he would have done as much for Harriet.”\r
-\r
-“This was settled last night, and Frank was off with the light this\r
-morning. He stopped at Highbury, at the Bates’s, I fancy, some time--and\r
-then came on hither; but was in such a hurry to get back to his uncle,\r
-to whom he is just now more necessary than ever, that, as I tell you,\r
-he could stay with us but a quarter of an hour.--He was very much\r
-agitated--very much, indeed--to a degree that made him appear quite\r
-a different creature from any thing I had ever seen him before.--In\r
-addition to all the rest, there had been the shock of finding her so\r
-very unwell, which he had had no previous suspicion of--and there was\r
-every appearance of his having been feeling a great deal.”\r
-\r
-“And do you really believe the affair to have been carrying on with such\r
-perfect secresy?--The Campbells, the Dixons, did none of them know of\r
-the engagement?”\r
-\r
-Emma could not speak the name of Dixon without a little blush.\r
-\r
-“None; not one. He positively said that it had been known to no being in\r
-the world but their two selves.”\r
-\r
-“Well,” said Emma, “I suppose we shall gradually grow reconciled to the\r
-idea, and I wish them very happy. But I shall always think it a\r
-very abominable sort of proceeding. What has it been but a system of\r
-hypocrisy and deceit,--espionage, and treachery?--To come among us with\r
-professions of openness and simplicity; and such a league in secret\r
-to judge us all!--Here have we been, the whole winter and spring,\r
-completely duped, fancying ourselves all on an equal footing of truth\r
-and honour, with two people in the midst of us who may have been\r
-carrying round, comparing and sitting in judgment on sentiments and\r
-words that were never meant for both to hear.--They must take the\r
-consequence, if they have heard each other spoken of in a way not\r
-perfectly agreeable!”\r
-\r
-“I am quite easy on that head,” replied Mrs. Weston. “I am very sure\r
-that I never said any thing of either to the other, which both might not\r
-have heard.”\r
-\r
-“You are in luck.--Your only blunder was confined to my ear, when you\r
-imagined a certain friend of ours in love with the lady.”\r
-\r
-“True. But as I have always had a thoroughly good opinion of Miss\r
-Fairfax, I never could, under any blunder, have spoken ill of her; and\r
-as to speaking ill of him, there I must have been safe.”\r
-\r
-At this moment Mr. Weston appeared at a little distance from the window,\r
-evidently on the watch. His wife gave him a look which invited him\r
-in; and, while he was coming round, added, “Now, dearest Emma, let me\r
-intreat you to say and look every thing that may set his heart at ease,\r
-and incline him to be satisfied with the match. Let us make the best of\r
-it--and, indeed, almost every thing may be fairly said in her favour. It\r
-is not a connexion to gratify; but if Mr. Churchill does not feel that,\r
-why should we? and it may be a very fortunate circumstance for him, for\r
-Frank, I mean, that he should have attached himself to a girl of such\r
-steadiness of character and good judgment as I have always given her\r
-credit for--and still am disposed to give her credit for, in spite of\r
-this one great deviation from the strict rule of right. And how much may\r
-be said in her situation for even that error!”\r
-\r
-“Much, indeed!” cried Emma feelingly. “If a woman can ever be\r
-excused for thinking only of herself, it is in a situation like Jane\r
-Fairfax’s.--Of such, one may almost say, that ‘the world is not their’s,\r
-nor the world’s law.’”\r
-\r
-She met Mr. Weston on his entrance, with a smiling countenance,\r
-exclaiming,\r
-\r
-“A very pretty trick you have been playing me, upon my word! This was a\r
-device, I suppose, to sport with my curiosity, and exercise my talent of\r
-guessing. But you really frightened me. I thought you had lost half\r
-your property, at least. And here, instead of its being a matter of\r
-condolence, it turns out to be one of congratulation.--I congratulate\r
-you, Mr. Weston, with all my heart, on the prospect of having one of the\r
-most lovely and accomplished young women in England for your daughter.”\r
-\r
-A glance or two between him and his wife, convinced him that all was as\r
-right as this speech proclaimed; and its happy effect on his spirits was\r
-immediate. His air and voice recovered their usual briskness: he shook\r
-her heartily and gratefully by the hand, and entered on the subject in\r
-a manner to prove, that he now only wanted time and persuasion to think\r
-the engagement no very bad thing. His companions suggested only what\r
-could palliate imprudence, or smooth objections; and by the time they\r
-had talked it all over together, and he had talked it all over again\r
-with Emma, in their walk back to Hartfield, he was become perfectly\r
-reconciled, and not far from thinking it the very best thing that Frank\r
-could possibly have done.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XI\r
-\r
-\r
-“Harriet, poor Harriet!”--Those were the words; in them lay the\r
-tormenting ideas which Emma could not get rid of, and which constituted\r
-the real misery of the business to her. Frank Churchill had behaved very\r
-ill by herself--very ill in many ways,--but it was not so much _his_\r
-behaviour as her _own_, which made her so angry with him. It was the\r
-scrape which he had drawn her into on Harriet’s account, that gave the\r
-deepest hue to his offence.--Poor Harriet! to be a second time the\r
-dupe of her misconceptions and flattery. Mr. Knightley had spoken\r
-prophetically, when he once said, “Emma, you have been no friend\r
-to Harriet Smith.”--She was afraid she had done her nothing but\r
-disservice.--It was true that she had not to charge herself, in this\r
-instance as in the former, with being the sole and original author of\r
-the mischief; with having suggested such feelings as might otherwise\r
-never have entered Harriet’s imagination; for Harriet had acknowledged\r
-her admiration and preference of Frank Churchill before she had ever\r
-given her a hint on the subject; but she felt completely guilty\r
-of having encouraged what she might have repressed. She might have\r
-prevented the indulgence and increase of such sentiments. Her influence\r
-would have been enough. And now she was very conscious that she ought\r
-to have prevented them.--She felt that she had been risking her friend’s\r
-happiness on most insufficient grounds. Common sense would have directed\r
-her to tell Harriet, that she must not allow herself to think of him,\r
-and that there were five hundred chances to one against his ever caring\r
-for her.--“But, with common sense,” she added, “I am afraid I have had\r
-little to do.”\r
-\r
-She was extremely angry with herself. If she could not have been angry\r
-with Frank Churchill too, it would have been dreadful.--As for Jane\r
-Fairfax, she might at least relieve her feelings from any present\r
-solicitude on her account. Harriet would be anxiety enough; she need\r
-no longer be unhappy about Jane, whose troubles and whose ill-health\r
-having, of course, the same origin, must be equally under cure.--Her\r
-days of insignificance and evil were over.--She would soon be well, and\r
-happy, and prosperous.--Emma could now imagine why her own attentions\r
-had been slighted. This discovery laid many smaller matters open. No\r
-doubt it had been from jealousy.--In Jane’s eyes she had been a rival;\r
-and well might any thing she could offer of assistance or regard be\r
-repulsed. An airing in the Hartfield carriage would have been the rack,\r
-and arrowroot from the Hartfield storeroom must have been poison. She\r
-understood it all; and as far as her mind could disengage itself from\r
-the injustice and selfishness of angry feelings, she acknowledged that\r
-Jane Fairfax would have neither elevation nor happiness beyond her\r
-desert. But poor Harriet was such an engrossing charge! There was little\r
-sympathy to be spared for any body else. Emma was sadly fearful\r
-that this second disappointment would be more severe than the first.\r
-Considering the very superior claims of the object, it ought; and\r
-judging by its apparently stronger effect on Harriet’s mind, producing\r
-reserve and self-command, it would.--She must communicate the painful\r
-truth, however, and as soon as possible. An injunction of secresy had\r
-been among Mr. Weston’s parting words. “For the present, the whole\r
-affair was to be completely a secret. Mr. Churchill had made a point of\r
-it, as a token of respect to the wife he had so very recently lost;\r
-and every body admitted it to be no more than due decorum.”--Emma had\r
-promised; but still Harriet must be excepted. It was her superior duty.\r
-\r
-In spite of her vexation, she could not help feeling it almost\r
-ridiculous, that she should have the very same distressing and delicate\r
-office to perform by Harriet, which Mrs. Weston had just gone through by\r
-herself. The intelligence, which had been so anxiously announced to her,\r
-she was now to be anxiously announcing to another. Her heart beat quick\r
-on hearing Harriet’s footstep and voice; so, she supposed, had poor Mrs.\r
-Weston felt when _she_ was approaching Randalls. Could the event of\r
-the disclosure bear an equal resemblance!--But of that, unfortunately,\r
-there could be no chance.\r
-\r
-“Well, Miss Woodhouse!” cried Harriet, coming eagerly into the room--“is\r
-not this the oddest news that ever was?”\r
-\r
-“What news do you mean?” replied Emma, unable to guess, by look or\r
-voice, whether Harriet could indeed have received any hint.\r
-\r
-“About Jane Fairfax. Did you ever hear any thing so strange? Oh!--you\r
-need not be afraid of owning it to me, for Mr. Weston has told me\r
-himself. I met him just now. He told me it was to be a great secret;\r
-and, therefore, I should not think of mentioning it to any body but you,\r
-but he said you knew it.”\r
-\r
-“What did Mr. Weston tell you?”--said Emma, still perplexed.\r
-\r
-“Oh! he told me all about it; that Jane Fairfax and Mr. Frank Churchill\r
-are to be married, and that they have been privately engaged to one\r
-another this long while. How very odd!”\r
-\r
-It was, indeed, so odd; Harriet’s behaviour was so extremely odd,\r
-that Emma did not know how to understand it. Her character appeared\r
-absolutely changed. She seemed to propose shewing no agitation, or\r
-disappointment, or peculiar concern in the discovery. Emma looked at\r
-her, quite unable to speak.\r
-\r
-“Had you any idea,” cried Harriet, “of his being in love with her?--You,\r
-perhaps, might.--You (blushing as she spoke) who can see into every\r
-body’s heart; but nobody else--”\r
-\r
-“Upon my word,” said Emma, “I begin to doubt my having any such talent.\r
-Can you seriously ask me, Harriet, whether I imagined him attached\r
-to another woman at the very time that I was--tacitly, if not\r
-openly--encouraging you to give way to your own feelings?--I never\r
-had the slightest suspicion, till within the last hour, of Mr. Frank\r
-Churchill’s having the least regard for Jane Fairfax. You may be very\r
-sure that if I had, I should have cautioned you accordingly.”\r
-\r
-“Me!” cried Harriet, colouring, and astonished. “Why should you caution\r
-me?--You do not think I care about Mr. Frank Churchill.”\r
-\r
-“I am delighted to hear you speak so stoutly on the subject,” replied\r
-Emma, smiling; “but you do not mean to deny that there was a time--and\r
-not very distant either--when you gave me reason to understand that you\r
-did care about him?”\r
-\r
-“Him!--never, never. Dear Miss Woodhouse, how could you so mistake me?”\r
- turning away distressed.\r
-\r
-“Harriet!” cried Emma, after a moment’s pause--“What do you mean?--Good\r
-Heaven! what do you mean?--Mistake you!--Am I to suppose then?--”\r
-\r
-She could not speak another word.--Her voice was lost; and she sat down,\r
-waiting in great terror till Harriet should answer.\r
-\r
-Harriet, who was standing at some distance, and with face turned from\r
-her, did not immediately say any thing; and when she did speak, it was\r
-in a voice nearly as agitated as Emma’s.\r
-\r
-“I should not have thought it possible,” she began, “that you could have\r
-misunderstood me! I know we agreed never to name him--but considering\r
-how infinitely superior he is to every body else, I should not have\r
-thought it possible that I could be supposed to mean any other person.\r
-Mr. Frank Churchill, indeed! I do not know who would ever look at him in\r
-the company of the other. I hope I have a better taste than to think of\r
-Mr. Frank Churchill, who is like nobody by his side. And that you should\r
-have been so mistaken, is amazing!--I am sure, but for believing that\r
-you entirely approved and meant to encourage me in my attachment, I\r
-should have considered it at first too great a presumption almost,\r
-to dare to think of him. At first, if you had not told me that more\r
-wonderful things had happened; that there had been matches of greater\r
-disparity (those were your very words);--I should not have dared to\r
-give way to--I should not have thought it possible--But if _you_, who\r
-had been always acquainted with him--”\r
-\r
-“Harriet!” cried Emma, collecting herself resolutely--“Let us understand\r
-each other now, without the possibility of farther mistake. Are you\r
-speaking of--Mr. Knightley?”\r
-\r
-“To be sure I am. I never could have an idea of any body else--and so\r
-I thought you knew. When we talked about him, it was as clear as\r
-possible.”\r
-\r
-“Not quite,” returned Emma, with forced calmness, “for all that you then\r
-said, appeared to me to relate to a different person. I could almost\r
-assert that you had _named_ Mr. Frank Churchill. I am sure the service\r
-Mr. Frank Churchill had rendered you, in protecting you from the\r
-gipsies, was spoken of.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how you do forget!”\r
-\r
-“My dear Harriet, I perfectly remember the substance of what I said on\r
-the occasion. I told you that I did not wonder at your attachment;\r
-that considering the service he had rendered you, it was extremely\r
-natural:--and you agreed to it, expressing yourself very warmly as to\r
-your sense of that service, and mentioning even what your sensations had\r
-been in seeing him come forward to your rescue.--The impression of it is\r
-strong on my memory.”\r
-\r
-“Oh, dear,” cried Harriet, “now I recollect what you mean; but I\r
-was thinking of something very different at the time. It was not the\r
-gipsies--it was not Mr. Frank Churchill that I meant. No! (with some\r
-elevation) I was thinking of a much more precious circumstance--of Mr.\r
-Knightley’s coming and asking me to dance, when Mr. Elton would not\r
-stand up with me; and when there was no other partner in the room. That\r
-was the kind action; that was the noble benevolence and generosity; that\r
-was the service which made me begin to feel how superior he was to every\r
-other being upon earth.”\r
-\r
-“Good God!” cried Emma, “this has been a most unfortunate--most\r
-deplorable mistake!--What is to be done?”\r
-\r
-“You would not have encouraged me, then, if you had understood me? At\r
-least, however, I cannot be worse off than I should have been, if the\r
-other had been the person; and now--it _is_ possible--”\r
-\r
-She paused a few moments. Emma could not speak.\r
-\r
-“I do not wonder, Miss Woodhouse,” she resumed, “that you should feel a\r
-great difference between the two, as to me or as to any body. You must\r
-think one five hundred million times more above me than the other. But\r
-I hope, Miss Woodhouse, that supposing--that if--strange as it may\r
-appear--. But you know they were your own words, that _more_ wonderful\r
-things had happened, matches of _greater_ disparity had taken place than\r
-between Mr. Frank Churchill and me; and, therefore, it seems as if such\r
-a thing even as this, may have occurred before--and if I should be so\r
-fortunate, beyond expression, as to--if Mr. Knightley should really--if\r
-_he_ does not mind the disparity, I hope, dear Miss Woodhouse, you will\r
-not set yourself against it, and try to put difficulties in the way. But\r
-you are too good for that, I am sure.”\r
-\r
-Harriet was standing at one of the windows. Emma turned round to look at\r
-her in consternation, and hastily said,\r
-\r
-“Have you any idea of Mr. Knightley’s returning your affection?”\r
-\r
-“Yes,” replied Harriet modestly, but not fearfully--“I must say that I\r
-have.”\r
-\r
-Emma’s eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating,\r
-in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient\r
-for making her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like hers,\r
-once opening to suspicion, made rapid progress. She touched--she\r
-admitted--she acknowledged the whole truth. Why was it so much worse\r
-that Harriet should be in love with Mr. Knightley, than with Frank\r
-Churchill? Why was the evil so dreadfully increased by Harriet’s having\r
-some hope of a return? It darted through her, with the speed of an\r
-arrow, that Mr. Knightley must marry no one but herself!\r
-\r
-Her own conduct, as well as her own heart, was before her in the same\r
-few minutes. She saw it all with a clearness which had never blessed\r
-her before. How improperly had she been acting by Harriet! How\r
-inconsiderate, how indelicate, how irrational, how unfeeling had been\r
-her conduct! What blindness, what madness, had led her on! It struck her\r
-with dreadful force, and she was ready to give it every bad name in the\r
-world. Some portion of respect for herself, however, in spite of all\r
-these demerits--some concern for her own appearance, and a strong sense\r
-of justice by Harriet--(there would be no need of _compassion_ to the\r
-girl who believed herself loved by Mr. Knightley--but justice required\r
-that she should not be made unhappy by any coldness now,) gave Emma the\r
-resolution to sit and endure farther with calmness, with even apparent\r
-kindness.--For her own advantage indeed, it was fit that the utmost\r
-extent of Harriet’s hopes should be enquired into; and Harriet had done\r
-nothing to forfeit the regard and interest which had been so voluntarily\r
-formed and maintained--or to deserve to be slighted by the person, whose\r
-counsels had never led her right.--Rousing from reflection, therefore,\r
-and subduing her emotion, she turned to Harriet again, and, in a more\r
-inviting accent, renewed the conversation; for as to the subject which\r
-had first introduced it, the wonderful story of Jane Fairfax, that was\r
-quite sunk and lost.--Neither of them thought but of Mr. Knightley and\r
-themselves.\r
-\r
-Harriet, who had been standing in no unhappy reverie, was yet very glad\r
-to be called from it, by the now encouraging manner of such a judge, and\r
-such a friend as Miss Woodhouse, and only wanted invitation, to give\r
-the history of her hopes with great, though trembling delight.--Emma’s\r
-tremblings as she asked, and as she listened, were better concealed than\r
-Harriet’s, but they were not less. Her voice was not unsteady; but her\r
-mind was in all the perturbation that such a development of self, such\r
-a burst of threatening evil, such a confusion of sudden and perplexing\r
-emotions, must create.--She listened with much inward suffering, but\r
-with great outward patience, to Harriet’s detail.--Methodical, or well\r
-arranged, or very well delivered, it could not be expected to be; but it\r
-contained, when separated from all the feebleness and tautology of\r
-the narration, a substance to sink her spirit--especially with the\r
-corroborating circumstances, which her own memory brought in favour of\r
-Mr. Knightley’s most improved opinion of Harriet.\r
-\r
-Harriet had been conscious of a difference in his behaviour ever since\r
-those two decisive dances.--Emma knew that he had, on that occasion,\r
-found her much superior to his expectation. From that evening, or at\r
-least from the time of Miss Woodhouse’s encouraging her to think of him,\r
-Harriet had begun to be sensible of his talking to her much more than he\r
-had been used to do, and of his having indeed quite a different manner\r
-towards her; a manner of kindness and sweetness!--Latterly she had been\r
-more and more aware of it. When they had been all walking together,\r
-he had so often come and walked by her, and talked so very\r
-delightfully!--He seemed to want to be acquainted with her. Emma knew it\r
-to have been very much the case. She had often observed the change, to\r
-almost the same extent.--Harriet repeated expressions of approbation\r
-and praise from him--and Emma felt them to be in the closest agreement\r
-with what she had known of his opinion of Harriet. He praised her for\r
-being without art or affectation, for having simple, honest, generous,\r
-feelings.--She knew that he saw such recommendations in Harriet; he\r
-had dwelt on them to her more than once.--Much that lived in Harriet’s\r
-memory, many little particulars of the notice she had received from\r
-him, a look, a speech, a removal from one chair to another, a compliment\r
-implied, a preference inferred, had been unnoticed, because unsuspected,\r
-by Emma. Circumstances that might swell to half an hour’s relation,\r
-and contained multiplied proofs to her who had seen them, had passed\r
-undiscerned by her who now heard them; but the two latest occurrences to\r
-be mentioned, the two of strongest promise to Harriet, were not without\r
-some degree of witness from Emma herself.--The first, was his walking\r
-with her apart from the others, in the lime-walk at Donwell, where they\r
-had been walking some time before Emma came, and he had taken pains (as\r
-she was convinced) to draw her from the rest to himself--and at first,\r
-he had talked to her in a more particular way than he had ever done\r
-before, in a very particular way indeed!--(Harriet could not recall\r
-it without a blush.) He seemed to be almost asking her, whether her\r
-affections were engaged.--But as soon as she (Miss Woodhouse) appeared\r
-likely to join them, he changed the subject, and began talking about\r
-farming:--The second, was his having sat talking with her nearly half\r
-an hour before Emma came back from her visit, the very last morning of\r
-his being at Hartfield--though, when he first came in, he had said that\r
-he could not stay five minutes--and his having told her, during their\r
-conversation, that though he must go to London, it was very much against\r
-his inclination that he left home at all, which was much more (as\r
-Emma felt) than he had acknowledged to _her_. The superior degree of\r
-confidence towards Harriet, which this one article marked, gave her\r
-severe pain.\r
-\r
-On the subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did, after a\r
-little reflection, venture the following question. “Might he not?--Is\r
-not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of\r
-your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have\r
-Mr. Martin’s interest in view? But Harriet rejected the suspicion with\r
-spirit.\r
-\r
-“Mr. Martin! No indeed!--There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I\r
-know better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it.”\r
-\r
-When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss\r
-Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope.\r
-\r
-“I never should have presumed to think of it at first,” said she, “but\r
-for you. You told me to observe him carefully, and let his behaviour\r
-be the rule of mine--and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may\r
-deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it will not be any thing so\r
-very wonderful.”\r
-\r
-The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter feelings,\r
-made the utmost exertion necessary on Emma’s side, to enable her to say\r
-on reply,\r
-\r
-“Harriet, I will only venture to declare, that Mr. Knightley is the last\r
-man in the world, who would intentionally give any woman the idea of his\r
-feeling for her more than he really does.”\r
-\r
-Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for a sentence so\r
-satisfactory; and Emma was only saved from raptures and fondness, which\r
-at that moment would have been dreadful penance, by the sound of her\r
-father’s footsteps. He was coming through the hall. Harriet was too\r
-much agitated to encounter him. “She could not compose herself--\r
-Mr. Woodhouse would be alarmed--she had better go;”--with most ready\r
-encouragement from her friend, therefore, she passed off through another\r
-door--and the moment she was gone, this was the spontaneous burst of\r
-Emma’s feelings: “Oh God! that I had never seen her!”\r
-\r
-The rest of the day, the following night, were hardly enough for her\r
-thoughts.--She was bewildered amidst the confusion of all that had\r
-rushed on her within the last few hours. Every moment had brought a\r
-fresh surprize; and every surprize must be matter of humiliation to\r
-her.--How to understand it all! How to understand the deceptions she had\r
-been thus practising on herself, and living under!--The blunders, the\r
-blindness of her own head and heart!--she sat still, she walked about,\r
-she tried her own room, she tried the shrubbery--in every place, every\r
-posture, she perceived that she had acted most weakly; that she had\r
-been imposed on by others in a most mortifying degree; that she had\r
-been imposing on herself in a degree yet more mortifying; that she\r
-was wretched, and should probably find this day but the beginning of\r
-wretchedness.\r
-\r
-To understand, thoroughly understand her own heart, was the first\r
-endeavour. To that point went every leisure moment which her father’s\r
-claims on her allowed, and every moment of involuntary absence of mind.\r
-\r
-How long had Mr. Knightley been so dear to her, as every feeling\r
-declared him now to be? When had his influence, such influence begun?--\r
-When had he succeeded to that place in her affection, which Frank\r
-Churchill had once, for a short period, occupied?--She looked back;\r
-she compared the two--compared them, as they had always stood in her\r
-estimation, from the time of the latter’s becoming known to her--and as\r
-they must at any time have been compared by her, had it--oh! had it, by\r
-any blessed felicity, occurred to her, to institute the comparison.--She\r
-saw that there never had been a time when she did not consider Mr.\r
-Knightley as infinitely the superior, or when his regard for her had not\r
-been infinitely the most dear. She saw, that in persuading herself,\r
-in fancying, in acting to the contrary, she had been entirely under a\r
-delusion, totally ignorant of her own heart--and, in short, that she had\r
-never really cared for Frank Churchill at all!\r
-\r
-This was the conclusion of the first series of reflection. This was\r
-the knowledge of herself, on the first question of inquiry, which\r
-she reached; and without being long in reaching it.--She was most\r
-sorrowfully indignant; ashamed of every sensation but the one revealed\r
-to her--her affection for Mr. Knightley.--Every other part of her mind\r
-was disgusting.\r
-\r
-With insufferable vanity had she believed herself in the secret of every\r
-body’s feelings; with unpardonable arrogance proposed to arrange every\r
-body’s destiny. She was proved to have been universally mistaken; and\r
-she had not quite done nothing--for she had done mischief. She had\r
-brought evil on Harriet, on herself, and she too much feared, on Mr.\r
-Knightley.--Were this most unequal of all connexions to take place, on\r
-her must rest all the reproach of having given it a beginning; for his\r
-attachment, she must believe to be produced only by a consciousness of\r
-Harriet’s;--and even were this not the case, he would never have known\r
-Harriet at all but for her folly.\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley and Harriet Smith!--It was a union to distance every\r
-wonder of the kind.--The attachment of Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax\r
-became commonplace, threadbare, stale in the comparison, exciting no\r
-surprize, presenting no disparity, affording nothing to be said or\r
-thought.--Mr. Knightley and Harriet Smith!--Such an elevation on her\r
-side! Such a debasement on his! It was horrible to Emma to think how it\r
-must sink him in the general opinion, to foresee the smiles, the sneers,\r
-the merriment it would prompt at his expense; the mortification and\r
-disdain of his brother, the thousand inconveniences to himself.--Could\r
-it be?--No; it was impossible. And yet it was far, very far, from\r
-impossible.--Was it a new circumstance for a man of first-rate abilities\r
-to be captivated by very inferior powers? Was it new for one, perhaps\r
-too busy to seek, to be the prize of a girl who would seek him?--Was\r
-it new for any thing in this world to be unequal, inconsistent,\r
-incongruous--or for chance and circumstance (as second causes) to direct\r
-the human fate?\r
-\r
-Oh! had she never brought Harriet forward! Had she left her where she\r
-ought, and where he had told her she ought!--Had she not, with a\r
-folly which no tongue could express, prevented her marrying the\r
-unexceptionable young man who would have made her happy and respectable\r
-in the line of life to which she ought to belong--all would have been\r
-safe; none of this dreadful sequel would have been.\r
-\r
-How Harriet could ever have had the presumption to raise her thoughts to\r
-Mr. Knightley!--How she could dare to fancy herself the chosen of such\r
-a man till actually assured of it!--But Harriet was less humble, had\r
-fewer scruples than formerly.--Her inferiority, whether of mind or\r
-situation, seemed little felt.--She had seemed more sensible of Mr.\r
-Elton’s being to stoop in marrying her, than she now seemed of Mr.\r
-Knightley’s.--Alas! was not that her own doing too? Who had been at\r
-pains to give Harriet notions of self-consequence but herself?--Who but\r
-herself had taught her, that she was to elevate herself if possible,\r
-and that her claims were great to a high worldly establishment?--If\r
-Harriet, from being humble, were grown vain, it was her doing too.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XII\r
-\r
-\r
-Till now that she was threatened with its loss, Emma had never known\r
-how much of her happiness depended on being _first_ with Mr. Knightley,\r
-first in interest and affection.--Satisfied that it was so, and feeling\r
-it her due, she had enjoyed it without reflection; and only in the\r
-dread of being supplanted, found how inexpressibly important it had\r
-been.--Long, very long, she felt she had been first; for, having no\r
-female connexions of his own, there had been only Isabella whose claims\r
-could be compared with hers, and she had always known exactly how far\r
-he loved and esteemed Isabella. She had herself been first with him for\r
-many years past. She had not deserved it; she had often been negligent\r
-or perverse, slighting his advice, or even wilfully opposing him,\r
-insensible of half his merits, and quarrelling with him because he would\r
-not acknowledge her false and insolent estimate of her own--but still,\r
-from family attachment and habit, and thorough excellence of mind, he\r
-had loved her, and watched over her from a girl, with an endeavour to\r
-improve her, and an anxiety for her doing right, which no other creature\r
-had at all shared. In spite of all her faults, she knew she was dear\r
-to him; might she not say, very dear?--When the suggestions of hope,\r
-however, which must follow here, presented themselves, she could not\r
-presume to indulge them. Harriet Smith might think herself not unworthy\r
-of being peculiarly, exclusively, passionately loved by Mr. Knightley.\r
-_She_ could not. She could not flatter herself with any idea of\r
-blindness in his attachment to _her_. She had received a very recent\r
-proof of its impartiality.--How shocked had he been by her behaviour to\r
-Miss Bates! How directly, how strongly had he expressed himself to her\r
-on the subject!--Not too strongly for the offence--but far, far too\r
-strongly to issue from any feeling softer than upright justice and\r
-clear-sighted goodwill.--She had no hope, nothing to deserve the name\r
-of hope, that he could have that sort of affection for herself which was\r
-now in question; but there was a hope (at times a slight one, at\r
-times much stronger,) that Harriet might have deceived herself, and be\r
-overrating his regard for _her_.--Wish it she must, for his sake--be the\r
-consequence nothing to herself, but his remaining single all his life.\r
-Could she be secure of that, indeed, of his never marrying at all, she\r
-believed she should be perfectly satisfied.--Let him but continue the\r
-same Mr. Knightley to her and her father, the same Mr. Knightley to\r
-all the world; let Donwell and Hartfield lose none of their precious\r
-intercourse of friendship and confidence, and her peace would be\r
-fully secured.--Marriage, in fact, would not do for her. It would be\r
-incompatible with what she owed to her father, and with what she felt\r
-for him. Nothing should separate her from her father. She would not\r
-marry, even if she were asked by Mr. Knightley.\r
-\r
-It must be her ardent wish that Harriet might be disappointed; and she\r
-hoped, that when able to see them together again, she might at least\r
-be able to ascertain what the chances for it were.--She should see them\r
-henceforward with the closest observance; and wretchedly as she had\r
-hitherto misunderstood even those she was watching, she did not know how\r
-to admit that she could be blinded here.--He was expected back every\r
-day. The power of observation would be soon given--frightfully soon it\r
-appeared when her thoughts were in one course. In the meanwhile, she\r
-resolved against seeing Harriet.--It would do neither of them good,\r
-it would do the subject no good, to be talking of it farther.--She was\r
-resolved not to be convinced, as long as she could doubt, and yet had\r
-no authority for opposing Harriet’s confidence. To talk would be only to\r
-irritate.--She wrote to her, therefore, kindly, but decisively, to beg\r
-that she would not, at present, come to Hartfield; acknowledging it to\r
-be her conviction, that all farther confidential discussion of _one_\r
-topic had better be avoided; and hoping, that if a few days were allowed\r
-to pass before they met again, except in the company of others--she\r
-objected only to a tete-a-tete--they might be able to act as if they\r
-had forgotten the conversation of yesterday.--Harriet submitted, and\r
-approved, and was grateful.\r
-\r
-This point was just arranged, when a visitor arrived to tear Emma’s\r
-thoughts a little from the one subject which had engrossed them,\r
-sleeping or waking, the last twenty-four hours--Mrs. Weston, who had\r
-been calling on her daughter-in-law elect, and took Hartfield in her\r
-way home, almost as much in duty to Emma as in pleasure to herself, to\r
-relate all the particulars of so interesting an interview.\r
-\r
-Mr. Weston had accompanied her to Mrs. Bates’s, and gone through his\r
-share of this essential attention most handsomely; but she having then\r
-induced Miss Fairfax to join her in an airing, was now returned with\r
-much more to say, and much more to say with satisfaction, than a quarter\r
-of an hour spent in Mrs. Bates’s parlour, with all the encumbrance of\r
-awkward feelings, could have afforded.\r
-\r
-A little curiosity Emma had; and she made the most of it while her\r
-friend related. Mrs. Weston had set off to pay the visit in a good deal\r
-of agitation herself; and in the first place had wished not to go at all\r
-at present, to be allowed merely to write to Miss Fairfax instead, and\r
-to defer this ceremonious call till a little time had passed, and Mr.\r
-Churchill could be reconciled to the engagement’s becoming known; as,\r
-considering every thing, she thought such a visit could not be paid\r
-without leading to reports:--but Mr. Weston had thought differently; he\r
-was extremely anxious to shew his approbation to Miss Fairfax and her\r
-family, and did not conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it;\r
-or if it were, that it would be of any consequence; for “such things,”\r
- he observed, “always got about.” Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston\r
-had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and very\r
-great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had\r
-hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action had shewn\r
-how deeply she was suffering from consciousness. The quiet, heart-felt\r
-satisfaction of the old lady, and the rapturous delight of her\r
-daughter--who proved even too joyous to talk as usual, had been a\r
-gratifying, yet almost an affecting, scene. They were both so truly\r
-respectable in their happiness, so disinterested in every sensation;\r
-thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of\r
-themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss\r
-Fairfax’s recent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to\r
-invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but,\r
-on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive,\r
-Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her\r
-embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject.\r
-Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception,\r
-and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling\r
-towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but\r
-when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the\r
-present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was\r
-convinced that such conversation must be the greatest relief to her\r
-companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long been,\r
-and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject.\r
-\r
-“On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so\r
-many months,” continued Mrs. Weston, “she was energetic. This was one\r
-of her expressions. ‘I will not say, that since I entered into the\r
-engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have\r
-never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:’--and the quivering lip,\r
-Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart.”\r
-\r
-“Poor girl!” said Emma. “She thinks herself wrong, then, for having\r
-consented to a private engagement?”\r
-\r
-“Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed\r
-to blame herself. ‘The consequence,’ said she, ‘has been a state of\r
-perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment\r
-that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no\r
-expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all\r
-my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken,\r
-and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me\r
-ought not to be.’ ‘Do not imagine, madam,’ she continued, ‘that I was\r
-taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the\r
-care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own;\r
-and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances\r
-may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel\r
-Campbell.’”\r
-\r
-“Poor girl!” said Emma again. “She loves him then excessively, I\r
-suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be\r
-led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her\r
-judgment.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him.”\r
-\r
-“I am afraid,” returned Emma, sighing, “that I must often have\r
-contributed to make her unhappy.”\r
-\r
-“On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she\r
-probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the\r
-misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural\r
-consequence of the evil she had involved herself in,” she said, “was\r
-that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done\r
-amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious\r
-and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for\r
-him to bear. ‘I did not make the allowances,’ said she, ‘which I ought\r
-to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and\r
-that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under any other\r
-circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to\r
-me, as they were at first.’ She then began to speak of you, and of the\r
-great kindness you had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush\r
-which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had\r
-an opportunity, to thank you--I could not thank you too much--for every\r
-wish and every endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that you had\r
-never received any proper acknowledgment from herself.”\r
-\r
-“If I did not know her to be happy now,” said Emma, seriously, “which,\r
-in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous conscience, she\r
-must be, I could not bear these thanks;--for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there\r
-were an account drawn up of the evil and the good I have done Miss\r
-Fairfax!--Well (checking herself, and trying to be more lively), this\r
-is all to be forgotten. You are very kind to bring me these interesting\r
-particulars. They shew her to the greatest advantage. I am sure she is\r
-very good--I hope she will be very happy. It is fit that the fortune\r
-should be on his side, for I think the merit will be all on hers.”\r
-\r
-Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs. Weston. She thought\r
-well of Frank in almost every respect; and, what was more, she loved him\r
-very much, and her defence was, therefore, earnest. She talked with a\r
-great deal of reason, and at least equal affection--but she had too much\r
-to urge for Emma’s attention; it was soon gone to Brunswick Square or\r
-to Donwell; she forgot to attempt to listen; and when Mrs. Weston ended\r
-with, “We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, you know,\r
-but I hope it will soon come,” she was obliged to pause before she\r
-answered, and at last obliged to answer at random, before she could at\r
-all recollect what letter it was which they were so anxious for.\r
-\r
-“Are you well, my Emma?” was Mrs. Weston’s parting question.\r
-\r
-“Oh! perfectly. I am always well, you know. Be sure to give me\r
-intelligence of the letter as soon as possible.”\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston’s communications furnished Emma with more food for\r
-unpleasant reflection, by increasing her esteem and compassion, and her\r
-sense of past injustice towards Miss Fairfax. She bitterly regretted\r
-not having sought a closer acquaintance with her, and blushed for the\r
-envious feelings which had certainly been, in some measure, the cause.\r
-Had she followed Mr. Knightley’s known wishes, in paying that attention\r
-to Miss Fairfax, which was every way her due; had she tried to know her\r
-better; had she done her part towards intimacy; had she endeavoured\r
-to find a friend there instead of in Harriet Smith; she must, in all\r
-probability, have been spared from every pain which pressed on her\r
-now.--Birth, abilities, and education, had been equally marking one as\r
-an associate for her, to be received with gratitude; and the other--what\r
-was she?--Supposing even that they had never become intimate friends;\r
-that she had never been admitted into Miss Fairfax’s confidence on this\r
-important matter--which was most probable--still, in knowing her as\r
-she ought, and as she might, she must have been preserved from the\r
-abominable suspicions of an improper attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she\r
-had not only so foolishly fashioned and harboured herself, but had so\r
-unpardonably imparted; an idea which she greatly feared had been made a\r
-subject of material distress to the delicacy of Jane’s feelings, by the\r
-levity or carelessness of Frank Churchill’s. Of all the sources of evil\r
-surrounding the former, since her coming to Highbury, she was persuaded\r
-that she must herself have been the worst. She must have been a\r
-perpetual enemy. They never could have been all three together, without\r
-her having stabbed Jane Fairfax’s peace in a thousand instances; and on\r
-Box Hill, perhaps, it had been the agony of a mind that would bear no\r
-more.\r
-\r
-The evening of this day was very long, and melancholy, at Hartfield.\r
-The weather added what it could of gloom. A cold stormy rain set in, and\r
-nothing of July appeared but in the trees and shrubs, which the wind was\r
-despoiling, and the length of the day, which only made such cruel sights\r
-the longer visible.\r
-\r
-The weather affected Mr. Woodhouse, and he could only be kept tolerably\r
-comfortable by almost ceaseless attention on his daughter’s side, and by\r
-exertions which had never cost her half so much before. It reminded\r
-her of their first forlorn tete-a-tete, on the evening of Mrs. Weston’s\r
-wedding-day; but Mr. Knightley had walked in then, soon after tea,\r
-and dissipated every melancholy fancy. Alas! such delightful proofs of\r
-Hartfield’s attraction, as those sort of visits conveyed, might shortly\r
-be over. The picture which she had then drawn of the privations of the\r
-approaching winter, had proved erroneous; no friends had deserted them,\r
-no pleasures had been lost.--But her present forebodings she feared\r
-would experience no similar contradiction. The prospect before her now,\r
-was threatening to a degree that could not be entirely dispelled--that\r
-might not be even partially brightened. If all took place that\r
-might take place among the circle of her friends, Hartfield must be\r
-comparatively deserted; and she left to cheer her father with the\r
-spirits only of ruined happiness.\r
-\r
-The child to be born at Randalls must be a tie there even dearer than\r
-herself; and Mrs. Weston’s heart and time would be occupied by it.\r
-They should lose her; and, probably, in great measure, her husband\r
-also.--Frank Churchill would return among them no more; and Miss\r
-Fairfax, it was reasonable to suppose, would soon cease to belong to\r
-Highbury. They would be married, and settled either at or near Enscombe.\r
-All that were good would be withdrawn; and if to these losses, the\r
-loss of Donwell were to be added, what would remain of cheerful or\r
-of rational society within their reach? Mr. Knightley to be no longer\r
-coming there for his evening comfort!--No longer walking in at all\r
-hours, as if ever willing to change his own home for their’s!--How was\r
-it to be endured? And if he were to be lost to them for Harriet’s sake;\r
-if he were to be thought of hereafter, as finding in Harriet’s society\r
-all that he wanted; if Harriet were to be the chosen, the first,\r
-the dearest, the friend, the wife to whom he looked for all the best\r
-blessings of existence; what could be increasing Emma’s wretchedness but\r
-the reflection never far distant from her mind, that it had been all her\r
-own work?\r
-\r
-When it came to such a pitch as this, she was not able to refrain from\r
-a start, or a heavy sigh, or even from walking about the room for a\r
-few seconds--and the only source whence any thing like consolation\r
-or composure could be drawn, was in the resolution of her own better\r
-conduct, and the hope that, however inferior in spirit and gaiety might\r
-be the following and every future winter of her life to the past, it\r
-would yet find her more rational, more acquainted with herself, and\r
-leave her less to regret when it were gone.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XIII\r
-\r
-\r
-The weather continued much the same all the following morning; and\r
-the same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at\r
-Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a\r
-softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was\r
-summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma\r
-resolved to be out of doors as soon as possible. Never had the exquisite\r
-sight, smell, sensation of nature, tranquil, warm, and brilliant after\r
-a storm, been more attractive to her. She longed for the serenity they\r
-might gradually introduce; and on Mr. Perry’s coming in soon after\r
-dinner, with a disengaged hour to give her father, she lost no time\r
-in hurrying into the shrubbery.--There, with spirits freshened, and\r
-thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns, when she saw Mr.\r
-Knightley passing through the garden door, and coming towards her.--It\r
-was the first intimation of his being returned from London. She had\r
-been thinking of him the moment before, as unquestionably sixteen miles\r
-distant.--There was time only for the quickest arrangement of mind. She\r
-must be collected and calm. In half a minute they were together. The\r
-“How d’ye do’s” were quiet and constrained on each side. She asked after\r
-their mutual friends; they were all well.--When had he left them?--Only\r
-that morning. He must have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with\r
-her, she found. “He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was\r
-not wanted there, preferred being out of doors.”--She thought he neither\r
-looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it,\r
-suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his\r
-plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had\r
-been received.\r
-\r
-They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking\r
-at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it suited her to\r
-give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to\r
-speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for\r
-encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the\r
-way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could\r
-not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She\r
-considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began--\r
-\r
-“You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather\r
-surprize you.”\r
-\r
-“Have I?” said he quietly, and looking at her; “of what nature?”\r
-\r
-“Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding.”\r
-\r
-After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he\r
-replied,\r
-\r
-“If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that\r
-already.”\r
-\r
-“How is it possible?” cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards\r
-him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called\r
-at Mrs. Goddard’s in his way.\r
-\r
-“I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and\r
-at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened.”\r
-\r
-Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more\r
-composure,\r
-\r
-“_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have\r
-had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give\r
-me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--(with a sinking voice\r
-and a heavy sigh) I seem to have been doomed to blindness.”\r
-\r
-For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having\r
-excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within\r
-his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone\r
-of great sensibility, speaking low,\r
-\r
-“Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent\r
-sense--your exertions for your father’s sake--I know you will not allow\r
-yourself--.” Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more\r
-broken and subdued accent, “The feelings of the warmest\r
-friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!”--And in a louder,\r
-steadier tone, he concluded with, “He will soon be gone. They will soon\r
-be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate.”\r
-\r
-Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover from the flutter\r
-of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied,\r
-\r
-“You are very kind--but you are mistaken--and I must set you right.--\r
-I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was\r
-going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed\r
-of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may\r
-well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason\r
-to regret that I was not in the secret earlier.”\r
-\r
-“Emma!” cried he, looking eagerly at her, “are you, indeed?”--but\r
-checking himself--“No, no, I understand you--forgive me--I am pleased\r
-that you can say even so much.--He is no object of regret, indeed! and\r
-it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment\r
-of more than your reason.--Fortunate that your affections were not\r
-farther entangled!--I could never, I confess, from your manners, assure\r
-myself as to the degree of what you felt--I could only be certain that\r
-there was a preference--and a preference which I never believed him to\r
-deserve.--He is a disgrace to the name of man.--And is he to be rewarded\r
-with that sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable\r
-creature.”\r
-\r
-“Mr. Knightley,” said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused--“I\r
-am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your\r
-error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I\r
-have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been\r
-at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be natural\r
-for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.--But I never\r
-have.”\r
-\r
-He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would\r
-not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his\r
-clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in\r
-his opinion. She went on, however.\r
-\r
-“I have very little to say for my own conduct.--I was tempted by his\r
-attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.--An old story,\r
-probably--a common case--and no more than has happened to hundreds of my\r
-sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable in one who sets up\r
-as I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation.\r
-He was the son of Mr. Weston--he was continually here--I always found\r
-him very pleasant--and, in short, for (with a sigh) let me swell out the\r
-causes ever so ingeniously, they all centre in this at last--my vanity\r
-was flattered, and I allowed his attentions. Latterly, however--for some\r
-time, indeed--I have had no idea of their meaning any thing.--I thought\r
-them a habit, a trick, nothing that called for seriousness on my side.\r
-He has imposed on me, but he has not injured me. I have never been\r
-attached to him. And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour. He\r
-never wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real\r
-situation with another.--It was his object to blind all about him; and\r
-no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than myself--except\r
-that I was _not_ blinded--that it was my good fortune--that, in short, I\r
-was somehow or other safe from him.”\r
-\r
-She had hoped for an answer here--for a few words to say that her\r
-conduct was at least intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as she\r
-could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual tone,\r
-he said,\r
-\r
-“I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose,\r
-however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has\r
-been but trifling.--And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he\r
-may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a chance.--I have no\r
-motive for wishing him ill--and for her sake, whose happiness will be\r
-involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him\r
-well.”\r
-\r
-“I have no doubt of their being happy together,” said Emma; “I believe\r
-them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached.”\r
-\r
-“He is a most fortunate man!” returned Mr. Knightley, with energy. “So\r
-early in life--at three-and-twenty--a period when, if a man chuses a\r
-wife, he generally chuses ill. At three-and-twenty to have drawn such\r
-a prize! What years of felicity that man, in all human calculation,\r
-has before him!--Assured of the love of such a woman--the disinterested\r
-love, for Jane Fairfax’s character vouches for her disinterestedness;\r
-every thing in his favour,--equality of situation--I mean, as far as\r
-regards society, and all the habits and manners that are important;\r
-equality in every point but one--and that one, since the purity of her\r
-heart is not to be doubted, such as must increase his felicity, for it\r
-will be his to bestow the only advantages she wants.--A man would always\r
-wish to give a woman a better home than the one he takes her from;\r
-and he who can do it, where there is no doubt of _her_ regard, must,\r
-I think, be the happiest of mortals.--Frank Churchill is, indeed, the\r
-favourite of fortune. Every thing turns out for his good.--He meets\r
-with a young woman at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannot even\r
-weary her by negligent treatment--and had he and all his family sought\r
-round the world for a perfect wife for him, they could not have found\r
-her superior.--His aunt is in the way.--His aunt dies.--He has only to\r
-speak.--His friends are eager to promote his happiness.--He had used\r
-every body ill--and they are all delighted to forgive him.--He is a\r
-fortunate man indeed!”\r
-\r
-“You speak as if you envied him.”\r
-\r
-“And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy.”\r
-\r
-Emma could say no more. They seemed to be within half a sentence\r
-of Harriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject, if\r
-possible. She made her plan; she would speak of something totally\r
-different--the children in Brunswick Square; and she only waited for\r
-breath to begin, when Mr. Knightley startled her, by saying,\r
-\r
-“You will not ask me what is the point of envy.--You are determined, I\r
-see, to have no curiosity.--You are wise--but _I_ cannot be wise. Emma,\r
-I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the\r
-next moment.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! then, don’t speak it, don’t speak it,” she eagerly cried. “Take a\r
-little time, consider, do not commit yourself.”\r
-\r
-“Thank you,” said he, in an accent of deep mortification, and not\r
-another syllable followed.\r
-\r
-Emma could not bear to give him pain. He was wishing to confide in\r
-her--perhaps to consult her;--cost her what it would, she would listen.\r
-She might assist his resolution, or reconcile him to it; she might give\r
-just praise to Harriet, or, by representing to him his own independence,\r
-relieve him from that state of indecision, which must be more\r
-intolerable than any alternative to such a mind as his.--They had\r
-reached the house.\r
-\r
-“You are going in, I suppose?” said he.\r
-\r
-“No,”--replied Emma--quite confirmed by the depressed manner in which\r
-he still spoke--“I should like to take another turn. Mr. Perry is not\r
-gone.” And, after proceeding a few steps, she added--“I stopped you\r
-ungraciously, just now, Mr. Knightley, and, I am afraid, gave you\r
-pain.--But if you have any wish to speak openly to me as a friend, or\r
-to ask my opinion of any thing that you may have in contemplation--as\r
-a friend, indeed, you may command me.--I will hear whatever you like. I\r
-will tell you exactly what I think.”\r
-\r
-“As a friend!”--repeated Mr. Knightley.--“Emma, that I fear is a\r
-word--No, I have no wish--Stay, yes, why should I hesitate?--I\r
-have gone too far already for concealment.--Emma, I accept your\r
-offer--Extraordinary as it may seem, I accept it, and refer myself to\r
-you as a friend.--Tell me, then, have I no chance of ever succeeding?”\r
-\r
-He stopped in his earnestness to look the question, and the expression\r
-of his eyes overpowered her.\r
-\r
-“My dearest Emma,” said he, “for dearest you will always be, whatever\r
-the event of this hour’s conversation, my dearest, most beloved\r
-Emma--tell me at once. Say ‘No,’ if it is to be said.”--She could\r
-really say nothing.--“You are silent,” he cried, with great animation;\r
-“absolutely silent! at present I ask no more.”\r
-\r
-Emma was almost ready to sink under the agitation of this moment. The\r
-dread of being awakened from the happiest dream, was perhaps the most\r
-prominent feeling.\r
-\r
-“I cannot make speeches, Emma:” he soon resumed; and in a tone of\r
-such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably\r
-convincing.--“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it\r
-more. But you know what I am.--You hear nothing but truth from me.--I\r
-have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other\r
-woman in England would have borne it.--Bear with the truths I would\r
-tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The\r
-manner, perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have\r
-been a very indifferent lover.--But you understand me.--Yes, you see,\r
-you understand my feelings--and will return them if you can. At present,\r
-I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice.”\r
-\r
-While he spoke, Emma’s mind was most busy, and, with all the wonderful\r
-velocity of thought, had been able--and yet without losing a word--to\r
-catch and comprehend the exact truth of the whole; to see that Harriet’s\r
-hopes had been entirely groundless, a mistake, a delusion, as complete a\r
-delusion as any of her own--that Harriet was nothing; that she was every\r
-thing herself; that what she had been saying relative to Harriet\r
-had been all taken as the language of her own feelings; and that her\r
-agitation, her doubts, her reluctance, her discouragement, had been all\r
-received as discouragement from herself.--And not only was there time\r
-for these convictions, with all their glow of attendant happiness; there\r
-was time also to rejoice that Harriet’s secret had not escaped her, and\r
-to resolve that it need not, and should not.--It was all the service\r
-she could now render her poor friend; for as to any of that heroism of\r
-sentiment which might have prompted her to entreat him to transfer his\r
-affection from herself to Harriet, as infinitely the most worthy of the\r
-two--or even the more simple sublimity of resolving to refuse him at\r
-once and for ever, without vouchsafing any motive, because he could not\r
-marry them both, Emma had it not. She felt for Harriet, with pain and\r
-with contrition; but no flight of generosity run mad, opposing all that\r
-could be probable or reasonable, entered her brain. She had led her\r
-friend astray, and it would be a reproach to her for ever; but her\r
-judgment was as strong as her feelings, and as strong as it had ever\r
-been before, in reprobating any such alliance for him, as most unequal\r
-and degrading. Her way was clear, though not quite smooth.--She spoke\r
-then, on being so entreated.--What did she say?--Just what she ought,\r
-of course. A lady always does.--She said enough to shew there need not\r
-be despair--and to invite him to say more himself. He _had_ despaired at\r
-one period; he had received such an injunction to caution and silence,\r
-as for the time crushed every hope;--she had begun by refusing to hear\r
-him.--The change had perhaps been somewhat sudden;--her proposal of\r
-taking another turn, her renewing the conversation which she had\r
-just put an end to, might be a little extraordinary!--She felt its\r
-inconsistency; but Mr. Knightley was so obliging as to put up with it,\r
-and seek no farther explanation.\r
-\r
-Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure;\r
-seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a\r
-little mistaken; but where, as in this case, though the conduct is\r
-mistaken, the feelings are not, it may not be very material.--Mr.\r
-Knightley could not impute to Emma a more relenting heart than she\r
-possessed, or a heart more disposed to accept of his.\r
-\r
-He had, in fact, been wholly unsuspicious of his own influence. He had\r
-followed her into the shrubbery with no idea of trying it. He had come,\r
-in his anxiety to see how she bore Frank Churchill’s engagement, with no\r
-selfish view, no view at all, but of endeavouring, if she allowed him an\r
-opening, to soothe or to counsel her.--The rest had been the work of\r
-the moment, the immediate effect of what he heard, on his feelings. The\r
-delightful assurance of her total indifference towards Frank Churchill,\r
-of her having a heart completely disengaged from him, had given birth\r
-to the hope, that, in time, he might gain her affection himself;--but\r
-it had been no present hope--he had only, in the momentary conquest of\r
-eagerness over judgment, aspired to be told that she did not forbid his\r
-attempt to attach her.--The superior hopes which gradually opened were\r
-so much the more enchanting.--The affection, which he had been asking\r
-to be allowed to create, if he could, was already his!--Within half\r
-an hour, he had passed from a thoroughly distressed state of mind, to\r
-something so like perfect happiness, that it could bear no other name.\r
-\r
-_Her_ change was equal.--This one half-hour had given to each the same\r
-precious certainty of being beloved, had cleared from each the same\r
-degree of ignorance, jealousy, or distrust.--On his side, there had been\r
-a long-standing jealousy, old as the arrival, or even the expectation,\r
-of Frank Churchill.--He had been in love with Emma, and jealous of Frank\r
-Churchill, from about the same period, one sentiment having probably\r
-enlightened him as to the other. It was his jealousy of Frank Churchill\r
-that had taken him from the country.--The Box Hill party had decided\r
-him on going away. He would save himself from witnessing again\r
-such permitted, encouraged attentions.--He had gone to learn to be\r
-indifferent.--But he had gone to a wrong place. There was too much\r
-domestic happiness in his brother’s house; woman wore too amiable a form\r
-in it; Isabella was too much like Emma--differing only in those striking\r
-inferiorities, which always brought the other in brilliancy before\r
-him, for much to have been done, even had his time been longer.--He had\r
-stayed on, however, vigorously, day after day--till this very morning’s\r
-post had conveyed the history of Jane Fairfax.--Then, with the gladness\r
-which must be felt, nay, which he did not scruple to feel, having never\r
-believed Frank Churchill to be at all deserving Emma, was there so much\r
-fond solicitude, so much keen anxiety for her, that he could stay no\r
-longer. He had ridden home through the rain; and had walked up directly\r
-after dinner, to see how this sweetest and best of all creatures,\r
-faultless in spite of all her faults, bore the discovery.\r
-\r
-He had found her agitated and low.--Frank Churchill was a villain.--\r
-He heard her declare that she had never loved him. Frank Churchill’s\r
-character was not desperate.--She was his own Emma, by hand and word,\r
-when they returned into the house; and if he could have thought of Frank\r
-Churchill then, he might have deemed him a very good sort of fellow.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XIV\r
-\r
-\r
-What totally different feelings did Emma take back into the house from\r
-what she had brought out!--she had then been only daring to hope for\r
-a little respite of suffering;--she was now in an exquisite flutter of\r
-happiness, and such happiness moreover as she believed must still be\r
-greater when the flutter should have passed away.\r
-\r
-They sat down to tea--the same party round the same table--how often\r
-it had been collected!--and how often had her eyes fallen on the same\r
-shrubs in the lawn, and observed the same beautiful effect of the\r
-western sun!--But never in such a state of spirits, never in any thing\r
-like it; and it was with difficulty that she could summon enough of her\r
-usual self to be the attentive lady of the house, or even the attentive\r
-daughter.\r
-\r
-Poor Mr. Woodhouse little suspected what was plotting against him in the\r
-breast of that man whom he was so cordially welcoming, and so anxiously\r
-hoping might not have taken cold from his ride.--Could he have seen the\r
-heart, he would have cared very little for the lungs; but without the\r
-most distant imagination of the impending evil, without the slightest\r
-perception of any thing extraordinary in the looks or ways of either,\r
-he repeated to them very comfortably all the articles of news he had\r
-received from Mr. Perry, and talked on with much self-contentment,\r
-totally unsuspicious of what they could have told him in return.\r
-\r
-As long as Mr. Knightley remained with them, Emma’s fever continued;\r
-but when he was gone, she began to be a little tranquillised and\r
-subdued--and in the course of the sleepless night, which was the tax\r
-for such an evening, she found one or two such very serious points\r
-to consider, as made her feel, that even her happiness must have some\r
-alloy. Her father--and Harriet. She could not be alone without feeling\r
-the full weight of their separate claims; and how to guard the comfort\r
-of both to the utmost, was the question. With respect to her father,\r
-it was a question soon answered. She hardly knew yet what Mr. Knightley\r
-would ask; but a very short parley with her own heart produced the most\r
-solemn resolution of never quitting her father.--She even wept over\r
-the idea of it, as a sin of thought. While he lived, it must be only an\r
-engagement; but she flattered herself, that if divested of the danger of\r
-drawing her away, it might become an increase of comfort to him.--How\r
-to do her best by Harriet, was of more difficult decision;--how to spare\r
-her from any unnecessary pain; how to make her any possible atonement;\r
-how to appear least her enemy?--On these subjects, her perplexity\r
-and distress were very great--and her mind had to pass again and\r
-again through every bitter reproach and sorrowful regret that had ever\r
-surrounded it.--She could only resolve at last, that she would still\r
-avoid a meeting with her, and communicate all that need be told by\r
-letter; that it would be inexpressibly desirable to have her removed\r
-just now for a time from Highbury, and--indulging in one scheme\r
-more--nearly resolve, that it might be practicable to get an invitation\r
-for her to Brunswick Square.--Isabella had been pleased with Harriet;\r
-and a few weeks spent in London must give her some amusement.--She did\r
-not think it in Harriet’s nature to escape being benefited by novelty\r
-and variety, by the streets, the shops, and the children.--At any rate,\r
-it would be a proof of attention and kindness in herself, from whom\r
-every thing was due; a separation for the present; an averting of the\r
-evil day, when they must all be together again.\r
-\r
-She rose early, and wrote her letter to Harriet; an employment which\r
-left her so very serious, so nearly sad, that Mr. Knightley, in walking\r
-up to Hartfield to breakfast, did not arrive at all too soon; and half\r
-an hour stolen afterwards to go over the same ground again with him,\r
-literally and figuratively, was quite necessary to reinstate her in a\r
-proper share of the happiness of the evening before.\r
-\r
-He had not left her long, by no means long enough for her to have the\r
-slightest inclination for thinking of any body else, when a letter was\r
-brought her from Randalls--a very thick letter;--she guessed what it\r
-must contain, and deprecated the necessity of reading it.--She was now\r
-in perfect charity with Frank Churchill; she wanted no explanations, she\r
-wanted only to have her thoughts to herself--and as for understanding\r
-any thing he wrote, she was sure she was incapable of it.--It must be\r
-waded through, however. She opened the packet; it was too surely so;--a\r
-note from Mrs. Weston to herself, ushered in the letter from Frank to\r
-Mrs. Weston.\r
-\r
-“I have the greatest pleasure, my dear Emma, in forwarding to you the\r
-enclosed. I know what thorough justice you will do it, and have scarcely\r
-a doubt of its happy effect.--I think we shall never materially disagree\r
-about the writer again; but I will not delay you by a long preface.--We\r
-are quite well.--This letter has been the cure of all the little\r
-nervousness I have been feeling lately.--I did not quite like your looks\r
-on Tuesday, but it was an ungenial morning; and though you will never\r
-own being affected by weather, I think every body feels a north-east\r
-wind.--I felt for your dear father very much in the storm of Tuesday\r
-afternoon and yesterday morning, but had the comfort of hearing last\r
-night, by Mr. Perry, that it had not made him ill.\r
-\r
- “Yours ever,\r
- “A. W.”\r
-\r
- [To Mrs. Weston.]\r
-\r
-\r
- WINDSOR-JULY.\r
-MY DEAR MADAM,\r
-\r
-“If I made myself intelligible yesterday, this letter will be\r
-expected; but expected or not, I know it will be read with candour and\r
-indulgence.--You are all goodness, and I believe there will be need of\r
-even all your goodness to allow for some parts of my past conduct.--But\r
-I have been forgiven by one who had still more to resent. My courage\r
-rises while I write. It is very difficult for the prosperous to be\r
-humble. I have already met with such success in two applications for\r
-pardon, that I may be in danger of thinking myself too sure of yours,\r
-and of those among your friends who have had any ground of offence.--You\r
-must all endeavour to comprehend the exact nature of my situation when I\r
-first arrived at Randalls; you must consider me as having a secret which\r
-was to be kept at all hazards. This was the fact. My right to place\r
-myself in a situation requiring such concealment, is another question.\r
-I shall not discuss it here. For my temptation to _think_ it a right,\r
-I refer every caviller to a brick house, sashed windows below, and\r
-casements above, in Highbury. I dared not address her openly; my\r
-difficulties in the then state of Enscombe must be too well known to\r
-require definition; and I was fortunate enough to prevail, before we\r
-parted at Weymouth, and to induce the most upright female mind in the\r
-creation to stoop in charity to a secret engagement.--Had she refused, I\r
-should have gone mad.--But you will be ready to say, what was your\r
-hope in doing this?--What did you look forward to?--To any thing, every\r
-thing--to time, chance, circumstance, slow effects, sudden bursts,\r
-perseverance and weariness, health and sickness. Every possibility of\r
-good was before me, and the first of blessings secured, in obtaining her\r
-promises of faith and correspondence. If you need farther explanation,\r
-I have the honour, my dear madam, of being your husband’s son, and\r
-the advantage of inheriting a disposition to hope for good, which no\r
-inheritance of houses or lands can ever equal the value of.--See\r
-me, then, under these circumstances, arriving on my first visit to\r
-Randalls;--and here I am conscious of wrong, for that visit might have\r
-been sooner paid. You will look back and see that I did not come till\r
-Miss Fairfax was in Highbury; and as _you_ were the person slighted, you\r
-will forgive me instantly; but I must work on my father’s compassion, by\r
-reminding him, that so long as I absented myself from his house, so long\r
-I lost the blessing of knowing you. My behaviour, during the very\r
-happy fortnight which I spent with you, did not, I hope, lay me open to\r
-reprehension, excepting on one point. And now I come to the principal,\r
-the only important part of my conduct while belonging to you, which\r
-excites my own anxiety, or requires very solicitous explanation. With\r
-the greatest respect, and the warmest friendship, do I mention Miss\r
-Woodhouse; my father perhaps will think I ought to add, with the deepest\r
-humiliation.--A few words which dropped from him yesterday spoke his\r
-opinion, and some censure I acknowledge myself liable to.--My behaviour\r
-to Miss Woodhouse indicated, I believe, more than it ought.--In order to\r
-assist a concealment so essential to me, I was led on to make more than\r
-an allowable use of the sort of intimacy into which we were immediately\r
-thrown.--I cannot deny that Miss Woodhouse was my ostensible object--but\r
-I am sure you will believe the declaration, that had I not been\r
-convinced of her indifference, I would not have been induced by any\r
-selfish views to go on.--Amiable and delightful as Miss Woodhouse is,\r
-she never gave me the idea of a young woman likely to be attached; and\r
-that she was perfectly free from any tendency to being attached to me,\r
-was as much my conviction as my wish.--She received my attentions with\r
-an easy, friendly, goodhumoured playfulness, which exactly suited me.\r
-We seemed to understand each other. From our relative situation, those\r
-attentions were her due, and were felt to be so.--Whether Miss Woodhouse\r
-began really to understand me before the expiration of that fortnight,\r
-I cannot say;--when I called to take leave of her, I remember that I was\r
-within a moment of confessing the truth, and I then fancied she was not\r
-without suspicion; but I have no doubt of her having since detected me,\r
-at least in some degree.--She may not have surmised the whole, but her\r
-quickness must have penetrated a part. I cannot doubt it. You will find,\r
-whenever the subject becomes freed from its present restraints, that it\r
-did not take her wholly by surprize. She frequently gave me hints of it.\r
-I remember her telling me at the ball, that I owed Mrs. Elton gratitude\r
-for her attentions to Miss Fairfax.--I hope this history of my conduct\r
-towards her will be admitted by you and my father as great extenuation\r
-of what you saw amiss. While you considered me as having sinned against\r
-Emma Woodhouse, I could deserve nothing from either. Acquit me here, and\r
-procure for me, when it is allowable, the acquittal and good wishes\r
-of that said Emma Woodhouse, whom I regard with so much brotherly\r
-affection, as to long to have her as deeply and as happily in love as\r
-myself.--Whatever strange things I said or did during that fortnight,\r
-you have now a key to. My heart was in Highbury, and my business was to\r
-get my body thither as often as might be, and with the least suspicion.\r
-If you remember any queernesses, set them all to the right account.--Of\r
-the pianoforte so much talked of, I feel it only necessary to say, that\r
-its being ordered was absolutely unknown to Miss F--, who would never\r
-have allowed me to send it, had any choice been given her.--The\r
-delicacy of her mind throughout the whole engagement, my dear madam,\r
-is much beyond my power of doing justice to. You will soon, I earnestly\r
-hope, know her thoroughly yourself.--No description can describe her.\r
-She must tell you herself what she is--yet not by word, for never\r
-was there a human creature who would so designedly suppress her own\r
-merit.--Since I began this letter, which will be longer than I foresaw,\r
-I have heard from her.--She gives a good account of her own health; but\r
-as she never complains, I dare not depend. I want to have your opinion\r
-of her looks. I know you will soon call on her; she is living in dread\r
-of the visit. Perhaps it is paid already. Let me hear from you without\r
-delay; I am impatient for a thousand particulars. Remember how few\r
-minutes I was at Randalls, and in how bewildered, how mad a state: and\r
-I am not much better yet; still insane either from happiness or\r
-misery. When I think of the kindness and favour I have met with, of her\r
-excellence and patience, and my uncle’s generosity, I am mad with joy:\r
-but when I recollect all the uneasiness I occasioned her, and how little\r
-I deserve to be forgiven, I am mad with anger. If I could but see her\r
-again!--But I must not propose it yet. My uncle has been too good for me\r
-to encroach.--I must still add to this long letter. You have not heard\r
-all that you ought to hear. I could not give any connected detail\r
-yesterday; but the suddenness, and, in one light, the unseasonableness\r
-with which the affair burst out, needs explanation; for though the event\r
-of the 26th ult., as you will conclude, immediately opened to me the\r
-happiest prospects, I should not have presumed on such early measures,\r
-but from the very particular circumstances, which left me not an hour to\r
-lose. I should myself have shrunk from any thing so hasty, and she\r
-would have felt every scruple of mine with multiplied strength and\r
-refinement.--But I had no choice. The hasty engagement she had entered\r
-into with that woman--Here, my dear madam, I was obliged to leave off\r
-abruptly, to recollect and compose myself.--I have been walking over\r
-the country, and am now, I hope, rational enough to make the rest of\r
-my letter what it ought to be.--It is, in fact, a most mortifying\r
-retrospect for me. I behaved shamefully. And here I can admit, that\r
-my manners to Miss W., in being unpleasant to Miss F., were highly\r
-blameable. _She_ disapproved them, which ought to have been enough.--My\r
-plea of concealing the truth she did not think sufficient.--She was\r
-displeased; I thought unreasonably so: I thought her, on a thousand\r
-occasions, unnecessarily scrupulous and cautious: I thought her even\r
-cold. But she was always right. If I had followed her judgment, and\r
-subdued my spirits to the level of what she deemed proper, I should have\r
-escaped the greatest unhappiness I have ever known.--We quarrelled.--\r
-Do you remember the morning spent at Donwell?--_There_ every little\r
-dissatisfaction that had occurred before came to a crisis. I was late;\r
-I met her walking home by herself, and wanted to walk with her, but she\r
-would not suffer it. She absolutely refused to allow me, which I then\r
-thought most unreasonable. Now, however, I see nothing in it but a very\r
-natural and consistent degree of discretion. While I, to blind the\r
-world to our engagement, was behaving one hour with objectionable\r
-particularity to another woman, was she to be consenting the next to a\r
-proposal which might have made every previous caution useless?--Had we\r
-been met walking together between Donwell and Highbury, the truth must\r
-have been suspected.--I was mad enough, however, to resent.--I doubted\r
-her affection. I doubted it more the next day on Box Hill; when,\r
-provoked by such conduct on my side, such shameful, insolent neglect\r
-of her, and such apparent devotion to Miss W., as it would have been\r
-impossible for any woman of sense to endure, she spoke her resentment in\r
-a form of words perfectly intelligible to me.--In short, my dear\r
-madam, it was a quarrel blameless on her side, abominable on mine; and\r
-I returned the same evening to Richmond, though I might have staid with\r
-you till the next morning, merely because I would be as angry with\r
-her as possible. Even then, I was not such a fool as not to mean to\r
-be reconciled in time; but I was the injured person, injured by her\r
-coldness, and I went away determined that she should make the first\r
-advances.--I shall always congratulate myself that you were not of\r
-the Box Hill party. Had you witnessed my behaviour there, I can hardly\r
-suppose you would ever have thought well of me again. Its effect upon\r
-her appears in the immediate resolution it produced: as soon as she\r
-found I was really gone from Randalls, she closed with the offer of that\r
-officious Mrs. Elton; the whole system of whose treatment of her, by the\r
-bye, has ever filled me with indignation and hatred. I must not quarrel\r
-with a spirit of forbearance which has been so richly extended towards\r
-myself; but, otherwise, I should loudly protest against the share of it\r
-which that woman has known.--‘Jane,’ indeed!--You will observe that I\r
-have not yet indulged myself in calling her by that name, even to you.\r
-Think, then, what I must have endured in hearing it bandied between\r
-the Eltons with all the vulgarity of needless repetition, and all the\r
-insolence of imaginary superiority. Have patience with me, I shall soon\r
-have done.--She closed with this offer, resolving to break with me\r
-entirely, and wrote the next day to tell me that we never were to meet\r
-again.--_She_ _felt_ _the_ _engagement_ _to_ _be_ _a_ _source_ _of_\r
-_repentance_ _and_ _misery_ _to_ _each_: _she_ _dissolved_ _it_.--This\r
-letter reached me on the very morning of my poor aunt’s death. I\r
-answered it within an hour; but from the confusion of my mind, and the\r
-multiplicity of business falling on me at once, my answer, instead of\r
-being sent with all the many other letters of that day, was locked up in\r
-my writing-desk; and I, trusting that I had written enough, though but\r
-a few lines, to satisfy her, remained without any uneasiness.--I was\r
-rather disappointed that I did not hear from her again speedily; but I\r
-made excuses for her, and was too busy, and--may I add?--too cheerful\r
-in my views to be captious.--We removed to Windsor; and two\r
-days afterwards I received a parcel from her, my own letters all\r
-returned!--and a few lines at the same time by the post, stating her\r
-extreme surprize at not having had the smallest reply to her last; and\r
-adding, that as silence on such a point could not be misconstrued,\r
-and as it must be equally desirable to both to have every subordinate\r
-arrangement concluded as soon as possible, she now sent me, by a safe\r
-conveyance, all my letters, and requested, that if I could not directly\r
-command hers, so as to send them to Highbury within a week, I would\r
-forward them after that period to her at--: in short, the full direction\r
-to Mr. Smallridge’s, near Bristol, stared me in the face. I knew the\r
-name, the place, I knew all about it, and instantly saw what she had\r
-been doing. It was perfectly accordant with that resolution of character\r
-which I knew her to possess; and the secrecy she had maintained, as to\r
-any such design in her former letter, was equally descriptive of its\r
-anxious delicacy. For the world would not she have seemed to threaten\r
-me.--Imagine the shock; imagine how, till I had actually detected my\r
-own blunder, I raved at the blunders of the post.--What was to be\r
-done?--One thing only.--I must speak to my uncle. Without his sanction I\r
-could not hope to be listened to again.--I spoke; circumstances were\r
-in my favour; the late event had softened away his pride, and he was,\r
-earlier than I could have anticipated, wholly reconciled and complying;\r
-and could say at last, poor man! with a deep sigh, that he wished I\r
-might find as much happiness in the marriage state as he had done.--I\r
-felt that it would be of a different sort.--Are you disposed to pity\r
-me for what I must have suffered in opening the cause to him, for my\r
-suspense while all was at stake?--No; do not pity me till I reached\r
-Highbury, and saw how ill I had made her. Do not pity me till I saw her\r
-wan, sick looks.--I reached Highbury at the time of day when, from my\r
-knowledge of their late breakfast hour, I was certain of a good chance\r
-of finding her alone.--I was not disappointed; and at last I was not\r
-disappointed either in the object of my journey. A great deal of very\r
-reasonable, very just displeasure I had to persuade away. But it is\r
-done; we are reconciled, dearer, much dearer, than ever, and no moment’s\r
-uneasiness can ever occur between us again. Now, my dear madam, I will\r
-release you; but I could not conclude before. A thousand and a thousand\r
-thanks for all the kindness you have ever shewn me, and ten thousand for\r
-the attentions your heart will dictate towards her.--If you think me in\r
-a way to be happier than I deserve, I am quite of your opinion.--Miss\r
-W. calls me the child of good fortune. I hope she is right.--In one\r
-respect, my good fortune is undoubted, that of being able to subscribe\r
-myself,\r
-\r
- Your obliged and affectionate Son,\r
-\r
- F. C. WESTON CHURCHILL.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XV\r
-\r
-\r
-This letter must make its way to Emma’s feelings. She was obliged, in\r
-spite of her previous determination to the contrary, to do it all the\r
-justice that Mrs. Weston foretold. As soon as she came to her own name,\r
-it was irresistible; every line relating to herself was interesting,\r
-and almost every line agreeable; and when this charm ceased, the subject\r
-could still maintain itself, by the natural return of her former regard\r
-for the writer, and the very strong attraction which any picture of\r
-love must have for her at that moment. She never stopt till she had gone\r
-through the whole; and though it was impossible not to feel that he had\r
-been wrong, yet he had been less wrong than she had supposed--and he had\r
-suffered, and was very sorry--and he was so grateful to Mrs. Weston, and\r
-so much in love with Miss Fairfax, and she was so happy herself, that\r
-there was no being severe; and could he have entered the room, she must\r
-have shaken hands with him as heartily as ever.\r
-\r
-She thought so well of the letter, that when Mr. Knightley came again,\r
-she desired him to read it. She was sure of Mrs. Weston’s wishing it to\r
-be communicated; especially to one, who, like Mr. Knightley, had seen so\r
-much to blame in his conduct.\r
-\r
-“I shall be very glad to look it over,” said he; “but it seems long. I\r
-will take it home with me at night.”\r
-\r
-But that would not do. Mr. Weston was to call in the evening, and she\r
-must return it by him.\r
-\r
-“I would rather be talking to you,” he replied; “but as it seems a\r
-matter of justice, it shall be done.”\r
-\r
-He began--stopping, however, almost directly to say, “Had I been offered\r
-the sight of one of this gentleman’s letters to his mother-in-law a few\r
-months ago, Emma, it would not have been taken with such indifference.”\r
-\r
-He proceeded a little farther, reading to himself; and then, with a\r
-smile, observed, “Humph! a fine complimentary opening: But it is his\r
-way. One man’s style must not be the rule of another’s. We will not be\r
-severe.”\r
-\r
-“It will be natural for me,” he added shortly afterwards, “to speak my\r
-opinion aloud as I read. By doing it, I shall feel that I am near you.\r
-It will not be so great a loss of time: but if you dislike it--”\r
-\r
-“Not at all. I should wish it.”\r
-\r
-Mr. Knightley returned to his reading with greater alacrity.\r
-\r
-“He trifles here,” said he, “as to the temptation. He knows he is wrong,\r
-and has nothing rational to urge.--Bad.--He ought not to have formed the\r
-engagement.--‘His father’s disposition:’--he is unjust, however, to his\r
-father. Mr. Weston’s sanguine temper was a blessing on all his upright\r
-and honourable exertions; but Mr. Weston earned every present comfort\r
-before he endeavoured to gain it.--Very true; he did not come till Miss\r
-Fairfax was here.”\r
-\r
-“And I have not forgotten,” said Emma, “how sure you were that he might\r
-have come sooner if he would. You pass it over very handsomely--but you\r
-were perfectly right.”\r
-\r
-“I was not quite impartial in my judgment, Emma:--but yet, I think--had\r
-_you_ not been in the case--I should still have distrusted him.”\r
-\r
-When he came to Miss Woodhouse, he was obliged to read the whole of it\r
-aloud--all that related to her, with a smile; a look; a shake of the\r
-head; a word or two of assent, or disapprobation; or merely of love, as\r
-the subject required; concluding, however, seriously, and, after steady\r
-reflection, thus--\r
-\r
-“Very bad--though it might have been worse.--Playing a most dangerous\r
-game. Too much indebted to the event for his acquittal.--No judge of\r
-his own manners by you.--Always deceived in fact by his own wishes, and\r
-regardless of little besides his own convenience.--Fancying you to have\r
-fathomed his secret. Natural enough!--his own mind full of intrigue,\r
-that he should suspect it in others.--Mystery; Finesse--how they pervert\r
-the understanding! My Emma, does not every thing serve to prove more\r
-and more the beauty of truth and sincerity in all our dealings with each\r
-other?”\r
-\r
-Emma agreed to it, and with a blush of sensibility on Harriet’s account,\r
-which she could not give any sincere explanation of.\r
-\r
-“You had better go on,” said she.\r
-\r
-He did so, but very soon stopt again to say, “the pianoforte! Ah! That\r
-was the act of a very, very young man, one too young to consider whether\r
-the inconvenience of it might not very much exceed the pleasure. A\r
-boyish scheme, indeed!--I cannot comprehend a man’s wishing to give a\r
-woman any proof of affection which he knows she would rather dispense\r
-with; and he did know that she would have prevented the instrument’s\r
-coming if she could.”\r
-\r
-After this, he made some progress without any pause. Frank Churchill’s\r
-confession of having behaved shamefully was the first thing to call for\r
-more than a word in passing.\r
-\r
-“I perfectly agree with you, sir,”--was then his remark. “You did behave\r
-very shamefully. You never wrote a truer line.” And having gone through\r
-what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his\r
-persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax’s sense of right,\r
-he made a fuller pause to say, “This is very bad.--He had induced her\r
-to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and\r
-uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from\r
-suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend\r
-with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have\r
-respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were\r
-all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she\r
-had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she\r
-should have been in such a state of punishment.”\r
-\r
-Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew\r
-uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was\r
-deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read,\r
-however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and,\r
-excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear\r
-of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist.\r
-\r
-“There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the\r
-Eltons,” was his next observation.--“His feelings are natural.--What!\r
-actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to\r
-be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a\r
-view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most\r
-extraordinary--”\r
-\r
-“Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers.”\r
-\r
-“I hope he does,” replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter.\r
-“‘Smallridge!’--What does this mean? What is all this?”\r
-\r
-“She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge’s children--a\r
-dear friend of Mrs. Elton’s--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the\r
-bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?”\r
-\r
-“Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of\r
-Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter\r
-the man writes!”\r
-\r
-“I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him.”\r
-\r
-“Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in\r
-finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of\r
-her. ‘Dearer, much dearer than ever.’ I hope he may long continue to\r
-feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal\r
-thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--‘Happier than I\r
-deserve.’ Come, he knows himself there. ‘Miss Woodhouse calls me the\r
-child of good fortune.’--Those were Miss Woodhouse’s words, were they?--\r
-And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune!\r
-That was your name for him, was it?”\r
-\r
-“You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still\r
-you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I\r
-hope it does him some service with you.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of\r
-inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion\r
-in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he\r
-is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it\r
-may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very\r
-ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the\r
-steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk\r
-to you of something else. I have another person’s interest at present\r
-so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill.\r
-Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work\r
-on one subject.”\r
-\r
-The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike\r
-English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love\r
-with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the\r
-happiness of her father. Emma’s answer was ready at the first word.\r
-“While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible\r
-for her. She could never quit him.” Part only of this answer, however,\r
-was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr.\r
-Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any\r
-other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most\r
-deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to\r
-remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but\r
-his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself\r
-long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation\r
-would be a risk of her father’s comfort, perhaps even of his life, which\r
-must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt\r
-that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the\r
-sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any\r
-respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield;\r
-that so long as her father’s happiness--in other words, his life--required\r
-Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise.\r
-\r
-Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing\r
-thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such\r
-an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all\r
-the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must\r
-be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that\r
-in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there\r
-would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it,\r
-and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no\r
-reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had\r
-given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had\r
-been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his\r
-thoughts to himself.\r
-\r
-“Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for,” cried Emma. “I am sure\r
-William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you\r
-ask mine.”\r
-\r
-She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised,\r
-moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good\r
-scheme.\r
-\r
-It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in\r
-which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never\r
-struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as\r
-heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must\r
-of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only\r
-gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in\r
-detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley’s\r
-marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had\r
-wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt.\r
-\r
-This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at\r
-Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became.\r
-His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual\r
-good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the\r
-periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in\r
-all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of\r
-melancholy!\r
-\r
-She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing\r
-of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend,\r
-who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family\r
-party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere\r
-charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in\r
-every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction\r
-from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a\r
-dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a\r
-peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of\r
-unmerited punishment.\r
-\r
-In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is,\r
-supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr.\r
-Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not\r
-like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly\r
-considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped\r
-than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she\r
-could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XVI\r
-\r
-\r
-It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as\r
-herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by\r
-letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet!\r
-\r
-Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without\r
-reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there\r
-was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style,\r
-which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be\r
-only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have\r
-been quite without resentment under such a stroke.\r
-\r
-She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella’s invitation; and she was\r
-fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting\r
-to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and\r
-had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was\r
-delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to\r
-her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was\r
-quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled\r
-on her sister’s side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her\r
-very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a\r
-fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse’s carriage.--It was\r
-all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick\r
-Square.\r
-\r
-Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley’s visits; now she could\r
-talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense\r
-of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her\r
-when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might\r
-at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings\r
-which she had led astray herself.\r
-\r
-The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard’s, or in London, made perhaps\r
-an unreasonable difference in Emma’s sensations; but she could not think\r
-of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must\r
-be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself.\r
-\r
-She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place\r
-in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before\r
-her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of\r
-her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it\r
-at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston\r
-were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this\r
-period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself\r
-by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of\r
-leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating,\r
-delight, should be hers.\r
-\r
-She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an\r
-hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought\r
-to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present\r
-situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a\r
-_secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect\r
-would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any\r
-thing Jane might communicate.\r
-\r
-She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not\r
-been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had\r
-been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the\r
-worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still\r
-unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to\r
-wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing\r
-it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so\r
-happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of,\r
-“Beg her to walk up;”--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs\r
-by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her\r
-were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely,\r
-so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was\r
-every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.--\r
-She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very\r
-feeling tone,\r
-\r
-“This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me\r
-to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely\r
-without words.”\r
-\r
-Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the\r
-sound of Mrs. Elton’s voice from the sitting-room had not checked\r
-her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her\r
-congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which\r
-accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs.\r
-Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every\r
-body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the\r
-rencontre would do them no harm.\r
-\r
-She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton’s thoughts, and\r
-understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in\r
-Miss Fairfax’s confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was\r
-still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in\r
-the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs.\r
-Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady’s replies, she saw\r
-her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she\r
-had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into\r
-the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods,\r
-\r
-“We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want\r
-opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I\r
-only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is\r
-not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet\r
-creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word\r
-more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You\r
-remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment:\r
-\r
- “For when a lady’s in the case,\r
- “You know all other things give place.”\r
-\r
-Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to\r
-the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an’t I? But I want to set\r
-your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has\r
-quite appeased her.”\r
-\r
-And again, on Emma’s merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates’s\r
-knitting, she added, in a half whisper,\r
-\r
-“I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a\r
-minister of state. I managed it extremely well.”\r
-\r
-Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every\r
-possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of\r
-the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with,\r
-\r
-“Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is\r
-charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest\r
-credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my\r
-word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had\r
-seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!”--And when Mrs. Bates\r
-was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, “We do not say a word\r
-of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young\r
-physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit.”\r
-\r
-“I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse,” she\r
-shortly afterwards began, “since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant\r
-party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not\r
-seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So\r
-it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think\r
-it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our\r
-collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the\r
-fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the\r
-same party, not _one_ exception.”\r
-\r
-Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being\r
-diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting,\r
-she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say\r
-every thing.\r
-\r
-“Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible\r
-to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane’s prospects--that\r
-is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr.\r
-Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little\r
-circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that\r
-is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to\r
-Jane!”--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight\r
-towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a\r
-little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter,\r
-which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which\r
-placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said,\r
-\r
-“Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that\r
-anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth\r
-is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me\r
-here, and pay his respects to you.”\r
-\r
-“What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will\r
-be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and\r
-Mr. Elton’s time is so engaged.”\r
-\r
-“Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to\r
-night.--There is no end of people’s coming to him, on some pretence or\r
-other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always\r
-wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without\r
-him.--‘Upon my word, Mr. E.,’ I often say, ‘rather you than I.--I do\r
-not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had\r
-half so many applicants.’--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect\r
-them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar\r
-this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on\r
-purpose to wait on you all.” And putting up her hand to screen her\r
-words from Emma--“A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite\r
-indispensable.”\r
-\r
-Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--!\r
-\r
-“He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself\r
-from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep\r
-consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley’s right hand.”\r
-\r
-Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, “Is Mr. Elton\r
-gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and\r
-Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who\r
-lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way.”\r
-\r
-“Have not you mistaken the day?” said Emma. “I am almost certain that\r
-the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at\r
-Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day,” was the abrupt answer, which\r
-denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton’s side.--“I do\r
-believe,” she continued, “this is the most troublesome parish that ever\r
-was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove.”\r
-\r
-“Your parish there was small,” said Jane.\r
-\r
-“Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject\r
-talked of.”\r
-\r
-“But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard\r
-you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the\r
-only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children.”\r
-\r
-“Ah! you clever creature, that’s very true. What a thinking brain you\r
-have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we\r
-could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce\r
-perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_\r
-people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word,\r
-if you please.”\r
-\r
-It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words,\r
-not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw.\r
-The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very\r
-evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look.\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her\r
-sparkling vivacity.\r
-\r
-“Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an\r
-encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But\r
-you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should\r
-not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting\r
-this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal\r
-obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?”\r
-\r
-Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away.\r
-His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent\r
-object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the\r
-walk he had had for nothing.\r
-\r
-“When I got to Donwell,” said he, “Knightley could not be found. Very\r
-odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the\r
-message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one.”\r
-\r
-“Donwell!” cried his wife.--“My dear Mr. E., you have not been to\r
-Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown.”\r
-\r
-“No, no, that’s to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley\r
-to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went\r
-over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made\r
-it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you\r
-I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The\r
-housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very\r
-extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps\r
-to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss\r
-Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?”\r
-\r
-Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary,\r
-indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him.\r
-\r
-“I cannot imagine,” said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife\r
-ought to do,) “I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of\r
-all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to\r
-be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am\r
-sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his\r
-servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely\r
-to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed,\r
-extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a\r
-creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And\r
-as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised\r
-Wright a receipt, and never sent it.”\r
-\r
-“I met William Larkins,” continued Mr. Elton, “as I got near the house,\r
-and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not\r
-believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what\r
-was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the\r
-speech of him. I have nothing to do with William’s wants, but it really\r
-is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it\r
-becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should\r
-have had this hot walk to no purpose.”\r
-\r
-Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In\r
-all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr.\r
-Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards\r
-Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins.\r
-\r
-She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to\r
-attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her\r
-an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say,\r
-\r
-“It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you\r
-not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to\r
-introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might\r
-have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been\r
-impertinent.”\r
-\r
-“Oh!” cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought\r
-infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual\r
-composure--“there would have been no danger. The danger would have\r
-been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than\r
-by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more\r
-collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very\r
-great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those\r
-of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not\r
-disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could\r
-wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for\r
-myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your\r
-compassion does not stand my friend--”\r
-\r
-“Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are,” cried Emma warmly, and\r
-taking her hand. “You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you\r
-might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted\r
-even--”\r
-\r
-“You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So\r
-cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of\r
-deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you.”\r
-\r
-“Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side.\r
-Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done\r
-quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you\r
-have pleasant accounts from Windsor?”\r
-\r
-“Very.”\r
-\r
-“And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as\r
-I begin to know you.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here\r
-till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell.”\r
-\r
-“Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps,” replied Emma,\r
-smiling--“but, excuse me, it must be thought of.”\r
-\r
-The smile was returned as Jane answered,\r
-\r
-“You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I\r
-am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill\r
-at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of\r
-deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing\r
-more to wait for.”\r
-\r
-“Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured\r
-of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and\r
-open!--Good-bye, good-bye.”\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XVII\r
-\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston’s friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the\r
-satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by\r
-knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in\r
-wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with\r
-any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella’s\r
-sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father\r
-and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew\r
-older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to\r
-have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks\r
-and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no\r
-one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be\r
-quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have\r
-their powers in exercise again.\r
-\r
-“She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me,” she\r
-continued--“like La Baronne d’Almane on La Comtesse d’Ostalis, in Madame\r
-de Genlis’ Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little\r
-Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan.”\r
-\r
-“That is,” replied Mr. Knightley, “she will indulge her even more than\r
-she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will\r
-be the only difference.”\r
-\r
-“Poor child!” cried Emma; “at that rate, what will become of her?”\r
-\r
-“Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable\r
-in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my\r
-bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all\r
-my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be\r
-severe on them?”\r
-\r
-Emma laughed, and replied: “But I had the assistance of all your\r
-endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether\r
-my own sense would have corrected me without it.”\r
-\r
-“Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave you understanding:--Miss Taylor\r
-gave you principles. You must have done well. My interference was quite\r
-as likely to do harm as good. It was very natural for you to say, what\r
-right has he to lecture me?--and I am afraid very natural for you to\r
-feel that it was done in a disagreeable manner. I do not believe I did\r
-you any good. The good was all to myself, by making you an object of the\r
-tenderest affection to me. I could not think about you so much without\r
-doating on you, faults and all; and by dint of fancying so many errors,\r
-have been in love with you ever since you were thirteen at least.”\r
-\r
-“I am sure you were of use to me,” cried Emma. “I was very often\r
-influenced rightly by you--oftener than I would own at the time. I\r
-am very sure you did me good. And if poor little Anna Weston is to be\r
-spoiled, it will be the greatest humanity in you to do as much for her\r
-as you have done for me, except falling in love with her when she is\r
-thirteen.”\r
-\r
-“How often, when you were a girl, have you said to me, with one of your\r
-saucy looks--‘Mr. Knightley, I am going to do so-and-so; papa says I\r
-may, or I have Miss Taylor’s leave’--something which, you knew, I\r
-did not approve. In such cases my interference was giving you two bad\r
-feelings instead of one.”\r
-\r
-“What an amiable creature I was!--No wonder you should hold my speeches\r
-in such affectionate remembrance.”\r
-\r
-“‘Mr. Knightley.’--You always called me, ‘Mr. Knightley;’ and, from\r
-habit, it has not so very formal a sound.--And yet it is formal. I want\r
-you to call me something else, but I do not know what.”\r
-\r
-“I remember once calling you ‘George,’ in one of my amiable fits, about\r
-ten years ago. I did it because I thought it would offend you; but, as\r
-you made no objection, I never did it again.”\r
-\r
-“And cannot you call me ‘George’ now?”\r
-\r
-“Impossible!--I never can call you any thing but ‘Mr. Knightley.’ I\r
-will not promise even to equal the elegant terseness of Mrs. Elton, by\r
-calling you Mr. K.--But I will promise,” she added presently, laughing\r
-and blushing--“I will promise to call you once by your Christian name.\r
-I do not say when, but perhaps you may guess where;--in the building in\r
-which N. takes M. for better, for worse.”\r
-\r
-Emma grieved that she could not be more openly just to one important\r
-service which his better sense would have rendered her, to the\r
-advice which would have saved her from the worst of all her womanly\r
-follies--her wilful intimacy with Harriet Smith; but it was too tender a\r
-subject.--She could not enter on it.--Harriet was very seldom mentioned\r
-between them. This, on his side, might merely proceed from her not being\r
-thought of; but Emma was rather inclined to attribute it to delicacy,\r
-and a suspicion, from some appearances, that their friendship were\r
-declining. She was aware herself, that, parting under any other\r
-circumstances, they certainly should have corresponded more, and that\r
-her intelligence would not have rested, as it now almost wholly did, on\r
-Isabella’s letters. He might observe that it was so. The pain of being\r
-obliged to practise concealment towards him, was very little inferior to\r
-the pain of having made Harriet unhappy.\r
-\r
-Isabella sent quite as good an account of her visitor as could be\r
-expected; on her first arrival she had thought her out of spirits, which\r
-appeared perfectly natural, as there was a dentist to be consulted; but,\r
-since that business had been over, she did not appear to find Harriet\r
-different from what she had known her before.--Isabella, to be sure,\r
-was no very quick observer; yet if Harriet had not been equal to playing\r
-with the children, it would not have escaped her. Emma’s comforts and\r
-hopes were most agreeably carried on, by Harriet’s being to stay longer;\r
-her fortnight was likely to be a month at least. Mr. and Mrs. John\r
-Knightley were to come down in August, and she was invited to remain\r
-till they could bring her back.\r
-\r
-“John does not even mention your friend,” said Mr. Knightley. “Here is\r
-his answer, if you like to see it.”\r
-\r
-It was the answer to the communication of his intended marriage. Emma\r
-accepted it with a very eager hand, with an impatience all alive to know\r
-what he would say about it, and not at all checked by hearing that her\r
-friend was unmentioned.\r
-\r
-“John enters like a brother into my happiness,” continued Mr. Knightley,\r
-“but he is no complimenter; and though I well know him to have,\r
-likewise, a most brotherly affection for you, he is so far from making\r
-flourishes, that any other young woman might think him rather cool in\r
-her praise. But I am not afraid of your seeing what he writes.”\r
-\r
-“He writes like a sensible man,” replied Emma, when she had read the\r
-letter. “I honour his sincerity. It is very plain that he considers the\r
-good fortune of the engagement as all on my side, but that he is not\r
-without hope of my growing, in time, as worthy of your affection, as\r
-you think me already. Had he said any thing to bear a different\r
-construction, I should not have believed him.”\r
-\r
-“My Emma, he means no such thing. He only means--”\r
-\r
-“He and I should differ very little in our estimation of the two,”\r
- interrupted she, with a sort of serious smile--“much less, perhaps, than\r
-he is aware of, if we could enter without ceremony or reserve on the\r
-subject.”\r
-\r
-“Emma, my dear Emma--”\r
-\r
-“Oh!” she cried with more thorough gaiety, “if you fancy your brother\r
-does not do me justice, only wait till my dear father is in the secret,\r
-and hear his opinion. Depend upon it, he will be much farther from doing\r
-_you_ justice. He will think all the happiness, all the advantage, on\r
-your side of the question; all the merit on mine. I wish I may not\r
-sink into ‘poor Emma’ with him at once.--His tender compassion towards\r
-oppressed worth can go no farther.”\r
-\r
-“Ah!” he cried, “I wish your father might be half as easily convinced as\r
-John will be, of our having every right that equal worth can give, to be\r
-happy together. I am amused by one part of John’s letter--did you notice\r
-it?--where he says, that my information did not take him wholly by\r
-surprize, that he was rather in expectation of hearing something of the\r
-kind.”\r
-\r
-“If I understand your brother, he only means so far as your having\r
-some thoughts of marrying. He had no idea of me. He seems perfectly\r
-unprepared for that.”\r
-\r
-“Yes, yes--but I am amused that he should have seen so far into my\r
-feelings. What has he been judging by?--I am not conscious of any\r
-difference in my spirits or conversation that could prepare him at\r
-this time for my marrying any more than at another.--But it was so, I\r
-suppose. I dare say there was a difference when I was staying with them\r
-the other day. I believe I did not play with the children quite so much\r
-as usual. I remember one evening the poor boys saying, ‘Uncle seems\r
-always tired now.’”\r
-\r
-The time was coming when the news must spread farther, and other\r
-persons’ reception of it tried. As soon as Mrs. Weston was sufficiently\r
-recovered to admit Mr. Woodhouse’s visits, Emma having it in view that\r
-her gentle reasonings should be employed in the cause, resolved first to\r
-announce it at home, and then at Randalls.--But how to break it to her\r
-father at last!--She had bound herself to do it, in such an hour of Mr.\r
-Knightley’s absence, or when it came to the point her heart would have\r
-failed her, and she must have put it off; but Mr. Knightley was to come\r
-at such a time, and follow up the beginning she was to make.--She was\r
-forced to speak, and to speak cheerfully too. She must not make it a\r
-more decided subject of misery to him, by a melancholy tone herself.\r
-She must not appear to think it a misfortune.--With all the spirits she\r
-could command, she prepared him first for something strange, and then,\r
-in a few words, said, that if his consent and approbation could be\r
-obtained--which, she trusted, would be attended with no difficulty,\r
-since it was a plan to promote the happiness of all--she and Mr.\r
-Knightley meant to marry; by which means Hartfield would receive the\r
-constant addition of that person’s company whom she knew he loved, next\r
-to his daughters and Mrs. Weston, best in the world.\r
-\r
-Poor man!--it was at first a considerable shock to him, and he tried\r
-earnestly to dissuade her from it. She was reminded, more than once, of\r
-having always said she would never marry, and assured that it would be\r
-a great deal better for her to remain single; and told of poor Isabella,\r
-and poor Miss Taylor.--But it would not do. Emma hung about him\r
-affectionately, and smiled, and said it must be so; and that he must\r
-not class her with Isabella and Mrs. Weston, whose marriages taking them\r
-from Hartfield, had, indeed, made a melancholy change: but she was not\r
-going from Hartfield; she should be always there; she was introducing\r
-no change in their numbers or their comforts but for the better; and she\r
-was very sure that he would be a great deal the happier for having Mr.\r
-Knightley always at hand, when he were once got used to the idea.--Did\r
-he not love Mr. Knightley very much?--He would not deny that he did,\r
-she was sure.--Whom did he ever want to consult on business but Mr.\r
-Knightley?--Who was so useful to him, who so ready to write his letters,\r
-who so glad to assist him?--Who so cheerful, so attentive, so attached\r
-to him?--Would not he like to have him always on the spot?--Yes. That\r
-was all very true. Mr. Knightley could not be there too often; he should\r
-be glad to see him every day;--but they did see him every day as it\r
-was.--Why could not they go on as they had done?\r
-\r
-Mr. Woodhouse could not be soon reconciled; but the worst was overcome,\r
-the idea was given; time and continual repetition must do the rest.--To\r
-Emma’s entreaties and assurances succeeded Mr. Knightley’s, whose fond\r
-praise of her gave the subject even a kind of welcome; and he was soon\r
-used to be talked to by each, on every fair occasion.--They had all\r
-the assistance which Isabella could give, by letters of the strongest\r
-approbation; and Mrs. Weston was ready, on the first meeting, to\r
-consider the subject in the most serviceable light--first, as a settled,\r
-and, secondly, as a good one--well aware of the nearly equal importance\r
-of the two recommendations to Mr. Woodhouse’s mind.--It was agreed\r
-upon, as what was to be; and every body by whom he was used to be\r
-guided assuring him that it would be for his happiness; and having some\r
-feelings himself which almost admitted it, he began to think that some\r
-time or other--in another year or two, perhaps--it might not be so very\r
-bad if the marriage did take place.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston was acting no part, feigning no feelings in all that she\r
-said to him in favour of the event.--She had been extremely surprized,\r
-never more so, than when Emma first opened the affair to her; but she\r
-saw in it only increase of happiness to all, and had no scruple in\r
-urging him to the utmost.--She had such a regard for Mr. Knightley, as\r
-to think he deserved even her dearest Emma; and it was in every respect\r
-so proper, suitable, and unexceptionable a connexion, and in one\r
-respect, one point of the highest importance, so peculiarly eligible,\r
-so singularly fortunate, that now it seemed as if Emma could not safely\r
-have attached herself to any other creature, and that she had herself\r
-been the stupidest of beings in not having thought of it, and wished it\r
-long ago.--How very few of those men in a rank of life to address Emma\r
-would have renounced their own home for Hartfield! And who but Mr.\r
-Knightley could know and bear with Mr. Woodhouse, so as to make such\r
-an arrangement desirable!--The difficulty of disposing of poor Mr.\r
-Woodhouse had been always felt in her husband’s plans and her own, for\r
-a marriage between Frank and Emma. How to settle the claims of Enscombe\r
-and Hartfield had been a continual impediment--less acknowledged by Mr.\r
-Weston than by herself--but even he had never been able to finish\r
-the subject better than by saying--“Those matters will take care of\r
-themselves; the young people will find a way.” But here there was\r
-nothing to be shifted off in a wild speculation on the future. It was\r
-all right, all open, all equal. No sacrifice on any side worth the name.\r
-It was a union of the highest promise of felicity in itself, and without\r
-one real, rational difficulty to oppose or delay it.\r
-\r
-Mrs. Weston, with her baby on her knee, indulging in such reflections\r
-as these, was one of the happiest women in the world. If any thing could\r
-increase her delight, it was perceiving that the baby would soon have\r
-outgrown its first set of caps.\r
-\r
-The news was universally a surprize wherever it spread; and Mr. Weston\r
-had his five minutes share of it; but five minutes were enough to\r
-familiarise the idea to his quickness of mind.--He saw the advantages\r
-of the match, and rejoiced in them with all the constancy of his wife;\r
-but the wonder of it was very soon nothing; and by the end of an hour he\r
-was not far from believing that he had always foreseen it.\r
-\r
-“It is to be a secret, I conclude,” said he. “These matters are always a\r
-secret, till it is found out that every body knows them. Only let me be\r
-told when I may speak out.--I wonder whether Jane has any suspicion.”\r
-\r
-He went to Highbury the next morning, and satisfied himself on that\r
-point. He told her the news. Was not she like a daughter, his eldest\r
-daughter?--he must tell her; and Miss Bates being present, it passed,\r
-of course, to Mrs. Cole, Mrs. Perry, and Mrs. Elton, immediately\r
-afterwards. It was no more than the principals were prepared for; they\r
-had calculated from the time of its being known at Randalls, how soon it\r
-would be over Highbury; and were thinking of themselves, as the evening\r
-wonder in many a family circle, with great sagacity.\r
-\r
-In general, it was a very well approved match. Some might think him, and\r
-others might think her, the most in luck. One set might recommend their\r
-all removing to Donwell, and leaving Hartfield for the John Knightleys;\r
-and another might predict disagreements among their servants; but yet,\r
-upon the whole, there was no serious objection raised, except in one\r
-habitation, the Vicarage.--There, the surprize was not softened by any\r
-satisfaction. Mr. Elton cared little about it, compared with his wife;\r
-he only hoped “the young lady’s pride would now be contented;” and\r
-supposed “she had always meant to catch Knightley if she could;” and,\r
-on the point of living at Hartfield, could daringly exclaim, “Rather\r
-he than I!”--But Mrs. Elton was very much discomposed indeed.--“Poor\r
-Knightley! poor fellow!--sad business for him.”--She was extremely\r
-concerned; for, though very eccentric, he had a thousand good\r
-qualities.--How could he be so taken in?--Did not think him at all in\r
-love--not in the least.--Poor Knightley!--There would be an end of all\r
-pleasant intercourse with him.--How happy he had been to come and dine\r
-with them whenever they asked him! But that would be all over now.--Poor\r
-fellow!--No more exploring parties to Donwell made for _her_. Oh!\r
-no; there would be a Mrs. Knightley to throw cold water on every\r
-thing.--Extremely disagreeable! But she was not at all sorry that\r
-she had abused the housekeeper the other day.--Shocking plan, living\r
-together. It would never do. She knew a family near Maple Grove who\r
-had tried it, and been obliged to separate before the end of the first\r
-quarter.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XVIII\r
-\r
-\r
-Time passed on. A few more to-morrows, and the party from London would\r
-be arriving. It was an alarming change; and Emma was thinking of it one\r
-morning, as what must bring a great deal to agitate and grieve her, when\r
-Mr. Knightley came in, and distressing thoughts were put by. After the\r
-first chat of pleasure he was silent; and then, in a graver tone, began\r
-with,\r
-\r
-“I have something to tell you, Emma; some news.”\r
-\r
-“Good or bad?” said she, quickly, looking up in his face.\r
-\r
-“I do not know which it ought to be called.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! good I am sure.--I see it in your countenance. You are trying not\r
-to smile.”\r
-\r
-“I am afraid,” said he, composing his features, “I am very much afraid,\r
-my dear Emma, that you will not smile when you hear it.”\r
-\r
-“Indeed! but why so?--I can hardly imagine that any thing which pleases\r
-or amuses you, should not please and amuse me too.”\r
-\r
-“There is one subject,” he replied, “I hope but one, on which we do not\r
-think alike.” He paused a moment, again smiling, with his eyes fixed on\r
-her face. “Does nothing occur to you?--Do not you recollect?--Harriet\r
-Smith.”\r
-\r
-Her cheeks flushed at the name, and she felt afraid of something, though\r
-she knew not what.\r
-\r
-“Have you heard from her yourself this morning?” cried he. “You have, I\r
-believe, and know the whole.”\r
-\r
-“No, I have not; I know nothing; pray tell me.”\r
-\r
-“You are prepared for the worst, I see--and very bad it is. Harriet\r
-Smith marries Robert Martin.”\r
-\r
-Emma gave a start, which did not seem like being prepared--and her eyes,\r
-in eager gaze, said, “No, this is impossible!” but her lips were closed.\r
-\r
-“It is so, indeed,” continued Mr. Knightley; “I have it from Robert\r
-Martin himself. He left me not half an hour ago.”\r
-\r
-She was still looking at him with the most speaking amazement.\r
-\r
-“You like it, my Emma, as little as I feared.--I wish our opinions were\r
-the same. But in time they will. Time, you may be sure, will make one\r
-or the other of us think differently; and, in the meanwhile, we need not\r
-talk much on the subject.”\r
-\r
-“You mistake me, you quite mistake me,” she replied, exerting herself.\r
-“It is not that such a circumstance would now make me unhappy, but I\r
-cannot believe it. It seems an impossibility!--You cannot mean to say,\r
-that Harriet Smith has accepted Robert Martin. You cannot mean that he\r
-has even proposed to her again--yet. You only mean, that he intends it.”\r
-\r
-“I mean that he has done it,” answered Mr. Knightley, with smiling but\r
-determined decision, “and been accepted.”\r
-\r
-“Good God!” she cried.--“Well!”--Then having recourse to her workbasket,\r
-in excuse for leaning down her face, and concealing all the exquisite\r
-feelings of delight and entertainment which she knew she must be\r
-expressing, she added, “Well, now tell me every thing; make this\r
-intelligible to me. How, where, when?--Let me know it all. I never was\r
-more surprized--but it does not make me unhappy, I assure you.--How--how\r
-has it been possible?”\r
-\r
-“It is a very simple story. He went to town on business three days ago,\r
-and I got him to take charge of some papers which I was wanting to send\r
-to John.--He delivered these papers to John, at his chambers, and was\r
-asked by him to join their party the same evening to Astley’s. They were\r
-going to take the two eldest boys to Astley’s. The party was to be our\r
-brother and sister, Henry, John--and Miss Smith. My friend Robert could\r
-not resist. They called for him in their way; were all extremely amused;\r
-and my brother asked him to dine with them the next day--which he\r
-did--and in the course of that visit (as I understand) he found an\r
-opportunity of speaking to Harriet; and certainly did not speak\r
-in vain.--She made him, by her acceptance, as happy even as he is\r
-deserving. He came down by yesterday’s coach, and was with me this\r
-morning immediately after breakfast, to report his proceedings, first\r
-on my affairs, and then on his own. This is all that I can relate of\r
-the how, where, and when. Your friend Harriet will make a much\r
-longer history when you see her.--She will give you all the minute\r
-particulars, which only woman’s language can make interesting.--In our\r
-communications we deal only in the great.--However, I must say, that\r
-Robert Martin’s heart seemed for _him_, and to _me_, very overflowing;\r
-and that he did mention, without its being much to the purpose, that\r
-on quitting their box at Astley’s, my brother took charge of Mrs. John\r
-Knightley and little John, and he followed with Miss Smith and Henry;\r
-and that at one time they were in such a crowd, as to make Miss Smith\r
-rather uneasy.”\r
-\r
-He stopped.--Emma dared not attempt any immediate reply. To speak, she\r
-was sure would be to betray a most unreasonable degree of happiness.\r
-She must wait a moment, or he would think her mad. Her silence disturbed\r
-him; and after observing her a little while, he added,\r
-\r
-“Emma, my love, you said that this circumstance would not now make you\r
-unhappy; but I am afraid it gives you more pain than you expected. His\r
-situation is an evil--but you must consider it as what satisfies your\r
-friend; and I will answer for your thinking better and better of him\r
-as you know him more. His good sense and good principles would delight\r
-you.--As far as the man is concerned, you could not wish your friend\r
-in better hands. His rank in society I would alter if I could, which is\r
-saying a great deal I assure you, Emma.--You laugh at me about William\r
-Larkins; but I could quite as ill spare Robert Martin.”\r
-\r
-He wanted her to look up and smile; and having now brought herself not\r
-to smile too broadly--she did--cheerfully answering,\r
-\r
-“You need not be at any pains to reconcile me to the match. I think\r
-Harriet is doing extremely well. _Her_ connexions may be worse than\r
-_his_. In respectability of character, there can be no doubt that they\r
-are. I have been silent from surprize merely, excessive surprize. You\r
-cannot imagine how suddenly it has come on me! how peculiarly unprepared\r
-I was!--for I had reason to believe her very lately more determined\r
-against him, much more, than she was before.”\r
-\r
-“You ought to know your friend best,” replied Mr. Knightley; “but I\r
-should say she was a good-tempered, soft-hearted girl, not likely to be\r
-very, very determined against any young man who told her he loved her.”\r
-\r
-Emma could not help laughing as she answered, “Upon my word, I believe\r
-you know her quite as well as I do.--But, Mr. Knightley, are you\r
-perfectly sure that she has absolutely and downright _accepted_ him.\r
-I could suppose she might in time--but can she already?--Did not you\r
-misunderstand him?--You were both talking of other things; of business,\r
-shows of cattle, or new drills--and might not you, in the confusion of\r
-so many subjects, mistake him?--It was not Harriet’s hand that he was\r
-certain of--it was the dimensions of some famous ox.”\r
-\r
-The contrast between the countenance and air of Mr. Knightley and Robert\r
-Martin was, at this moment, so strong to Emma’s feelings, and so strong\r
-was the recollection of all that had so recently passed on Harriet’s\r
-side, so fresh the sound of those words, spoken with such emphasis,\r
-“No, I hope I know better than to think of Robert Martin,” that she was\r
-really expecting the intelligence to prove, in some measure, premature.\r
-It could not be otherwise.\r
-\r
-“Do you dare say this?” cried Mr. Knightley. “Do you dare to suppose me\r
-so great a blockhead, as not to know what a man is talking of?--What do\r
-you deserve?”\r
-\r
-“Oh! I always deserve the best treatment, because I never put up with\r
-any other; and, therefore, you must give me a plain, direct answer. Are\r
-you quite sure that you understand the terms on which Mr. Martin and\r
-Harriet now are?”\r
-\r
-“I am quite sure,” he replied, speaking very distinctly, “that he\r
-told me she had accepted him; and that there was no obscurity, nothing\r
-doubtful, in the words he used; and I think I can give you a proof that\r
-it must be so. He asked my opinion as to what he was now to do. He knew\r
-of no one but Mrs. Goddard to whom he could apply for information of\r
-her relations or friends. Could I mention any thing more fit to be done,\r
-than to go to Mrs. Goddard? I assured him that I could not. Then, he\r
-said, he would endeavour to see her in the course of this day.”\r
-\r
-“I am perfectly satisfied,” replied Emma, with the brightest smiles,\r
-“and most sincerely wish them happy.”\r
-\r
-“You are materially changed since we talked on this subject before.”\r
-\r
-“I hope so--for at that time I was a fool.”\r
-\r
-“And I am changed also; for I am now very willing to grant you all\r
-Harriet’s good qualities. I have taken some pains for your sake, and for\r
-Robert Martin’s sake, (whom I have always had reason to believe as much\r
-in love with her as ever,) to get acquainted with her. I have often\r
-talked to her a good deal. You must have seen that I did. Sometimes,\r
-indeed, I have thought you were half suspecting me of pleading poor\r
-Martin’s cause, which was never the case; but, from all my observations,\r
-I am convinced of her being an artless, amiable girl, with very good\r
-notions, very seriously good principles, and placing her happiness in\r
-the affections and utility of domestic life.--Much of this, I have no\r
-doubt, she may thank you for.”\r
-\r
-“Me!” cried Emma, shaking her head.--“Ah! poor Harriet!”\r
-\r
-She checked herself, however, and submitted quietly to a little more\r
-praise than she deserved.\r
-\r
-Their conversation was soon afterwards closed by the entrance of her\r
-father. She was not sorry. She wanted to be alone. Her mind was in a\r
-state of flutter and wonder, which made it impossible for her to be\r
-collected. She was in dancing, singing, exclaiming spirits; and till she\r
-had moved about, and talked to herself, and laughed and reflected, she\r
-could be fit for nothing rational.\r
-\r
-Her father’s business was to announce James’s being gone out to put the\r
-horses to, preparatory to their now daily drive to Randalls; and she\r
-had, therefore, an immediate excuse for disappearing.\r
-\r
-The joy, the gratitude, the exquisite delight of her sensations may be\r
-imagined. The sole grievance and alloy thus removed in the prospect of\r
-Harriet’s welfare, she was really in danger of becoming too happy for\r
-security.--What had she to wish for? Nothing, but to grow more worthy of\r
-him, whose intentions and judgment had been ever so superior to her own.\r
-Nothing, but that the lessons of her past folly might teach her humility\r
-and circumspection in future.\r
-\r
-Serious she was, very serious in her thankfulness, and in her\r
-resolutions; and yet there was no preventing a laugh, sometimes in the\r
-very midst of them. She must laugh at such a close! Such an end of the\r
-doleful disappointment of five weeks back! Such a heart--such a Harriet!\r
-\r
-Now there would be pleasure in her returning--Every thing would be a\r
-pleasure. It would be a great pleasure to know Robert Martin.\r
-\r
-High in the rank of her most serious and heartfelt felicities, was the\r
-reflection that all necessity of concealment from Mr. Knightley would\r
-soon be over. The disguise, equivocation, mystery, so hateful to her to\r
-practise, might soon be over. She could now look forward to giving him\r
-that full and perfect confidence which her disposition was most ready to\r
-welcome as a duty.\r
-\r
-In the gayest and happiest spirits she set forward with her father; not\r
-always listening, but always agreeing to what he said; and, whether in\r
-speech or silence, conniving at the comfortable persuasion of his\r
-being obliged to go to Randalls every day, or poor Mrs. Weston would be\r
-disappointed.\r
-\r
-They arrived.--Mrs. Weston was alone in the drawing-room:--but hardly\r
-had they been told of the baby, and Mr. Woodhouse received the thanks\r
-for coming, which he asked for, when a glimpse was caught through the\r
-blind, of two figures passing near the window.\r
-\r
-“It is Frank and Miss Fairfax,” said Mrs. Weston. “I was just going to\r
-tell you of our agreeable surprize in seeing him arrive this morning. He\r
-stays till to-morrow, and Miss Fairfax has been persuaded to spend the\r
-day with us.--They are coming in, I hope.”\r
-\r
-In half a minute they were in the room. Emma was extremely glad to\r
-see him--but there was a degree of confusion--a number of embarrassing\r
-recollections on each side. They met readily and smiling, but with a\r
-consciousness which at first allowed little to be said; and having all\r
-sat down again, there was for some time such a blank in the circle, that\r
-Emma began to doubt whether the wish now indulged, which she had long\r
-felt, of seeing Frank Churchill once more, and of seeing him with Jane,\r
-would yield its proportion of pleasure. When Mr. Weston joined the\r
-party, however, and when the baby was fetched, there was no longer a\r
-want of subject or animation--or of courage and opportunity for Frank\r
-Churchill to draw near her and say,\r
-\r
-“I have to thank you, Miss Woodhouse, for a very kind forgiving message\r
-in one of Mrs. Weston’s letters. I hope time has not made you less\r
-willing to pardon. I hope you do not retract what you then said.”\r
-\r
-“No, indeed,” cried Emma, most happy to begin, “not in the least. I am\r
-particularly glad to see and shake hands with you--and to give you joy\r
-in person.”\r
-\r
-He thanked her with all his heart, and continued some time to speak with\r
-serious feeling of his gratitude and happiness.\r
-\r
-“Is not she looking well?” said he, turning his eyes towards Jane.\r
-“Better than she ever used to do?--You see how my father and Mrs. Weston\r
-doat upon her.”\r
-\r
-But his spirits were soon rising again, and with laughing eyes, after\r
-mentioning the expected return of the Campbells, he named the name of\r
-Dixon.--Emma blushed, and forbade its being pronounced in her hearing.\r
-\r
-“I can never think of it,” she cried, “without extreme shame.”\r
-\r
-“The shame,” he answered, “is all mine, or ought to be. But is it\r
-possible that you had no suspicion?--I mean of late. Early, I know, you\r
-had none.”\r
-\r
-“I never had the smallest, I assure you.”\r
-\r
-“That appears quite wonderful. I was once very near--and I wish I\r
-had--it would have been better. But though I was always doing wrong\r
-things, they were very bad wrong things, and such as did me no\r
-service.--It would have been a much better transgression had I broken\r
-the bond of secrecy and told you every thing.”\r
-\r
-“It is not now worth a regret,” said Emma.\r
-\r
-“I have some hope,” resumed he, “of my uncle’s being persuaded to pay a\r
-visit at Randalls; he wants to be introduced to her. When the Campbells\r
-are returned, we shall meet them in London, and continue there, I trust,\r
-till we may carry her northward.--But now, I am at such a distance from\r
-her--is not it hard, Miss Woodhouse?--Till this morning, we have not\r
-once met since the day of reconciliation. Do not you pity me?”\r
-\r
-Emma spoke her pity so very kindly, that with a sudden accession of gay\r
-thought, he cried,\r
-\r
-“Ah! by the bye,” then sinking his voice, and looking demure for the\r
-moment--“I hope Mr. Knightley is well?” He paused.--She coloured and\r
-laughed.--“I know you saw my letter, and think you may remember my wish\r
-in your favour. Let me return your congratulations.--I assure you that\r
-I have heard the news with the warmest interest and satisfaction.--He is\r
-a man whom I cannot presume to praise.”\r
-\r
-Emma was delighted, and only wanted him to go on in the same style; but\r
-his mind was the next moment in his own concerns and with his own Jane,\r
-and his next words were,\r
-\r
-“Did you ever see such a skin?--such smoothness! such delicacy!--and\r
-yet without being actually fair.--One cannot call her fair. It is a\r
-most uncommon complexion, with her dark eye-lashes and hair--a most\r
-distinguishing complexion! So peculiarly the lady in it.--Just colour\r
-enough for beauty.”\r
-\r
-“I have always admired her complexion,” replied Emma, archly; “but\r
-do not I remember the time when you found fault with her for being so\r
-pale?--When we first began to talk of her.--Have you quite forgotten?”\r
-\r
-“Oh! no--what an impudent dog I was!--How could I dare--”\r
-\r
-But he laughed so heartily at the recollection, that Emma could not help\r
-saying,\r
-\r
-“I do suspect that in the midst of your perplexities at that time, you\r
-had very great amusement in tricking us all.--I am sure you had.--I am\r
-sure it was a consolation to you.”\r
-\r
-“Oh! no, no, no--how can you suspect me of such a thing? I was the most\r
-miserable wretch!”\r
-\r
-“Not quite so miserable as to be insensible to mirth. I am sure it was a\r
-source of high entertainment to you, to feel that you were taking us\r
-all in.--Perhaps I am the readier to suspect, because, to tell you the\r
-truth, I think it might have been some amusement to myself in the same\r
-situation. I think there is a little likeness between us.”\r
-\r
-He bowed.\r
-\r
-“If not in our dispositions,” she presently added, with a look of true\r
-sensibility, “there is a likeness in our destiny; the destiny which bids\r
-fair to connect us with two characters so much superior to our own.”\r
-\r
-“True, true,” he answered, warmly. “No, not true on your side. You can\r
-have no superior, but most true on mine.--She is a complete angel. Look\r
-at her. Is not she an angel in every gesture? Observe the turn of her\r
-throat. Observe her eyes, as she is looking up at my father.--You will\r
-be glad to hear (inclining his head, and whispering seriously) that my\r
-uncle means to give her all my aunt’s jewels. They are to be new set.\r
-I am resolved to have some in an ornament for the head. Will not it be\r
-beautiful in her dark hair?”\r
-\r
-“Very beautiful, indeed,” replied Emma; and she spoke so kindly, that he\r
-gratefully burst out,\r
-\r
-“How delighted I am to see you again! and to see you in such excellent\r
-looks!--I would not have missed this meeting for the world. I should\r
-certainly have called at Hartfield, had you failed to come.”\r
-\r
-The others had been talking of the child, Mrs. Weston giving an account\r
-of a little alarm she had been under, the evening before, from the\r
-infant’s appearing not quite well. She believed she had been foolish,\r
-but it had alarmed her, and she had been within half a minute of sending\r
-for Mr. Perry. Perhaps she ought to be ashamed, but Mr. Weston had been\r
-almost as uneasy as herself.--In ten minutes, however, the child had\r
-been perfectly well again. This was her history; and particularly\r
-interesting it was to Mr. Woodhouse, who commended her very much for\r
-thinking of sending for Perry, and only regretted that she had not done\r
-it. “She should always send for Perry, if the child appeared in the\r
-slightest degree disordered, were it only for a moment. She could not be\r
-too soon alarmed, nor send for Perry too often. It was a pity, perhaps,\r
-that he had not come last night; for, though the child seemed well now,\r
-very well considering, it would probably have been better if Perry had\r
-seen it.”\r
-\r
-Frank Churchill caught the name.\r
-\r
-“Perry!” said he to Emma, and trying, as he spoke, to catch Miss\r
-Fairfax’s eye. “My friend Mr. Perry! What are they saying about Mr.\r
-Perry?--Has he been here this morning?--And how does he travel now?--Has\r
-he set up his carriage?”\r
-\r
-Emma soon recollected, and understood him; and while she joined in the\r
-laugh, it was evident from Jane’s countenance that she too was really\r
-hearing him, though trying to seem deaf.\r
-\r
-“Such an extraordinary dream of mine!” he cried. “I can never think of\r
-it without laughing.--She hears us, she hears us, Miss Woodhouse. I see\r
-it in her cheek, her smile, her vain attempt to frown. Look at her. Do\r
-not you see that, at this instant, the very passage of her own letter,\r
-which sent me the report, is passing under her eye--that the whole\r
-blunder is spread before her--that she can attend to nothing else,\r
-though pretending to listen to the others?”\r
-\r
-Jane was forced to smile completely, for a moment; and the smile partly\r
-remained as she turned towards him, and said in a conscious, low, yet\r
-steady voice,\r
-\r
-“How you can bear such recollections, is astonishing to me!--They\r
-_will_ sometimes obtrude--but how you can court them!”\r
-\r
-He had a great deal to say in return, and very entertainingly; but\r
-Emma’s feelings were chiefly with Jane, in the argument; and on leaving\r
-Randalls, and falling naturally into a comparison of the two men, she\r
-felt, that pleased as she had been to see Frank Churchill, and really\r
-regarding him as she did with friendship, she had never been more\r
-sensible of Mr. Knightley’s high superiority of character. The happiness\r
-of this most happy day, received its completion, in the animated\r
-contemplation of his worth which this comparison produced.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-CHAPTER XIX\r
-\r
-\r
-If Emma had still, at intervals, an anxious feeling for Harriet, a\r
-momentary doubt of its being possible for her to be really cured of her\r
-attachment to Mr. Knightley, and really able to accept another man from\r
-unbiased inclination, it was not long that she had to suffer from the\r
-recurrence of any such uncertainty. A very few days brought the party\r
-from London, and she had no sooner an opportunity of being one hour\r
-alone with Harriet, than she became perfectly satisfied--unaccountable\r
-as it was!--that Robert Martin had thoroughly supplanted Mr. Knightley,\r
-and was now forming all her views of happiness.\r
-\r
-Harriet was a little distressed--did look a little foolish at first:\r
-but having once owned that she had been presumptuous and silly, and\r
-self-deceived, before, her pain and confusion seemed to die away with\r
-the words, and leave her without a care for the past, and with the\r
-fullest exultation in the present and future; for, as to her friend’s\r
-approbation, Emma had instantly removed every fear of that nature, by\r
-meeting her with the most unqualified congratulations.--Harriet was\r
-most happy to give every particular of the evening at Astley’s, and the\r
-dinner the next day; she could dwell on it all with the utmost delight.\r
-But what did such particulars explain?--The fact was, as Emma could now\r
-acknowledge, that Harriet had always liked Robert Martin; and that his\r
-continuing to love her had been irresistible.--Beyond this, it must ever\r
-be unintelligible to Emma.\r
-\r
-The event, however, was most joyful; and every day was giving her fresh\r
-reason for thinking so.--Harriet’s parentage became known. She proved\r
-to be the daughter of a tradesman, rich enough to afford her the\r
-comfortable maintenance which had ever been hers, and decent enough to\r
-have always wished for concealment.--Such was the blood of gentility\r
-which Emma had formerly been so ready to vouch for!--It was likely to\r
-be as untainted, perhaps, as the blood of many a gentleman: but what\r
-a connexion had she been preparing for Mr. Knightley--or for the\r
-Churchills--or even for Mr. Elton!--The stain of illegitimacy,\r
-unbleached by nobility or wealth, would have been a stain indeed.\r
-\r
-No objection was raised on the father’s side; the young man was treated\r
-liberally; it was all as it should be: and as Emma became acquainted\r
-with Robert Martin, who was now introduced at Hartfield, she fully\r
-acknowledged in him all the appearance of sense and worth which could\r
-bid fairest for her little friend. She had no doubt of Harriet’s\r
-happiness with any good-tempered man; but with him, and in the home he\r
-offered, there would be the hope of more, of security, stability, and\r
-improvement. She would be placed in the midst of those who loved her,\r
-and who had better sense than herself; retired enough for safety,\r
-and occupied enough for cheerfulness. She would be never led into\r
-temptation, nor left for it to find her out. She would be respectable\r
-and happy; and Emma admitted her to be the luckiest creature in the\r
-world, to have created so steady and persevering an affection in such a\r
-man;--or, if not quite the luckiest, to yield only to herself.\r
-\r
-Harriet, necessarily drawn away by her engagements with the Martins,\r
-was less and less at Hartfield; which was not to be regretted.--The\r
-intimacy between her and Emma must sink; their friendship must change\r
-into a calmer sort of goodwill; and, fortunately, what ought to be,\r
-and must be, seemed already beginning, and in the most gradual, natural\r
-manner.\r
-\r
-Before the end of September, Emma attended Harriet to church, and saw\r
-her hand bestowed on Robert Martin with so complete a satisfaction, as\r
-no remembrances, even connected with Mr. Elton as he stood before them,\r
-could impair.--Perhaps, indeed, at that time she scarcely saw Mr. Elton,\r
-but as the clergyman whose blessing at the altar might next fall on\r
-herself.--Robert Martin and Harriet Smith, the latest couple engaged of\r
-the three, were the first to be married.\r
-\r
-Jane Fairfax had already quitted Highbury, and was restored to the\r
-comforts of her beloved home with the Campbells.--The Mr. Churchills\r
-were also in town; and they were only waiting for November.\r
-\r
-The intermediate month was the one fixed on, as far as they dared, by\r
-Emma and Mr. Knightley.--They had determined that their marriage ought\r
-to be concluded while John and Isabella were still at Hartfield, to\r
-allow them the fortnight’s absence in a tour to the seaside, which was\r
-the plan.--John and Isabella, and every other friend, were agreed in\r
-approving it. But Mr. Woodhouse--how was Mr. Woodhouse to be induced\r
-to consent?--he, who had never yet alluded to their marriage but as a\r
-distant event.\r
-\r
-When first sounded on the subject, he was so miserable, that they were\r
-almost hopeless.--A second allusion, indeed, gave less pain.--He\r
-began to think it was to be, and that he could not prevent it--a very\r
-promising step of the mind on its way to resignation. Still, however, he\r
-was not happy. Nay, he appeared so much otherwise, that his daughter’s\r
-courage failed. She could not bear to see him suffering, to know\r
-him fancying himself neglected; and though her understanding almost\r
-acquiesced in the assurance of both the Mr. Knightleys, that when\r
-once the event were over, his distress would be soon over too, she\r
-hesitated--she could not proceed.\r
-\r
-In this state of suspense they were befriended, not by any sudden\r
-illumination of Mr. Woodhouse’s mind, or any wonderful change of his\r
-nervous system, but by the operation of the same system in another\r
-way.--Mrs. Weston’s poultry-house was robbed one night of all her\r
-turkeys--evidently by the ingenuity of man. Other poultry-yards in\r
-the neighbourhood also suffered.--Pilfering was _housebreaking_ to Mr.\r
-Woodhouse’s fears.--He was very uneasy; and but for the sense of his\r
-son-in-law’s protection, would have been under wretched alarm every\r
-night of his life. The strength, resolution, and presence of mind of the\r
-Mr. Knightleys, commanded his fullest dependence. While either of them\r
-protected him and his, Hartfield was safe.--But Mr. John Knightley must\r
-be in London again by the end of the first week in November.\r
-\r
-The result of this distress was, that, with a much more voluntary,\r
-cheerful consent than his daughter had ever presumed to hope for at the\r
-moment, she was able to fix her wedding-day--and Mr. Elton was called\r
-on, within a month from the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Martin, to\r
-join the hands of Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse.\r
-\r
-The wedding was very much like other weddings, where the parties have\r
-no taste for finery or parade; and Mrs. Elton, from the particulars\r
-detailed by her husband, thought it all extremely shabby, and very\r
-inferior to her own.--“Very little white satin, very few lace veils; a\r
-most pitiful business!--Selina would stare when she heard of it.”--But,\r
-in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes, the hopes, the confidence,\r
-the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the\r
-ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union.\r
-\r
-\r
-\r
-FINIS\r
+EMMA
+
+By Jane Austen
+
+
+
+
+VOLUME I
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home
+and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of
+existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very
+little to distress or vex her.
+
+She was the youngest of the two daughters of a most affectionate,
+indulgent father; and had, in consequence of her sister’s marriage, been
+mistress of his house from a very early period. Her mother had died
+too long ago for her to have more than an indistinct remembrance of
+her caresses; and her place had been supplied by an excellent woman as
+governess, who had fallen little short of a mother in affection.
+
+Sixteen years had Miss Taylor been in Mr. Woodhouse’s family, less as a
+governess than a friend, very fond of both daughters, but particularly
+of Emma. Between _them_ it was more the intimacy of sisters. Even before
+Miss Taylor had ceased to hold the nominal office of governess, the
+mildness of her temper had hardly allowed her to impose any restraint;
+and the shadow of authority being now long passed away, they had been
+living together as friend and friend very mutually attached, and Emma
+doing just what she liked; highly esteeming Miss Taylor’s judgment, but
+directed chiefly by her own.
+
+The real evils, indeed, of Emma’s situation were the power of having
+rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little too
+well of herself; these were the disadvantages which threatened alloy to
+her many enjoyments. The danger, however, was at present so unperceived,
+that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes with her.
+
+Sorrow came--a gentle sorrow--but not at all in the shape of any
+disagreeable consciousness.--Miss Taylor married. It was Miss Taylor’s
+loss which first brought grief. It was on the wedding-day of this
+beloved friend that Emma first sat in mournful thought of any
+continuance. The wedding over, and the bride-people gone, her father and
+herself were left to dine together, with no prospect of a third to cheer
+a long evening. Her father composed himself to sleep after dinner, as
+usual, and she had then only to sit and think of what she had lost.
+
+The event had every promise of happiness for her friend. Mr. Weston
+was a man of unexceptionable character, easy fortune, suitable age, and
+pleasant manners; and there was some satisfaction in considering
+with what self-denying, generous friendship she had always wished and
+promoted the match; but it was a black morning’s work for her. The want
+of Miss Taylor would be felt every hour of every day. She recalled her
+past kindness--the kindness, the affection of sixteen years--how she had
+taught and how she had played with her from five years old--how she had
+devoted all her powers to attach and amuse her in health--and how
+nursed her through the various illnesses of childhood. A large debt of
+gratitude was owing here; but the intercourse of the last seven
+years, the equal footing and perfect unreserve which had soon followed
+Isabella’s marriage, on their being left to each other, was yet a
+dearer, tenderer recollection. She had been a friend and companion such
+as few possessed: intelligent, well-informed, useful, gentle, knowing
+all the ways of the family, interested in all its concerns, and
+peculiarly interested in herself, in every pleasure, every scheme of
+hers--one to whom she could speak every thought as it arose, and who had
+such an affection for her as could never find fault.
+
+How was she to bear the change?--It was true that her friend was going
+only half a mile from them; but Emma was aware that great must be the
+difference between a Mrs. Weston, only half a mile from them, and a Miss
+Taylor in the house; and with all her advantages, natural and domestic,
+she was now in great danger of suffering from intellectual solitude. She
+dearly loved her father, but he was no companion for her. He could not
+meet her in conversation, rational or playful.
+
+The evil of the actual disparity in their ages (and Mr. Woodhouse had
+not married early) was much increased by his constitution and habits;
+for having been a valetudinarian all his life, without activity of
+mind or body, he was a much older man in ways than in years; and though
+everywhere beloved for the friendliness of his heart and his amiable
+temper, his talents could not have recommended him at any time.
+
+Her sister, though comparatively but little removed by matrimony, being
+settled in London, only sixteen miles off, was much beyond her daily
+reach; and many a long October and November evening must be struggled
+through at Hartfield, before Christmas brought the next visit from
+Isabella and her husband, and their little children, to fill the house,
+and give her pleasant society again.
+
+Highbury, the large and populous village, almost amounting to a town,
+to which Hartfield, in spite of its separate lawn, and shrubberies, and
+name, did really belong, afforded her no equals. The Woodhouses
+were first in consequence there. All looked up to them. She had many
+acquaintance in the place, for her father was universally civil, but
+not one among them who could be accepted in lieu of Miss Taylor for even
+half a day. It was a melancholy change; and Emma could not but sigh over
+it, and wish for impossible things, till her father awoke, and made it
+necessary to be cheerful. His spirits required support. He was a nervous
+man, easily depressed; fond of every body that he was used to, and
+hating to part with them; hating change of every kind. Matrimony, as the
+origin of change, was always disagreeable; and he was by no means yet
+reconciled to his own daughter’s marrying, nor could ever speak of her
+but with compassion, though it had been entirely a match of affection,
+when he was now obliged to part with Miss Taylor too; and from his
+habits of gentle selfishness, and of being never able to suppose that
+other people could feel differently from himself, he was very much
+disposed to think Miss Taylor had done as sad a thing for herself as for
+them, and would have been a great deal happier if she had spent all the
+rest of her life at Hartfield. Emma smiled and chatted as cheerfully
+as she could, to keep him from such thoughts; but when tea came, it was
+impossible for him not to say exactly as he had said at dinner,
+
+“Poor Miss Taylor!--I wish she were here again. What a pity it is that
+Mr. Weston ever thought of her!”
+
+“I cannot agree with you, papa; you know I cannot. Mr. Weston is such
+a good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man, that he thoroughly deserves
+a good wife;--and you would not have had Miss Taylor live with us for
+ever, and bear all my odd humours, when she might have a house of her
+own?”
+
+“A house of her own!--But where is the advantage of a house of her own?
+This is three times as large.--And you have never any odd humours, my
+dear.”
+
+“How often we shall be going to see them, and they coming to see us!--We
+shall be always meeting! _We_ must begin; we must go and pay wedding
+visit very soon.”
+
+“My dear, how am I to get so far? Randalls is such a distance. I could
+not walk half so far.”
+
+“No, papa, nobody thought of your walking. We must go in the carriage,
+to be sure.”
+
+“The carriage! But James will not like to put the horses to for such a
+little way;--and where are the poor horses to be while we are paying our
+visit?”
+
+“They are to be put into Mr. Weston’s stable, papa. You know we have
+settled all that already. We talked it all over with Mr. Weston last
+night. And as for James, you may be very sure he will always like going
+to Randalls, because of his daughter’s being housemaid there. I only
+doubt whether he will ever take us anywhere else. That was your doing,
+papa. You got Hannah that good place. Nobody thought of Hannah till you
+mentioned her--James is so obliged to you!”
+
+“I am very glad I did think of her. It was very lucky, for I would not
+have had poor James think himself slighted upon any account; and I am
+sure she will make a very good servant: she is a civil, pretty-spoken
+girl; I have a great opinion of her. Whenever I see her, she always
+curtseys and asks me how I do, in a very pretty manner; and when you
+have had her here to do needlework, I observe she always turns the lock
+of the door the right way and never bangs it. I am sure she will be an
+excellent servant; and it will be a great comfort to poor Miss Taylor
+to have somebody about her that she is used to see. Whenever James goes
+over to see his daughter, you know, she will be hearing of us. He will
+be able to tell her how we all are.”
+
+Emma spared no exertions to maintain this happier flow of ideas, and
+hoped, by the help of backgammon, to get her father tolerably
+through the evening, and be attacked by no regrets but her own. The
+backgammon-table was placed; but a visitor immediately afterwards walked
+in and made it unnecessary.
+
+Mr. Knightley, a sensible man about seven or eight-and-thirty, was not
+only a very old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly
+connected with it, as the elder brother of Isabella’s husband. He lived
+about a mile from Highbury, was a frequent visitor, and always welcome,
+and at this time more welcome than usual, as coming directly from their
+mutual connexions in London. He had returned to a late dinner, after
+some days’ absence, and now walked up to Hartfield to say that all were
+well in Brunswick Square. It was a happy circumstance, and animated
+Mr. Woodhouse for some time. Mr. Knightley had a cheerful manner, which
+always did him good; and his many inquiries after “poor Isabella” and
+her children were answered most satisfactorily. When this was over, Mr.
+Woodhouse gratefully observed, “It is very kind of you, Mr. Knightley,
+to come out at this late hour to call upon us. I am afraid you must have
+had a shocking walk.”
+
+“Not at all, sir. It is a beautiful moonlight night; and so mild that I
+must draw back from your great fire.”
+
+“But you must have found it very damp and dirty. I wish you may not
+catch cold.”
+
+“Dirty, sir! Look at my shoes. Not a speck on them.”
+
+“Well! that is quite surprising, for we have had a vast deal of rain
+here. It rained dreadfully hard for half an hour while we were at
+breakfast. I wanted them to put off the wedding.”
+
+“By the bye--I have not wished you joy. Being pretty well aware of what
+sort of joy you must both be feeling, I have been in no hurry with my
+congratulations; but I hope it all went off tolerably well. How did you
+all behave? Who cried most?”
+
+“Ah! poor Miss Taylor! ‘Tis a sad business.”
+
+“Poor Mr. and Miss Woodhouse, if you please; but I cannot possibly say
+‘poor Miss Taylor.’ I have a great regard for you and Emma; but when it
+comes to the question of dependence or independence!--At any rate, it
+must be better to have only one to please than two.”
+
+“Especially when _one_ of those two is such a fanciful, troublesome
+creature!” said Emma playfully. “That is what you have in your head, I
+know--and what you would certainly say if my father were not by.”
+
+“I believe it is very true, my dear, indeed,” said Mr. Woodhouse, with a
+sigh. “I am afraid I am sometimes very fanciful and troublesome.”
+
+“My dearest papa! You do not think I could mean _you_, or suppose Mr.
+Knightley to mean _you_. What a horrible idea! Oh no! I meant only
+myself. Mr. Knightley loves to find fault with me, you know--in a
+joke--it is all a joke. We always say what we like to one another.”
+
+Mr. Knightley, in fact, was one of the few people who could see faults
+in Emma Woodhouse, and the only one who ever told her of them: and
+though this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself, she knew
+it would be so much less so to her father, that she would not have him
+really suspect such a circumstance as her not being thought perfect by
+every body.
+
+“Emma knows I never flatter her,” said Mr. Knightley, “but I meant no
+reflection on any body. Miss Taylor has been used to have two persons
+to please; she will now have but one. The chances are that she must be a
+gainer.”
+
+“Well,” said Emma, willing to let it pass--“you want to hear about
+the wedding; and I shall be happy to tell you, for we all behaved
+charmingly. Every body was punctual, every body in their best looks: not
+a tear, and hardly a long face to be seen. Oh no; we all felt that we
+were going to be only half a mile apart, and were sure of meeting every
+day.”
+
+“Dear Emma bears every thing so well,” said her father. “But, Mr.
+Knightley, she is really very sorry to lose poor Miss Taylor, and I am
+sure she _will_ miss her more than she thinks for.”
+
+Emma turned away her head, divided between tears and smiles. “It
+is impossible that Emma should not miss such a companion,” said Mr.
+Knightley. “We should not like her so well as we do, sir, if we could
+suppose it; but she knows how much the marriage is to Miss Taylor’s
+advantage; she knows how very acceptable it must be, at Miss Taylor’s
+time of life, to be settled in a home of her own, and how important to
+her to be secure of a comfortable provision, and therefore cannot allow
+herself to feel so much pain as pleasure. Every friend of Miss Taylor
+must be glad to have her so happily married.”
+
+“And you have forgotten one matter of joy to me,” said Emma, “and a very
+considerable one--that I made the match myself. I made the match, you
+know, four years ago; and to have it take place, and be proved in the
+right, when so many people said Mr. Weston would never marry again, may
+comfort me for any thing.”
+
+Mr. Knightley shook his head at her. Her father fondly replied, “Ah!
+my dear, I wish you would not make matches and foretell things, for
+whatever you say always comes to pass. Pray do not make any more
+matches.”
+
+“I promise you to make none for myself, papa; but I must, indeed, for
+other people. It is the greatest amusement in the world! And after such
+success, you know!--Every body said that Mr. Weston would never marry
+again. Oh dear, no! Mr. Weston, who had been a widower so long, and who
+seemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife, so constantly occupied
+either in his business in town or among his friends here, always
+acceptable wherever he went, always cheerful--Mr. Weston need not spend
+a single evening in the year alone if he did not like it. Oh no! Mr.
+Weston certainly would never marry again. Some people even talked of a
+promise to his wife on her deathbed, and others of the son and the
+uncle not letting him. All manner of solemn nonsense was talked on the
+subject, but I believed none of it.
+
+“Ever since the day--about four years ago--that Miss Taylor and I met
+with him in Broadway Lane, when, because it began to drizzle, he darted
+away with so much gallantry, and borrowed two umbrellas for us from
+Farmer Mitchell’s, I made up my mind on the subject. I planned the match
+from that hour; and when such success has blessed me in this instance,
+dear papa, you cannot think that I shall leave off match-making.”
+
+“I do not understand what you mean by ‘success,’” said Mr. Knightley.
+“Success supposes endeavour. Your time has been properly and delicately
+spent, if you have been endeavouring for the last four years to bring
+about this marriage. A worthy employment for a young lady’s mind! But
+if, which I rather imagine, your making the match, as you call it, means
+only your planning it, your saying to yourself one idle day, ‘I think it
+would be a very good thing for Miss Taylor if Mr. Weston were to marry
+her,’ and saying it again to yourself every now and then afterwards, why
+do you talk of success? Where is your merit? What are you proud of? You
+made a lucky guess; and _that_ is all that can be said.”
+
+“And have you never known the pleasure and triumph of a lucky guess?--I
+pity you.--I thought you cleverer--for, depend upon it a lucky guess is
+never merely luck. There is always some talent in it. And as to my
+poor word ‘success,’ which you quarrel with, I do not know that I am so
+entirely without any claim to it. You have drawn two pretty pictures;
+but I think there may be a third--a something between the do-nothing and
+the do-all. If I had not promoted Mr. Weston’s visits here, and given
+many little encouragements, and smoothed many little matters, it might
+not have come to any thing after all. I think you must know Hartfield
+enough to comprehend that.”
+
+“A straightforward, open-hearted man like Weston, and a rational,
+unaffected woman like Miss Taylor, may be safely left to manage their
+own concerns. You are more likely to have done harm to yourself, than
+good to them, by interference.”
+
+“Emma never thinks of herself, if she can do good to others,” rejoined
+Mr. Woodhouse, understanding but in part. “But, my dear, pray do not
+make any more matches; they are silly things, and break up one’s family
+circle grievously.”
+
+“Only one more, papa; only for Mr. Elton. Poor Mr. Elton! You like Mr.
+Elton, papa,--I must look about for a wife for him. There is nobody in
+Highbury who deserves him--and he has been here a whole year, and has
+fitted up his house so comfortably, that it would be a shame to have him
+single any longer--and I thought when he was joining their hands to-day,
+he looked so very much as if he would like to have the same kind office
+done for him! I think very well of Mr. Elton, and this is the only way I
+have of doing him a service.”
+
+“Mr. Elton is a very pretty young man, to be sure, and a very good young
+man, and I have a great regard for him. But if you want to shew him any
+attention, my dear, ask him to come and dine with us some day. That will
+be a much better thing. I dare say Mr. Knightley will be so kind as to
+meet him.”
+
+“With a great deal of pleasure, sir, at any time,” said Mr. Knightley,
+laughing, “and I agree with you entirely, that it will be a much better
+thing. Invite him to dinner, Emma, and help him to the best of the fish
+and the chicken, but leave him to chuse his own wife. Depend upon it, a
+man of six or seven-and-twenty can take care of himself.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Mr. Weston was a native of Highbury, and born of a respectable family,
+which for the last two or three generations had been rising into
+gentility and property. He had received a good education, but, on
+succeeding early in life to a small independence, had become indisposed
+for any of the more homely pursuits in which his brothers were engaged,
+and had satisfied an active, cheerful mind and social temper by entering
+into the militia of his county, then embodied.
+
+Captain Weston was a general favourite; and when the chances of his
+military life had introduced him to Miss Churchill, of a great Yorkshire
+family, and Miss Churchill fell in love with him, nobody was surprized,
+except her brother and his wife, who had never seen him, and who were
+full of pride and importance, which the connexion would offend.
+
+Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command of her
+fortune--though her fortune bore no proportion to the family-estate--was
+not to be dissuaded from the marriage, and it took place, to the
+infinite mortification of Mr. and Mrs. Churchill, who threw her off with
+due decorum. It was an unsuitable connexion, and did not produce much
+happiness. Mrs. Weston ought to have found more in it, for she had a
+husband whose warm heart and sweet temper made him think every thing due
+to her in return for the great goodness of being in love with him;
+but though she had one sort of spirit, she had not the best. She had
+resolution enough to pursue her own will in spite of her brother,
+but not enough to refrain from unreasonable regrets at that brother’s
+unreasonable anger, nor from missing the luxuries of her former home.
+They lived beyond their income, but still it was nothing in comparison
+of Enscombe: she did not cease to love her husband, but she wanted at
+once to be the wife of Captain Weston, and Miss Churchill of Enscombe.
+
+Captain Weston, who had been considered, especially by the Churchills,
+as making such an amazing match, was proved to have much the worst of
+the bargain; for when his wife died, after a three years’ marriage, he
+was rather a poorer man than at first, and with a child to maintain.
+From the expense of the child, however, he was soon relieved. The boy
+had, with the additional softening claim of a lingering illness of his
+mother’s, been the means of a sort of reconciliation; and Mr. and Mrs.
+Churchill, having no children of their own, nor any other young creature
+of equal kindred to care for, offered to take the whole charge of the
+little Frank soon after her decease. Some scruples and some reluctance
+the widower-father may be supposed to have felt; but as they were
+overcome by other considerations, the child was given up to the care and
+the wealth of the Churchills, and he had only his own comfort to seek,
+and his own situation to improve as he could.
+
+A complete change of life became desirable. He quitted the militia and
+engaged in trade, having brothers already established in a good way in
+London, which afforded him a favourable opening. It was a concern which
+brought just employment enough. He had still a small house in Highbury,
+where most of his leisure days were spent; and between useful occupation
+and the pleasures of society, the next eighteen or twenty years of his
+life passed cheerfully away. He had, by that time, realised an easy
+competence--enough to secure the purchase of a little estate adjoining
+Highbury, which he had always longed for--enough to marry a woman as
+portionless even as Miss Taylor, and to live according to the wishes of
+his own friendly and social disposition.
+
+It was now some time since Miss Taylor had begun to influence his
+schemes; but as it was not the tyrannic influence of youth on youth,
+it had not shaken his determination of never settling till he could
+purchase Randalls, and the sale of Randalls was long looked forward to;
+but he had gone steadily on, with these objects in view, till they were
+accomplished. He had made his fortune, bought his house, and obtained
+his wife; and was beginning a new period of existence, with every
+probability of greater happiness than in any yet passed through. He had
+never been an unhappy man; his own temper had secured him from that,
+even in his first marriage; but his second must shew him how delightful
+a well-judging and truly amiable woman could be, and must give him the
+pleasantest proof of its being a great deal better to choose than to be
+chosen, to excite gratitude than to feel it.
+
+He had only himself to please in his choice: his fortune was his own;
+for as to Frank, it was more than being tacitly brought up as his
+uncle’s heir, it had become so avowed an adoption as to have him assume
+the name of Churchill on coming of age. It was most unlikely, therefore,
+that he should ever want his father’s assistance. His father had no
+apprehension of it. The aunt was a capricious woman, and governed her
+husband entirely; but it was not in Mr. Weston’s nature to imagine that
+any caprice could be strong enough to affect one so dear, and, as he
+believed, so deservedly dear. He saw his son every year in London, and
+was proud of him; and his fond report of him as a very fine young man
+had made Highbury feel a sort of pride in him too. He was looked on as
+sufficiently belonging to the place to make his merits and prospects a
+kind of common concern.
+
+Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a lively
+curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so little
+returned that he had never been there in his life. His coming to visit
+his father had been often talked of but never achieved.
+
+Now, upon his father’s marriage, it was very generally proposed, as a
+most proper attention, that the visit should take place. There was not a
+dissentient voice on the subject, either when Mrs. Perry drank tea with
+Mrs. and Miss Bates, or when Mrs. and Miss Bates returned the visit. Now
+was the time for Mr. Frank Churchill to come among them; and the hope
+strengthened when it was understood that he had written to his new
+mother on the occasion. For a few days, every morning visit in Highbury
+included some mention of the handsome letter Mrs. Weston had received.
+“I suppose you have heard of the handsome letter Mr. Frank Churchill
+has written to Mrs. Weston? I understand it was a very handsome letter,
+indeed. Mr. Woodhouse told me of it. Mr. Woodhouse saw the letter, and
+he says he never saw such a handsome letter in his life.”
+
+It was, indeed, a highly prized letter. Mrs. Weston had, of course,
+formed a very favourable idea of the young man; and such a pleasing
+attention was an irresistible proof of his great good sense, and a most
+welcome addition to every source and every expression of congratulation
+which her marriage had already secured. She felt herself a most
+fortunate woman; and she had lived long enough to know how fortunate
+she might well be thought, where the only regret was for a partial
+separation from friends whose friendship for her had never cooled, and
+who could ill bear to part with her.
+
+She knew that at times she must be missed; and could not think, without
+pain, of Emma’s losing a single pleasure, or suffering an hour’s ennui,
+from the want of her companionableness: but dear Emma was of no feeble
+character; she was more equal to her situation than most girls would
+have been, and had sense, and energy, and spirits that might be hoped
+would bear her well and happily through its little difficulties and
+privations. And then there was such comfort in the very easy distance of
+Randalls from Hartfield, so convenient for even solitary female walking,
+and in Mr. Weston’s disposition and circumstances, which would make the
+approaching season no hindrance to their spending half the evenings in
+the week together.
+
+Her situation was altogether the subject of hours of gratitude to Mrs.
+Weston, and of moments only of regret; and her satisfaction--her more
+than satisfaction--her cheerful enjoyment, was so just and so apparent,
+that Emma, well as she knew her father, was sometimes taken by surprize
+at his being still able to pity ‘poor Miss Taylor,’ when they left her
+at Randalls in the centre of every domestic comfort, or saw her go away
+in the evening attended by her pleasant husband to a carriage of her
+own. But never did she go without Mr. Woodhouse’s giving a gentle sigh,
+and saying, “Ah, poor Miss Taylor! She would be very glad to stay.”
+
+There was no recovering Miss Taylor--nor much likelihood of ceasing to
+pity her; but a few weeks brought some alleviation to Mr. Woodhouse.
+The compliments of his neighbours were over; he was no longer teased by
+being wished joy of so sorrowful an event; and the wedding-cake, which
+had been a great distress to him, was all eat up. His own stomach
+could bear nothing rich, and he could never believe other people to be
+different from himself. What was unwholesome to him he regarded as unfit
+for any body; and he had, therefore, earnestly tried to dissuade them
+from having any wedding-cake at all, and when that proved vain, as
+earnestly tried to prevent any body’s eating it. He had been at the
+pains of consulting Mr. Perry, the apothecary, on the subject. Mr. Perry
+was an intelligent, gentlemanlike man, whose frequent visits were one
+of the comforts of Mr. Woodhouse’s life; and upon being applied to, he
+could not but acknowledge (though it seemed rather against the bias
+of inclination) that wedding-cake might certainly disagree with
+many--perhaps with most people, unless taken moderately. With such an
+opinion, in confirmation of his own, Mr. Woodhouse hoped to influence
+every visitor of the newly married pair; but still the cake was eaten;
+and there was no rest for his benevolent nerves till it was all gone.
+
+There was a strange rumour in Highbury of all the little Perrys being
+seen with a slice of Mrs. Weston’s wedding-cake in their hands: but Mr.
+Woodhouse would never believe it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Mr. Woodhouse was fond of society in his own way. He liked very much to
+have his friends come and see him; and from various united causes, from
+his long residence at Hartfield, and his good nature, from his fortune,
+his house, and his daughter, he could command the visits of his
+own little circle, in a great measure, as he liked. He had not much
+intercourse with any families beyond that circle; his horror of late
+hours, and large dinner-parties, made him unfit for any acquaintance but
+such as would visit him on his own terms. Fortunately for him, Highbury,
+including Randalls in the same parish, and Donwell Abbey in the parish
+adjoining, the seat of Mr. Knightley, comprehended many such. Not
+unfrequently, through Emma’s persuasion, he had some of the chosen and
+the best to dine with him: but evening parties were what he preferred;
+and, unless he fancied himself at any time unequal to company, there
+was scarcely an evening in the week in which Emma could not make up a
+card-table for him.
+
+Real, long-standing regard brought the Westons and Mr. Knightley; and by
+Mr. Elton, a young man living alone without liking it, the privilege
+of exchanging any vacant evening of his own blank solitude for the
+elegancies and society of Mr. Woodhouse’s drawing-room, and the smiles
+of his lovely daughter, was in no danger of being thrown away.
+
+After these came a second set; among the most come-at-able of whom were
+Mrs. and Miss Bates, and Mrs. Goddard, three ladies almost always at
+the service of an invitation from Hartfield, and who were fetched and
+carried home so often, that Mr. Woodhouse thought it no hardship for
+either James or the horses. Had it taken place only once a year, it
+would have been a grievance.
+
+Mrs. Bates, the widow of a former vicar of Highbury, was a very old
+lady, almost past every thing but tea and quadrille. She lived with her
+single daughter in a very small way, and was considered with all the
+regard and respect which a harmless old lady, under such untoward
+circumstances, can excite. Her daughter enjoyed a most uncommon degree
+of popularity for a woman neither young, handsome, rich, nor married.
+Miss Bates stood in the very worst predicament in the world for having
+much of the public favour; and she had no intellectual superiority to
+make atonement to herself, or frighten those who might hate her into
+outward respect. She had never boasted either beauty or cleverness. Her
+youth had passed without distinction, and her middle of life was devoted
+to the care of a failing mother, and the endeavour to make a small
+income go as far as possible. And yet she was a happy woman, and a woman
+whom no one named without good-will. It was her own universal good-will
+and contented temper which worked such wonders. She loved every body,
+was interested in every body’s happiness, quicksighted to every body’s
+merits; thought herself a most fortunate creature, and surrounded with
+blessings in such an excellent mother, and so many good neighbours
+and friends, and a home that wanted for nothing. The simplicity and
+cheerfulness of her nature, her contented and grateful spirit, were a
+recommendation to every body, and a mine of felicity to herself. She was
+a great talker upon little matters, which exactly suited Mr. Woodhouse,
+full of trivial communications and harmless gossip.
+
+Mrs. Goddard was the mistress of a School--not of a seminary, or an
+establishment, or any thing which professed, in long sentences of
+refined nonsense, to combine liberal acquirements with elegant morality,
+upon new principles and new systems--and where young ladies for enormous
+pay might be screwed out of health and into vanity--but a real,
+honest, old-fashioned Boarding-school, where a reasonable quantity of
+accomplishments were sold at a reasonable price, and where girls might
+be sent to be out of the way, and scramble themselves into a little
+education, without any danger of coming back prodigies. Mrs. Goddard’s
+school was in high repute--and very deservedly; for Highbury was
+reckoned a particularly healthy spot: she had an ample house and garden,
+gave the children plenty of wholesome food, let them run about a great
+deal in the summer, and in winter dressed their chilblains with her own
+hands. It was no wonder that a train of twenty young couple now walked
+after her to church. She was a plain, motherly kind of woman, who
+had worked hard in her youth, and now thought herself entitled to the
+occasional holiday of a tea-visit; and having formerly owed much to Mr.
+Woodhouse’s kindness, felt his particular claim on her to leave her neat
+parlour, hung round with fancy-work, whenever she could, and win or lose
+a few sixpences by his fireside.
+
+These were the ladies whom Emma found herself very frequently able to
+collect; and happy was she, for her father’s sake, in the power; though,
+as far as she was herself concerned, it was no remedy for the absence of
+Mrs. Weston. She was delighted to see her father look comfortable, and
+very much pleased with herself for contriving things so well; but the
+quiet prosings of three such women made her feel that every evening so
+spent was indeed one of the long evenings she had fearfully anticipated.
+
+As she sat one morning, looking forward to exactly such a close of the
+present day, a note was brought from Mrs. Goddard, requesting, in most
+respectful terms, to be allowed to bring Miss Smith with her; a most
+welcome request: for Miss Smith was a girl of seventeen, whom Emma knew
+very well by sight, and had long felt an interest in, on account of
+her beauty. A very gracious invitation was returned, and the evening no
+longer dreaded by the fair mistress of the mansion.
+
+Harriet Smith was the natural daughter of somebody. Somebody had placed
+her, several years back, at Mrs. Goddard’s school, and somebody
+had lately raised her from the condition of scholar to that of
+parlour-boarder. This was all that was generally known of her history.
+She had no visible friends but what had been acquired at Highbury, and
+was now just returned from a long visit in the country to some young
+ladies who had been at school there with her.
+
+She was a very pretty girl, and her beauty happened to be of a sort
+which Emma particularly admired. She was short, plump, and fair, with a
+fine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features, and a look of great
+sweetness, and, before the end of the evening, Emma was as much pleased
+with her manners as her person, and quite determined to continue the
+acquaintance.
+
+She was not struck by any thing remarkably clever in Miss Smith’s
+conversation, but she found her altogether very engaging--not
+inconveniently shy, not unwilling to talk--and yet so far from pushing,
+shewing so proper and becoming a deference, seeming so pleasantly
+grateful for being admitted to Hartfield, and so artlessly impressed
+by the appearance of every thing in so superior a style to what she had
+been used to, that she must have good sense, and deserve encouragement.
+Encouragement should be given. Those soft blue eyes, and all those
+natural graces, should not be wasted on the inferior society of Highbury
+and its connexions. The acquaintance she had already formed were
+unworthy of her. The friends from whom she had just parted, though very
+good sort of people, must be doing her harm. They were a family of the
+name of Martin, whom Emma well knew by character, as renting a large
+farm of Mr. Knightley, and residing in the parish of Donwell--very
+creditably, she believed--she knew Mr. Knightley thought highly of
+them--but they must be coarse and unpolished, and very unfit to be the
+intimates of a girl who wanted only a little more knowledge and elegance
+to be quite perfect. _She_ would notice her; she would improve her; she
+would detach her from her bad acquaintance, and introduce her into good
+society; she would form her opinions and her manners. It would be an
+interesting, and certainly a very kind undertaking; highly becoming her
+own situation in life, her leisure, and powers.
+
+She was so busy in admiring those soft blue eyes, in talking and
+listening, and forming all these schemes in the in-betweens, that the
+evening flew away at a very unusual rate; and the supper-table, which
+always closed such parties, and for which she had been used to sit and
+watch the due time, was all set out and ready, and moved forwards to the
+fire, before she was aware. With an alacrity beyond the common impulse
+of a spirit which yet was never indifferent to the credit of doing every
+thing well and attentively, with the real good-will of a mind delighted
+with its own ideas, did she then do all the honours of the meal, and
+help and recommend the minced chicken and scalloped oysters, with an
+urgency which she knew would be acceptable to the early hours and civil
+scruples of their guests.
+
+Upon such occasions poor Mr. Woodhouse’s feelings were in sad warfare.
+He loved to have the cloth laid, because it had been the fashion of his
+youth, but his conviction of suppers being very unwholesome made him
+rather sorry to see any thing put on it; and while his hospitality would
+have welcomed his visitors to every thing, his care for their health
+made him grieve that they would eat.
+
+Such another small basin of thin gruel as his own was all that he could,
+with thorough self-approbation, recommend; though he might constrain
+himself, while the ladies were comfortably clearing the nicer things, to
+say:
+
+“Mrs. Bates, let me propose your venturing on one of these eggs. An egg
+boiled very soft is not unwholesome. Serle understands boiling an egg
+better than any body. I would not recommend an egg boiled by any body
+else; but you need not be afraid, they are very small, you see--one of
+our small eggs will not hurt you. Miss Bates, let Emma help you to a
+_little_ bit of tart--a _very_ little bit. Ours are all apple-tarts. You
+need not be afraid of unwholesome preserves here. I do not advise the
+custard. Mrs. Goddard, what say you to _half_ a glass of wine? A
+_small_ half-glass, put into a tumbler of water? I do not think it could
+disagree with you.”
+
+Emma allowed her father to talk--but supplied her visitors in a much
+more satisfactory style, and on the present evening had particular
+pleasure in sending them away happy. The happiness of Miss Smith was
+quite equal to her intentions. Miss Woodhouse was so great a personage
+in Highbury, that the prospect of the introduction had given as much
+panic as pleasure; but the humble, grateful little girl went off with
+highly gratified feelings, delighted with the affability with which Miss
+Woodhouse had treated her all the evening, and actually shaken hands
+with her at last!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Harriet Smith’s intimacy at Hartfield was soon a settled thing. Quick
+and decided in her ways, Emma lost no time in inviting, encouraging, and
+telling her to come very often; and as their acquaintance increased, so
+did their satisfaction in each other. As a walking companion, Emma had
+very early foreseen how useful she might find her. In that respect
+Mrs. Weston’s loss had been important. Her father never went beyond the
+shrubbery, where two divisions of the ground sufficed him for his long
+walk, or his short, as the year varied; and since Mrs. Weston’s marriage
+her exercise had been too much confined. She had ventured once alone to
+Randalls, but it was not pleasant; and a Harriet Smith, therefore,
+one whom she could summon at any time to a walk, would be a valuable
+addition to her privileges. But in every respect, as she saw more of
+her, she approved her, and was confirmed in all her kind designs.
+
+Harriet certainly was not clever, but she had a sweet, docile, grateful
+disposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring to be
+guided by any one she looked up to. Her early attachment to herself
+was very amiable; and her inclination for good company, and power of
+appreciating what was elegant and clever, shewed that there was no
+want of taste, though strength of understanding must not be expected.
+Altogether she was quite convinced of Harriet Smith’s being exactly the
+young friend she wanted--exactly the something which her home required.
+Such a friend as Mrs. Weston was out of the question. Two such could
+never be granted. Two such she did not want. It was quite a different
+sort of thing, a sentiment distinct and independent. Mrs. Weston was the
+object of a regard which had its basis in gratitude and esteem. Harriet
+would be loved as one to whom she could be useful. For Mrs. Weston there
+was nothing to be done; for Harriet every thing.
+
+Her first attempts at usefulness were in an endeavour to find out who
+were the parents, but Harriet could not tell. She was ready to tell
+every thing in her power, but on this subject questions were vain. Emma
+was obliged to fancy what she liked--but she could never believe that in
+the same situation _she_ should not have discovered the truth. Harriet
+had no penetration. She had been satisfied to hear and believe just what
+Mrs. Goddard chose to tell her; and looked no farther.
+
+Mrs. Goddard, and the teachers, and the girls and the affairs of
+the school in general, formed naturally a great part of the
+conversation--and but for her acquaintance with the Martins of
+Abbey-Mill Farm, it must have been the whole. But the Martins occupied
+her thoughts a good deal; she had spent two very happy months with them,
+and now loved to talk of the pleasures of her visit, and describe
+the many comforts and wonders of the place. Emma encouraged her
+talkativeness--amused by such a picture of another set of beings,
+and enjoying the youthful simplicity which could speak with so much
+exultation of Mrs. Martin’s having “_two_ parlours, two very good
+parlours, indeed; one of them quite as large as Mrs. Goddard’s
+drawing-room; and of her having an upper maid who had lived
+five-and-twenty years with her; and of their having eight cows, two of
+them Alderneys, and one a little Welch cow, a very pretty little Welch
+cow indeed; and of Mrs. Martin’s saying as she was so fond of it,
+it should be called _her_ cow; and of their having a very handsome
+summer-house in their garden, where some day next year they were all to
+drink tea:--a very handsome summer-house, large enough to hold a dozen
+people.”
+
+For some time she was amused, without thinking beyond the immediate
+cause; but as she came to understand the family better, other feelings
+arose. She had taken up a wrong idea, fancying it was a mother and
+daughter, a son and son’s wife, who all lived together; but when it
+appeared that the Mr. Martin, who bore a part in the narrative, and was
+always mentioned with approbation for his great good-nature in doing
+something or other, was a single man; that there was no young Mrs.
+Martin, no wife in the case; she did suspect danger to her poor little
+friend from all this hospitality and kindness, and that, if she were not
+taken care of, she might be required to sink herself forever.
+
+With this inspiriting notion, her questions increased in number and
+meaning; and she particularly led Harriet to talk more of Mr. Martin,
+and there was evidently no dislike to it. Harriet was very ready to
+speak of the share he had had in their moonlight walks and merry evening
+games; and dwelt a good deal upon his being so very good-humoured and
+obliging. He had gone three miles round one day in order to bring her
+some walnuts, because she had said how fond she was of them, and in
+every thing else he was so very obliging. He had his shepherd’s son into
+the parlour one night on purpose to sing to her. She was very fond
+of singing. He could sing a little himself. She believed he was very
+clever, and understood every thing. He had a very fine flock, and, while
+she was with them, he had been bid more for his wool than any body in
+the country. She believed every body spoke well of him. His mother and
+sisters were very fond of him. Mrs. Martin had told her one day (and
+there was a blush as she said it,) that it was impossible for any body
+to be a better son, and therefore she was sure, whenever he married, he
+would make a good husband. Not that she _wanted_ him to marry. She was
+in no hurry at all.
+
+“Well done, Mrs. Martin!” thought Emma. “You know what you are about.”
+
+“And when she had come away, Mrs. Martin was so very kind as to send
+Mrs. Goddard a beautiful goose--the finest goose Mrs. Goddard had ever
+seen. Mrs. Goddard had dressed it on a Sunday, and asked all the three
+teachers, Miss Nash, and Miss Prince, and Miss Richardson, to sup with
+her.”
+
+“Mr. Martin, I suppose, is not a man of information beyond the line of
+his own business? He does not read?”
+
+“Oh yes!--that is, no--I do not know--but I believe he has read a
+good deal--but not what you would think any thing of. He reads the
+Agricultural Reports, and some other books that lay in one of the window
+seats--but he reads all _them_ to himself. But sometimes of an evening,
+before we went to cards, he would read something aloud out of the
+Elegant Extracts, very entertaining. And I know he has read the Vicar of
+Wakefield. He never read the Romance of the Forest, nor The Children of
+the Abbey. He had never heard of such books before I mentioned them, but
+he is determined to get them now as soon as ever he can.”
+
+The next question was--
+
+“What sort of looking man is Mr. Martin?”
+
+“Oh! not handsome--not at all handsome. I thought him very plain at
+first, but I do not think him so plain now. One does not, you know,
+after a time. But did you never see him? He is in Highbury every now and
+then, and he is sure to ride through every week in his way to Kingston.
+He has passed you very often.”
+
+“That may be, and I may have seen him fifty times, but without having
+any idea of his name. A young farmer, whether on horseback or on foot,
+is the very last sort of person to raise my curiosity. The yeomanry are
+precisely the order of people with whom I feel I can have nothing to do.
+A degree or two lower, and a creditable appearance might interest me;
+I might hope to be useful to their families in some way or other. But
+a farmer can need none of my help, and is, therefore, in one sense, as
+much above my notice as in every other he is below it.”
+
+“To be sure. Oh yes! It is not likely you should ever have observed him;
+but he knows you very well indeed--I mean by sight.”
+
+“I have no doubt of his being a very respectable young man. I know,
+indeed, that he is so, and, as such, wish him well. What do you imagine
+his age to be?”
+
+“He was four-and-twenty the 8th of last June, and my birthday is the
+23rd just a fortnight and a day’s difference--which is very odd.”
+
+“Only four-and-twenty. That is too young to settle. His mother is
+perfectly right not to be in a hurry. They seem very comfortable as they
+are, and if she were to take any pains to marry him, she would probably
+repent it. Six years hence, if he could meet with a good sort of young
+woman in the same rank as his own, with a little money, it might be very
+desirable.”
+
+“Six years hence! Dear Miss Woodhouse, he would be thirty years old!”
+
+“Well, and that is as early as most men can afford to marry, who are not
+born to an independence. Mr. Martin, I imagine, has his fortune entirely
+to make--cannot be at all beforehand with the world. Whatever money he
+might come into when his father died, whatever his share of the family
+property, it is, I dare say, all afloat, all employed in his stock, and
+so forth; and though, with diligence and good luck, he may be rich in
+time, it is next to impossible that he should have realised any thing
+yet.”
+
+“To be sure, so it is. But they live very comfortably. They have no
+indoors man, else they do not want for any thing; and Mrs. Martin talks
+of taking a boy another year.”
+
+“I wish you may not get into a scrape, Harriet, whenever he does
+marry;--I mean, as to being acquainted with his wife--for though his
+sisters, from a superior education, are not to be altogether objected
+to, it does not follow that he might marry any body at all fit for you
+to notice. The misfortune of your birth ought to make you particularly
+careful as to your associates. There can be no doubt of your being a
+gentleman’s daughter, and you must support your claim to that station by
+every thing within your own power, or there will be plenty of people who
+would take pleasure in degrading you.”
+
+“Yes, to be sure, I suppose there are. But while I visit at Hartfield,
+and you are so kind to me, Miss Woodhouse, I am not afraid of what any
+body can do.”
+
+“You understand the force of influence pretty well, Harriet; but I would
+have you so firmly established in good society, as to be independent
+even of Hartfield and Miss Woodhouse. I want to see you permanently
+well connected, and to that end it will be advisable to have as few odd
+acquaintance as may be; and, therefore, I say that if you should still
+be in this country when Mr. Martin marries, I wish you may not be drawn
+in by your intimacy with the sisters, to be acquainted with the wife,
+who will probably be some mere farmer’s daughter, without education.”
+
+“To be sure. Yes. Not that I think Mr. Martin would ever marry any body
+but what had had some education--and been very well brought up. However,
+I do not mean to set up my opinion against yours--and I am sure I shall
+not wish for the acquaintance of his wife. I shall always have a great
+regard for the Miss Martins, especially Elizabeth, and should be very
+sorry to give them up, for they are quite as well educated as me. But
+if he marries a very ignorant, vulgar woman, certainly I had better not
+visit her, if I can help it.”
+
+Emma watched her through the fluctuations of this speech, and saw no
+alarming symptoms of love. The young man had been the first admirer, but
+she trusted there was no other hold, and that there would be no serious
+difficulty, on Harriet’s side, to oppose any friendly arrangement of her
+own.
+
+They met Mr. Martin the very next day, as they were walking on the
+Donwell road. He was on foot, and after looking very respectfully at
+her, looked with most unfeigned satisfaction at her companion. Emma was
+not sorry to have such an opportunity of survey; and walking a few
+yards forward, while they talked together, soon made her quick eye
+sufficiently acquainted with Mr. Robert Martin. His appearance was very
+neat, and he looked like a sensible young man, but his person had no
+other advantage; and when he came to be contrasted with gentlemen,
+she thought he must lose all the ground he had gained in Harriet’s
+inclination. Harriet was not insensible of manner; she had voluntarily
+noticed her father’s gentleness with admiration as well as wonder. Mr.
+Martin looked as if he did not know what manner was.
+
+They remained but a few minutes together, as Miss Woodhouse must not be
+kept waiting; and Harriet then came running to her with a smiling face,
+and in a flutter of spirits, which Miss Woodhouse hoped very soon to
+compose.
+
+“Only think of our happening to meet him!--How very odd! It was quite
+a chance, he said, that he had not gone round by Randalls. He did not
+think we ever walked this road. He thought we walked towards Randalls
+most days. He has not been able to get the Romance of the Forest yet.
+He was so busy the last time he was at Kingston that he quite forgot it,
+but he goes again to-morrow. So very odd we should happen to meet! Well,
+Miss Woodhouse, is he like what you expected? What do you think of him?
+Do you think him so very plain?”
+
+“He is very plain, undoubtedly--remarkably plain:--but that is nothing
+compared with his entire want of gentility. I had no right to expect
+much, and I did not expect much; but I had no idea that he could be so
+very clownish, so totally without air. I had imagined him, I confess, a
+degree or two nearer gentility.”
+
+“To be sure,” said Harriet, in a mortified voice, “he is not so genteel
+as real gentlemen.”
+
+“I think, Harriet, since your acquaintance with us, you have been
+repeatedly in the company of some such very real gentlemen, that you
+must yourself be struck with the difference in Mr. Martin. At Hartfield,
+you have had very good specimens of well educated, well bred men. I
+should be surprized if, after seeing them, you could be in company
+with Mr. Martin again without perceiving him to be a very inferior
+creature--and rather wondering at yourself for having ever thought him
+at all agreeable before. Do not you begin to feel that now? Were not
+you struck? I am sure you must have been struck by his awkward look and
+abrupt manner, and the uncouthness of a voice which I heard to be wholly
+unmodulated as I stood here.”
+
+“Certainly, he is not like Mr. Knightley. He has not such a fine air and
+way of walking as Mr. Knightley. I see the difference plain enough. But
+Mr. Knightley is so very fine a man!”
+
+“Mr. Knightley’s air is so remarkably good that it is not fair to
+compare Mr. Martin with _him_. You might not see one in a hundred with
+_gentleman_ so plainly written as in Mr. Knightley. But he is not the
+only gentleman you have been lately used to. What say you to Mr. Weston
+and Mr. Elton? Compare Mr. Martin with either of _them_. Compare their
+manner of carrying themselves; of walking; of speaking; of being silent.
+You must see the difference.”
+
+“Oh yes!--there is a great difference. But Mr. Weston is almost an old
+man. Mr. Weston must be between forty and fifty.”
+
+“Which makes his good manners the more valuable. The older a person
+grows, Harriet, the more important it is that their manners should not
+be bad; the more glaring and disgusting any loudness, or coarseness, or
+awkwardness becomes. What is passable in youth is detestable in later
+age. Mr. Martin is now awkward and abrupt; what will he be at Mr.
+Weston’s time of life?”
+
+“There is no saying, indeed,” replied Harriet rather solemnly.
+
+“But there may be pretty good guessing. He will be a completely gross,
+vulgar farmer, totally inattentive to appearances, and thinking of
+nothing but profit and loss.”
+
+“Will he, indeed? That will be very bad.”
+
+“How much his business engrosses him already is very plain from the
+circumstance of his forgetting to inquire for the book you recommended.
+He was a great deal too full of the market to think of any thing
+else--which is just as it should be, for a thriving man. What has he to
+do with books? And I have no doubt that he _will_ thrive, and be a very
+rich man in time--and his being illiterate and coarse need not disturb
+_us_.”
+
+“I wonder he did not remember the book”--was all Harriet’s answer, and
+spoken with a degree of grave displeasure which Emma thought might be
+safely left to itself. She, therefore, said no more for some time. Her
+next beginning was,
+
+“In one respect, perhaps, Mr. Elton’s manners are superior to Mr.
+Knightley’s or Mr. Weston’s. They have more gentleness. They might be
+more safely held up as a pattern. There is an openness, a quickness,
+almost a bluntness in Mr. Weston, which every body likes in _him_,
+because there is so much good-humour with it--but that would not do to
+be copied. Neither would Mr. Knightley’s downright, decided, commanding
+sort of manner, though it suits _him_ very well; his figure, and look,
+and situation in life seem to allow it; but if any young man were to set
+about copying him, he would not be sufferable. On the contrary, I think
+a young man might be very safely recommended to take Mr. Elton as a
+model. Mr. Elton is good-humoured, cheerful, obliging, and gentle.
+He seems to me to be grown particularly gentle of late. I do not know
+whether he has any design of ingratiating himself with either of us,
+Harriet, by additional softness, but it strikes me that his manners are
+softer than they used to be. If he means any thing, it must be to please
+you. Did not I tell you what he said of you the other day?”
+
+She then repeated some warm personal praise which she had drawn from Mr.
+Elton, and now did full justice to; and Harriet blushed and smiled, and
+said she had always thought Mr. Elton very agreeable.
+
+Mr. Elton was the very person fixed on by Emma for driving the young
+farmer out of Harriet’s head. She thought it would be an excellent
+match; and only too palpably desirable, natural, and probable, for her
+to have much merit in planning it. She feared it was what every body
+else must think of and predict. It was not likely, however, that any
+body should have equalled her in the date of the plan, as it had
+entered her brain during the very first evening of Harriet’s coming to
+Hartfield. The longer she considered it, the greater was her sense
+of its expediency. Mr. Elton’s situation was most suitable, quite the
+gentleman himself, and without low connexions; at the same time, not of
+any family that could fairly object to the doubtful birth of Harriet.
+He had a comfortable home for her, and Emma imagined a very sufficient
+income; for though the vicarage of Highbury was not large, he was known
+to have some independent property; and she thought very highly of him
+as a good-humoured, well-meaning, respectable young man, without any
+deficiency of useful understanding or knowledge of the world.
+
+She had already satisfied herself that he thought Harriet a beautiful
+girl, which she trusted, with such frequent meetings at Hartfield, was
+foundation enough on his side; and on Harriet’s there could be little
+doubt that the idea of being preferred by him would have all the usual
+weight and efficacy. And he was really a very pleasing young man, a
+young man whom any woman not fastidious might like. He was reckoned very
+handsome; his person much admired in general, though not by her,
+there being a want of elegance of feature which she could not dispense
+with:--but the girl who could be gratified by a Robert Martin’s riding
+about the country to get walnuts for her might very well be conquered by
+Mr. Elton’s admiration.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+“I do not know what your opinion may be, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr.
+Knightley, “of this great intimacy between Emma and Harriet Smith, but I
+think it a bad thing.”
+
+“A bad thing! Do you really think it a bad thing?--why so?”
+
+“I think they will neither of them do the other any good.”
+
+“You surprize me! Emma must do Harriet good: and by supplying her with a
+new object of interest, Harriet may be said to do Emma good. I have been
+seeing their intimacy with the greatest pleasure. How very differently
+we feel!--Not think they will do each other any good! This will
+certainly be the beginning of one of our quarrels about Emma, Mr.
+Knightley.”
+
+“Perhaps you think I am come on purpose to quarrel with you, knowing
+Weston to be out, and that you must still fight your own battle.”
+
+“Mr. Weston would undoubtedly support me, if he were here, for he thinks
+exactly as I do on the subject. We were speaking of it only yesterday,
+and agreeing how fortunate it was for Emma, that there should be such a
+girl in Highbury for her to associate with. Mr. Knightley, I shall not
+allow you to be a fair judge in this case. You are so much used to live
+alone, that you do not know the value of a companion; and, perhaps no
+man can be a good judge of the comfort a woman feels in the society of
+one of her own sex, after being used to it all her life. I can imagine
+your objection to Harriet Smith. She is not the superior young woman
+which Emma’s friend ought to be. But on the other hand, as Emma wants
+to see her better informed, it will be an inducement to her to read more
+herself. They will read together. She means it, I know.”
+
+“Emma has been meaning to read more ever since she was twelve years old.
+I have seen a great many lists of her drawing-up at various times of
+books that she meant to read regularly through--and very good lists
+they were--very well chosen, and very neatly arranged--sometimes
+alphabetically, and sometimes by some other rule. The list she drew
+up when only fourteen--I remember thinking it did her judgment so much
+credit, that I preserved it some time; and I dare say she may have made
+out a very good list now. But I have done with expecting any course of
+steady reading from Emma. She will never submit to any thing
+requiring industry and patience, and a subjection of the fancy to the
+understanding. Where Miss Taylor failed to stimulate, I may safely
+affirm that Harriet Smith will do nothing.--You never could persuade her
+to read half so much as you wished.--You know you could not.”
+
+“I dare say,” replied Mrs. Weston, smiling, “that I thought so
+_then_;--but since we have parted, I can never remember Emma’s omitting
+to do any thing I wished.”
+
+“There is hardly any desiring to refresh such a memory as _that_,”--said
+Mr. Knightley, feelingly; and for a moment or two he had done. “But I,”
+ he soon added, “who have had no such charm thrown over my senses, must
+still see, hear, and remember. Emma is spoiled by being the cleverest
+of her family. At ten years old, she had the misfortune of being able to
+answer questions which puzzled her sister at seventeen. She was always
+quick and assured: Isabella slow and diffident. And ever since she
+was twelve, Emma has been mistress of the house and of you all. In her
+mother she lost the only person able to cope with her. She inherits her
+mother’s talents, and must have been under subjection to her.”
+
+“I should have been sorry, Mr. Knightley, to be dependent on _your_
+recommendation, had I quitted Mr. Woodhouse’s family and wanted another
+situation; I do not think you would have spoken a good word for me to
+any body. I am sure you always thought me unfit for the office I held.”
+
+“Yes,” said he, smiling. “You are better placed _here_; very fit for a
+wife, but not at all for a governess. But you were preparing yourself to
+be an excellent wife all the time you were at Hartfield. You might
+not give Emma such a complete education as your powers would seem to
+promise; but you were receiving a very good education from _her_, on the
+very material matrimonial point of submitting your own will, and doing
+as you were bid; and if Weston had asked me to recommend him a wife, I
+should certainly have named Miss Taylor.”
+
+“Thank you. There will be very little merit in making a good wife to
+such a man as Mr. Weston.”
+
+“Why, to own the truth, I am afraid you are rather thrown away, and that
+with every disposition to bear, there will be nothing to be borne. We
+will not despair, however. Weston may grow cross from the wantonness of
+comfort, or his son may plague him.”
+
+“I hope not _that_.--It is not likely. No, Mr. Knightley, do not
+foretell vexation from that quarter.”
+
+“Not I, indeed. I only name possibilities. I do not pretend to Emma’s
+genius for foretelling and guessing. I hope, with all my heart, the
+young man may be a Weston in merit, and a Churchill in fortune.--But
+Harriet Smith--I have not half done about Harriet Smith. I think her the
+very worst sort of companion that Emma could possibly have. She knows
+nothing herself, and looks upon Emma as knowing every thing. She is a
+flatterer in all her ways; and so much the worse, because undesigned.
+Her ignorance is hourly flattery. How can Emma imagine she has any
+thing to learn herself, while Harriet is presenting such a delightful
+inferiority? And as for Harriet, I will venture to say that _she_ cannot
+gain by the acquaintance. Hartfield will only put her out of conceit
+with all the other places she belongs to. She will grow just refined
+enough to be uncomfortable with those among whom birth and circumstances
+have placed her home. I am much mistaken if Emma’s doctrines give any
+strength of mind, or tend at all to make a girl adapt herself rationally
+to the varieties of her situation in life.--They only give a little
+polish.”
+
+“I either depend more upon Emma’s good sense than you do, or am more
+anxious for her present comfort; for I cannot lament the acquaintance.
+How well she looked last night!”
+
+“Oh! you would rather talk of her person than her mind, would you? Very
+well; I shall not attempt to deny Emma’s being pretty.”
+
+“Pretty! say beautiful rather. Can you imagine any thing nearer perfect
+beauty than Emma altogether--face and figure?”
+
+“I do not know what I could imagine, but I confess that I have seldom
+seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers. But I am a partial
+old friend.”
+
+“Such an eye!--the true hazle eye--and so brilliant! regular features,
+open countenance, with a complexion! oh! what a bloom of full health,
+and such a pretty height and size; such a firm and upright figure!
+There is health, not merely in her bloom, but in her air, her head, her
+glance. One hears sometimes of a child being ‘the picture of health;’
+now, Emma always gives me the idea of being the complete picture of
+grown-up health. She is loveliness itself. Mr. Knightley, is not she?”
+
+“I have not a fault to find with her person,” he replied. “I think her
+all you describe. I love to look at her; and I will add this praise,
+that I do not think her personally vain. Considering how very handsome
+she is, she appears to be little occupied with it; her vanity lies
+another way. Mrs. Weston, I am not to be talked out of my dislike of
+Harriet Smith, or my dread of its doing them both harm.”
+
+“And I, Mr. Knightley, am equally stout in my confidence of its not
+doing them any harm. With all dear Emma’s little faults, she is an
+excellent creature. Where shall we see a better daughter, or a kinder
+sister, or a truer friend? No, no; she has qualities which may be
+trusted; she will never lead any one really wrong; she will make no
+lasting blunder; where Emma errs once, she is in the right a hundred
+times.”
+
+“Very well; I will not plague you any more. Emma shall be an angel, and
+I will keep my spleen to myself till Christmas brings John and Isabella.
+John loves Emma with a reasonable and therefore not a blind affection,
+and Isabella always thinks as he does; except when he is not quite
+frightened enough about the children. I am sure of having their opinions
+with me.”
+
+“I know that you all love her really too well to be unjust or unkind;
+but excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if I take the liberty (I consider myself,
+you know, as having somewhat of the privilege of speech that Emma’s
+mother might have had) the liberty of hinting that I do not think any
+possible good can arise from Harriet Smith’s intimacy being made a
+matter of much discussion among you. Pray excuse me; but supposing any
+little inconvenience may be apprehended from the intimacy, it cannot be
+expected that Emma, accountable to nobody but her father, who perfectly
+approves the acquaintance, should put an end to it, so long as it is a
+source of pleasure to herself. It has been so many years my province to
+give advice, that you cannot be surprized, Mr. Knightley, at this little
+remains of office.”
+
+“Not at all,” cried he; “I am much obliged to you for it. It is very
+good advice, and it shall have a better fate than your advice has often
+found; for it shall be attended to.”
+
+“Mrs. John Knightley is easily alarmed, and might be made unhappy about
+her sister.”
+
+“Be satisfied,” said he, “I will not raise any outcry. I will keep my
+ill-humour to myself. I have a very sincere interest in Emma. Isabella
+does not seem more my sister; has never excited a greater interest;
+perhaps hardly so great. There is an anxiety, a curiosity in what one
+feels for Emma. I wonder what will become of her!”
+
+“So do I,” said Mrs. Weston gently, “very much.”
+
+“She always declares she will never marry, which, of course, means just
+nothing at all. But I have no idea that she has yet ever seen a man she
+cared for. It would not be a bad thing for her to be very much in love
+with a proper object. I should like to see Emma in love, and in some
+doubt of a return; it would do her good. But there is nobody hereabouts
+to attach her; and she goes so seldom from home.”
+
+“There does, indeed, seem as little to tempt her to break her resolution
+at present,” said Mrs. Weston, “as can well be; and while she is so
+happy at Hartfield, I cannot wish her to be forming any attachment which
+would be creating such difficulties on poor Mr. Woodhouse’s account. I
+do not recommend matrimony at present to Emma, though I mean no slight
+to the state, I assure you.”
+
+Part of her meaning was to conceal some favourite thoughts of her own
+and Mr. Weston’s on the subject, as much as possible. There were wishes
+at Randalls respecting Emma’s destiny, but it was not desirable to
+have them suspected; and the quiet transition which Mr. Knightley soon
+afterwards made to “What does Weston think of the weather; shall we have
+rain?” convinced her that he had nothing more to say or surmise about
+Hartfield.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet’s fancy a proper
+direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity to a very good
+purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible than before of Mr.
+Elton’s being a remarkably handsome man, with most agreeable manners;
+and as she had no hesitation in following up the assurance of his
+admiration by agreeable hints, she was soon pretty confident of creating
+as much liking on Harriet’s side, as there could be any occasion for.
+She was quite convinced of Mr. Elton’s being in the fairest way of
+falling in love, if not in love already. She had no scruple with regard
+to him. He talked of Harriet, and praised her so warmly, that she could
+not suppose any thing wanting which a little time would not add. His
+perception of the striking improvement of Harriet’s manner, since her
+introduction at Hartfield, was not one of the least agreeable proofs of
+his growing attachment.
+
+“You have given Miss Smith all that she required,” said he; “you have
+made her graceful and easy. She was a beautiful creature when she
+came to you, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have added are
+infinitely superior to what she received from nature.”
+
+“I am glad you think I have been useful to her; but Harriet only wanted
+drawing out, and receiving a few, very few hints. She had all the
+natural grace of sweetness of temper and artlessness in herself. I have
+done very little.”
+
+“If it were admissible to contradict a lady,” said the gallant Mr.
+Elton--
+
+“I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character, have
+taught her to think on points which had not fallen in her way before.”
+
+“Exactly so; that is what principally strikes me. So much superadded
+decision of character! Skilful has been the hand!”
+
+“Great has been the pleasure, I am sure. I never met with a disposition
+more truly amiable.”
+
+“I have no doubt of it.” And it was spoken with a sort of sighing
+animation, which had a vast deal of the lover. She was not less pleased
+another day with the manner in which he seconded a sudden wish of hers,
+to have Harriet’s picture.
+
+“Did you ever have your likeness taken, Harriet?” said she: “did you
+ever sit for your picture?”
+
+Harriet was on the point of leaving the room, and only stopt to say,
+with a very interesting naivete,
+
+“Oh! dear, no, never.”
+
+No sooner was she out of sight, than Emma exclaimed,
+
+“What an exquisite possession a good picture of her would be! I would
+give any money for it. I almost long to attempt her likeness myself.
+You do not know it I dare say, but two or three years ago I had a great
+passion for taking likenesses, and attempted several of my friends, and
+was thought to have a tolerable eye in general. But from one cause or
+another, I gave it up in disgust. But really, I could almost venture,
+if Harriet would sit to me. It would be such a delight to have her
+picture!”
+
+“Let me entreat you,” cried Mr. Elton; “it would indeed be a delight!
+Let me entreat you, Miss Woodhouse, to exercise so charming a talent
+in favour of your friend. I know what your drawings are. How could
+you suppose me ignorant? Is not this room rich in specimens of your
+landscapes and flowers; and has not Mrs. Weston some inimitable
+figure-pieces in her drawing-room, at Randalls?”
+
+Yes, good man!--thought Emma--but what has all that to do with taking
+likenesses? You know nothing of drawing. Don’t pretend to be in raptures
+about mine. Keep your raptures for Harriet’s face. “Well, if you give me
+such kind encouragement, Mr. Elton, I believe I shall try what I can do.
+Harriet’s features are very delicate, which makes a likeness difficult;
+and yet there is a peculiarity in the shape of the eye and the lines
+about the mouth which one ought to catch.”
+
+“Exactly so--The shape of the eye and the lines about the mouth--I have
+not a doubt of your success. Pray, pray attempt it. As you will do it,
+it will indeed, to use your own words, be an exquisite possession.”
+
+“But I am afraid, Mr. Elton, Harriet will not like to sit. She thinks
+so little of her own beauty. Did not you observe her manner of answering
+me? How completely it meant, ‘why should my picture be drawn?’”
+
+“Oh! yes, I observed it, I assure you. It was not lost on me. But still
+I cannot imagine she would not be persuaded.”
+
+Harriet was soon back again, and the proposal almost immediately made;
+and she had no scruples which could stand many minutes against the
+earnest pressing of both the others. Emma wished to go to work directly,
+and therefore produced the portfolio containing her various attempts at
+portraits, for not one of them had ever been finished, that they might
+decide together on the best size for Harriet. Her many beginnings were
+displayed. Miniatures, half-lengths, whole-lengths, pencil, crayon, and
+water-colours had been all tried in turn. She had always wanted to do
+every thing, and had made more progress both in drawing and music than
+many might have done with so little labour as she would ever submit to.
+She played and sang;--and drew in almost every style; but steadiness
+had always been wanting; and in nothing had she approached the degree of
+excellence which she would have been glad to command, and ought not to
+have failed of. She was not much deceived as to her own skill either
+as an artist or a musician, but she was not unwilling to have others
+deceived, or sorry to know her reputation for accomplishment often
+higher than it deserved.
+
+There was merit in every drawing--in the least finished, perhaps the
+most; her style was spirited; but had there been much less, or had there
+been ten times more, the delight and admiration of her two companions
+would have been the same. They were both in ecstasies. A likeness
+pleases every body; and Miss Woodhouse’s performances must be capital.
+
+“No great variety of faces for you,” said Emma. “I had only my own
+family to study from. There is my father--another of my father--but the
+idea of sitting for his picture made him so nervous, that I could only
+take him by stealth; neither of them very like therefore. Mrs. Weston
+again, and again, and again, you see. Dear Mrs. Weston! always my
+kindest friend on every occasion. She would sit whenever I asked her.
+There is my sister; and really quite her own little elegant figure!--and
+the face not unlike. I should have made a good likeness of her, if she
+would have sat longer, but she was in such a hurry to have me draw
+her four children that she would not be quiet. Then, here come all my
+attempts at three of those four children;--there they are, Henry and
+John and Bella, from one end of the sheet to the other, and any one of
+them might do for any one of the rest. She was so eager to have them
+drawn that I could not refuse; but there is no making children of three
+or four years old stand still you know; nor can it be very easy to take
+any likeness of them, beyond the air and complexion, unless they are
+coarser featured than any of mama’s children ever were. Here is my
+sketch of the fourth, who was a baby. I took him as he was sleeping on
+the sofa, and it is as strong a likeness of his cockade as you would
+wish to see. He had nestled down his head most conveniently. That’s very
+like. I am rather proud of little George. The corner of the sofa is very
+good. Then here is my last,”--unclosing a pretty sketch of a gentleman
+in small size, whole-length--“my last and my best--my brother, Mr. John
+Knightley.--This did not want much of being finished, when I put it away
+in a pet, and vowed I would never take another likeness. I could not
+help being provoked; for after all my pains, and when I had really made
+a very good likeness of it--(Mrs. Weston and I were quite agreed in
+thinking it _very_ like)--only too handsome--too flattering--but
+that was a fault on the right side”--after all this, came poor dear
+Isabella’s cold approbation of--“Yes, it was a little like--but to be
+sure it did not do him justice. We had had a great deal of trouble
+in persuading him to sit at all. It was made a great favour of; and
+altogether it was more than I could bear; and so I never would finish
+it, to have it apologised over as an unfavourable likeness, to every
+morning visitor in Brunswick Square;--and, as I said, I did then
+forswear ever drawing any body again. But for Harriet’s sake, or rather
+for my own, and as there are no husbands and wives in the case _at_
+_present_, I will break my resolution now.”
+
+Mr. Elton seemed very properly struck and delighted by the idea, and was
+repeating, “No husbands and wives in the case at present indeed, as
+you observe. Exactly so. No husbands and wives,” with so interesting a
+consciousness, that Emma began to consider whether she had not better
+leave them together at once. But as she wanted to be drawing, the
+declaration must wait a little longer.
+
+She had soon fixed on the size and sort of portrait. It was to be
+a whole-length in water-colours, like Mr. John Knightley’s, and was
+destined, if she could please herself, to hold a very honourable station
+over the mantelpiece.
+
+The sitting began; and Harriet, smiling and blushing, and afraid of not
+keeping her attitude and countenance, presented a very sweet mixture of
+youthful expression to the steady eyes of the artist. But there was no
+doing any thing, with Mr. Elton fidgeting behind her and watching every
+touch. She gave him credit for stationing himself where he might gaze
+and gaze again without offence; but was really obliged to put an end to
+it, and request him to place himself elsewhere. It then occurred to her
+to employ him in reading.
+
+“If he would be so good as to read to them, it would be a kindness
+indeed! It would amuse away the difficulties of her part, and lessen the
+irksomeness of Miss Smith’s.”
+
+Mr. Elton was only too happy. Harriet listened, and Emma drew in peace.
+She must allow him to be still frequently coming to look; any thing less
+would certainly have been too little in a lover; and he was ready at the
+smallest intermission of the pencil, to jump up and see the progress,
+and be charmed.--There was no being displeased with such an encourager,
+for his admiration made him discern a likeness almost before it
+was possible. She could not respect his eye, but his love and his
+complaisance were unexceptionable.
+
+The sitting was altogether very satisfactory; she was quite enough
+pleased with the first day’s sketch to wish to go on. There was no want
+of likeness, she had been fortunate in the attitude, and as she meant
+to throw in a little improvement to the figure, to give a little more
+height, and considerably more elegance, she had great confidence of
+its being in every way a pretty drawing at last, and of its filling
+its destined place with credit to them both--a standing memorial of the
+beauty of one, the skill of the other, and the friendship of both;
+with as many other agreeable associations as Mr. Elton’s very promising
+attachment was likely to add.
+
+Harriet was to sit again the next day; and Mr. Elton, just as he ought,
+entreated for the permission of attending and reading to them again.
+
+“By all means. We shall be most happy to consider you as one of the
+party.”
+
+The same civilities and courtesies, the same success and satisfaction,
+took place on the morrow, and accompanied the whole progress of the
+picture, which was rapid and happy. Every body who saw it was pleased,
+but Mr. Elton was in continual raptures, and defended it through every
+criticism.
+
+“Miss Woodhouse has given her friend the only beauty she
+wanted,”--observed Mrs. Weston to him--not in the least suspecting that
+she was addressing a lover.--“The expression of the eye is most correct,
+but Miss Smith has not those eyebrows and eyelashes. It is the fault of
+her face that she has them not.”
+
+“Do you think so?” replied he. “I cannot agree with you. It appears
+to me a most perfect resemblance in every feature. I never saw such a
+likeness in my life. We must allow for the effect of shade, you know.”
+
+“You have made her too tall, Emma,” said Mr. Knightley.
+
+Emma knew that she had, but would not own it; and Mr. Elton warmly
+added,
+
+“Oh no! certainly not too tall; not in the least too tall. Consider, she
+is sitting down--which naturally presents a different--which in short
+gives exactly the idea--and the proportions must be preserved, you know.
+Proportions, fore-shortening.--Oh no! it gives one exactly the idea of
+such a height as Miss Smith’s. Exactly so indeed!”
+
+“It is very pretty,” said Mr. Woodhouse. “So prettily done! Just as your
+drawings always are, my dear. I do not know any body who draws so well
+as you do. The only thing I do not thoroughly like is, that she seems
+to be sitting out of doors, with only a little shawl over her
+shoulders--and it makes one think she must catch cold.”
+
+“But, my dear papa, it is supposed to be summer; a warm day in summer.
+Look at the tree.”
+
+“But it is never safe to sit out of doors, my dear.”
+
+“You, sir, may say any thing,” cried Mr. Elton, “but I must confess that
+I regard it as a most happy thought, the placing of Miss Smith out of
+doors; and the tree is touched with such inimitable spirit! Any other
+situation would have been much less in character. The naivete of Miss
+Smith’s manners--and altogether--Oh, it is most admirable! I cannot keep
+my eyes from it. I never saw such a likeness.”
+
+The next thing wanted was to get the picture framed; and here were a few
+difficulties. It must be done directly; it must be done in London; the
+order must go through the hands of some intelligent person whose taste
+could be depended on; and Isabella, the usual doer of all commissions,
+must not be applied to, because it was December, and Mr. Woodhouse
+could not bear the idea of her stirring out of her house in the fogs of
+December. But no sooner was the distress known to Mr. Elton, than it
+was removed. His gallantry was always on the alert. “Might he be trusted
+with the commission, what infinite pleasure should he have in executing
+it! he could ride to London at any time. It was impossible to say how
+much he should be gratified by being employed on such an errand.”
+
+“He was too good!--she could not endure the thought!--she would not give
+him such a troublesome office for the world,”--brought on the desired
+repetition of entreaties and assurances,--and a very few minutes settled
+the business.
+
+Mr. Elton was to take the drawing to London, chuse the frame, and give
+the directions; and Emma thought she could so pack it as to ensure its
+safety without much incommoding him, while he seemed mostly fearful of
+not being incommoded enough.
+
+“What a precious deposit!” said he with a tender sigh, as he received
+it.
+
+“This man is almost too gallant to be in love,” thought Emma. “I should
+say so, but that I suppose there may be a hundred different ways of
+being in love. He is an excellent young man, and will suit Harriet
+exactly; it will be an ‘Exactly so,’ as he says himself; but he does
+sigh and languish, and study for compliments rather more than I could
+endure as a principal. I come in for a pretty good share as a second.
+But it is his gratitude on Harriet’s account.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+The very day of Mr. Elton’s going to London produced a fresh occasion
+for Emma’s services towards her friend. Harriet had been at Hartfield,
+as usual, soon after breakfast; and, after a time, had gone home to
+return again to dinner: she returned, and sooner than had been
+talked of, and with an agitated, hurried look, announcing something
+extraordinary to have happened which she was longing to tell. Half a
+minute brought it all out. She had heard, as soon as she got back to
+Mrs. Goddard’s, that Mr. Martin had been there an hour before, and
+finding she was not at home, nor particularly expected, had left a
+little parcel for her from one of his sisters, and gone away; and on
+opening this parcel, she had actually found, besides the two songs which
+she had lent Elizabeth to copy, a letter to herself; and this letter was
+from him, from Mr. Martin, and contained a direct proposal of marriage.
+“Who could have thought it? She was so surprized she did not know what
+to do. Yes, quite a proposal of marriage; and a very good letter,
+at least she thought so. And he wrote as if he really loved her very
+much--but she did not know--and so, she was come as fast as she could to
+ask Miss Woodhouse what she should do.--” Emma was half-ashamed of her
+friend for seeming so pleased and so doubtful.
+
+“Upon my word,” she cried, “the young man is determined not to lose any
+thing for want of asking. He will connect himself well if he can.”
+
+“Will you read the letter?” cried Harriet. “Pray do. I’d rather you
+would.”
+
+Emma was not sorry to be pressed. She read, and was surprized. The style
+of the letter was much above her expectation. There were not merely no
+grammatical errors, but as a composition it would not have disgraced a
+gentleman; the language, though plain, was strong and unaffected, and
+the sentiments it conveyed very much to the credit of the writer. It was
+short, but expressed good sense, warm attachment, liberality, propriety,
+even delicacy of feeling. She paused over it, while Harriet stood
+anxiously watching for her opinion, with a “Well, well,” and was at last
+forced to add, “Is it a good letter? or is it too short?”
+
+“Yes, indeed, a very good letter,” replied Emma rather slowly--“so
+good a letter, Harriet, that every thing considered, I think one of his
+sisters must have helped him. I can hardly imagine the young man whom
+I saw talking with you the other day could express himself so well, if
+left quite to his own powers, and yet it is not the style of a woman;
+no, certainly, it is too strong and concise; not diffuse enough for a
+woman. No doubt he is a sensible man, and I suppose may have a natural
+talent for--thinks strongly and clearly--and when he takes a pen in
+hand, his thoughts naturally find proper words. It is so with some men.
+Yes, I understand the sort of mind. Vigorous, decided, with sentiments
+to a certain point, not coarse. A better written letter, Harriet
+(returning it,) than I had expected.”
+
+“Well,” said the still waiting Harriet;--“well--and--and what shall I
+do?”
+
+“What shall you do! In what respect? Do you mean with regard to this
+letter?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“But what are you in doubt of? You must answer it of course--and
+speedily.”
+
+“Yes. But what shall I say? Dear Miss Woodhouse, do advise me.”
+
+“Oh no, no! the letter had much better be all your own. You will express
+yourself very properly, I am sure. There is no danger of your not
+being intelligible, which is the first thing. Your meaning must be
+unequivocal; no doubts or demurs: and such expressions of gratitude
+and concern for the pain you are inflicting as propriety requires, will
+present themselves unbidden to _your_ mind, I am persuaded. You need
+not be prompted to write with the appearance of sorrow for his
+disappointment.”
+
+“You think I ought to refuse him then,” said Harriet, looking down.
+
+“Ought to refuse him! My dear Harriet, what do you mean? Are you in any
+doubt as to that? I thought--but I beg your pardon, perhaps I have been
+under a mistake. I certainly have been misunderstanding you, if you feel
+in doubt as to the _purport_ of your answer. I had imagined you were
+consulting me only as to the wording of it.”
+
+Harriet was silent. With a little reserve of manner, Emma continued:
+
+“You mean to return a favourable answer, I collect.”
+
+“No, I do not; that is, I do not mean--What shall I do? What would you
+advise me to do? Pray, dear Miss Woodhouse, tell me what I ought to do.”
+
+“I shall not give you any advice, Harriet. I will have nothing to do
+with it. This is a point which you must settle with your feelings.”
+
+“I had no notion that he liked me so very much,” said Harriet,
+contemplating the letter. For a little while Emma persevered in her
+silence; but beginning to apprehend the bewitching flattery of that
+letter might be too powerful, she thought it best to say,
+
+“I lay it down as a general rule, Harriet, that if a woman _doubts_ as
+to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought to refuse
+him. If she can hesitate as to ‘Yes,’ she ought to say ‘No’ directly.
+It is not a state to be safely entered into with doubtful feelings, with
+half a heart. I thought it my duty as a friend, and older than yourself,
+to say thus much to you. But do not imagine that I want to influence
+you.”
+
+“Oh! no, I am sure you are a great deal too kind to--but if you would
+just advise me what I had best do--No, no, I do not mean that--As
+you say, one’s mind ought to be quite made up--One should not be
+hesitating--It is a very serious thing.--It will be safer to say ‘No,’
+perhaps.--Do you think I had better say ‘No?’”
+
+“Not for the world,” said Emma, smiling graciously, “would I advise you
+either way. You must be the best judge of your own happiness. If you
+prefer Mr. Martin to every other person; if you think him the most
+agreeable man you have ever been in company with, why should you
+hesitate? You blush, Harriet.--Does any body else occur to you at
+this moment under such a definition? Harriet, Harriet, do not deceive
+yourself; do not be run away with by gratitude and compassion. At this
+moment whom are you thinking of?”
+
+The symptoms were favourable.--Instead of answering, Harriet turned away
+confused, and stood thoughtfully by the fire; and though the letter was
+still in her hand, it was now mechanically twisted about without regard.
+Emma waited the result with impatience, but not without strong hopes. At
+last, with some hesitation, Harriet said--
+
+“Miss Woodhouse, as you will not give me your opinion, I must do as well
+as I can by myself; and I have now quite determined, and really almost
+made up my mind--to refuse Mr. Martin. Do you think I am right?”
+
+“Perfectly, perfectly right, my dearest Harriet; you are doing just
+what you ought. While you were at all in suspense I kept my feelings to
+myself, but now that you are so completely decided I have no hesitation
+in approving. Dear Harriet, I give myself joy of this. It would
+have grieved me to lose your acquaintance, which must have been the
+consequence of your marrying Mr. Martin. While you were in the smallest
+degree wavering, I said nothing about it, because I would not influence;
+but it would have been the loss of a friend to me. I could not have
+visited Mrs. Robert Martin, of Abbey-Mill Farm. Now I am secure of you
+for ever.”
+
+Harriet had not surmised her own danger, but the idea of it struck her
+forcibly.
+
+“You could not have visited me!” she cried, looking aghast. “No, to be
+sure you could not; but I never thought of that before. That would have
+been too dreadful!--What an escape!--Dear Miss Woodhouse, I would not
+give up the pleasure and honour of being intimate with you for any thing
+in the world.”
+
+“Indeed, Harriet, it would have been a severe pang to lose you; but it
+must have been. You would have thrown yourself out of all good society.
+I must have given you up.”
+
+“Dear me!--How should I ever have borne it! It would have killed me
+never to come to Hartfield any more!”
+
+“Dear affectionate creature!--_You_ banished to Abbey-Mill Farm!--_You_
+confined to the society of the illiterate and vulgar all your life! I
+wonder how the young man could have the assurance to ask it. He must
+have a pretty good opinion of himself.”
+
+“I do not think he is conceited either, in general,” said Harriet, her
+conscience opposing such censure; “at least, he is very good natured,
+and I shall always feel much obliged to him, and have a great regard
+for--but that is quite a different thing from--and you know, though
+he may like me, it does not follow that I should--and certainly I must
+confess that since my visiting here I have seen people--and if one comes
+to compare them, person and manners, there is no comparison at all,
+_one_ is so very handsome and agreeable. However, I do really think Mr.
+Martin a very amiable young man, and have a great opinion of him; and
+his being so much attached to me--and his writing such a letter--but as
+to leaving you, it is what I would not do upon any consideration.”
+
+“Thank you, thank you, my own sweet little friend. We will not be
+parted. A woman is not to marry a man merely because she is asked, or
+because he is attached to her, and can write a tolerable letter.”
+
+“Oh no;--and it is but a short letter too.”
+
+Emma felt the bad taste of her friend, but let it pass with a “very
+true; and it would be a small consolation to her, for the clownish
+manner which might be offending her every hour of the day, to know that
+her husband could write a good letter.”
+
+“Oh! yes, very. Nobody cares for a letter; the thing is, to be always
+happy with pleasant companions. I am quite determined to refuse him. But
+how shall I do? What shall I say?”
+
+Emma assured her there would be no difficulty in the answer, and advised
+its being written directly, which was agreed to, in the hope of her
+assistance; and though Emma continued to protest against any assistance
+being wanted, it was in fact given in the formation of every sentence.
+The looking over his letter again, in replying to it, had such a
+softening tendency, that it was particularly necessary to brace her up
+with a few decisive expressions; and she was so very much concerned at
+the idea of making him unhappy, and thought so much of what his mother
+and sisters would think and say, and was so anxious that they should not
+fancy her ungrateful, that Emma believed if the young man had come in
+her way at that moment, he would have been accepted after all.
+
+This letter, however, was written, and sealed, and sent. The business
+was finished, and Harriet safe. She was rather low all the evening, but
+Emma could allow for her amiable regrets, and sometimes relieved them by
+speaking of her own affection, sometimes by bringing forward the idea of
+Mr. Elton.
+
+“I shall never be invited to Abbey-Mill again,” was said in rather a
+sorrowful tone.
+
+“Nor, if you were, could I ever bear to part with you, my Harriet. You
+are a great deal too necessary at Hartfield to be spared to Abbey-Mill.”
+
+“And I am sure I should never want to go there; for I am never happy but
+at Hartfield.”
+
+Some time afterwards it was, “I think Mrs. Goddard would be very much
+surprized if she knew what had happened. I am sure Miss Nash would--for
+Miss Nash thinks her own sister very well married, and it is only a
+linen-draper.”
+
+“One should be sorry to see greater pride or refinement in the teacher
+of a school, Harriet. I dare say Miss Nash would envy you such an
+opportunity as this of being married. Even this conquest would appear
+valuable in her eyes. As to any thing superior for you, I suppose she
+is quite in the dark. The attentions of a certain person can hardly be
+among the tittle-tattle of Highbury yet. Hitherto I fancy you and I
+are the only people to whom his looks and manners have explained
+themselves.”
+
+Harriet blushed and smiled, and said something about wondering that
+people should like her so much. The idea of Mr. Elton was certainly
+cheering; but still, after a time, she was tender-hearted again towards
+the rejected Mr. Martin.
+
+“Now he has got my letter,” said she softly. “I wonder what they are all
+doing--whether his sisters know--if he is unhappy, they will be unhappy
+too. I hope he will not mind it so very much.”
+
+“Let us think of those among our absent friends who are more cheerfully
+employed,” cried Emma. “At this moment, perhaps, Mr. Elton is shewing
+your picture to his mother and sisters, telling how much more beautiful
+is the original, and after being asked for it five or six times,
+allowing them to hear your name, your own dear name.”
+
+“My picture!--But he has left my picture in Bond-street.”
+
+“Has he so!--Then I know nothing of Mr. Elton. No, my dear little modest
+Harriet, depend upon it the picture will not be in Bond-street till
+just before he mounts his horse to-morrow. It is his companion all this
+evening, his solace, his delight. It opens his designs to his family,
+it introduces you among them, it diffuses through the party those
+pleasantest feelings of our nature, eager curiosity and warm
+prepossession. How cheerful, how animated, how suspicious, how busy
+their imaginations all are!”
+
+Harriet smiled again, and her smiles grew stronger.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Harriet slept at Hartfield that night. For some weeks past she had been
+spending more than half her time there, and gradually getting to have
+a bed-room appropriated to herself; and Emma judged it best in every
+respect, safest and kindest, to keep her with them as much as possible
+just at present. She was obliged to go the next morning for an hour or
+two to Mrs. Goddard’s, but it was then to be settled that she should
+return to Hartfield, to make a regular visit of some days.
+
+While she was gone, Mr. Knightley called, and sat some time with Mr.
+Woodhouse and Emma, till Mr. Woodhouse, who had previously made up his
+mind to walk out, was persuaded by his daughter not to defer it, and was
+induced by the entreaties of both, though against the scruples of his
+own civility, to leave Mr. Knightley for that purpose. Mr. Knightley,
+who had nothing of ceremony about him, was offering by his short,
+decided answers, an amusing contrast to the protracted apologies and
+civil hesitations of the other.
+
+“Well, I believe, if you will excuse me, Mr. Knightley, if you will not
+consider me as doing a very rude thing, I shall take Emma’s advice and
+go out for a quarter of an hour. As the sun is out, I believe I had
+better take my three turns while I can. I treat you without ceremony,
+Mr. Knightley. We invalids think we are privileged people.”
+
+“My dear sir, do not make a stranger of me.”
+
+“I leave an excellent substitute in my daughter. Emma will be happy to
+entertain you. And therefore I think I will beg your excuse and take my
+three turns--my winter walk.”
+
+“You cannot do better, sir.”
+
+“I would ask for the pleasure of your company, Mr. Knightley, but I am a
+very slow walker, and my pace would be tedious to you; and, besides, you
+have another long walk before you, to Donwell Abbey.”
+
+“Thank you, sir, thank you; I am going this moment myself; and I think
+the sooner _you_ go the better. I will fetch your greatcoat and open the
+garden door for you.”
+
+Mr. Woodhouse at last was off; but Mr. Knightley, instead of being
+immediately off likewise, sat down again, seemingly inclined for more
+chat. He began speaking of Harriet, and speaking of her with more
+voluntary praise than Emma had ever heard before.
+
+“I cannot rate her beauty as you do,” said he; “but she is a
+pretty little creature, and I am inclined to think very well of her
+disposition. Her character depends upon those she is with; but in good
+hands she will turn out a valuable woman.”
+
+“I am glad you think so; and the good hands, I hope, may not be
+wanting.”
+
+“Come,” said he, “you are anxious for a compliment, so I will tell you
+that you have improved her. You have cured her of her school-girl’s
+giggle; she really does you credit.”
+
+“Thank you. I should be mortified indeed if I did not believe I had been
+of some use; but it is not every body who will bestow praise where they
+may. _You_ do not often overpower me with it.”
+
+“You are expecting her again, you say, this morning?”
+
+“Almost every moment. She has been gone longer already than she
+intended.”
+
+“Something has happened to delay her; some visitors perhaps.”
+
+“Highbury gossips!--Tiresome wretches!”
+
+“Harriet may not consider every body tiresome that you would.”
+
+Emma knew this was too true for contradiction, and therefore said
+nothing. He presently added, with a smile,
+
+“I do not pretend to fix on times or places, but I must tell you that
+I have good reason to believe your little friend will soon hear of
+something to her advantage.”
+
+“Indeed! how so? of what sort?”
+
+“A very serious sort, I assure you;” still smiling.
+
+“Very serious! I can think of but one thing--Who is in love with her?
+Who makes you their confidant?”
+
+Emma was more than half in hopes of Mr. Elton’s having dropt a hint.
+Mr. Knightley was a sort of general friend and adviser, and she knew Mr.
+Elton looked up to him.
+
+“I have reason to think,” he replied, “that Harriet Smith will soon have
+an offer of marriage, and from a most unexceptionable quarter:--Robert
+Martin is the man. Her visit to Abbey-Mill, this summer, seems to have
+done his business. He is desperately in love and means to marry her.”
+
+“He is very obliging,” said Emma; “but is he sure that Harriet means to
+marry him?”
+
+“Well, well, means to make her an offer then. Will that do? He came to
+the Abbey two evenings ago, on purpose to consult me about it. He knows
+I have a thorough regard for him and all his family, and, I believe,
+considers me as one of his best friends. He came to ask me whether
+I thought it would be imprudent in him to settle so early; whether
+I thought her too young: in short, whether I approved his choice
+altogether; having some apprehension perhaps of her being considered
+(especially since _your_ making so much of her) as in a line of society
+above him. I was very much pleased with all that he said. I never hear
+better sense from any one than Robert Martin. He always speaks to the
+purpose; open, straightforward, and very well judging. He told me every
+thing; his circumstances and plans, and what they all proposed doing in
+the event of his marriage. He is an excellent young man, both as son and
+brother. I had no hesitation in advising him to marry. He proved to me
+that he could afford it; and that being the case, I was convinced he
+could not do better. I praised the fair lady too, and altogether sent
+him away very happy. If he had never esteemed my opinion before, he
+would have thought highly of me then; and, I dare say, left the house
+thinking me the best friend and counsellor man ever had. This happened
+the night before last. Now, as we may fairly suppose, he would not allow
+much time to pass before he spoke to the lady, and as he does not appear
+to have spoken yesterday, it is not unlikely that he should be at Mrs.
+Goddard’s to-day; and she may be detained by a visitor, without thinking
+him at all a tiresome wretch.”
+
+“Pray, Mr. Knightley,” said Emma, who had been smiling to herself
+through a great part of this speech, “how do you know that Mr. Martin
+did not speak yesterday?”
+
+“Certainly,” replied he, surprized, “I do not absolutely know it; but it
+may be inferred. Was not she the whole day with you?”
+
+“Come,” said she, “I will tell you something, in return for what
+you have told me. He did speak yesterday--that is, he wrote, and was
+refused.”
+
+This was obliged to be repeated before it could be believed; and Mr.
+Knightley actually looked red with surprize and displeasure, as he stood
+up, in tall indignation, and said,
+
+“Then she is a greater simpleton than I ever believed her. What is the
+foolish girl about?”
+
+“Oh! to be sure,” cried Emma, “it is always incomprehensible to a man
+that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. A man always
+imagines a woman to be ready for any body who asks her.”
+
+“Nonsense! a man does not imagine any such thing. But what is the
+meaning of this? Harriet Smith refuse Robert Martin? madness, if it is
+so; but I hope you are mistaken.”
+
+“I saw her answer!--nothing could be clearer.”
+
+“You saw her answer!--you wrote her answer too. Emma, this is your
+doing. You persuaded her to refuse him.”
+
+“And if I did, (which, however, I am far from allowing) I should not
+feel that I had done wrong. Mr. Martin is a very respectable young man,
+but I cannot admit him to be Harriet’s equal; and am rather surprized
+indeed that he should have ventured to address her. By your account, he
+does seem to have had some scruples. It is a pity that they were ever
+got over.”
+
+“Not Harriet’s equal!” exclaimed Mr. Knightley loudly and warmly; and
+with calmer asperity, added, a few moments afterwards, “No, he is
+not her equal indeed, for he is as much her superior in sense as in
+situation. Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you. What are
+Harriet Smith’s claims, either of birth, nature or education, to any
+connexion higher than Robert Martin? She is the natural daughter of
+nobody knows whom, with probably no settled provision at all, and
+certainly no respectable relations. She is known only as parlour-boarder
+at a common school. She is not a sensible girl, nor a girl of any
+information. She has been taught nothing useful, and is too young and
+too simple to have acquired any thing herself. At her age she can have
+no experience, and with her little wit, is not very likely ever to have
+any that can avail her. She is pretty, and she is good tempered, and
+that is all. My only scruple in advising the match was on his account,
+as being beneath his deserts, and a bad connexion for him. I felt that,
+as to fortune, in all probability he might do much better; and that as
+to a rational companion or useful helpmate, he could not do worse. But I
+could not reason so to a man in love, and was willing to trust to there
+being no harm in her, to her having that sort of disposition, which, in
+good hands, like his, might be easily led aright and turn out very well.
+The advantage of the match I felt to be all on her side; and had not the
+smallest doubt (nor have I now) that there would be a general cry-out
+upon her extreme good luck. Even _your_ satisfaction I made sure of.
+It crossed my mind immediately that you would not regret your friend’s
+leaving Highbury, for the sake of her being settled so well. I remember
+saying to myself, ‘Even Emma, with all her partiality for Harriet, will
+think this a good match.’”
+
+“I cannot help wondering at your knowing so little of Emma as to say any
+such thing. What! think a farmer, (and with all his sense and all his
+merit Mr. Martin is nothing more,) a good match for my intimate friend!
+Not regret her leaving Highbury for the sake of marrying a man whom
+I could never admit as an acquaintance of my own! I wonder you should
+think it possible for me to have such feelings. I assure you mine are
+very different. I must think your statement by no means fair. You are
+not just to Harriet’s claims. They would be estimated very differently
+by others as well as myself; Mr. Martin may be the richest of the two,
+but he is undoubtedly her inferior as to rank in society.--The sphere in
+which she moves is much above his.--It would be a degradation.”
+
+“A degradation to illegitimacy and ignorance, to be married to a
+respectable, intelligent gentleman-farmer!”
+
+“As to the circumstances of her birth, though in a legal sense she may
+be called Nobody, it will not hold in common sense. She is not to pay
+for the offence of others, by being held below the level of those with
+whom she is brought up.--There can scarcely be a doubt that her father
+is a gentleman--and a gentleman of fortune.--Her allowance is
+very liberal; nothing has ever been grudged for her improvement or
+comfort.--That she is a gentleman’s daughter, is indubitable to me; that
+she associates with gentlemen’s daughters, no one, I apprehend, will
+deny.--She is superior to Mr. Robert Martin.”
+
+“Whoever might be her parents,” said Mr. Knightley, “whoever may have
+had the charge of her, it does not appear to have been any part of
+their plan to introduce her into what you would call good society. After
+receiving a very indifferent education she is left in Mrs. Goddard’s
+hands to shift as she can;--to move, in short, in Mrs. Goddard’s line,
+to have Mrs. Goddard’s acquaintance. Her friends evidently thought
+this good enough for her; and it _was_ good enough. She desired nothing
+better herself. Till you chose to turn her into a friend, her mind had
+no distaste for her own set, nor any ambition beyond it. She was as
+happy as possible with the Martins in the summer. She had no sense of
+superiority then. If she has it now, you have given it. You have been no
+friend to Harriet Smith, Emma. Robert Martin would never have proceeded
+so far, if he had not felt persuaded of her not being disinclined to
+him. I know him well. He has too much real feeling to address any
+woman on the haphazard of selfish passion. And as to conceit, he is
+the farthest from it of any man I know. Depend upon it he had
+encouragement.”
+
+It was most convenient to Emma not to make a direct reply to this
+assertion; she chose rather to take up her own line of the subject
+again.
+
+“You are a very warm friend to Mr. Martin; but, as I said before,
+are unjust to Harriet. Harriet’s claims to marry well are not so
+contemptible as you represent them. She is not a clever girl, but she
+has better sense than you are aware of, and does not deserve to have her
+understanding spoken of so slightingly. Waiving that point, however, and
+supposing her to be, as you describe her, only pretty and good-natured,
+let me tell you, that in the degree she possesses them, they are not
+trivial recommendations to the world in general, for she is, in fact, a
+beautiful girl, and must be thought so by ninety-nine people out of an
+hundred; and till it appears that men are much more philosophic on the
+subject of beauty than they are generally supposed; till they do fall
+in love with well-informed minds instead of handsome faces, a girl, with
+such loveliness as Harriet, has a certainty of being admired and sought
+after, of having the power of chusing from among many, consequently a
+claim to be nice. Her good-nature, too, is not so very slight a claim,
+comprehending, as it does, real, thorough sweetness of temper and
+manner, a very humble opinion of herself, and a great readiness to
+be pleased with other people. I am very much mistaken if your sex in
+general would not think such beauty, and such temper, the highest claims
+a woman could possess.”
+
+“Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have, is almost
+enough to make me think so too. Better be without sense, than misapply
+it as you do.”
+
+“To be sure!” cried she playfully. “I know _that_ is the feeling of
+you all. I know that such a girl as Harriet is exactly what every
+man delights in--what at once bewitches his senses and satisfies his
+judgment. Oh! Harriet may pick and chuse. Were you, yourself, ever to
+marry, she is the very woman for you. And is she, at seventeen, just
+entering into life, just beginning to be known, to be wondered at
+because she does not accept the first offer she receives? No--pray let
+her have time to look about her.”
+
+“I have always thought it a very foolish intimacy,” said Mr. Knightley
+presently, “though I have kept my thoughts to myself; but I now perceive
+that it will be a very unfortunate one for Harriet. You will puff her up
+with such ideas of her own beauty, and of what she has a claim to, that,
+in a little while, nobody within her reach will be good enough for her.
+Vanity working on a weak head, produces every sort of mischief. Nothing
+so easy as for a young lady to raise her expectations too high. Miss
+Harriet Smith may not find offers of marriage flow in so fast, though
+she is a very pretty girl. Men of sense, whatever you may chuse to
+say, do not want silly wives. Men of family would not be very fond of
+connecting themselves with a girl of such obscurity--and most prudent
+men would be afraid of the inconvenience and disgrace they might be
+involved in, when the mystery of her parentage came to be revealed. Let
+her marry Robert Martin, and she is safe, respectable, and happy for
+ever; but if you encourage her to expect to marry greatly, and teach her
+to be satisfied with nothing less than a man of consequence and large
+fortune, she may be a parlour-boarder at Mrs. Goddard’s all the rest
+of her life--or, at least, (for Harriet Smith is a girl who will marry
+somebody or other,) till she grow desperate, and is glad to catch at the
+old writing-master’s son.”
+
+“We think so very differently on this point, Mr. Knightley, that there
+can be no use in canvassing it. We shall only be making each other more
+angry. But as to my _letting_ her marry Robert Martin, it is impossible;
+she has refused him, and so decidedly, I think, as must prevent any
+second application. She must abide by the evil of having refused him,
+whatever it may be; and as to the refusal itself, I will not pretend to
+say that I might not influence her a little; but I assure you there
+was very little for me or for any body to do. His appearance is so much
+against him, and his manner so bad, that if she ever were disposed to
+favour him, she is not now. I can imagine, that before she had seen
+any body superior, she might tolerate him. He was the brother of her
+friends, and he took pains to please her; and altogether, having seen
+nobody better (that must have been his great assistant) she might not,
+while she was at Abbey-Mill, find him disagreeable. But the case
+is altered now. She knows now what gentlemen are; and nothing but a
+gentleman in education and manner has any chance with Harriet.”
+
+“Nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever was talked!” cried Mr.
+Knightley.--“Robert Martin’s manners have sense, sincerity, and
+good-humour to recommend them; and his mind has more true gentility than
+Harriet Smith could understand.”
+
+Emma made no answer, and tried to look cheerfully unconcerned, but was
+really feeling uncomfortable and wanting him very much to be gone. She
+did not repent what she had done; she still thought herself a better
+judge of such a point of female right and refinement than he could be;
+but yet she had a sort of habitual respect for his judgment in general,
+which made her dislike having it so loudly against her; and to have him
+sitting just opposite to her in angry state, was very disagreeable.
+Some minutes passed in this unpleasant silence, with only one attempt
+on Emma’s side to talk of the weather, but he made no answer. He was
+thinking. The result of his thoughts appeared at last in these words.
+
+“Robert Martin has no great loss--if he can but think so; and I hope it
+will not be long before he does. Your views for Harriet are best known
+to yourself; but as you make no secret of your love of match-making, it
+is fair to suppose that views, and plans, and projects you have;--and as
+a friend I shall just hint to you that if Elton is the man, I think it
+will be all labour in vain.”
+
+Emma laughed and disclaimed. He continued,
+
+“Depend upon it, Elton will not do. Elton is a very good sort of man,
+and a very respectable vicar of Highbury, but not at all likely to make
+an imprudent match. He knows the value of a good income as well as any
+body. Elton may talk sentimentally, but he will act rationally. He is
+as well acquainted with his own claims, as you can be with Harriet’s.
+He knows that he is a very handsome young man, and a great favourite
+wherever he goes; and from his general way of talking in unreserved
+moments, when there are only men present, I am convinced that he does
+not mean to throw himself away. I have heard him speak with great
+animation of a large family of young ladies that his sisters are
+intimate with, who have all twenty thousand pounds apiece.”
+
+“I am very much obliged to you,” said Emma, laughing again. “If I had
+set my heart on Mr. Elton’s marrying Harriet, it would have been very
+kind to open my eyes; but at present I only want to keep Harriet to
+myself. I have done with match-making indeed. I could never hope to
+equal my own doings at Randalls. I shall leave off while I am well.”
+
+“Good morning to you,”--said he, rising and walking off abruptly. He was
+very much vexed. He felt the disappointment of the young man, and was
+mortified to have been the means of promoting it, by the sanction he had
+given; and the part which he was persuaded Emma had taken in the affair,
+was provoking him exceedingly.
+
+Emma remained in a state of vexation too; but there was more
+indistinctness in the causes of her’s, than in his. She did not always
+feel so absolutely satisfied with herself, so entirely convinced that
+her opinions were right and her adversary’s wrong, as Mr. Knightley. He
+walked off in more complete self-approbation than he left for her. She
+was not so materially cast down, however, but that a little time and
+the return of Harriet were very adequate restoratives. Harriet’s staying
+away so long was beginning to make her uneasy. The possibility of the
+young man’s coming to Mrs. Goddard’s that morning, and meeting with
+Harriet and pleading his own cause, gave alarming ideas. The dread
+of such a failure after all became the prominent uneasiness; and when
+Harriet appeared, and in very good spirits, and without having any
+such reason to give for her long absence, she felt a satisfaction which
+settled her with her own mind, and convinced her, that let Mr.
+Knightley think or say what he would, she had done nothing which woman’s
+friendship and woman’s feelings would not justify.
+
+He had frightened her a little about Mr. Elton; but when she considered
+that Mr. Knightley could not have observed him as she had done, neither
+with the interest, nor (she must be allowed to tell herself, in spite of
+Mr. Knightley’s pretensions) with the skill of such an observer on such
+a question as herself, that he had spoken it hastily and in anger, she
+was able to believe, that he had rather said what he wished resentfully
+to be true, than what he knew any thing about. He certainly might have
+heard Mr. Elton speak with more unreserve than she had ever done, and
+Mr. Elton might not be of an imprudent, inconsiderate disposition as to
+money matters; he might naturally be rather attentive than otherwise
+to them; but then, Mr. Knightley did not make due allowance for the
+influence of a strong passion at war with all interested motives. Mr.
+Knightley saw no such passion, and of course thought nothing of its
+effects; but she saw too much of it to feel a doubt of its overcoming
+any hesitations that a reasonable prudence might originally suggest; and
+more than a reasonable, becoming degree of prudence, she was very sure
+did not belong to Mr. Elton.
+
+Harriet’s cheerful look and manner established hers: she came back, not
+to think of Mr. Martin, but to talk of Mr. Elton. Miss Nash had been
+telling her something, which she repeated immediately with great
+delight. Mr. Perry had been to Mrs. Goddard’s to attend a sick child,
+and Miss Nash had seen him, and he had told Miss Nash, that as he was
+coming back yesterday from Clayton Park, he had met Mr. Elton, and
+found to his great surprize, that Mr. Elton was actually on his road
+to London, and not meaning to return till the morrow, though it was the
+whist-club night, which he had been never known to miss before; and Mr.
+Perry had remonstrated with him about it, and told him how shabby it
+was in him, their best player, to absent himself, and tried very much to
+persuade him to put off his journey only one day; but it would not
+do; Mr. Elton had been determined to go on, and had said in a _very_
+_particular_ way indeed, that he was going on business which he would
+not put off for any inducement in the world; and something about a
+very enviable commission, and being the bearer of something exceedingly
+precious. Mr. Perry could not quite understand him, but he was very sure
+there must be a _lady_ in the case, and he told him so; and Mr. Elton
+only looked very conscious and smiling, and rode off in great spirits.
+Miss Nash had told her all this, and had talked a great deal more about
+Mr. Elton; and said, looking so very significantly at her, “that she did
+not pretend to understand what his business might be, but she only
+knew that any woman whom Mr. Elton could prefer, she should think the
+luckiest woman in the world; for, beyond a doubt, Mr. Elton had not his
+equal for beauty or agreeableness.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+Mr. Knightley might quarrel with her, but Emma could not quarrel with
+herself. He was so much displeased, that it was longer than usual before
+he came to Hartfield again; and when they did meet, his grave looks
+shewed that she was not forgiven. She was sorry, but could not repent.
+On the contrary, her plans and proceedings were more and more justified
+and endeared to her by the general appearances of the next few days.
+
+The Picture, elegantly framed, came safely to hand soon after Mr.
+Elton’s return, and being hung over the mantelpiece of the common
+sitting-room, he got up to look at it, and sighed out his half sentences
+of admiration just as he ought; and as for Harriet’s feelings, they were
+visibly forming themselves into as strong and steady an attachment as
+her youth and sort of mind admitted. Emma was soon perfectly satisfied
+of Mr. Martin’s being no otherwise remembered, than as he furnished a
+contrast with Mr. Elton, of the utmost advantage to the latter.
+
+Her views of improving her little friend’s mind, by a great deal of
+useful reading and conversation, had never yet led to more than a few
+first chapters, and the intention of going on to-morrow. It was much
+easier to chat than to study; much pleasanter to let her imagination
+range and work at Harriet’s fortune, than to be labouring to enlarge
+her comprehension or exercise it on sober facts; and the only literary
+pursuit which engaged Harriet at present, the only mental provision she
+was making for the evening of life, was the collecting and transcribing
+all the riddles of every sort that she could meet with, into a thin
+quarto of hot-pressed paper, made up by her friend, and ornamented with
+ciphers and trophies.
+
+In this age of literature, such collections on a very grand scale are
+not uncommon. Miss Nash, head-teacher at Mrs. Goddard’s, had written out
+at least three hundred; and Harriet, who had taken the first hint of it
+from her, hoped, with Miss Woodhouse’s help, to get a great many more.
+Emma assisted with her invention, memory and taste; and as Harriet wrote
+a very pretty hand, it was likely to be an arrangement of the first
+order, in form as well as quantity.
+
+Mr. Woodhouse was almost as much interested in the business as the
+girls, and tried very often to recollect something worth their putting
+in. “So many clever riddles as there used to be when he was young--he
+wondered he could not remember them! but he hoped he should in time.”
+ And it always ended in “Kitty, a fair but frozen maid.”
+
+His good friend Perry, too, whom he had spoken to on the subject,
+did not at present recollect any thing of the riddle kind; but he
+had desired Perry to be upon the watch, and as he went about so much,
+something, he thought, might come from that quarter.
+
+It was by no means his daughter’s wish that the intellects of Highbury
+in general should be put under requisition. Mr. Elton was the only one
+whose assistance she asked. He was invited to contribute any really good
+enigmas, charades, or conundrums that he might recollect; and she had
+the pleasure of seeing him most intently at work with his recollections;
+and at the same time, as she could perceive, most earnestly careful that
+nothing ungallant, nothing that did not breathe a compliment to the
+sex should pass his lips. They owed to him their two or three politest
+puzzles; and the joy and exultation with which at last he recalled, and
+rather sentimentally recited, that well-known charade,
+
+ My first doth affliction denote,
+ Which my second is destin’d to feel
+ And my whole is the best antidote
+ That affliction to soften and heal.--
+
+made her quite sorry to acknowledge that they had transcribed it some
+pages ago already.
+
+“Why will not you write one yourself for us, Mr. Elton?” said she; “that
+is the only security for its freshness; and nothing could be easier to
+you.”
+
+“Oh no! he had never written, hardly ever, any thing of the kind in his
+life. The stupidest fellow! He was afraid not even Miss Woodhouse”--he
+stopt a moment--“or Miss Smith could inspire him.”
+
+The very next day however produced some proof of inspiration. He
+called for a few moments, just to leave a piece of paper on the table
+containing, as he said, a charade, which a friend of his had addressed
+to a young lady, the object of his admiration, but which, from his
+manner, Emma was immediately convinced must be his own.
+
+“I do not offer it for Miss Smith’s collection,” said he. “Being my
+friend’s, I have no right to expose it in any degree to the public eye,
+but perhaps you may not dislike looking at it.”
+
+The speech was more to Emma than to Harriet, which Emma could
+understand. There was deep consciousness about him, and he found
+it easier to meet her eye than her friend’s. He was gone the next
+moment:--after another moment’s pause,
+
+“Take it,” said Emma, smiling, and pushing the paper towards
+Harriet--“it is for you. Take your own.”
+
+But Harriet was in a tremor, and could not touch it; and Emma, never
+loth to be first, was obliged to examine it herself.
+
+ To Miss--
+
+ CHARADE.
+
+ My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,
+ Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease.
+ Another view of man, my second brings,
+ Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!
+
+ But ah! united, what reverse we have!
+ Man’s boasted power and freedom, all are flown;
+ Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave,
+ And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.
+
+ Thy ready wit the word will soon supply,
+ May its approval beam in that soft eye!
+
+She cast her eye over it, pondered, caught the meaning, read it through
+again to be quite certain, and quite mistress of the lines, and then
+passing it to Harriet, sat happily smiling, and saying to herself, while
+Harriet was puzzling over the paper in all the confusion of hope and
+dulness, “Very well, Mr. Elton, very well indeed. I have read worse
+charades. _Courtship_--a very good hint. I give you credit for it. This
+is feeling your way. This is saying very plainly--‘Pray, Miss Smith,
+give me leave to pay my addresses to you. Approve my charade and my
+intentions in the same glance.’
+
+ May its approval beam in that soft eye!
+
+Harriet exactly. Soft is the very word for her eye--of all epithets, the
+justest that could be given.
+
+ Thy ready wit the word will soon supply.
+
+Humph--Harriet’s ready wit! All the better. A man must be very much in
+love, indeed, to describe her so. Ah! Mr. Knightley, I wish you had the
+benefit of this; I think this would convince you. For once in your life
+you would be obliged to own yourself mistaken. An excellent charade
+indeed! and very much to the purpose. Things must come to a crisis soon
+now.”
+
+She was obliged to break off from these very pleasant observations,
+which were otherwise of a sort to run into great length, by the
+eagerness of Harriet’s wondering questions.
+
+“What can it be, Miss Woodhouse?--what can it be? I have not an idea--I
+cannot guess it in the least. What can it possibly be? Do try to find
+it out, Miss Woodhouse. Do help me. I never saw any thing so hard. Is it
+kingdom? I wonder who the friend was--and who could be the young lady.
+Do you think it is a good one? Can it be woman?
+
+ And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.
+
+Can it be Neptune?
+
+ Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!
+
+Or a trident? or a mermaid? or a shark? Oh, no! shark is only one
+syllable. It must be very clever, or he would not have brought it. Oh!
+Miss Woodhouse, do you think we shall ever find it out?”
+
+“Mermaids and sharks! Nonsense! My dear Harriet, what are you thinking
+of? Where would be the use of his bringing us a charade made by a friend
+upon a mermaid or a shark? Give me the paper and listen.
+
+For Miss ------, read Miss Smith.
+
+ My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,
+ Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease.
+
+That is _court_.
+
+ Another view of man, my second brings;
+ Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!
+
+That is _ship_;--plain as it can be.--Now for the cream.
+
+ But ah! united, (_courtship_, you know,) what reverse we have!
+ Man’s boasted power and freedom, all are flown.
+ Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave,
+ And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.
+
+A very proper compliment!--and then follows the application, which
+I think, my dear Harriet, you cannot find much difficulty in
+comprehending. Read it in comfort to yourself. There can be no doubt of
+its being written for you and to you.”
+
+Harriet could not long resist so delightful a persuasion. She read
+the concluding lines, and was all flutter and happiness. She could not
+speak. But she was not wanted to speak. It was enough for her to feel.
+Emma spoke for her.
+
+“There is so pointed, and so particular a meaning in this compliment,”
+ said she, “that I cannot have a doubt as to Mr. Elton’s intentions. You
+are his object--and you will soon receive the completest proof of it. I
+thought it must be so. I thought I could not be so deceived; but now, it
+is clear; the state of his mind is as clear and decided, as my wishes on
+the subject have been ever since I knew you. Yes, Harriet, just so long
+have I been wanting the very circumstance to happen that has happened.
+I could never tell whether an attachment between you and Mr. Elton were
+most desirable or most natural. Its probability and its eligibility have
+really so equalled each other! I am very happy. I congratulate you, my
+dear Harriet, with all my heart. This is an attachment which a woman may
+well feel pride in creating. This is a connexion which offers nothing
+but good. It will give you every thing that you want--consideration,
+independence, a proper home--it will fix you in the centre of all your
+real friends, close to Hartfield and to me, and confirm our intimacy
+for ever. This, Harriet, is an alliance which can never raise a blush in
+either of us.”
+
+“Dear Miss Woodhouse!”--and “Dear Miss Woodhouse,” was all that Harriet,
+with many tender embraces could articulate at first; but when they did
+arrive at something more like conversation, it was sufficiently clear to
+her friend that she saw, felt, anticipated, and remembered just as she
+ought. Mr. Elton’s superiority had very ample acknowledgment.
+
+“Whatever you say is always right,” cried Harriet, “and therefore I
+suppose, and believe, and hope it must be so; but otherwise I could not
+have imagined it. It is so much beyond any thing I deserve. Mr. Elton,
+who might marry any body! There cannot be two opinions about _him_. He
+is so very superior. Only think of those sweet verses--‘To Miss ------.’
+Dear me, how clever!--Could it really be meant for me?”
+
+“I cannot make a question, or listen to a question about that. It is a
+certainty. Receive it on my judgment. It is a sort of prologue to
+the play, a motto to the chapter; and will be soon followed by
+matter-of-fact prose.”
+
+“It is a sort of thing which nobody could have expected. I am sure,
+a month ago, I had no more idea myself!--The strangest things do take
+place!”
+
+“When Miss Smiths and Mr. Eltons get acquainted--they do indeed--and
+really it is strange; it is out of the common course that what is so
+evidently, so palpably desirable--what courts the pre-arrangement of
+other people, should so immediately shape itself into the proper form.
+You and Mr. Elton are by situation called together; you belong to one
+another by every circumstance of your respective homes. Your marrying
+will be equal to the match at Randalls. There does seem to be a
+something in the air of Hartfield which gives love exactly the right
+direction, and sends it into the very channel where it ought to flow.
+
+ The course of true love never did run smooth--
+
+A Hartfield edition of Shakespeare would have a long note on that
+passage.”
+
+“That Mr. Elton should really be in love with me,--me, of all people,
+who did not know him, to speak to him, at Michaelmas! And he, the very
+handsomest man that ever was, and a man that every body looks up to,
+quite like Mr. Knightley! His company so sought after, that every body
+says he need not eat a single meal by himself if he does not chuse it;
+that he has more invitations than there are days in the week. And so
+excellent in the Church! Miss Nash has put down all the texts he has
+ever preached from since he came to Highbury. Dear me! When I look back
+to the first time I saw him! How little did I think!--The two Abbots and
+I ran into the front room and peeped through the blind when we heard he
+was going by, and Miss Nash came and scolded us away, and staid to look
+through herself; however, she called me back presently, and let me
+look too, which was very good-natured. And how beautiful we thought he
+looked! He was arm-in-arm with Mr. Cole.”
+
+“This is an alliance which, whoever--whatever your friends may be, must
+be agreeable to them, provided at least they have common sense; and we
+are not to be addressing our conduct to fools. If they are anxious to
+see you _happily_ married, here is a man whose amiable character gives
+every assurance of it;--if they wish to have you settled in the same
+country and circle which they have chosen to place you in, here it will
+be accomplished; and if their only object is that you should, in the
+common phrase, be _well_ married, here is the comfortable fortune, the
+respectable establishment, the rise in the world which must satisfy
+them.”
+
+“Yes, very true. How nicely you talk; I love to hear you. You understand
+every thing. You and Mr. Elton are one as clever as the other. This
+charade!--If I had studied a twelvemonth, I could never have made any
+thing like it.”
+
+“I thought he meant to try his skill, by his manner of declining it
+yesterday.”
+
+“I do think it is, without exception, the best charade I ever read.”
+
+“I never read one more to the purpose, certainly.”
+
+“It is as long again as almost all we have had before.”
+
+“I do not consider its length as particularly in its favour. Such things
+in general cannot be too short.”
+
+Harriet was too intent on the lines to hear. The most satisfactory
+comparisons were rising in her mind.
+
+“It is one thing,” said she, presently--her cheeks in a glow--“to have
+very good sense in a common way, like every body else, and if there is
+any thing to say, to sit down and write a letter, and say just what you
+must, in a short way; and another, to write verses and charades like
+this.”
+
+Emma could not have desired a more spirited rejection of Mr. Martin’s
+prose.
+
+“Such sweet lines!” continued Harriet--“these two last!--But how shall I
+ever be able to return the paper, or say I have found it out?--Oh! Miss
+Woodhouse, what can we do about that?”
+
+“Leave it to me. You do nothing. He will be here this evening, I dare
+say, and then I will give it him back, and some nonsense or other will
+pass between us, and you shall not be committed.--Your soft eyes shall
+chuse their own time for beaming. Trust to me.”
+
+“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what a pity that I must not write this beautiful
+charade into my book! I am sure I have not got one half so good.”
+
+“Leave out the two last lines, and there is no reason why you should not
+write it into your book.”
+
+“Oh! but those two lines are”--
+
+--“The best of all. Granted;--for private enjoyment; and for private
+enjoyment keep them. They are not at all the less written you know,
+because you divide them. The couplet does not cease to be, nor does its
+meaning change. But take it away, and all _appropriation_ ceases, and a
+very pretty gallant charade remains, fit for any collection. Depend upon
+it, he would not like to have his charade slighted, much better than his
+passion. A poet in love must be encouraged in both capacities, or
+neither. Give me the book, I will write it down, and then there can be
+no possible reflection on you.”
+
+Harriet submitted, though her mind could hardly separate the parts,
+so as to feel quite sure that her friend were not writing down a
+declaration of love. It seemed too precious an offering for any degree
+of publicity.
+
+“I shall never let that book go out of my own hands,” said she.
+
+“Very well,” replied Emma; “a most natural feeling; and the longer it
+lasts, the better I shall be pleased. But here is my father coming: you
+will not object to my reading the charade to him. It will be giving him
+so much pleasure! He loves any thing of the sort, and especially any
+thing that pays woman a compliment. He has the tenderest spirit of
+gallantry towards us all!--You must let me read it to him.”
+
+Harriet looked grave.
+
+“My dear Harriet, you must not refine too much upon this charade.--You
+will betray your feelings improperly, if you are too conscious and too
+quick, and appear to affix more meaning, or even quite all the meaning
+which may be affixed to it. Do not be overpowered by such a little
+tribute of admiration. If he had been anxious for secrecy, he would not
+have left the paper while I was by; but he rather pushed it towards me
+than towards you. Do not let us be too solemn on the business. He has
+encouragement enough to proceed, without our sighing out our souls over
+this charade.”
+
+“Oh! no--I hope I shall not be ridiculous about it. Do as you please.”
+
+Mr. Woodhouse came in, and very soon led to the subject again, by the
+recurrence of his very frequent inquiry of “Well, my dears, how does
+your book go on?--Have you got any thing fresh?”
+
+“Yes, papa; we have something to read you, something quite fresh. A
+piece of paper was found on the table this morning--(dropt, we suppose,
+by a fairy)--containing a very pretty charade, and we have just copied
+it in.”
+
+She read it to him, just as he liked to have any thing read, slowly and
+distinctly, and two or three times over, with explanations of every
+part as she proceeded--and he was very much pleased, and, as she had
+foreseen, especially struck with the complimentary conclusion.
+
+“Aye, that’s very just, indeed, that’s very properly said. Very true.
+‘Woman, lovely woman.’ It is such a pretty charade, my dear, that I
+can easily guess what fairy brought it.--Nobody could have written so
+prettily, but you, Emma.”
+
+Emma only nodded, and smiled.--After a little thinking, and a very
+tender sigh, he added,
+
+“Ah! it is no difficulty to see who you take after! Your dear mother
+was so clever at all those things! If I had but her memory! But I can
+remember nothing;--not even that particular riddle which you have
+heard me mention; I can only recollect the first stanza; and there are
+several.
+
+ Kitty, a fair but frozen maid,
+ Kindled a flame I yet deplore,
+ The hood-wink’d boy I called to aid,
+ Though of his near approach afraid,
+ So fatal to my suit before.
+
+And that is all that I can recollect of it--but it is very clever all
+the way through. But I think, my dear, you said you had got it.”
+
+“Yes, papa, it is written out in our second page. We copied it from the
+Elegant Extracts. It was Garrick’s, you know.”
+
+“Aye, very true.--I wish I could recollect more of it.
+
+ Kitty, a fair but frozen maid.
+
+The name makes me think of poor Isabella; for she was very near being
+christened Catherine after her grandmama. I hope we shall have her here
+next week. Have you thought, my dear, where you shall put her--and what
+room there will be for the children?”
+
+“Oh! yes--she will have her own room, of course; the room she always
+has;--and there is the nursery for the children,--just as usual, you
+know. Why should there be any change?”
+
+“I do not know, my dear--but it is so long since she was here!--not
+since last Easter, and then only for a few days.--Mr. John Knightley’s
+being a lawyer is very inconvenient.--Poor Isabella!--she is sadly taken
+away from us all!--and how sorry she will be when she comes, not to see
+Miss Taylor here!”
+
+“She will not be surprized, papa, at least.”
+
+“I do not know, my dear. I am sure I was very much surprized when I
+first heard she was going to be married.”
+
+“We must ask Mr. and Mrs. Weston to dine with us, while Isabella is
+here.”
+
+“Yes, my dear, if there is time.--But--(in a very depressed tone)--she
+is coming for only one week. There will not be time for any thing.”
+
+“It is unfortunate that they cannot stay longer--but it seems a case of
+necessity. Mr. John Knightley must be in town again on the 28th, and we
+ought to be thankful, papa, that we are to have the whole of the time
+they can give to the country, that two or three days are not to be taken
+out for the Abbey. Mr. Knightley promises to give up his claim this
+Christmas--though you know it is longer since they were with him, than
+with us.”
+
+“It would be very hard, indeed, my dear, if poor Isabella were to be
+anywhere but at Hartfield.”
+
+Mr. Woodhouse could never allow for Mr. Knightley’s claims on his
+brother, or any body’s claims on Isabella, except his own. He sat musing
+a little while, and then said,
+
+“But I do not see why poor Isabella should be obliged to go back so
+soon, though he does. I think, Emma, I shall try and persuade her to
+stay longer with us. She and the children might stay very well.”
+
+“Ah! papa--that is what you never have been able to accomplish, and I
+do not think you ever will. Isabella cannot bear to stay behind her
+husband.”
+
+This was too true for contradiction. Unwelcome as it was, Mr. Woodhouse
+could only give a submissive sigh; and as Emma saw his spirits affected
+by the idea of his daughter’s attachment to her husband, she immediately
+led to such a branch of the subject as must raise them.
+
+“Harriet must give us as much of her company as she can while my brother
+and sister are here. I am sure she will be pleased with the children.
+We are very proud of the children, are not we, papa? I wonder which she
+will think the handsomest, Henry or John?”
+
+“Aye, I wonder which she will. Poor little dears, how glad they will be
+to come. They are very fond of being at Hartfield, Harriet.”
+
+“I dare say they are, sir. I am sure I do not know who is not.”
+
+“Henry is a fine boy, but John is very like his mama. Henry is the
+eldest, he was named after me, not after his father. John, the second,
+is named after his father. Some people are surprized, I believe, that
+the eldest was not, but Isabella would have him called Henry, which I
+thought very pretty of her. And he is a very clever boy, indeed. They
+are all remarkably clever; and they have so many pretty ways. They will
+come and stand by my chair, and say, ‘Grandpapa, can you give me a bit
+of string?’ and once Henry asked me for a knife, but I told him knives
+were only made for grandpapas. I think their father is too rough with
+them very often.”
+
+“He appears rough to you,” said Emma, “because you are so very gentle
+yourself; but if you could compare him with other papas, you would not
+think him rough. He wishes his boys to be active and hardy; and if
+they misbehave, can give them a sharp word now and then; but he is an
+affectionate father--certainly Mr. John Knightley is an affectionate
+father. The children are all fond of him.”
+
+“And then their uncle comes in, and tosses them up to the ceiling in a
+very frightful way!”
+
+“But they like it, papa; there is nothing they like so much. It is such
+enjoyment to them, that if their uncle did not lay down the rule of
+their taking turns, whichever began would never give way to the other.”
+
+“Well, I cannot understand it.”
+
+“That is the case with us all, papa. One half of the world cannot
+understand the pleasures of the other.”
+
+Later in the morning, and just as the girls were going to separate
+in preparation for the regular four o’clock dinner, the hero of this
+inimitable charade walked in again. Harriet turned away; but Emma could
+receive him with the usual smile, and her quick eye soon discerned in
+his the consciousness of having made a push--of having thrown a die;
+and she imagined he was come to see how it might turn up. His ostensible
+reason, however, was to ask whether Mr. Woodhouse’s party could be made
+up in the evening without him, or whether he should be in the smallest
+degree necessary at Hartfield. If he were, every thing else must give
+way; but otherwise his friend Cole had been saying so much about his
+dining with him--had made such a point of it, that he had promised him
+conditionally to come.
+
+Emma thanked him, but could not allow of his disappointing his friend
+on their account; her father was sure of his rubber. He re-urged--she
+re-declined; and he seemed then about to make his bow, when taking the
+paper from the table, she returned it--
+
+“Oh! here is the charade you were so obliging as to leave with us; thank
+you for the sight of it. We admired it so much, that I have ventured
+to write it into Miss Smith’s collection. Your friend will not take it
+amiss I hope. Of course I have not transcribed beyond the first eight
+lines.”
+
+Mr. Elton certainly did not very well know what to say. He looked rather
+doubtingly--rather confused; said something about “honour,”--glanced at
+Emma and at Harriet, and then seeing the book open on the table, took
+it up, and examined it very attentively. With the view of passing off an
+awkward moment, Emma smilingly said,
+
+“You must make my apologies to your friend; but so good a charade
+must not be confined to one or two. He may be sure of every woman’s
+approbation while he writes with such gallantry.”
+
+“I have no hesitation in saying,” replied Mr. Elton, though hesitating
+a good deal while he spoke; “I have no hesitation in saying--at least
+if my friend feels at all as _I_ do--I have not the smallest doubt that,
+could he see his little effusion honoured as _I_ see it, (looking at the
+book again, and replacing it on the table), he would consider it as the
+proudest moment of his life.”
+
+After this speech he was gone as soon as possible. Emma could not think
+it too soon; for with all his good and agreeable qualities, there was
+a sort of parade in his speeches which was very apt to incline her to
+laugh. She ran away to indulge the inclination, leaving the tender and
+the sublime of pleasure to Harriet’s share.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Though now the middle of December, there had yet been no weather to
+prevent the young ladies from tolerably regular exercise; and on the
+morrow, Emma had a charitable visit to pay to a poor sick family, who
+lived a little way out of Highbury.
+
+Their road to this detached cottage was down Vicarage Lane, a lane
+leading at right angles from the broad, though irregular, main street of
+the place; and, as may be inferred, containing the blessed abode of Mr.
+Elton. A few inferior dwellings were first to be passed, and then, about
+a quarter of a mile down the lane rose the Vicarage, an old and not
+very good house, almost as close to the road as it could be. It had
+no advantage of situation; but had been very much smartened up by the
+present proprietor; and, such as it was, there could be no possibility
+of the two friends passing it without a slackened pace and observing
+eyes.--Emma’s remark was--
+
+“There it is. There go you and your riddle-book one of these
+days.”--Harriet’s was--
+
+“Oh, what a sweet house!--How very beautiful!--There are the yellow
+curtains that Miss Nash admires so much.”
+
+“I do not often walk this way _now_,” said Emma, as they proceeded, “but
+_then_ there will be an inducement, and I shall gradually get intimately
+acquainted with all the hedges, gates, pools and pollards of this part
+of Highbury.”
+
+Harriet, she found, had never in her life been inside the Vicarage,
+and her curiosity to see it was so extreme, that, considering exteriors
+and probabilities, Emma could only class it, as a proof of love, with
+Mr. Elton’s seeing ready wit in her.
+
+“I wish we could contrive it,” said she; “but I cannot think of any
+tolerable pretence for going in;--no servant that I want to inquire
+about of his housekeeper--no message from my father.”
+
+She pondered, but could think of nothing. After a mutual silence of some
+minutes, Harriet thus began again--
+
+“I do so wonder, Miss Woodhouse, that you should not be married, or
+going to be married! so charming as you are!”--
+
+Emma laughed, and replied,
+
+“My being charming, Harriet, is not quite enough to induce me to marry;
+I must find other people charming--one other person at least. And I
+am not only, not going to be married, at present, but have very little
+intention of ever marrying at all.”
+
+“Ah!--so you say; but I cannot believe it.”
+
+“I must see somebody very superior to any one I have seen yet, to be
+tempted; Mr. Elton, you know, (recollecting herself,) is out of the
+question: and I do _not_ wish to see any such person. I would rather not
+be tempted. I cannot really change for the better. If I were to marry, I
+must expect to repent it.”
+
+“Dear me!--it is so odd to hear a woman talk so!”--
+
+“I have none of the usual inducements of women to marry. Were I to fall
+in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! but I never have been in
+love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall.
+And, without love, I am sure I should be a fool to change such a
+situation as mine. Fortune I do not want; employment I do not want;
+consequence I do not want: I believe few married women are half as much
+mistress of their husband’s house as I am of Hartfield; and never, never
+could I expect to be so truly beloved and important; so always first and
+always right in any man’s eyes as I am in my father’s.”
+
+“But then, to be an old maid at last, like Miss Bates!”
+
+“That is as formidable an image as you could present, Harriet; and if
+I thought I should ever be like Miss Bates! so silly--so satisfied--so
+smiling--so prosing--so undistinguishing and unfastidious--and so apt
+to tell every thing relative to every body about me, I would marry
+to-morrow. But between _us_, I am convinced there never can be any
+likeness, except in being unmarried.”
+
+“But still, you will be an old maid! and that’s so dreadful!”
+
+“Never mind, Harriet, I shall not be a poor old maid; and it is poverty
+only which makes celibacy contemptible to a generous public! A single
+woman, with a very narrow income, must be a ridiculous, disagreeable old
+maid! the proper sport of boys and girls, but a single woman, of good
+fortune, is always respectable, and may be as sensible and pleasant
+as any body else. And the distinction is not quite so much against the
+candour and common sense of the world as appears at first; for a very
+narrow income has a tendency to contract the mind, and sour the temper.
+Those who can barely live, and who live perforce in a very small, and
+generally very inferior, society, may well be illiberal and cross. This
+does not apply, however, to Miss Bates; she is only too good natured and
+too silly to suit me; but, in general, she is very much to the taste
+of every body, though single and though poor. Poverty certainly has not
+contracted her mind: I really believe, if she had only a shilling in the
+world, she would be very likely to give away sixpence of it; and nobody
+is afraid of her: that is a great charm.”
+
+“Dear me! but what shall you do? how shall you employ yourself when you
+grow old?”
+
+“If I know myself, Harriet, mine is an active, busy mind, with a great
+many independent resources; and I do not perceive why I should be more
+in want of employment at forty or fifty than one-and-twenty. Woman’s
+usual occupations of hand and mind will be as open to me then as they
+are now; or with no important variation. If I draw less, I shall read
+more; if I give up music, I shall take to carpet-work. And as for
+objects of interest, objects for the affections, which is in truth the
+great point of inferiority, the want of which is really the great evil
+to be avoided in _not_ marrying, I shall be very well off, with all the
+children of a sister I love so much, to care about. There will be enough
+of them, in all probability, to supply every sort of sensation that
+declining life can need. There will be enough for every hope and every
+fear; and though my attachment to none can equal that of a parent, it
+suits my ideas of comfort better than what is warmer and blinder. My
+nephews and nieces!--I shall often have a niece with me.”
+
+“Do you know Miss Bates’s niece? That is, I know you must have seen her
+a hundred times--but are you acquainted?”
+
+“Oh! yes; we are always forced to be acquainted whenever she comes to
+Highbury. By the bye, _that_ is almost enough to put one out of conceit
+with a niece. Heaven forbid! at least, that I should ever bore people
+half so much about all the Knightleys together, as she does about Jane
+Fairfax. One is sick of the very name of Jane Fairfax. Every letter from
+her is read forty times over; her compliments to all friends go round
+and round again; and if she does but send her aunt the pattern of a
+stomacher, or knit a pair of garters for her grandmother, one hears of
+nothing else for a month. I wish Jane Fairfax very well; but she tires
+me to death.”
+
+They were now approaching the cottage, and all idle topics were
+superseded. Emma was very compassionate; and the distresses of the poor
+were as sure of relief from her personal attention and kindness, her
+counsel and her patience, as from her purse. She understood their ways,
+could allow for their ignorance and their temptations, had no romantic
+expectations of extraordinary virtue from those for whom education had
+done so little; entered into their troubles with ready sympathy, and
+always gave her assistance with as much intelligence as good-will. In
+the present instance, it was sickness and poverty together which she
+came to visit; and after remaining there as long as she could give
+comfort or advice, she quitted the cottage with such an impression of
+the scene as made her say to Harriet, as they walked away,
+
+“These are the sights, Harriet, to do one good. How trifling they make
+every thing else appear!--I feel now as if I could think of nothing but
+these poor creatures all the rest of the day; and yet, who can say how
+soon it may all vanish from my mind?”
+
+“Very true,” said Harriet. “Poor creatures! one can think of nothing
+else.”
+
+“And really, I do not think the impression will soon be over,” said
+Emma, as she crossed the low hedge, and tottering footstep which ended
+the narrow, slippery path through the cottage garden, and brought them
+into the lane again. “I do not think it will,” stopping to look once
+more at all the outward wretchedness of the place, and recall the still
+greater within.
+
+“Oh! dear, no,” said her companion.
+
+They walked on. The lane made a slight bend; and when that bend was
+passed, Mr. Elton was immediately in sight; and so near as to give Emma
+time only to say farther,
+
+“Ah! Harriet, here comes a very sudden trial of our stability in good
+thoughts. Well, (smiling,) I hope it may be allowed that if compassion
+has produced exertion and relief to the sufferers, it has done all that
+is truly important. If we feel for the wretched, enough to do all we can
+for them, the rest is empty sympathy, only distressing to ourselves.”
+
+Harriet could just answer, “Oh! dear, yes,” before the gentleman joined
+them. The wants and sufferings of the poor family, however, were the
+first subject on meeting. He had been going to call on them. His visit
+he would now defer; but they had a very interesting parley about
+what could be done and should be done. Mr. Elton then turned back to
+accompany them.
+
+“To fall in with each other on such an errand as this,” thought Emma;
+“to meet in a charitable scheme; this will bring a great increase
+of love on each side. I should not wonder if it were to bring on the
+declaration. It must, if I were not here. I wish I were anywhere else.”
+
+Anxious to separate herself from them as far as she could, she soon
+afterwards took possession of a narrow footpath, a little raised on one
+side of the lane, leaving them together in the main road. But she had
+not been there two minutes when she found that Harriet’s habits of
+dependence and imitation were bringing her up too, and that, in short,
+they would both be soon after her. This would not do; she immediately
+stopped, under pretence of having some alteration to make in the lacing
+of her half-boot, and stooping down in complete occupation of the
+footpath, begged them to have the goodness to walk on, and she would
+follow in half a minute. They did as they were desired; and by the time
+she judged it reasonable to have done with her boot, she had the comfort
+of farther delay in her power, being overtaken by a child from the
+cottage, setting out, according to orders, with her pitcher, to fetch
+broth from Hartfield. To walk by the side of this child, and talk to
+and question her, was the most natural thing in the world, or would have
+been the most natural, had she been acting just then without design;
+and by this means the others were still able to keep ahead, without
+any obligation of waiting for her. She gained on them, however,
+involuntarily: the child’s pace was quick, and theirs rather slow;
+and she was the more concerned at it, from their being evidently in
+a conversation which interested them. Mr. Elton was speaking with
+animation, Harriet listening with a very pleased attention; and Emma,
+having sent the child on, was beginning to think how she might draw back
+a little more, when they both looked around, and she was obliged to join
+them.
+
+Mr. Elton was still talking, still engaged in some interesting detail;
+and Emma experienced some disappointment when she found that he was only
+giving his fair companion an account of the yesterday’s party at his
+friend Cole’s, and that she was come in herself for the Stilton cheese,
+the north Wiltshire, the butter, the celery, the beet-root, and all the
+dessert.
+
+“This would soon have led to something better, of course,” was her
+consoling reflection; “any thing interests between those who love; and
+any thing will serve as introduction to what is near the heart. If I
+could but have kept longer away!”
+
+They now walked on together quietly, till within view of the vicarage
+pales, when a sudden resolution, of at least getting Harriet into the
+house, made her again find something very much amiss about her boot, and
+fall behind to arrange it once more. She then broke the lace off short,
+and dexterously throwing it into a ditch, was presently obliged to
+entreat them to stop, and acknowledged her inability to put herself to
+rights so as to be able to walk home in tolerable comfort.
+
+“Part of my lace is gone,” said she, “and I do not know how I am to
+contrive. I really am a most troublesome companion to you both, but I
+hope I am not often so ill-equipped. Mr. Elton, I must beg leave to stop
+at your house, and ask your housekeeper for a bit of ribband or string,
+or any thing just to keep my boot on.”
+
+Mr. Elton looked all happiness at this proposition; and nothing could
+exceed his alertness and attention in conducting them into his house and
+endeavouring to make every thing appear to advantage. The room they were
+taken into was the one he chiefly occupied, and looking forwards; behind
+it was another with which it immediately communicated; the door between
+them was open, and Emma passed into it with the housekeeper to receive
+her assistance in the most comfortable manner. She was obliged to leave
+the door ajar as she found it; but she fully intended that Mr. Elton
+should close it. It was not closed, however, it still remained ajar; but
+by engaging the housekeeper in incessant conversation, she hoped to make
+it practicable for him to chuse his own subject in the adjoining
+room. For ten minutes she could hear nothing but herself. It could be
+protracted no longer. She was then obliged to be finished, and make her
+appearance.
+
+The lovers were standing together at one of the windows. It had a most
+favourable aspect; and, for half a minute, Emma felt the glory of having
+schemed successfully. But it would not do; he had not come to the point.
+He had been most agreeable, most delightful; he had told Harriet that
+he had seen them go by, and had purposely followed them; other little
+gallantries and allusions had been dropt, but nothing serious.
+
+“Cautious, very cautious,” thought Emma; “he advances inch by inch, and
+will hazard nothing till he believes himself secure.”
+
+Still, however, though every thing had not been accomplished by her
+ingenious device, she could not but flatter herself that it had been
+the occasion of much present enjoyment to both, and must be leading them
+forward to the great event.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Mr. Elton must now be left to himself. It was no longer in Emma’s power
+to superintend his happiness or quicken his measures. The coming of her
+sister’s family was so very near at hand, that first in anticipation,
+and then in reality, it became henceforth her prime object of interest;
+and during the ten days of their stay at Hartfield it was not to be
+expected--she did not herself expect--that any thing beyond occasional,
+fortuitous assistance could be afforded by her to the lovers. They might
+advance rapidly if they would, however; they must advance somehow or
+other whether they would or no. She hardly wished to have more leisure
+for them. There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they
+will do for themselves.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley, from having been longer than usual absent
+from Surry, were exciting of course rather more than the usual interest.
+Till this year, every long vacation since their marriage had been
+divided between Hartfield and Donwell Abbey; but all the holidays of
+this autumn had been given to sea-bathing for the children, and it was
+therefore many months since they had been seen in a regular way by their
+Surry connexions, or seen at all by Mr. Woodhouse, who could not be
+induced to get so far as London, even for poor Isabella’s sake; and
+who consequently was now most nervously and apprehensively happy in
+forestalling this too short visit.
+
+He thought much of the evils of the journey for her, and not a little
+of the fatigues of his own horses and coachman who were to bring some
+of the party the last half of the way; but his alarms were needless;
+the sixteen miles being happily accomplished, and Mr. and Mrs. John
+Knightley, their five children, and a competent number of nursery-maids,
+all reaching Hartfield in safety. The bustle and joy of such an arrival,
+the many to be talked to, welcomed, encouraged, and variously dispersed
+and disposed of, produced a noise and confusion which his nerves could
+not have borne under any other cause, nor have endured much longer even
+for this; but the ways of Hartfield and the feelings of her father
+were so respected by Mrs. John Knightley, that in spite of maternal
+solicitude for the immediate enjoyment of her little ones, and for their
+having instantly all the liberty and attendance, all the eating and
+drinking, and sleeping and playing, which they could possibly wish for,
+without the smallest delay, the children were never allowed to be long
+a disturbance to him, either in themselves or in any restless attendance
+on them.
+
+Mrs. John Knightley was a pretty, elegant little woman, of gentle, quiet
+manners, and a disposition remarkably amiable and affectionate; wrapt
+up in her family; a devoted wife, a doating mother, and so tenderly
+attached to her father and sister that, but for these higher ties, a
+warmer love might have seemed impossible. She could never see a fault
+in any of them. She was not a woman of strong understanding or any
+quickness; and with this resemblance of her father, she inherited also
+much of his constitution; was delicate in her own health, over-careful
+of that of her children, had many fears and many nerves, and was as fond
+of her own Mr. Wingfield in town as her father could be of Mr. Perry.
+They were alike too, in a general benevolence of temper, and a strong
+habit of regard for every old acquaintance.
+
+Mr. John Knightley was a tall, gentleman-like, and very clever man;
+rising in his profession, domestic, and respectable in his private
+character; but with reserved manners which prevented his being generally
+pleasing; and capable of being sometimes out of humour. He was not an
+ill-tempered man, not so often unreasonably cross as to deserve such a
+reproach; but his temper was not his great perfection; and, indeed, with
+such a worshipping wife, it was hardly possible that any natural defects
+in it should not be increased. The extreme sweetness of her temper
+must hurt his. He had all the clearness and quickness of mind which she
+wanted, and he could sometimes act an ungracious, or say a severe thing.
+
+He was not a great favourite with his fair sister-in-law. Nothing wrong
+in him escaped her. She was quick in feeling the little injuries to
+Isabella, which Isabella never felt herself. Perhaps she might have
+passed over more had his manners been flattering to Isabella’s sister,
+but they were only those of a calmly kind brother and friend, without
+praise and without blindness; but hardly any degree of personal
+compliment could have made her regardless of that greatest fault of
+all in her eyes which he sometimes fell into, the want of respectful
+forbearance towards her father. There he had not always the patience
+that could have been wished. Mr. Woodhouse’s peculiarities and
+fidgetiness were sometimes provoking him to a rational remonstrance or
+sharp retort equally ill-bestowed. It did not often happen; for Mr. John
+Knightley had really a great regard for his father-in-law, and generally
+a strong sense of what was due to him; but it was too often for Emma’s
+charity, especially as there was all the pain of apprehension frequently
+to be endured, though the offence came not. The beginning, however, of
+every visit displayed none but the properest feelings, and this being of
+necessity so short might be hoped to pass away in unsullied cordiality.
+They had not been long seated and composed when Mr. Woodhouse, with a
+melancholy shake of the head and a sigh, called his daughter’s attention
+to the sad change at Hartfield since she had been there last.
+
+“Ah, my dear,” said he, “poor Miss Taylor--It is a grievous business.”
+
+“Oh yes, sir,” cried she with ready sympathy, “how you must miss her!
+And dear Emma, too!--What a dreadful loss to you both!--I have been so
+grieved for you.--I could not imagine how you could possibly do without
+her.--It is a sad change indeed.--But I hope she is pretty well, sir.”
+
+“Pretty well, my dear--I hope--pretty well.--I do not know but that the
+place agrees with her tolerably.”
+
+Mr. John Knightley here asked Emma quietly whether there were any doubts
+of the air of Randalls.
+
+“Oh! no--none in the least. I never saw Mrs. Weston better in my
+life--never looking so well. Papa is only speaking his own regret.”
+
+“Very much to the honour of both,” was the handsome reply.
+
+“And do you see her, sir, tolerably often?” asked Isabella in the
+plaintive tone which just suited her father.
+
+Mr. Woodhouse hesitated.--“Not near so often, my dear, as I could wish.”
+
+“Oh! papa, we have missed seeing them but one entire day since they
+married. Either in the morning or evening of every day, excepting one,
+have we seen either Mr. Weston or Mrs. Weston, and generally both,
+either at Randalls or here--and as you may suppose, Isabella, most
+frequently here. They are very, very kind in their visits. Mr. Weston
+is really as kind as herself. Papa, if you speak in that melancholy way,
+you will be giving Isabella a false idea of us all. Every body must be
+aware that Miss Taylor must be missed, but every body ought also to be
+assured that Mr. and Mrs. Weston do really prevent our missing her by
+any means to the extent we ourselves anticipated--which is the exact
+truth.”
+
+“Just as it should be,” said Mr. John Knightley, “and just as I hoped
+it was from your letters. Her wish of shewing you attention could not be
+doubted, and his being a disengaged and social man makes it all easy. I
+have been always telling you, my love, that I had no idea of the change
+being so very material to Hartfield as you apprehended; and now you have
+Emma’s account, I hope you will be satisfied.”
+
+“Why, to be sure,” said Mr. Woodhouse--“yes, certainly--I cannot
+deny that Mrs. Weston, poor Mrs. Weston, does come and see us pretty
+often--but then--she is always obliged to go away again.”
+
+“It would be very hard upon Mr. Weston if she did not, papa.--You quite
+forget poor Mr. Weston.”
+
+“I think, indeed,” said John Knightley pleasantly, “that Mr. Weston has
+some little claim. You and I, Emma, will venture to take the part of the
+poor husband. I, being a husband, and you not being a wife, the claims
+of the man may very likely strike us with equal force. As for Isabella,
+she has been married long enough to see the convenience of putting all
+the Mr. Westons aside as much as she can.”
+
+“Me, my love,” cried his wife, hearing and understanding only in part.--
+“Are you talking about me?--I am sure nobody ought to be, or can be, a
+greater advocate for matrimony than I am; and if it had not been for
+the misery of her leaving Hartfield, I should never have thought of Miss
+Taylor but as the most fortunate woman in the world; and as to slighting
+Mr. Weston, that excellent Mr. Weston, I think there is nothing he does
+not deserve. I believe he is one of the very best-tempered men that ever
+existed. Excepting yourself and your brother, I do not know his equal
+for temper. I shall never forget his flying Henry’s kite for him that
+very windy day last Easter--and ever since his particular kindness last
+September twelvemonth in writing that note, at twelve o’clock at night,
+on purpose to assure me that there was no scarlet fever at Cobham, I
+have been convinced there could not be a more feeling heart nor a better
+man in existence.--If any body can deserve him, it must be Miss Taylor.”
+
+“Where is the young man?” said John Knightley. “Has he been here on this
+occasion--or has he not?”
+
+“He has not been here yet,” replied Emma. “There was a strong
+expectation of his coming soon after the marriage, but it ended in
+nothing; and I have not heard him mentioned lately.”
+
+“But you should tell them of the letter, my dear,” said her father.
+“He wrote a letter to poor Mrs. Weston, to congratulate her, and a very
+proper, handsome letter it was. She shewed it to me. I thought it very
+well done of him indeed. Whether it was his own idea you know, one
+cannot tell. He is but young, and his uncle, perhaps--”
+
+“My dear papa, he is three-and-twenty. You forget how time passes.”
+
+“Three-and-twenty!--is he indeed?--Well, I could not have thought
+it--and he was but two years old when he lost his poor mother! Well,
+time does fly indeed!--and my memory is very bad. However, it was an
+exceeding good, pretty letter, and gave Mr. and Mrs. Weston a great deal
+of pleasure. I remember it was written from Weymouth, and dated Sept.
+28th--and began, ‘My dear Madam,’ but I forget how it went on; and it
+was signed ‘F. C. Weston Churchill.’--I remember that perfectly.”
+
+“How very pleasing and proper of him!” cried the good-hearted Mrs. John
+Knightley. “I have no doubt of his being a most amiable young man. But
+how sad it is that he should not live at home with his father! There is
+something so shocking in a child’s being taken away from his parents and
+natural home! I never could comprehend how Mr. Weston could part with
+him. To give up one’s child! I really never could think well of any body
+who proposed such a thing to any body else.”
+
+“Nobody ever did think well of the Churchills, I fancy,” observed Mr.
+John Knightley coolly. “But you need not imagine Mr. Weston to have felt
+what you would feel in giving up Henry or John. Mr. Weston is rather
+an easy, cheerful-tempered man, than a man of strong feelings; he takes
+things as he finds them, and makes enjoyment of them somehow or other,
+depending, I suspect, much more upon what is called society for his
+comforts, that is, upon the power of eating and drinking, and playing
+whist with his neighbours five times a week, than upon family affection,
+or any thing that home affords.”
+
+Emma could not like what bordered on a reflection on Mr. Weston, and had
+half a mind to take it up; but she struggled, and let it pass. She
+would keep the peace if possible; and there was something honourable and
+valuable in the strong domestic habits, the all-sufficiency of home to
+himself, whence resulted her brother’s disposition to look down on
+the common rate of social intercourse, and those to whom it was
+important.--It had a high claim to forbearance.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+Mr. Knightley was to dine with them--rather against the inclination of
+Mr. Woodhouse, who did not like that any one should share with him in
+Isabella’s first day. Emma’s sense of right however had decided it;
+and besides the consideration of what was due to each brother, she had
+particular pleasure, from the circumstance of the late disagreement
+between Mr. Knightley and herself, in procuring him the proper
+invitation.
+
+She hoped they might now become friends again. She thought it was time
+to make up. Making-up indeed would not do. _She_ certainly had not been
+in the wrong, and _he_ would never own that he had. Concession must be
+out of the question; but it was time to appear to forget that they had
+ever quarrelled; and she hoped it might rather assist the restoration of
+friendship, that when he came into the room she had one of the children
+with her--the youngest, a nice little girl about eight months old, who
+was now making her first visit to Hartfield, and very happy to be danced
+about in her aunt’s arms. It did assist; for though he began with grave
+looks and short questions, he was soon led on to talk of them all in
+the usual way, and to take the child out of her arms with all the
+unceremoniousness of perfect amity. Emma felt they were friends again;
+and the conviction giving her at first great satisfaction, and then
+a little sauciness, she could not help saying, as he was admiring the
+baby,
+
+“What a comfort it is, that we think alike about our nephews and nieces.
+As to men and women, our opinions are sometimes very different; but with
+regard to these children, I observe we never disagree.”
+
+“If you were as much guided by nature in your estimate of men and women,
+and as little under the power of fancy and whim in your dealings with
+them, as you are where these children are concerned, we might always
+think alike.”
+
+“To be sure--our discordancies must always arise from my being in the
+wrong.”
+
+“Yes,” said he, smiling--“and reason good. I was sixteen years old when
+you were born.”
+
+“A material difference then,” she replied--“and no doubt you were much
+my superior in judgment at that period of our lives; but does not the
+lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings a good deal
+nearer?”
+
+“Yes--a good deal _nearer_.”
+
+“But still, not near enough to give me a chance of being right, if we
+think differently.”
+
+“I have still the advantage of you by sixteen years’ experience, and by
+not being a pretty young woman and a spoiled child. Come, my dear Emma,
+let us be friends, and say no more about it. Tell your aunt, little
+Emma, that she ought to set you a better example than to be renewing old
+grievances, and that if she were not wrong before, she is now.”
+
+“That’s true,” she cried--“very true. Little Emma, grow up a better
+woman than your aunt. Be infinitely cleverer and not half so conceited.
+Now, Mr. Knightley, a word or two more, and I have done. As far as good
+intentions went, we were _both_ right, and I must say that no effects on
+my side of the argument have yet proved wrong. I only want to know that
+Mr. Martin is not very, very bitterly disappointed.”
+
+“A man cannot be more so,” was his short, full answer.
+
+“Ah!--Indeed I am very sorry.--Come, shake hands with me.”
+
+This had just taken place and with great cordiality, when John Knightley
+made his appearance, and “How d’ye do, George?” and “John, how are
+you?” succeeded in the true English style, burying under a calmness that
+seemed all but indifference, the real attachment which would have led
+either of them, if requisite, to do every thing for the good of the
+other.
+
+The evening was quiet and conversable, as Mr. Woodhouse declined cards
+entirely for the sake of comfortable talk with his dear Isabella, and
+the little party made two natural divisions; on one side he and his
+daughter; on the other the two Mr. Knightleys; their subjects totally
+distinct, or very rarely mixing--and Emma only occasionally joining in
+one or the other.
+
+The brothers talked of their own concerns and pursuits, but principally
+of those of the elder, whose temper was by much the most communicative,
+and who was always the greater talker. As a magistrate, he had generally
+some point of law to consult John about, or, at least, some curious
+anecdote to give; and as a farmer, as keeping in hand the home-farm at
+Donwell, he had to tell what every field was to bear next year, and to
+give all such local information as could not fail of being interesting
+to a brother whose home it had equally been the longest part of his
+life, and whose attachments were strong. The plan of a drain, the change
+of a fence, the felling of a tree, and the destination of every acre for
+wheat, turnips, or spring corn, was entered into with as much equality
+of interest by John, as his cooler manners rendered possible; and if his
+willing brother ever left him any thing to inquire about, his inquiries
+even approached a tone of eagerness.
+
+While they were thus comfortably occupied, Mr. Woodhouse was enjoying a
+full flow of happy regrets and fearful affection with his daughter.
+
+“My poor dear Isabella,” said he, fondly taking her hand, and
+interrupting, for a few moments, her busy labours for some one of her
+five children--“How long it is, how terribly long since you were here!
+And how tired you must be after your journey! You must go to bed early,
+my dear--and I recommend a little gruel to you before you go.--You and
+I will have a nice basin of gruel together. My dear Emma, suppose we all
+have a little gruel.”
+
+Emma could not suppose any such thing, knowing as she did, that both the
+Mr. Knightleys were as unpersuadable on that article as herself;--and
+two basins only were ordered. After a little more discourse in praise of
+gruel, with some wondering at its not being taken every evening by every
+body, he proceeded to say, with an air of grave reflection,
+
+“It was an awkward business, my dear, your spending the autumn at South
+End instead of coming here. I never had much opinion of the sea air.”
+
+“Mr. Wingfield most strenuously recommended it, sir--or we should not
+have gone. He recommended it for all the children, but particularly for
+the weakness in little Bella’s throat,--both sea air and bathing.”
+
+“Ah! my dear, but Perry had many doubts about the sea doing her any
+good; and as to myself, I have been long perfectly convinced, though
+perhaps I never told you so before, that the sea is very rarely of use
+to any body. I am sure it almost killed me once.”
+
+“Come, come,” cried Emma, feeling this to be an unsafe subject, “I must
+beg you not to talk of the sea. It makes me envious and miserable;--I
+who have never seen it! South End is prohibited, if you please. My dear
+Isabella, I have not heard you make one inquiry about Mr. Perry yet; and
+he never forgets you.”
+
+“Oh! good Mr. Perry--how is he, sir?”
+
+“Why, pretty well; but not quite well. Poor Perry is bilious, and he has
+not time to take care of himself--he tells me he has not time to take
+care of himself--which is very sad--but he is always wanted all round
+the country. I suppose there is not a man in such practice anywhere. But
+then there is not so clever a man any where.”
+
+“And Mrs. Perry and the children, how are they? do the children grow?
+I have a great regard for Mr. Perry. I hope he will be calling soon. He
+will be so pleased to see my little ones.”
+
+“I hope he will be here to-morrow, for I have a question or two to ask
+him about myself of some consequence. And, my dear, whenever he comes,
+you had better let him look at little Bella’s throat.”
+
+“Oh! my dear sir, her throat is so much better that I have hardly any
+uneasiness about it. Either bathing has been of the greatest service to
+her, or else it is to be attributed to an excellent embrocation of Mr.
+Wingfield’s, which we have been applying at times ever since August.”
+
+“It is not very likely, my dear, that bathing should have been of use
+to her--and if I had known you were wanting an embrocation, I would have
+spoken to--
+
+“You seem to me to have forgotten Mrs. and Miss Bates,” said Emma, “I
+have not heard one inquiry after them.”
+
+“Oh! the good Bateses--I am quite ashamed of myself--but you mention
+them in most of your letters. I hope they are quite well. Good old Mrs.
+Bates--I will call upon her to-morrow, and take my children.--They
+are always so pleased to see my children.--And that excellent Miss
+Bates!--such thorough worthy people!--How are they, sir?”
+
+“Why, pretty well, my dear, upon the whole. But poor Mrs. Bates had a
+bad cold about a month ago.”
+
+“How sorry I am! But colds were never so prevalent as they have been
+this autumn. Mr. Wingfield told me that he has never known them more
+general or heavy--except when it has been quite an influenza.”
+
+“That has been a good deal the case, my dear; but not to the degree you
+mention. Perry says that colds have been very general, but not so heavy
+as he has very often known them in November. Perry does not call it
+altogether a sickly season.”
+
+“No, I do not know that Mr. Wingfield considers it _very_ sickly
+except--
+
+“Ah! my poor dear child, the truth is, that in London it is always
+a sickly season. Nobody is healthy in London, nobody can be. It is a
+dreadful thing to have you forced to live there! so far off!--and the
+air so bad!”
+
+“No, indeed--_we_ are not at all in a bad air. Our part of London is
+very superior to most others!--You must not confound us with London
+in general, my dear sir. The neighbourhood of Brunswick Square is very
+different from almost all the rest. We are so very airy! I should be
+unwilling, I own, to live in any other part of the town;--there is
+hardly any other that I could be satisfied to have my children in:
+but _we_ are so remarkably airy!--Mr. Wingfield thinks the vicinity of
+Brunswick Square decidedly the most favourable as to air.”
+
+“Ah! my dear, it is not like Hartfield. You make the best of it--but
+after you have been a week at Hartfield, you are all of you different
+creatures; you do not look like the same. Now I cannot say, that I think
+you are any of you looking well at present.”
+
+“I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; but I assure you, excepting those
+little nervous head-aches and palpitations which I am never entirely
+free from anywhere, I am quite well myself; and if the children were
+rather pale before they went to bed, it was only because they were a
+little more tired than usual, from their journey and the happiness of
+coming. I hope you will think better of their looks to-morrow; for I
+assure you Mr. Wingfield told me, that he did not believe he had ever
+sent us off altogether, in such good case. I trust, at least, that
+you do not think Mr. Knightley looking ill,” turning her eyes with
+affectionate anxiety towards her husband.
+
+“Middling, my dear; I cannot compliment you. I think Mr. John Knightley
+very far from looking well.”
+
+“What is the matter, sir?--Did you speak to me?” cried Mr. John
+Knightley, hearing his own name.
+
+“I am sorry to find, my love, that my father does not think you looking
+well--but I hope it is only from being a little fatigued. I could have
+wished, however, as you know, that you had seen Mr. Wingfield before you
+left home.”
+
+“My dear Isabella,”--exclaimed he hastily--“pray do not concern yourself
+about my looks. Be satisfied with doctoring and coddling yourself and
+the children, and let me look as I chuse.”
+
+“I did not thoroughly understand what you were telling your brother,”
+ cried Emma, “about your friend Mr. Graham’s intending to have a bailiff
+from Scotland, to look after his new estate. What will it answer? Will
+not the old prejudice be too strong?”
+
+And she talked in this way so long and successfully that, when forced to
+give her attention again to her father and sister, she had nothing
+worse to hear than Isabella’s kind inquiry after Jane Fairfax; and Jane
+Fairfax, though no great favourite with her in general, she was at that
+moment very happy to assist in praising.
+
+“That sweet, amiable Jane Fairfax!” said Mrs. John Knightley.--“It
+is so long since I have seen her, except now and then for a moment
+accidentally in town! What happiness it must be to her good old
+grandmother and excellent aunt, when she comes to visit them! I always
+regret excessively on dear Emma’s account that she cannot be more at
+Highbury; but now their daughter is married, I suppose Colonel and Mrs.
+Campbell will not be able to part with her at all. She would be such a
+delightful companion for Emma.”
+
+Mr. Woodhouse agreed to it all, but added,
+
+“Our little friend Harriet Smith, however, is just such another pretty
+kind of young person. You will like Harriet. Emma could not have a
+better companion than Harriet.”
+
+“I am most happy to hear it--but only Jane Fairfax one knows to be so
+very accomplished and superior!--and exactly Emma’s age.”
+
+This topic was discussed very happily, and others succeeded of similar
+moment, and passed away with similar harmony; but the evening did not
+close without a little return of agitation. The gruel came and supplied
+a great deal to be said--much praise and many comments--undoubting
+decision of its wholesomeness for every constitution, and pretty
+severe Philippics upon the many houses where it was never met with
+tolerably;--but, unfortunately, among the failures which the daughter
+had to instance, the most recent, and therefore most prominent, was in
+her own cook at South End, a young woman hired for the time, who never
+had been able to understand what she meant by a basin of nice smooth
+gruel, thin, but not too thin. Often as she had wished for and ordered
+it, she had never been able to get any thing tolerable. Here was a
+dangerous opening.
+
+“Ah!” said Mr. Woodhouse, shaking his head and fixing his eyes on her
+with tender concern.--The ejaculation in Emma’s ear expressed, “Ah!
+there is no end of the sad consequences of your going to South End. It
+does not bear talking of.” And for a little while she hoped he would not
+talk of it, and that a silent rumination might suffice to restore him to
+the relish of his own smooth gruel. After an interval of some minutes,
+however, he began with,
+
+“I shall always be very sorry that you went to the sea this autumn,
+instead of coming here.”
+
+“But why should you be sorry, sir?--I assure you, it did the children a
+great deal of good.”
+
+“And, moreover, if you must go to the sea, it had better not have been
+to South End. South End is an unhealthy place. Perry was surprized to
+hear you had fixed upon South End.”
+
+“I know there is such an idea with many people, but indeed it is quite
+a mistake, sir.--We all had our health perfectly well there, never
+found the least inconvenience from the mud; and Mr. Wingfield says it is
+entirely a mistake to suppose the place unhealthy; and I am sure he may
+be depended on, for he thoroughly understands the nature of the air, and
+his own brother and family have been there repeatedly.”
+
+“You should have gone to Cromer, my dear, if you went anywhere.--Perry
+was a week at Cromer once, and he holds it to be the best of all the
+sea-bathing places. A fine open sea, he says, and very pure air. And, by
+what I understand, you might have had lodgings there quite away from
+the sea--a quarter of a mile off--very comfortable. You should have
+consulted Perry.”
+
+“But, my dear sir, the difference of the journey;--only consider how
+great it would have been.--An hundred miles, perhaps, instead of forty.”
+
+“Ah! my dear, as Perry says, where health is at stake, nothing else
+should be considered; and if one is to travel, there is not much to
+chuse between forty miles and an hundred.--Better not move at all,
+better stay in London altogether than travel forty miles to get into
+a worse air. This is just what Perry said. It seemed to him a very
+ill-judged measure.”
+
+Emma’s attempts to stop her father had been vain; and when he
+had reached such a point as this, she could not wonder at her
+brother-in-law’s breaking out.
+
+“Mr. Perry,” said he, in a voice of very strong displeasure, “would do
+as well to keep his opinion till it is asked for. Why does he make it
+any business of his, to wonder at what I do?--at my taking my family to
+one part of the coast or another?--I may be allowed, I hope, the use of
+my judgment as well as Mr. Perry.--I want his directions no more than
+his drugs.” He paused--and growing cooler in a moment, added, with only
+sarcastic dryness, “If Mr. Perry can tell me how to convey a wife and
+five children a distance of an hundred and thirty miles with no greater
+expense or inconvenience than a distance of forty, I should be as
+willing to prefer Cromer to South End as he could himself.”
+
+“True, true,” cried Mr. Knightley, with most ready interposition--“very
+true. That’s a consideration indeed.--But John, as to what I was telling
+you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more to the
+right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot conceive
+any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the means of
+inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly
+the present line of the path.... The only way of proving it, however,
+will be to turn to our maps. I shall see you at the Abbey to-morrow
+morning I hope, and then we will look them over, and you shall give me
+your opinion.”
+
+Mr. Woodhouse was rather agitated by such harsh reflections on his
+friend Perry, to whom he had, in fact, though unconsciously, been
+attributing many of his own feelings and expressions;--but the soothing
+attentions of his daughters gradually removed the present evil, and
+the immediate alertness of one brother, and better recollections of the
+other, prevented any renewal of it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+There could hardly be a happier creature in the world than Mrs. John
+Knightley, in this short visit to Hartfield, going about every morning
+among her old acquaintance with her five children, and talking over what
+she had done every evening with her father and sister. She had nothing
+to wish otherwise, but that the days did not pass so swiftly. It was a
+delightful visit;--perfect, in being much too short.
+
+In general their evenings were less engaged with friends than their
+mornings; but one complete dinner engagement, and out of the house too,
+there was no avoiding, though at Christmas. Mr. Weston would take no
+denial; they must all dine at Randalls one day;--even Mr. Woodhouse was
+persuaded to think it a possible thing in preference to a division of
+the party.
+
+How they were all to be conveyed, he would have made a difficulty if he
+could, but as his son and daughter’s carriage and horses were actually
+at Hartfield, he was not able to make more than a simple question on
+that head; it hardly amounted to a doubt; nor did it occupy Emma long
+to convince him that they might in one of the carriages find room for
+Harriet also.
+
+Harriet, Mr. Elton, and Mr. Knightley, their own especial set, were the
+only persons invited to meet them;--the hours were to be early, as
+well as the numbers few; Mr. Woodhouse’s habits and inclination being
+consulted in every thing.
+
+The evening before this great event (for it was a very great event that
+Mr. Woodhouse should dine out, on the 24th of December) had been spent
+by Harriet at Hartfield, and she had gone home so much indisposed with
+a cold, that, but for her own earnest wish of being nursed by Mrs.
+Goddard, Emma could not have allowed her to leave the house. Emma called
+on her the next day, and found her doom already signed with regard to
+Randalls. She was very feverish and had a bad sore throat: Mrs. Goddard
+was full of care and affection, Mr. Perry was talked of, and Harriet
+herself was too ill and low to resist the authority which excluded her
+from this delightful engagement, though she could not speak of her loss
+without many tears.
+
+Emma sat with her as long as she could, to attend her in Mrs. Goddard’s
+unavoidable absences, and raise her spirits by representing how much Mr.
+Elton’s would be depressed when he knew her state; and left her at last
+tolerably comfortable, in the sweet dependence of his having a most
+comfortless visit, and of their all missing her very much. She had not
+advanced many yards from Mrs. Goddard’s door, when she was met by Mr.
+Elton himself, evidently coming towards it, and as they walked on slowly
+together in conversation about the invalid--of whom he, on the rumour
+of considerable illness, had been going to inquire, that he might
+carry some report of her to Hartfield--they were overtaken by Mr. John
+Knightley returning from the daily visit to Donwell, with his two eldest
+boys, whose healthy, glowing faces shewed all the benefit of a country
+run, and seemed to ensure a quick despatch of the roast mutton and rice
+pudding they were hastening home for. They joined company and
+proceeded together. Emma was just describing the nature of her friend’s
+complaint;--“a throat very much inflamed, with a great deal of heat
+about her, a quick, low pulse, &c. and she was sorry to find from Mrs.
+Goddard that Harriet was liable to very bad sore-throats, and had often
+alarmed her with them.” Mr. Elton looked all alarm on the occasion, as
+he exclaimed,
+
+“A sore-throat!--I hope not infectious. I hope not of a putrid
+infectious sort. Has Perry seen her? Indeed you should take care of
+yourself as well as of your friend. Let me entreat you to run no risks.
+Why does not Perry see her?”
+
+Emma, who was not really at all frightened herself, tranquillised this
+excess of apprehension by assurances of Mrs. Goddard’s experience and
+care; but as there must still remain a degree of uneasiness which she
+could not wish to reason away, which she would rather feed and assist
+than not, she added soon afterwards--as if quite another subject,
+
+“It is so cold, so very cold--and looks and feels so very much like
+snow, that if it were to any other place or with any other party, I
+should really try not to go out to-day--and dissuade my father from
+venturing; but as he has made up his mind, and does not seem to feel the
+cold himself, I do not like to interfere, as I know it would be so great
+a disappointment to Mr. and Mrs. Weston. But, upon my word, Mr. Elton,
+in your case, I should certainly excuse myself. You appear to me a
+little hoarse already, and when you consider what demand of voice and
+what fatigues to-morrow will bring, I think it would be no more than
+common prudence to stay at home and take care of yourself to-night.”
+
+Mr. Elton looked as if he did not very well know what answer to make;
+which was exactly the case; for though very much gratified by the kind
+care of such a fair lady, and not liking to resist any advice of her’s,
+he had not really the least inclination to give up the visit;--but Emma,
+too eager and busy in her own previous conceptions and views to hear him
+impartially, or see him with clear vision, was very well satisfied with
+his muttering acknowledgment of its being “very cold, certainly very
+cold,” and walked on, rejoicing in having extricated him from Randalls,
+and secured him the power of sending to inquire after Harriet every hour
+of the evening.
+
+“You do quite right,” said she;--“we will make your apologies to Mr. and
+Mrs. Weston.”
+
+But hardly had she so spoken, when she found her brother was civilly
+offering a seat in his carriage, if the weather were Mr. Elton’s only
+objection, and Mr. Elton actually accepting the offer with much prompt
+satisfaction. It was a done thing; Mr. Elton was to go, and never had
+his broad handsome face expressed more pleasure than at this moment;
+never had his smile been stronger, nor his eyes more exulting than when
+he next looked at her.
+
+“Well,” said she to herself, “this is most strange!--After I had got
+him off so well, to chuse to go into company, and leave Harriet ill
+behind!--Most strange indeed!--But there is, I believe, in many men,
+especially single men, such an inclination--such a passion for dining
+out--a dinner engagement is so high in the class of their pleasures,
+their employments, their dignities, almost their duties, that any
+thing gives way to it--and this must be the case with Mr. Elton; a most
+valuable, amiable, pleasing young man undoubtedly, and very much in love
+with Harriet; but still, he cannot refuse an invitation, he must dine
+out wherever he is asked. What a strange thing love is! he can see ready
+wit in Harriet, but will not dine alone for her.”
+
+Soon afterwards Mr. Elton quitted them, and she could not but do him
+the justice of feeling that there was a great deal of sentiment in his
+manner of naming Harriet at parting; in the tone of his voice while
+assuring her that he should call at Mrs. Goddard’s for news of her fair
+friend, the last thing before he prepared for the happiness of meeting
+her again, when he hoped to be able to give a better report; and
+he sighed and smiled himself off in a way that left the balance of
+approbation much in his favour.
+
+After a few minutes of entire silence between them, John Knightley began
+with--
+
+“I never in my life saw a man more intent on being agreeable than Mr.
+Elton. It is downright labour to him where ladies are concerned. With
+men he can be rational and unaffected, but when he has ladies to please,
+every feature works.”
+
+“Mr. Elton’s manners are not perfect,” replied Emma; “but where there is
+a wish to please, one ought to overlook, and one does overlook a great
+deal. Where a man does his best with only moderate powers, he will
+have the advantage over negligent superiority. There is such perfect
+good-temper and good-will in Mr. Elton as one cannot but value.”
+
+“Yes,” said Mr. John Knightley presently, with some slyness, “he seems
+to have a great deal of good-will towards you.”
+
+“Me!” she replied with a smile of astonishment, “are you imagining me to
+be Mr. Elton’s object?”
+
+“Such an imagination has crossed me, I own, Emma; and if it never
+occurred to you before, you may as well take it into consideration now.”
+
+“Mr. Elton in love with me!--What an idea!”
+
+“I do not say it is so; but you will do well to consider whether it
+is so or not, and to regulate your behaviour accordingly. I think your
+manners to him encouraging. I speak as a friend, Emma. You had better
+look about you, and ascertain what you do, and what you mean to do.”
+
+“I thank you; but I assure you you are quite mistaken. Mr. Elton and
+I are very good friends, and nothing more;” and she walked on, amusing
+herself in the consideration of the blunders which often arise from a
+partial knowledge of circumstances, of the mistakes which people of high
+pretensions to judgment are for ever falling into; and not very well
+pleased with her brother for imagining her blind and ignorant, and in
+want of counsel. He said no more.
+
+Mr. Woodhouse had so completely made up his mind to the visit, that in
+spite of the increasing coldness, he seemed to have no idea of shrinking
+from it, and set forward at last most punctually with his eldest
+daughter in his own carriage, with less apparent consciousness of the
+weather than either of the others; too full of the wonder of his own
+going, and the pleasure it was to afford at Randalls to see that it was
+cold, and too well wrapt up to feel it. The cold, however, was severe;
+and by the time the second carriage was in motion, a few flakes of snow
+were finding their way down, and the sky had the appearance of being so
+overcharged as to want only a milder air to produce a very white world
+in a very short time.
+
+Emma soon saw that her companion was not in the happiest humour. The
+preparing and the going abroad in such weather, with the sacrifice of
+his children after dinner, were evils, were disagreeables at least,
+which Mr. John Knightley did not by any means like; he anticipated
+nothing in the visit that could be at all worth the purchase; and the
+whole of their drive to the vicarage was spent by him in expressing his
+discontent.
+
+“A man,” said he, “must have a very good opinion of himself when he asks
+people to leave their own fireside, and encounter such a day as
+this, for the sake of coming to see him. He must think himself a most
+agreeable fellow; I could not do such a thing. It is the greatest
+absurdity--Actually snowing at this moment!--The folly of not allowing
+people to be comfortable at home--and the folly of people’s not staying
+comfortably at home when they can! If we were obliged to go out such
+an evening as this, by any call of duty or business, what a hardship we
+should deem it;--and here are we, probably with rather thinner clothing
+than usual, setting forward voluntarily, without excuse, in defiance of
+the voice of nature, which tells man, in every thing given to his view
+or his feelings, to stay at home himself, and keep all under shelter
+that he can;--here are we setting forward to spend five dull hours in
+another man’s house, with nothing to say or to hear that was not said
+and heard yesterday, and may not be said and heard again to-morrow.
+Going in dismal weather, to return probably in worse;--four horses and
+four servants taken out for nothing but to convey five idle, shivering
+creatures into colder rooms and worse company than they might have had
+at home.”
+
+Emma did not find herself equal to give the pleased assent, which no
+doubt he was in the habit of receiving, to emulate the “Very true,
+my love,” which must have been usually administered by his travelling
+companion; but she had resolution enough to refrain from making
+any answer at all. She could not be complying, she dreaded being
+quarrelsome; her heroism reached only to silence. She allowed him to
+talk, and arranged the glasses, and wrapped herself up, without opening
+her lips.
+
+They arrived, the carriage turned, the step was let down, and Mr. Elton,
+spruce, black, and smiling, was with them instantly. Emma thought with
+pleasure of some change of subject. Mr. Elton was all obligation and
+cheerfulness; he was so very cheerful in his civilities indeed, that she
+began to think he must have received a different account of Harriet from
+what had reached her. She had sent while dressing, and the answer had
+been, “Much the same--not better.”
+
+“_My_ report from Mrs. Goddard’s,” said she presently, “was not so
+pleasant as I had hoped--‘Not better’ was _my_ answer.”
+
+His face lengthened immediately; and his voice was the voice of
+sentiment as he answered.
+
+“Oh! no--I am grieved to find--I was on the point of telling you that
+when I called at Mrs. Goddard’s door, which I did the very last thing
+before I returned to dress, I was told that Miss Smith was not better,
+by no means better, rather worse. Very much grieved and concerned--I
+had flattered myself that she must be better after such a cordial as I
+knew had been given her in the morning.”
+
+Emma smiled and answered--“My visit was of use to the nervous part of
+her complaint, I hope; but not even I can charm away a sore throat;
+it is a most severe cold indeed. Mr. Perry has been with her, as you
+probably heard.”
+
+“Yes--I imagined--that is--I did not--”
+
+“He has been used to her in these complaints, and I hope to-morrow
+morning will bring us both a more comfortable report. But it is
+impossible not to feel uneasiness. Such a sad loss to our party to-day!”
+
+“Dreadful!--Exactly so, indeed.--She will be missed every moment.”
+
+This was very proper; the sigh which accompanied it was really
+estimable; but it should have lasted longer. Emma was rather in dismay
+when only half a minute afterwards he began to speak of other things,
+and in a voice of the greatest alacrity and enjoyment.
+
+“What an excellent device,” said he, “the use of a sheepskin for
+carriages. How very comfortable they make it;--impossible to feel cold
+with such precautions. The contrivances of modern days indeed have
+rendered a gentleman’s carriage perfectly complete. One is so fenced
+and guarded from the weather, that not a breath of air can find its way
+unpermitted. Weather becomes absolutely of no consequence. It is a very
+cold afternoon--but in this carriage we know nothing of the matter.--Ha!
+snows a little I see.”
+
+“Yes,” said John Knightley, “and I think we shall have a good deal of
+it.”
+
+“Christmas weather,” observed Mr. Elton. “Quite seasonable; and
+extremely fortunate we may think ourselves that it did not begin
+yesterday, and prevent this day’s party, which it might very possibly
+have done, for Mr. Woodhouse would hardly have ventured had there been
+much snow on the ground; but now it is of no consequence. This is quite
+the season indeed for friendly meetings. At Christmas every body invites
+their friends about them, and people think little of even the worst
+weather. I was snowed up at a friend’s house once for a week. Nothing
+could be pleasanter. I went for only one night, and could not get away
+till that very day se’nnight.”
+
+Mr. John Knightley looked as if he did not comprehend the pleasure, but
+said only, coolly,
+
+“I cannot wish to be snowed up a week at Randalls.”
+
+At another time Emma might have been amused, but she was too much
+astonished now at Mr. Elton’s spirits for other feelings. Harriet seemed
+quite forgotten in the expectation of a pleasant party.
+
+“We are sure of excellent fires,” continued he, “and every thing in the
+greatest comfort. Charming people, Mr. and Mrs. Weston;--Mrs. Weston
+indeed is much beyond praise, and he is exactly what one values, so
+hospitable, and so fond of society;--it will be a small party, but where
+small parties are select, they are perhaps the most agreeable of any.
+Mr. Weston’s dining-room does not accommodate more than ten comfortably;
+and for my part, I would rather, under such circumstances, fall short by
+two than exceed by two. I think you will agree with me, (turning with
+a soft air to Emma,) I think I shall certainly have your approbation,
+though Mr. Knightley perhaps, from being used to the large parties of
+London, may not quite enter into our feelings.”
+
+“I know nothing of the large parties of London, sir--I never dine with
+any body.”
+
+“Indeed! (in a tone of wonder and pity,) I had no idea that the law had
+been so great a slavery. Well, sir, the time must come when you will
+be paid for all this, when you will have little labour and great
+enjoyment.”
+
+“My first enjoyment,” replied John Knightley, as they passed through the
+sweep-gate, “will be to find myself safe at Hartfield again.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Some change of countenance was necessary for each gentleman as they
+walked into Mrs. Weston’s drawing-room;--Mr. Elton must compose his
+joyous looks, and Mr. John Knightley disperse his ill-humour. Mr.
+Elton must smile less, and Mr. John Knightley more, to fit them for the
+place.--Emma only might be as nature prompted, and shew herself just as
+happy as she was. To her it was real enjoyment to be with the Westons.
+Mr. Weston was a great favourite, and there was not a creature in the
+world to whom she spoke with such unreserve, as to his wife; not any
+one, to whom she related with such conviction of being listened to and
+understood, of being always interesting and always intelligible, the
+little affairs, arrangements, perplexities, and pleasures of her father
+and herself. She could tell nothing of Hartfield, in which Mrs. Weston
+had not a lively concern; and half an hour’s uninterrupted communication
+of all those little matters on which the daily happiness of private life
+depends, was one of the first gratifications of each.
+
+This was a pleasure which perhaps the whole day’s visit might not
+afford, which certainly did not belong to the present half-hour; but the
+very sight of Mrs. Weston, her smile, her touch, her voice was grateful
+to Emma, and she determined to think as little as possible of Mr.
+Elton’s oddities, or of any thing else unpleasant, and enjoy all that
+was enjoyable to the utmost.
+
+The misfortune of Harriet’s cold had been pretty well gone through
+before her arrival. Mr. Woodhouse had been safely seated long enough
+to give the history of it, besides all the history of his own and
+Isabella’s coming, and of Emma’s being to follow, and had indeed just
+got to the end of his satisfaction that James should come and see his
+daughter, when the others appeared, and Mrs. Weston, who had been almost
+wholly engrossed by her attentions to him, was able to turn away and
+welcome her dear Emma.
+
+Emma’s project of forgetting Mr. Elton for a while made her rather sorry
+to find, when they had all taken their places, that he was close to her.
+The difficulty was great of driving his strange insensibility towards
+Harriet, from her mind, while he not only sat at her elbow, but
+was continually obtruding his happy countenance on her notice, and
+solicitously addressing her upon every occasion. Instead of forgetting
+him, his behaviour was such that she could not avoid the internal
+suggestion of “Can it really be as my brother imagined? can it be
+possible for this man to be beginning to transfer his affections from
+Harriet to me?--Absurd and insufferable!”--Yet he would be so anxious
+for her being perfectly warm, would be so interested about her father,
+and so delighted with Mrs. Weston; and at last would begin admiring her
+drawings with so much zeal and so little knowledge as seemed terribly
+like a would-be lover, and made it some effort with her to preserve her
+good manners. For her own sake she could not be rude; and for Harriet’s,
+in the hope that all would yet turn out right, she was even positively
+civil; but it was an effort; especially as something was going on
+amongst the others, in the most overpowering period of Mr. Elton’s
+nonsense, which she particularly wished to listen to. She heard enough
+to know that Mr. Weston was giving some information about his son; she
+heard the words “my son,” and “Frank,” and “my son,” repeated several
+times over; and, from a few other half-syllables very much suspected
+that he was announcing an early visit from his son; but before she could
+quiet Mr. Elton, the subject was so completely past that any reviving
+question from her would have been awkward.
+
+Now, it so happened that in spite of Emma’s resolution of never
+marrying, there was something in the name, in the idea of Mr.
+Frank Churchill, which always interested her. She had frequently
+thought--especially since his father’s marriage with Miss Taylor--that
+if she _were_ to marry, he was the very person to suit her in age,
+character and condition. He seemed by this connexion between the
+families, quite to belong to her. She could not but suppose it to be
+a match that every body who knew them must think of. That Mr. and Mrs.
+Weston did think of it, she was very strongly persuaded; and though
+not meaning to be induced by him, or by any body else, to give up a
+situation which she believed more replete with good than any she could
+change it for, she had a great curiosity to see him, a decided intention
+of finding him pleasant, of being liked by him to a certain degree, and
+a sort of pleasure in the idea of their being coupled in their friends’
+imaginations.
+
+With such sensations, Mr. Elton’s civilities were dreadfully ill-timed;
+but she had the comfort of appearing very polite, while feeling very
+cross--and of thinking that the rest of the visit could not possibly
+pass without bringing forward the same information again, or the
+substance of it, from the open-hearted Mr. Weston.--So it proved;--for
+when happily released from Mr. Elton, and seated by Mr. Weston,
+at dinner, he made use of the very first interval in the cares of
+hospitality, the very first leisure from the saddle of mutton, to say to
+her,
+
+“We want only two more to be just the right number. I should like to see
+two more here,--your pretty little friend, Miss Smith, and my son--and
+then I should say we were quite complete. I believe you did not hear me
+telling the others in the drawing-room that we are expecting Frank.
+I had a letter from him this morning, and he will be with us within a
+fortnight.”
+
+Emma spoke with a very proper degree of pleasure; and fully assented to
+his proposition of Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Smith making their party
+quite complete.
+
+“He has been wanting to come to us,” continued Mr. Weston, “ever since
+September: every letter has been full of it; but he cannot command his
+own time. He has those to please who must be pleased, and who (between
+ourselves) are sometimes to be pleased only by a good many sacrifices.
+But now I have no doubt of seeing him here about the second week in
+January.”
+
+“What a very great pleasure it will be to you! and Mrs. Weston is so
+anxious to be acquainted with him, that she must be almost as happy as
+yourself.”
+
+“Yes, she would be, but that she thinks there will be another put-off.
+She does not depend upon his coming so much as I do: but she does not
+know the parties so well as I do. The case, you see, is--(but this is
+quite between ourselves: I did not mention a syllable of it in the other
+room. There are secrets in all families, you know)--The case is, that a
+party of friends are invited to pay a visit at Enscombe in January; and
+that Frank’s coming depends upon their being put off. If they are not
+put off, he cannot stir. But I know they will, because it is a family
+that a certain lady, of some consequence, at Enscombe, has a particular
+dislike to: and though it is thought necessary to invite them once in
+two or three years, they always are put off when it comes to the point.
+I have not the smallest doubt of the issue. I am as confident of seeing
+Frank here before the middle of January, as I am of being here myself:
+but your good friend there (nodding towards the upper end of the table)
+has so few vagaries herself, and has been so little used to them at
+Hartfield, that she cannot calculate on their effects, as I have been
+long in the practice of doing.”
+
+“I am sorry there should be any thing like doubt in the case,” replied
+Emma; “but am disposed to side with you, Mr. Weston. If you think he
+will come, I shall think so too; for you know Enscombe.”
+
+“Yes--I have some right to that knowledge; though I have never been at
+the place in my life.--She is an odd woman!--But I never allow myself
+to speak ill of her, on Frank’s account; for I do believe her to be very
+fond of him. I used to think she was not capable of being fond of
+any body, except herself: but she has always been kind to him (in her
+way--allowing for little whims and caprices, and expecting every thing
+to be as she likes). And it is no small credit, in my opinion, to him,
+that he should excite such an affection; for, though I would not say
+it to any body else, she has no more heart than a stone to people in
+general; and the devil of a temper.”
+
+Emma liked the subject so well, that she began upon it, to Mrs. Weston,
+very soon after their moving into the drawing-room: wishing her joy--yet
+observing, that she knew the first meeting must be rather alarming.--
+Mrs. Weston agreed to it; but added, that she should be very glad to be
+secure of undergoing the anxiety of a first meeting at the time talked
+of: “for I cannot depend upon his coming. I cannot be so sanguine as
+Mr. Weston. I am very much afraid that it will all end in nothing. Mr.
+Weston, I dare say, has been telling you exactly how the matter stands?”
+
+“Yes--it seems to depend upon nothing but the ill-humour of Mrs.
+Churchill, which I imagine to be the most certain thing in the world.”
+
+“My Emma!” replied Mrs. Weston, smiling, “what is the certainty
+of caprice?” Then turning to Isabella, who had not been attending
+before--“You must know, my dear Mrs. Knightley, that we are by no means
+so sure of seeing Mr. Frank Churchill, in my opinion, as his father
+thinks. It depends entirely upon his aunt’s spirits and pleasure; in
+short, upon her temper. To you--to my two daughters--I may venture on
+the truth. Mrs. Churchill rules at Enscombe, and is a very odd-tempered
+woman; and his coming now, depends upon her being willing to spare him.”
+
+“Oh, Mrs. Churchill; every body knows Mrs. Churchill,” replied Isabella:
+“and I am sure I never think of that poor young man without the greatest
+compassion. To be constantly living with an ill-tempered person, must
+be dreadful. It is what we happily have never known any thing of; but
+it must be a life of misery. What a blessing, that she never had any
+children! Poor little creatures, how unhappy she would have made them!”
+
+Emma wished she had been alone with Mrs. Weston. She should then have
+heard more: Mrs. Weston would speak to her, with a degree of unreserve
+which she would not hazard with Isabella; and, she really believed,
+would scarcely try to conceal any thing relative to the Churchills
+from her, excepting those views on the young man, of which her own
+imagination had already given her such instinctive knowledge. But at
+present there was nothing more to be said. Mr. Woodhouse very soon
+followed them into the drawing-room. To be sitting long after
+dinner, was a confinement that he could not endure. Neither wine nor
+conversation was any thing to him; and gladly did he move to those with
+whom he was always comfortable.
+
+While he talked to Isabella, however, Emma found an opportunity of
+saying,
+
+“And so you do not consider this visit from your son as by any means
+certain. I am sorry for it. The introduction must be unpleasant,
+whenever it takes place; and the sooner it could be over, the better.”
+
+“Yes; and every delay makes one more apprehensive of other delays. Even
+if this family, the Braithwaites, are put off, I am still afraid that
+some excuse may be found for disappointing us. I cannot bear to imagine
+any reluctance on his side; but I am sure there is a great wish on
+the Churchills’ to keep him to themselves. There is jealousy. They
+are jealous even of his regard for his father. In short, I can feel no
+dependence on his coming, and I wish Mr. Weston were less sanguine.”
+
+“He ought to come,” said Emma. “If he could stay only a couple of days,
+he ought to come; and one can hardly conceive a young man’s not having
+it in his power to do as much as that. A young _woman_, if she fall into
+bad hands, may be teased, and kept at a distance from those she wants
+to be with; but one cannot comprehend a young _man_‘s being under such
+restraint, as not to be able to spend a week with his father, if he
+likes it.”
+
+“One ought to be at Enscombe, and know the ways of the family, before
+one decides upon what he can do,” replied Mrs. Weston. “One ought to
+use the same caution, perhaps, in judging of the conduct of any one
+individual of any one family; but Enscombe, I believe, certainly must
+not be judged by general rules: _she_ is so very unreasonable; and every
+thing gives way to her.”
+
+“But she is so fond of the nephew: he is so very great a favourite. Now,
+according to my idea of Mrs. Churchill, it would be most natural, that
+while she makes no sacrifice for the comfort of the husband, to whom she
+owes every thing, while she exercises incessant caprice towards _him_,
+she should frequently be governed by the nephew, to whom she owes
+nothing at all.”
+
+“My dearest Emma, do not pretend, with your sweet temper, to understand
+a bad one, or to lay down rules for it: you must let it go its own way.
+I have no doubt of his having, at times, considerable influence; but it
+may be perfectly impossible for him to know beforehand _when_ it will
+be.”
+
+Emma listened, and then coolly said, “I shall not be satisfied, unless
+he comes.”
+
+“He may have a great deal of influence on some points,” continued Mrs.
+Weston, “and on others, very little: and among those, on which she is
+beyond his reach, it is but too likely, may be this very circumstance of
+his coming away from them to visit us.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+Mr. Woodhouse was soon ready for his tea; and when he had drank his
+tea he was quite ready to go home; and it was as much as his three
+companions could do, to entertain away his notice of the lateness of
+the hour, before the other gentlemen appeared. Mr. Weston was chatty and
+convivial, and no friend to early separations of any sort; but at last
+the drawing-room party did receive an augmentation. Mr. Elton, in very
+good spirits, was one of the first to walk in. Mrs. Weston and Emma
+were sitting together on a sofa. He joined them immediately, and, with
+scarcely an invitation, seated himself between them.
+
+Emma, in good spirits too, from the amusement afforded her mind by
+the expectation of Mr. Frank Churchill, was willing to forget his late
+improprieties, and be as well satisfied with him as before, and on his
+making Harriet his very first subject, was ready to listen with most
+friendly smiles.
+
+He professed himself extremely anxious about her fair friend--her fair,
+lovely, amiable friend. “Did she know?--had she heard any thing about
+her, since their being at Randalls?--he felt much anxiety--he must
+confess that the nature of her complaint alarmed him considerably.”
+ And in this style he talked on for some time very properly, not much
+attending to any answer, but altogether sufficiently awake to the terror
+of a bad sore throat; and Emma was quite in charity with him.
+
+But at last there seemed a perverse turn; it seemed all at once as if he
+were more afraid of its being a bad sore throat on her account, than on
+Harriet’s--more anxious that she should escape the infection, than
+that there should be no infection in the complaint. He began with great
+earnestness to entreat her to refrain from visiting the sick-chamber
+again, for the present--to entreat her to _promise_ _him_ not to venture
+into such hazard till he had seen Mr. Perry and learnt his opinion; and
+though she tried to laugh it off and bring the subject back into its
+proper course, there was no putting an end to his extreme solicitude
+about her. She was vexed. It did appear--there was no concealing
+it--exactly like the pretence of being in love with her, instead of
+Harriet; an inconstancy, if real, the most contemptible and abominable!
+and she had difficulty in behaving with temper. He turned to Mrs. Weston
+to implore her assistance, “Would not she give him her support?--would
+not she add her persuasions to his, to induce Miss Woodhouse not to go
+to Mrs. Goddard’s till it were certain that Miss Smith’s disorder had
+no infection? He could not be satisfied without a promise--would not she
+give him her influence in procuring it?”
+
+“So scrupulous for others,” he continued, “and yet so careless for
+herself! She wanted me to nurse my cold by staying at home to-day, and
+yet will not promise to avoid the danger of catching an ulcerated sore
+throat herself. Is this fair, Mrs. Weston?--Judge between us. Have not I
+some right to complain? I am sure of your kind support and aid.”
+
+Emma saw Mrs. Weston’s surprize, and felt that it must be great, at an
+address which, in words and manner, was assuming to himself the right of
+first interest in her; and as for herself, she was too much provoked and
+offended to have the power of directly saying any thing to the purpose.
+She could only give him a look; but it was such a look as she thought
+must restore him to his senses, and then left the sofa, removing to a
+seat by her sister, and giving her all her attention.
+
+She had not time to know how Mr. Elton took the reproof, so rapidly did
+another subject succeed; for Mr. John Knightley now came into the room
+from examining the weather, and opened on them all with the information
+of the ground being covered with snow, and of its still snowing
+fast, with a strong drifting wind; concluding with these words to Mr.
+Woodhouse:
+
+“This will prove a spirited beginning of your winter engagements,
+sir. Something new for your coachman and horses to be making their way
+through a storm of snow.”
+
+Poor Mr. Woodhouse was silent from consternation; but every body else
+had something to say; every body was either surprized or not surprized,
+and had some question to ask, or some comfort to offer. Mrs. Weston
+and Emma tried earnestly to cheer him and turn his attention from his
+son-in-law, who was pursuing his triumph rather unfeelingly.
+
+“I admired your resolution very much, sir,” said he, “in venturing out
+in such weather, for of course you saw there would be snow very soon.
+Every body must have seen the snow coming on. I admired your spirit; and
+I dare say we shall get home very well. Another hour or two’s snow can
+hardly make the road impassable; and we are two carriages; if one is
+blown over in the bleak part of the common field there will be the other
+at hand. I dare say we shall be all safe at Hartfield before midnight.”
+
+Mr. Weston, with triumph of a different sort, was confessing that he
+had known it to be snowing some time, but had not said a word, lest
+it should make Mr. Woodhouse uncomfortable, and be an excuse for his
+hurrying away. As to there being any quantity of snow fallen or likely
+to fall to impede their return, that was a mere joke; he was afraid they
+would find no difficulty. He wished the road might be impassable, that
+he might be able to keep them all at Randalls; and with the utmost
+good-will was sure that accommodation might be found for every body,
+calling on his wife to agree with him, that with a little contrivance,
+every body might be lodged, which she hardly knew how to do, from the
+consciousness of there being but two spare rooms in the house.
+
+“What is to be done, my dear Emma?--what is to be done?” was Mr.
+Woodhouse’s first exclamation, and all that he could say for some
+time. To her he looked for comfort; and her assurances of safety, her
+representation of the excellence of the horses, and of James, and of
+their having so many friends about them, revived him a little.
+
+His eldest daughter’s alarm was equal to his own. The horror of being
+blocked up at Randalls, while her children were at Hartfield, was full
+in her imagination; and fancying the road to be now just passable for
+adventurous people, but in a state that admitted no delay, she was eager
+to have it settled, that her father and Emma should remain at Randalls,
+while she and her husband set forward instantly through all the possible
+accumulations of drifted snow that might impede them.
+
+“You had better order the carriage directly, my love,” said she; “I dare
+say we shall be able to get along, if we set off directly; and if we
+do come to any thing very bad, I can get out and walk. I am not at all
+afraid. I should not mind walking half the way. I could change my shoes,
+you know, the moment I got home; and it is not the sort of thing that
+gives me cold.”
+
+“Indeed!” replied he. “Then, my dear Isabella, it is the most
+extraordinary sort of thing in the world, for in general every thing
+does give you cold. Walk home!--you are prettily shod for walking home,
+I dare say. It will be bad enough for the horses.”
+
+Isabella turned to Mrs. Weston for her approbation of the plan. Mrs.
+Weston could only approve. Isabella then went to Emma; but Emma could
+not so entirely give up the hope of their being all able to get away;
+and they were still discussing the point, when Mr. Knightley, who had
+left the room immediately after his brother’s first report of the snow,
+came back again, and told them that he had been out of doors to examine,
+and could answer for there not being the smallest difficulty in their
+getting home, whenever they liked it, either now or an hour hence. He
+had gone beyond the sweep--some way along the Highbury road--the snow
+was nowhere above half an inch deep--in many places hardly enough to
+whiten the ground; a very few flakes were falling at present, but the
+clouds were parting, and there was every appearance of its being soon
+over. He had seen the coachmen, and they both agreed with him in there
+being nothing to apprehend.
+
+To Isabella, the relief of such tidings was very great, and they were
+scarcely less acceptable to Emma on her father’s account, who
+was immediately set as much at ease on the subject as his nervous
+constitution allowed; but the alarm that had been raised could not be
+appeased so as to admit of any comfort for him while he continued at
+Randalls. He was satisfied of there being no present danger in returning
+home, but no assurances could convince him that it was safe to stay; and
+while the others were variously urging and recommending, Mr. Knightley
+and Emma settled it in a few brief sentences: thus--
+
+“Your father will not be easy; why do not you go?”
+
+“I am ready, if the others are.”
+
+“Shall I ring the bell?”
+
+“Yes, do.”
+
+And the bell was rung, and the carriages spoken for. A few minutes more,
+and Emma hoped to see one troublesome companion deposited in his own
+house, to get sober and cool, and the other recover his temper and
+happiness when this visit of hardship were over.
+
+The carriage came: and Mr. Woodhouse, always the first object on such
+occasions, was carefully attended to his own by Mr. Knightley and Mr.
+Weston; but not all that either could say could prevent some renewal
+of alarm at the sight of the snow which had actually fallen, and the
+discovery of a much darker night than he had been prepared for. “He was
+afraid they should have a very bad drive. He was afraid poor Isabella
+would not like it. And there would be poor Emma in the carriage behind.
+He did not know what they had best do. They must keep as much together
+as they could;” and James was talked to, and given a charge to go very
+slow and wait for the other carriage.
+
+Isabella stept in after her father; John Knightley, forgetting that he
+did not belong to their party, stept in after his wife very naturally;
+so that Emma found, on being escorted and followed into the second
+carriage by Mr. Elton, that the door was to be lawfully shut on them,
+and that they were to have a tete-a-tete drive. It would not have been
+the awkwardness of a moment, it would have been rather a pleasure,
+previous to the suspicions of this very day; she could have talked to
+him of Harriet, and the three-quarters of a mile would have seemed but
+one. But now, she would rather it had not happened. She believed he had
+been drinking too much of Mr. Weston’s good wine, and felt sure that he
+would want to be talking nonsense.
+
+To restrain him as much as might be, by her own manners, she was
+immediately preparing to speak with exquisite calmness and gravity of
+the weather and the night; but scarcely had she begun, scarcely had they
+passed the sweep-gate and joined the other carriage, than she found her
+subject cut up--her hand seized--her attention demanded, and Mr. Elton
+actually making violent love to her: availing himself of the precious
+opportunity, declaring sentiments which must be already well known,
+hoping--fearing--adoring--ready to die if she refused him; but
+flattering himself that his ardent attachment and unequalled love and
+unexampled passion could not fail of having some effect, and in short,
+very much resolved on being seriously accepted as soon as possible. It
+really was so. Without scruple--without apology--without much apparent
+diffidence, Mr. Elton, the lover of Harriet, was professing himself
+_her_ lover. She tried to stop him; but vainly; he would go on, and say
+it all. Angry as she was, the thought of the moment made her resolve to
+restrain herself when she did speak. She felt that half this folly must
+be drunkenness, and therefore could hope that it might belong only to
+the passing hour. Accordingly, with a mixture of the serious and the
+playful, which she hoped would best suit his half and half state, she
+replied,
+
+“I am very much astonished, Mr. Elton. This to _me_! you forget
+yourself--you take me for my friend--any message to Miss Smith I shall
+be happy to deliver; but no more of this to _me_, if you please.”
+
+“Miss Smith!--message to Miss Smith!--What could she possibly
+mean!”--And he repeated her words with such assurance of accent, such
+boastful pretence of amazement, that she could not help replying with
+quickness,
+
+“Mr. Elton, this is the most extraordinary conduct! and I can account
+for it only in one way; you are not yourself, or you could not speak
+either to me, or of Harriet, in such a manner. Command yourself enough
+to say no more, and I will endeavour to forget it.”
+
+But Mr. Elton had only drunk wine enough to elevate his spirits, not at
+all to confuse his intellects. He perfectly knew his own meaning; and
+having warmly protested against her suspicion as most injurious, and
+slightly touched upon his respect for Miss Smith as her friend,--but
+acknowledging his wonder that Miss Smith should be mentioned at all,--he
+resumed the subject of his own passion, and was very urgent for a
+favourable answer.
+
+As she thought less of his inebriety, she thought more of his
+inconstancy and presumption; and with fewer struggles for politeness,
+replied,
+
+“It is impossible for me to doubt any longer. You have made yourself
+too clear. Mr. Elton, my astonishment is much beyond any thing I can
+express. After such behaviour, as I have witnessed during the last
+month, to Miss Smith--such attentions as I have been in the daily
+habit of observing--to be addressing me in this manner--this is an
+unsteadiness of character, indeed, which I had not supposed possible!
+Believe me, sir, I am far, very far, from gratified in being the object
+of such professions.”
+
+“Good Heaven!” cried Mr. Elton, “what can be the meaning of this?--Miss
+Smith!--I never thought of Miss Smith in the whole course of my
+existence--never paid her any attentions, but as your friend: never
+cared whether she were dead or alive, but as your friend. If she
+has fancied otherwise, her own wishes have misled her, and I am very
+sorry--extremely sorry--But, Miss Smith, indeed!--Oh! Miss Woodhouse!
+who can think of Miss Smith, when Miss Woodhouse is near! No, upon my
+honour, there is no unsteadiness of character. I have thought only of
+you. I protest against having paid the smallest attention to any one
+else. Every thing that I have said or done, for many weeks past, has
+been with the sole view of marking my adoration of yourself. You
+cannot really, seriously, doubt it. No!--(in an accent meant to be
+insinuating)--I am sure you have seen and understood me.”
+
+It would be impossible to say what Emma felt, on hearing this--which
+of all her unpleasant sensations was uppermost. She was too completely
+overpowered to be immediately able to reply: and two moments of silence
+being ample encouragement for Mr. Elton’s sanguine state of mind, he
+tried to take her hand again, as he joyously exclaimed--
+
+“Charming Miss Woodhouse! allow me to interpret this interesting
+silence. It confesses that you have long understood me.”
+
+“No, sir,” cried Emma, “it confesses no such thing. So far from having
+long understood you, I have been in a most complete error with respect
+to your views, till this moment. As to myself, I am very sorry that you
+should have been giving way to any feelings--Nothing could be farther
+from my wishes--your attachment to my friend Harriet--your pursuit of
+her, (pursuit, it appeared,) gave me great pleasure, and I have been
+very earnestly wishing you success: but had I supposed that she were not
+your attraction to Hartfield, I should certainly have thought you judged
+ill in making your visits so frequent. Am I to believe that you have
+never sought to recommend yourself particularly to Miss Smith?--that you
+have never thought seriously of her?”
+
+“Never, madam,” cried he, affronted in his turn: “never, I assure you.
+_I_ think seriously of Miss Smith!--Miss Smith is a very good sort of
+girl; and I should be happy to see her respectably settled. I wish
+her extremely well: and, no doubt, there are men who might not object
+to--Every body has their level: but as for myself, I am not, I think,
+quite so much at a loss. I need not so totally despair of an equal
+alliance, as to be addressing myself to Miss Smith!--No, madam, my
+visits to Hartfield have been for yourself only; and the encouragement I
+received--”
+
+“Encouragement!--I give you encouragement!--Sir, you have been entirely
+mistaken in supposing it. I have seen you only as the admirer of my
+friend. In no other light could you have been more to me than a common
+acquaintance. I am exceedingly sorry: but it is well that the mistake
+ends where it does. Had the same behaviour continued, Miss Smith might
+have been led into a misconception of your views; not being aware,
+probably, any more than myself, of the very great inequality which you
+are so sensible of. But, as it is, the disappointment is single, and, I
+trust, will not be lasting. I have no thoughts of matrimony at present.”
+
+He was too angry to say another word; her manner too decided to invite
+supplication; and in this state of swelling resentment, and mutually
+deep mortification, they had to continue together a few minutes longer,
+for the fears of Mr. Woodhouse had confined them to a foot-pace. If
+there had not been so much anger, there would have been desperate
+awkwardness; but their straightforward emotions left no room for the
+little zigzags of embarrassment. Without knowing when the carriage
+turned into Vicarage Lane, or when it stopped, they found themselves,
+all at once, at the door of his house; and he was out before another
+syllable passed.--Emma then felt it indispensable to wish him a good
+night. The compliment was just returned, coldly and proudly; and, under
+indescribable irritation of spirits, she was then conveyed to Hartfield.
+
+There she was welcomed, with the utmost delight, by her father, who
+had been trembling for the dangers of a solitary drive from Vicarage
+Lane--turning a corner which he could never bear to think of--and in
+strange hands--a mere common coachman--no James; and there it seemed as
+if her return only were wanted to make every thing go well: for Mr.
+John Knightley, ashamed of his ill-humour, was now all kindness and
+attention; and so particularly solicitous for the comfort of her
+father, as to seem--if not quite ready to join him in a basin of
+gruel--perfectly sensible of its being exceedingly wholesome; and the
+day was concluding in peace and comfort to all their little party,
+except herself.--But her mind had never been in such perturbation; and
+it needed a very strong effort to appear attentive and cheerful till the
+usual hour of separating allowed her the relief of quiet reflection.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+The hair was curled, and the maid sent away, and Emma sat down to think
+and be miserable.--It was a wretched business indeed!--Such an overthrow
+of every thing she had been wishing for!--Such a development of every
+thing most unwelcome!--Such a blow for Harriet!--that was the worst
+of all. Every part of it brought pain and humiliation, of some sort or
+other; but, compared with the evil to Harriet, all was light; and
+she would gladly have submitted to feel yet more mistaken--more in
+error--more disgraced by mis-judgment, than she actually was, could the
+effects of her blunders have been confined to herself.
+
+“If I had not persuaded Harriet into liking the man, I could have
+borne any thing. He might have doubled his presumption to me--but poor
+Harriet!”
+
+How she could have been so deceived!--He protested that he had never
+thought seriously of Harriet--never! She looked back as well as
+she could; but it was all confusion. She had taken up the idea, she
+supposed, and made every thing bend to it. His manners, however, must
+have been unmarked, wavering, dubious, or she could not have been so
+misled.
+
+The picture!--How eager he had been about the picture!--and the
+charade!--and an hundred other circumstances;--how clearly they had
+seemed to point at Harriet. To be sure, the charade, with its “ready
+wit”--but then the “soft eyes”--in fact it suited neither; it was
+a jumble without taste or truth. Who could have seen through such
+thick-headed nonsense?
+
+Certainly she had often, especially of late, thought his manners to
+herself unnecessarily gallant; but it had passed as his way, as a mere
+error of judgment, of knowledge, of taste, as one proof among others
+that he had not always lived in the best society, that with all the
+gentleness of his address, true elegance was sometimes wanting; but,
+till this very day, she had never, for an instant, suspected it to mean
+any thing but grateful respect to her as Harriet’s friend.
+
+To Mr. John Knightley was she indebted for her first idea on the
+subject, for the first start of its possibility. There was no denying
+that those brothers had penetration. She remembered what Mr. Knightley
+had once said to her about Mr. Elton, the caution he had given,
+the conviction he had professed that Mr. Elton would never marry
+indiscreetly; and blushed to think how much truer a knowledge of his
+character had been there shewn than any she had reached herself. It
+was dreadfully mortifying; but Mr. Elton was proving himself, in many
+respects, the very reverse of what she had meant and believed him;
+proud, assuming, conceited; very full of his own claims, and little
+concerned about the feelings of others.
+
+Contrary to the usual course of things, Mr. Elton’s wanting to pay his
+addresses to her had sunk him in her opinion. His professions and his
+proposals did him no service. She thought nothing of his attachment,
+and was insulted by his hopes. He wanted to marry well, and having the
+arrogance to raise his eyes to her, pretended to be in love; but she was
+perfectly easy as to his not suffering any disappointment that need be
+cared for. There had been no real affection either in his language or
+manners. Sighs and fine words had been given in abundance; but she could
+hardly devise any set of expressions, or fancy any tone of voice, less
+allied with real love. She need not trouble herself to pity him. He
+only wanted to aggrandise and enrich himself; and if Miss Woodhouse
+of Hartfield, the heiress of thirty thousand pounds, were not quite so
+easily obtained as he had fancied, he would soon try for Miss Somebody
+else with twenty, or with ten.
+
+But--that he should talk of encouragement, should consider her as aware
+of his views, accepting his attentions, meaning (in short), to marry
+him!--should suppose himself her equal in connexion or mind!--look down
+upon her friend, so well understanding the gradations of rank below
+him, and be so blind to what rose above, as to fancy himself shewing no
+presumption in addressing her!--It was most provoking.
+
+Perhaps it was not fair to expect him to feel how very much he was her
+inferior in talent, and all the elegancies of mind. The very want of
+such equality might prevent his perception of it; but he must know that
+in fortune and consequence she was greatly his superior. He must
+know that the Woodhouses had been settled for several generations at
+Hartfield, the younger branch of a very ancient family--and that the
+Eltons were nobody. The landed property of Hartfield certainly was
+inconsiderable, being but a sort of notch in the Donwell Abbey estate,
+to which all the rest of Highbury belonged; but their fortune, from
+other sources, was such as to make them scarcely secondary to Donwell
+Abbey itself, in every other kind of consequence; and the Woodhouses had
+long held a high place in the consideration of the neighbourhood which
+Mr. Elton had first entered not two years ago, to make his way as he
+could, without any alliances but in trade, or any thing to recommend him
+to notice but his situation and his civility.--But he had fancied her
+in love with him; that evidently must have been his dependence; and
+after raving a little about the seeming incongruity of gentle manners
+and a conceited head, Emma was obliged in common honesty to stop
+and admit that her own behaviour to him had been so complaisant and
+obliging, so full of courtesy and attention, as (supposing her real
+motive unperceived) might warrant a man of ordinary observation and
+delicacy, like Mr. Elton, in fancying himself a very decided favourite.
+If _she_ had so misinterpreted his feelings, she had little right to
+wonder that _he_, with self-interest to blind him, should have mistaken
+hers.
+
+The first error and the worst lay at her door. It was foolish, it was
+wrong, to take so active a part in bringing any two people together. It
+was adventuring too far, assuming too much, making light of what
+ought to be serious, a trick of what ought to be simple. She was quite
+concerned and ashamed, and resolved to do such things no more.
+
+“Here have I,” said she, “actually talked poor Harriet into being very
+much attached to this man. She might never have thought of him but for
+me; and certainly never would have thought of him with hope, if I had
+not assured her of his attachment, for she is as modest and humble as I
+used to think him. Oh! that I had been satisfied with persuading her not
+to accept young Martin. There I was quite right. That was well done
+of me; but there I should have stopped, and left the rest to time and
+chance. I was introducing her into good company, and giving her the
+opportunity of pleasing some one worth having; I ought not to have
+attempted more. But now, poor girl, her peace is cut up for some time.
+I have been but half a friend to her; and if she were _not_ to feel this
+disappointment so very much, I am sure I have not an idea of any body
+else who would be at all desirable for her;--William Coxe--Oh! no, I
+could not endure William Coxe--a pert young lawyer.”
+
+She stopt to blush and laugh at her own relapse, and then resumed a more
+serious, more dispiriting cogitation upon what had been, and might be,
+and must be. The distressing explanation she had to make to Harriet, and
+all that poor Harriet would be suffering, with the awkwardness of
+future meetings, the difficulties of continuing or discontinuing the
+acquaintance, of subduing feelings, concealing resentment, and avoiding
+eclat, were enough to occupy her in most unmirthful reflections some
+time longer, and she went to bed at last with nothing settled but the
+conviction of her having blundered most dreadfully.
+
+To youth and natural cheerfulness like Emma’s, though under temporary
+gloom at night, the return of day will hardly fail to bring return of
+spirits. The youth and cheerfulness of morning are in happy analogy,
+and of powerful operation; and if the distress be not poignant enough
+to keep the eyes unclosed, they will be sure to open to sensations of
+softened pain and brighter hope.
+
+Emma got up on the morrow more disposed for comfort than she had gone
+to bed, more ready to see alleviations of the evil before her, and to
+depend on getting tolerably out of it.
+
+It was a great consolation that Mr. Elton should not be really in
+love with her, or so particularly amiable as to make it shocking to
+disappoint him--that Harriet’s nature should not be of that superior
+sort in which the feelings are most acute and retentive--and that there
+could be no necessity for any body’s knowing what had passed except the
+three principals, and especially for her father’s being given a moment’s
+uneasiness about it.
+
+These were very cheering thoughts; and the sight of a great deal of snow
+on the ground did her further service, for any thing was welcome that
+might justify their all three being quite asunder at present.
+
+The weather was most favourable for her; though Christmas Day, she
+could not go to church. Mr. Woodhouse would have been miserable had his
+daughter attempted it, and she was therefore safe from either exciting
+or receiving unpleasant and most unsuitable ideas. The ground covered
+with snow, and the atmosphere in that unsettled state between frost and
+thaw, which is of all others the most unfriendly for exercise, every
+morning beginning in rain or snow, and every evening setting in to
+freeze, she was for many days a most honourable prisoner. No intercourse
+with Harriet possible but by note; no church for her on Sunday any
+more than on Christmas Day; and no need to find excuses for Mr. Elton’s
+absenting himself.
+
+It was weather which might fairly confine every body at home; and though
+she hoped and believed him to be really taking comfort in some society
+or other, it was very pleasant to have her father so well satisfied with
+his being all alone in his own house, too wise to stir out; and to
+hear him say to Mr. Knightley, whom no weather could keep entirely from
+them,--
+
+“Ah! Mr. Knightley, why do not you stay at home like poor Mr. Elton?”
+
+These days of confinement would have been, but for her private
+perplexities, remarkably comfortable, as such seclusion exactly suited
+her brother, whose feelings must always be of great importance to
+his companions; and he had, besides, so thoroughly cleared off his
+ill-humour at Randalls, that his amiableness never failed him during the
+rest of his stay at Hartfield. He was always agreeable and obliging,
+and speaking pleasantly of every body. But with all the hopes of
+cheerfulness, and all the present comfort of delay, there was still such
+an evil hanging over her in the hour of explanation with Harriet, as
+made it impossible for Emma to be ever perfectly at ease.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley were not detained long at Hartfield. The
+weather soon improved enough for those to move who must move; and Mr.
+Woodhouse having, as usual, tried to persuade his daughter to stay
+behind with all her children, was obliged to see the whole party
+set off, and return to his lamentations over the destiny of poor
+Isabella;--which poor Isabella, passing her life with those she doated
+on, full of their merits, blind to their faults, and always innocently
+busy, might have been a model of right feminine happiness.
+
+The evening of the very day on which they went brought a note from Mr.
+Elton to Mr. Woodhouse, a long, civil, ceremonious note, to say, with
+Mr. Elton’s best compliments, “that he was proposing to leave Highbury
+the following morning in his way to Bath; where, in compliance with
+the pressing entreaties of some friends, he had engaged to spend a few
+weeks, and very much regretted the impossibility he was under, from
+various circumstances of weather and business, of taking a personal
+leave of Mr. Woodhouse, of whose friendly civilities he should ever
+retain a grateful sense--and had Mr. Woodhouse any commands, should be
+happy to attend to them.”
+
+Emma was most agreeably surprized.--Mr. Elton’s absence just at this
+time was the very thing to be desired. She admired him for contriving
+it, though not able to give him much credit for the manner in which it
+was announced. Resentment could not have been more plainly spoken than
+in a civility to her father, from which she was so pointedly excluded.
+She had not even a share in his opening compliments.--Her name was not
+mentioned;--and there was so striking a change in all this, and such an
+ill-judged solemnity of leave-taking in his graceful acknowledgments, as
+she thought, at first, could not escape her father’s suspicion.
+
+It did, however.--Her father was quite taken up with the surprize of so
+sudden a journey, and his fears that Mr. Elton might never get safely to
+the end of it, and saw nothing extraordinary in his language. It was a
+very useful note, for it supplied them with fresh matter for thought
+and conversation during the rest of their lonely evening. Mr. Woodhouse
+talked over his alarms, and Emma was in spirits to persuade them away
+with all her usual promptitude.
+
+She now resolved to keep Harriet no longer in the dark. She had reason
+to believe her nearly recovered from her cold, and it was desirable that
+she should have as much time as possible for getting the better of
+her other complaint before the gentleman’s return. She went to Mrs.
+Goddard’s accordingly the very next day, to undergo the necessary
+penance of communication; and a severe one it was.--She had to destroy
+all the hopes which she had been so industriously feeding--to appear in
+the ungracious character of the one preferred--and acknowledge herself
+grossly mistaken and mis-judging in all her ideas on one subject, all
+her observations, all her convictions, all her prophecies for the last
+six weeks.
+
+The confession completely renewed her first shame--and the sight of
+Harriet’s tears made her think that she should never be in charity with
+herself again.
+
+Harriet bore the intelligence very well--blaming nobody--and in every
+thing testifying such an ingenuousness of disposition and lowly opinion
+of herself, as must appear with particular advantage at that moment to
+her friend.
+
+Emma was in the humour to value simplicity and modesty to the utmost;
+and all that was amiable, all that ought to be attaching, seemed on
+Harriet’s side, not her own. Harriet did not consider herself as having
+any thing to complain of. The affection of such a man as Mr. Elton
+would have been too great a distinction.--She never could have deserved
+him--and nobody but so partial and kind a friend as Miss Woodhouse would
+have thought it possible.
+
+Her tears fell abundantly--but her grief was so truly artless, that
+no dignity could have made it more respectable in Emma’s eyes--and
+she listened to her and tried to console her with all her heart and
+understanding--really for the time convinced that Harriet was the
+superior creature of the two--and that to resemble her would be more for
+her own welfare and happiness than all that genius or intelligence could
+do.
+
+It was rather too late in the day to set about being simple-minded and
+ignorant; but she left her with every previous resolution confirmed of
+being humble and discreet, and repressing imagination all the rest of
+her life. Her second duty now, inferior only to her father’s claims, was
+to promote Harriet’s comfort, and endeavour to prove her own affection
+in some better method than by match-making. She got her to Hartfield,
+and shewed her the most unvarying kindness, striving to occupy and
+amuse her, and by books and conversation, to drive Mr. Elton from her
+thoughts.
+
+Time, she knew, must be allowed for this being thoroughly done; and
+she could suppose herself but an indifferent judge of such matters in
+general, and very inadequate to sympathise in an attachment to Mr. Elton
+in particular; but it seemed to her reasonable that at Harriet’s age,
+and with the entire extinction of all hope, such a progress might be
+made towards a state of composure by the time of Mr. Elton’s return, as
+to allow them all to meet again in the common routine of acquaintance,
+without any danger of betraying sentiments or increasing them.
+
+Harriet did think him all perfection, and maintained the non-existence
+of any body equal to him in person or goodness--and did, in truth,
+prove herself more resolutely in love than Emma had foreseen; but yet
+it appeared to her so natural, so inevitable to strive against an
+inclination of that sort _unrequited_, that she could not comprehend its
+continuing very long in equal force.
+
+If Mr. Elton, on his return, made his own indifference as evident and
+indubitable as she could not doubt he would anxiously do, she could not
+imagine Harriet’s persisting to place her happiness in the sight or the
+recollection of him.
+
+Their being fixed, so absolutely fixed, in the same place, was bad for
+each, for all three. Not one of them had the power of removal, or of
+effecting any material change of society. They must encounter each
+other, and make the best of it.
+
+Harriet was farther unfortunate in the tone of her companions at Mrs.
+Goddard’s; Mr. Elton being the adoration of all the teachers and great
+girls in the school; and it must be at Hartfield only that she could
+have any chance of hearing him spoken of with cooling moderation or
+repellent truth. Where the wound had been given, there must the cure be
+found if anywhere; and Emma felt that, till she saw her in the way of
+cure, there could be no true peace for herself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Mr. Frank Churchill did not come. When the time proposed drew near, Mrs.
+Weston’s fears were justified in the arrival of a letter of excuse. For
+the present, he could not be spared, to his “very great mortification
+and regret; but still he looked forward with the hope of coming to
+Randalls at no distant period.”
+
+Mrs. Weston was exceedingly disappointed--much more disappointed, in
+fact, than her husband, though her dependence on seeing the young man
+had been so much more sober: but a sanguine temper, though for ever
+expecting more good than occurs, does not always pay for its hopes by
+any proportionate depression. It soon flies over the present failure,
+and begins to hope again. For half an hour Mr. Weston was surprized and
+sorry; but then he began to perceive that Frank’s coming two or three
+months later would be a much better plan; better time of year;
+better weather; and that he would be able, without any doubt, to stay
+considerably longer with them than if he had come sooner.
+
+These feelings rapidly restored his comfort, while Mrs. Weston, of
+a more apprehensive disposition, foresaw nothing but a repetition of
+excuses and delays; and after all her concern for what her husband was
+to suffer, suffered a great deal more herself.
+
+Emma was not at this time in a state of spirits to care really about Mr.
+Frank Churchill’s not coming, except as a disappointment at Randalls.
+The acquaintance at present had no charm for her. She wanted, rather, to
+be quiet, and out of temptation; but still, as it was desirable that she
+should appear, in general, like her usual self, she took care to express
+as much interest in the circumstance, and enter as warmly into Mr.
+and Mrs. Weston’s disappointment, as might naturally belong to their
+friendship.
+
+She was the first to announce it to Mr. Knightley; and exclaimed quite
+as much as was necessary, (or, being acting a part, perhaps rather
+more,) at the conduct of the Churchills, in keeping him away. She then
+proceeded to say a good deal more than she felt, of the advantage of
+such an addition to their confined society in Surry; the pleasure of
+looking at somebody new; the gala-day to Highbury entire, which the
+sight of him would have made; and ending with reflections on the
+Churchills again, found herself directly involved in a disagreement
+with Mr. Knightley; and, to her great amusement, perceived that she was
+taking the other side of the question from her real opinion, and making
+use of Mrs. Weston’s arguments against herself.
+
+“The Churchills are very likely in fault,” said Mr. Knightley, coolly;
+“but I dare say he might come if he would.”
+
+“I do not know why you should say so. He wishes exceedingly to come; but
+his uncle and aunt will not spare him.”
+
+“I cannot believe that he has not the power of coming, if he made a
+point of it. It is too unlikely, for me to believe it without proof.”
+
+“How odd you are! What has Mr. Frank Churchill done, to make you suppose
+him such an unnatural creature?”
+
+“I am not supposing him at all an unnatural creature, in suspecting that
+he may have learnt to be above his connexions, and to care very little
+for any thing but his own pleasure, from living with those who have
+always set him the example of it. It is a great deal more natural than
+one could wish, that a young man, brought up by those who are proud,
+luxurious, and selfish, should be proud, luxurious, and selfish too. If
+Frank Churchill had wanted to see his father, he would have contrived it
+between September and January. A man at his age--what is he?--three or
+four-and-twenty--cannot be without the means of doing as much as that.
+It is impossible.”
+
+“That’s easily said, and easily felt by you, who have always been your
+own master. You are the worst judge in the world, Mr. Knightley, of the
+difficulties of dependence. You do not know what it is to have tempers
+to manage.”
+
+“It is not to be conceived that a man of three or four-and-twenty
+should not have liberty of mind or limb to that amount. He cannot want
+money--he cannot want leisure. We know, on the contrary, that he has so
+much of both, that he is glad to get rid of them at the idlest haunts in
+the kingdom. We hear of him for ever at some watering-place or other. A
+little while ago, he was at Weymouth. This proves that he can leave the
+Churchills.”
+
+“Yes, sometimes he can.”
+
+“And those times are whenever he thinks it worth his while; whenever
+there is any temptation of pleasure.”
+
+“It is very unfair to judge of any body’s conduct, without an intimate
+knowledge of their situation. Nobody, who has not been in the interior
+of a family, can say what the difficulties of any individual of that
+family may be. We ought to be acquainted with Enscombe, and with Mrs.
+Churchill’s temper, before we pretend to decide upon what her nephew
+can do. He may, at times, be able to do a great deal more than he can at
+others.”
+
+“There is one thing, Emma, which a man can always do, if he chuses, and
+that is, his duty; not by manoeuvring and finessing, but by vigour and
+resolution. It is Frank Churchill’s duty to pay this attention to his
+father. He knows it to be so, by his promises and messages; but if he
+wished to do it, it might be done. A man who felt rightly would say at
+once, simply and resolutely, to Mrs. Churchill--‘Every sacrifice of
+mere pleasure you will always find me ready to make to your convenience;
+but I must go and see my father immediately. I know he would be hurt by
+my failing in such a mark of respect to him on the present occasion.
+I shall, therefore, set off to-morrow.’--If he would say so to her
+at once, in the tone of decision becoming a man, there would be no
+opposition made to his going.”
+
+“No,” said Emma, laughing; “but perhaps there might be some made to his
+coming back again. Such language for a young man entirely dependent, to
+use!--Nobody but you, Mr. Knightley, would imagine it possible. But you
+have not an idea of what is requisite in situations directly opposite to
+your own. Mr. Frank Churchill to be making such a speech as that to
+the uncle and aunt, who have brought him up, and are to provide for
+him!--Standing up in the middle of the room, I suppose, and speaking as
+loud as he could!--How can you imagine such conduct practicable?”
+
+“Depend upon it, Emma, a sensible man would find no difficulty in it. He
+would feel himself in the right; and the declaration--made, of course,
+as a man of sense would make it, in a proper manner--would do him more
+good, raise him higher, fix his interest stronger with the people he
+depended on, than all that a line of shifts and expedients can ever do.
+Respect would be added to affection. They would feel that they could
+trust him; that the nephew who had done rightly by his father, would do
+rightly by them; for they know, as well as he does, as well as all the
+world must know, that he ought to pay this visit to his father; and
+while meanly exerting their power to delay it, are in their hearts not
+thinking the better of him for submitting to their whims. Respect for
+right conduct is felt by every body. If he would act in this sort of
+manner, on principle, consistently, regularly, their little minds would
+bend to his.”
+
+“I rather doubt that. You are very fond of bending little minds; but
+where little minds belong to rich people in authority, I think they have
+a knack of swelling out, till they are quite as unmanageable as great
+ones. I can imagine, that if you, as you are, Mr. Knightley, were to be
+transported and placed all at once in Mr. Frank Churchill’s situation,
+you would be able to say and do just what you have been recommending for
+him; and it might have a very good effect. The Churchills might not have
+a word to say in return; but then, you would have no habits of early
+obedience and long observance to break through. To him who has, it might
+not be so easy to burst forth at once into perfect independence, and set
+all their claims on his gratitude and regard at nought. He may have as
+strong a sense of what would be right, as you can have, without being so
+equal, under particular circumstances, to act up to it.”
+
+“Then it would not be so strong a sense. If it failed to produce equal
+exertion, it could not be an equal conviction.”
+
+“Oh, the difference of situation and habit! I wish you would try to
+understand what an amiable young man may be likely to feel in directly
+opposing those, whom as child and boy he has been looking up to all his
+life.”
+
+“Our amiable young man is a very weak young man, if this be the first
+occasion of his carrying through a resolution to do right against the
+will of others. It ought to have been a habit with him by this time, of
+following his duty, instead of consulting expediency. I can allow for
+the fears of the child, but not of the man. As he became rational, he
+ought to have roused himself and shaken off all that was unworthy in
+their authority. He ought to have opposed the first attempt on their
+side to make him slight his father. Had he begun as he ought, there
+would have been no difficulty now.”
+
+“We shall never agree about him,” cried Emma; “but that is nothing
+extraordinary. I have not the least idea of his being a weak young man:
+I feel sure that he is not. Mr. Weston would not be blind to folly,
+though in his own son; but he is very likely to have a more yielding,
+complying, mild disposition than would suit your notions of man’s
+perfection. I dare say he has; and though it may cut him off from some
+advantages, it will secure him many others.”
+
+“Yes; all the advantages of sitting still when he ought to move, and
+of leading a life of mere idle pleasure, and fancying himself extremely
+expert in finding excuses for it. He can sit down and write a fine
+flourishing letter, full of professions and falsehoods, and persuade
+himself that he has hit upon the very best method in the world of
+preserving peace at home and preventing his father’s having any right to
+complain. His letters disgust me.”
+
+“Your feelings are singular. They seem to satisfy every body else.”
+
+“I suspect they do not satisfy Mrs. Weston. They hardly can satisfy
+a woman of her good sense and quick feelings: standing in a mother’s
+place, but without a mother’s affection to blind her. It is on her
+account that attention to Randalls is doubly due, and she must doubly
+feel the omission. Had she been a person of consequence herself, he
+would have come I dare say; and it would not have signified whether
+he did or no. Can you think your friend behindhand in these sort of
+considerations? Do you suppose she does not often say all this to
+herself? No, Emma, your amiable young man can be amiable only in French,
+not in English. He may be very ‘amiable,’ have very good manners, and be
+very agreeable; but he can have no English delicacy towards the feelings
+of other people: nothing really amiable about him.”
+
+“You seem determined to think ill of him.”
+
+“Me!--not at all,” replied Mr. Knightley, rather displeased; “I do not
+want to think ill of him. I should be as ready to acknowledge his merits
+as any other man; but I hear of none, except what are merely personal;
+that he is well-grown and good-looking, with smooth, plausible manners.”
+
+“Well, if he have nothing else to recommend him, he will be a treasure
+at Highbury. We do not often look upon fine young men, well-bred and
+agreeable. We must not be nice and ask for all the virtues into the
+bargain. Cannot you imagine, Mr. Knightley, what a _sensation_ his
+coming will produce? There will be but one subject throughout the
+parishes of Donwell and Highbury; but one interest--one object of
+curiosity; it will be all Mr. Frank Churchill; we shall think and speak
+of nobody else.”
+
+“You will excuse my being so much over-powered. If I find him
+conversable, I shall be glad of his acquaintance; but if he is only a
+chattering coxcomb, he will not occupy much of my time or thoughts.”
+
+“My idea of him is, that he can adapt his conversation to the taste of
+every body, and has the power as well as the wish of being universally
+agreeable. To you, he will talk of farming; to me, of drawing or music;
+and so on to every body, having that general information on all subjects
+which will enable him to follow the lead, or take the lead, just as
+propriety may require, and to speak extremely well on each; that is my
+idea of him.”
+
+“And mine,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “is, that if he turn out any
+thing like it, he will be the most insufferable fellow breathing! What!
+at three-and-twenty to be the king of his company--the great man--the
+practised politician, who is to read every body’s character, and make
+every body’s talents conduce to the display of his own superiority; to
+be dispensing his flatteries around, that he may make all appear like
+fools compared with himself! My dear Emma, your own good sense could not
+endure such a puppy when it came to the point.”
+
+“I will say no more about him,” cried Emma, “you turn every thing to
+evil. We are both prejudiced; you against, I for him; and we have no
+chance of agreeing till he is really here.”
+
+“Prejudiced! I am not prejudiced.”
+
+“But I am very much, and without being at all ashamed of it. My love for
+Mr. and Mrs. Weston gives me a decided prejudice in his favour.”
+
+“He is a person I never think of from one month’s end to another,” said
+Mr. Knightley, with a degree of vexation, which made Emma immediately
+talk of something else, though she could not comprehend why he should be
+angry.
+
+To take a dislike to a young man, only because he appeared to be of a
+different disposition from himself, was unworthy the real liberality of
+mind which she was always used to acknowledge in him; for with all the
+high opinion of himself, which she had often laid to his charge, she had
+never before for a moment supposed it could make him unjust to the merit
+of another.
+
+
+
+
+VOLUME II
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Emma and Harriet had been walking together one morning, and, in Emma’s
+opinion, had been talking enough of Mr. Elton for that day. She could
+not think that Harriet’s solace or her own sins required more; and
+she was therefore industriously getting rid of the subject as they
+returned;--but it burst out again when she thought she had succeeded,
+and after speaking some time of what the poor must suffer in winter, and
+receiving no other answer than a very plaintive--“Mr. Elton is so good
+to the poor!” she found something else must be done.
+
+They were just approaching the house where lived Mrs. and Miss Bates.
+She determined to call upon them and seek safety in numbers. There was
+always sufficient reason for such an attention; Mrs. and Miss Bates
+loved to be called on, and she knew she was considered by the very few
+who presumed ever to see imperfection in her, as rather negligent in
+that respect, and as not contributing what she ought to the stock of
+their scanty comforts.
+
+She had had many a hint from Mr. Knightley and some from her own heart,
+as to her deficiency--but none were equal to counteract the persuasion
+of its being very disagreeable,--a waste of time--tiresome women--and
+all the horror of being in danger of falling in with the second-rate and
+third-rate of Highbury, who were calling on them for ever, and therefore
+she seldom went near them. But now she made the sudden resolution of not
+passing their door without going in--observing, as she proposed it to
+Harriet, that, as well as she could calculate, they were just now quite
+safe from any letter from Jane Fairfax.
+
+The house belonged to people in business. Mrs. and Miss Bates occupied
+the drawing-room floor; and there, in the very moderate-sized apartment,
+which was every thing to them, the visitors were most cordially and even
+gratefully welcomed; the quiet neat old lady, who with her knitting was
+seated in the warmest corner, wanting even to give up her place to
+Miss Woodhouse, and her more active, talking daughter, almost ready
+to overpower them with care and kindness, thanks for their visit,
+solicitude for their shoes, anxious inquiries after Mr. Woodhouse’s
+health, cheerful communications about her mother’s, and sweet-cake from
+the beaufet--“Mrs. Cole had just been there, just called in for ten
+minutes, and had been so good as to sit an hour with them, and _she_ had
+taken a piece of cake and been so kind as to say she liked it very much;
+and, therefore, she hoped Miss Woodhouse and Miss Smith would do them
+the favour to eat a piece too.”
+
+The mention of the Coles was sure to be followed by that of Mr. Elton.
+There was intimacy between them, and Mr. Cole had heard from Mr. Elton
+since his going away. Emma knew what was coming; they must have the
+letter over again, and settle how long he had been gone, and how much
+he was engaged in company, and what a favourite he was wherever he went,
+and how full the Master of the Ceremonies’ ball had been; and she went
+through it very well, with all the interest and all the commendation
+that could be requisite, and always putting forward to prevent Harriet’s
+being obliged to say a word.
+
+This she had been prepared for when she entered the house; but meant,
+having once talked him handsomely over, to be no farther incommoded by
+any troublesome topic, and to wander at large amongst all the Mistresses
+and Misses of Highbury, and their card-parties. She had not been
+prepared to have Jane Fairfax succeed Mr. Elton; but he was actually
+hurried off by Miss Bates, she jumped away from him at last abruptly to
+the Coles, to usher in a letter from her niece.
+
+“Oh! yes--Mr. Elton, I understand--certainly as to dancing--Mrs. Cole
+was telling me that dancing at the rooms at Bath was--Mrs. Cole was so
+kind as to sit some time with us, talking of Jane; for as soon as
+she came in, she began inquiring after her, Jane is so very great a
+favourite there. Whenever she is with us, Mrs. Cole does not know how to
+shew her kindness enough; and I must say that Jane deserves it as much
+as any body can. And so she began inquiring after her directly, saying,
+‘I know you cannot have heard from Jane lately, because it is not her
+time for writing;’ and when I immediately said, ‘But indeed we have, we
+had a letter this very morning,’ I do not know that I ever saw any body
+more surprized. ‘Have you, upon your honour?’ said she; ‘well, that is
+quite unexpected. Do let me hear what she says.’”
+
+Emma’s politeness was at hand directly, to say, with smiling interest--
+
+“Have you heard from Miss Fairfax so lately? I am extremely happy. I
+hope she is well?”
+
+“Thank you. You are so kind!” replied the happily deceived aunt, while
+eagerly hunting for the letter.--“Oh! here it is. I was sure it could
+not be far off; but I had put my huswife upon it, you see, without being
+aware, and so it was quite hid, but I had it in my hand so very lately
+that I was almost sure it must be on the table. I was reading it to Mrs.
+Cole, and since she went away, I was reading it again to my mother, for
+it is such a pleasure to her--a letter from Jane--that she can never
+hear it often enough; so I knew it could not be far off, and here it is,
+only just under my huswife--and since you are so kind as to wish to hear
+what she says;--but, first of all, I really must, in justice to
+Jane, apologise for her writing so short a letter--only two pages you
+see--hardly two--and in general she fills the whole paper and crosses
+half. My mother often wonders that I can make it out so well. She often
+says, when the letter is first opened, ‘Well, Hetty, now I think
+you will be put to it to make out all that checker-work’--don’t you,
+ma’am?--And then I tell her, I am sure she would contrive to make it out
+herself, if she had nobody to do it for her--every word of it--I am sure
+she would pore over it till she had made out every word. And, indeed,
+though my mother’s eyes are not so good as they were, she can see
+amazingly well still, thank God! with the help of spectacles. It is such
+a blessing! My mother’s are really very good indeed. Jane often says,
+when she is here, ‘I am sure, grandmama, you must have had very strong
+eyes to see as you do--and so much fine work as you have done too!--I
+only wish my eyes may last me as well.’”
+
+All this spoken extremely fast obliged Miss Bates to stop for breath;
+and Emma said something very civil about the excellence of Miss
+Fairfax’s handwriting.
+
+“You are extremely kind,” replied Miss Bates, highly gratified; “you who
+are such a judge, and write so beautifully yourself. I am sure there is
+nobody’s praise that could give us so much pleasure as Miss Woodhouse’s.
+My mother does not hear; she is a little deaf you know. Ma’am,”
+ addressing her, “do you hear what Miss Woodhouse is so obliging to say
+about Jane’s handwriting?”
+
+And Emma had the advantage of hearing her own silly compliment repeated
+twice over before the good old lady could comprehend it. She was
+pondering, in the meanwhile, upon the possibility, without seeming very
+rude, of making her escape from Jane Fairfax’s letter, and had almost
+resolved on hurrying away directly under some slight excuse, when Miss
+Bates turned to her again and seized her attention.
+
+“My mother’s deafness is very trifling you see--just nothing at all. By
+only raising my voice, and saying any thing two or three times over,
+she is sure to hear; but then she is used to my voice. But it is very
+remarkable that she should always hear Jane better than she does me.
+Jane speaks so distinct! However, she will not find her grandmama at all
+deafer than she was two years ago; which is saying a great deal at my
+mother’s time of life--and it really is full two years, you know, since
+she was here. We never were so long without seeing her before, and as
+I was telling Mrs. Cole, we shall hardly know how to make enough of her
+now.”
+
+“Are you expecting Miss Fairfax here soon?”
+
+“Oh yes; next week.”
+
+“Indeed!--that must be a very great pleasure.”
+
+“Thank you. You are very kind. Yes, next week. Every body is so
+surprized; and every body says the same obliging things. I am sure she
+will be as happy to see her friends at Highbury, as they can be to see
+her. Yes, Friday or Saturday; she cannot say which, because Colonel
+Campbell will be wanting the carriage himself one of those days. So very
+good of them to send her the whole way! But they always do, you know. Oh
+yes, Friday or Saturday next. That is what she writes about. That is
+the reason of her writing out of rule, as we call it; for, in the
+common course, we should not have heard from her before next Tuesday or
+Wednesday.”
+
+“Yes, so I imagined. I was afraid there could be little chance of my
+hearing any thing of Miss Fairfax to-day.”
+
+“So obliging of you! No, we should not have heard, if it had not been
+for this particular circumstance, of her being to come here so soon. My
+mother is so delighted!--for she is to be three months with us at
+least. Three months, she says so, positively, as I am going to have the
+pleasure of reading to you. The case is, you see, that the Campbells are
+going to Ireland. Mrs. Dixon has persuaded her father and mother to come
+over and see her directly. They had not intended to go over till the
+summer, but she is so impatient to see them again--for till she married,
+last October, she was never away from them so much as a week, which must
+make it very strange to be in different kingdoms, I was going to say,
+but however different countries, and so she wrote a very urgent letter
+to her mother--or her father, I declare I do not know which it was, but
+we shall see presently in Jane’s letter--wrote in Mr. Dixon’s name as
+well as her own, to press their coming over directly, and they would
+give them the meeting in Dublin, and take them back to their country
+seat, Baly-craig, a beautiful place, I fancy. Jane has heard a great
+deal of its beauty; from Mr. Dixon, I mean--I do not know that she ever
+heard about it from any body else; but it was very natural, you know,
+that he should like to speak of his own place while he was paying his
+addresses--and as Jane used to be very often walking out with them--for
+Colonel and Mrs. Campbell were very particular about their daughter’s
+not walking out often with only Mr. Dixon, for which I do not at all
+blame them; of course she heard every thing he might be telling Miss
+Campbell about his own home in Ireland; and I think she wrote us word
+that he had shewn them some drawings of the place, views that he had
+taken himself. He is a most amiable, charming young man, I believe. Jane
+was quite longing to go to Ireland, from his account of things.”
+
+At this moment, an ingenious and animating suspicion entering Emma’s
+brain with regard to Jane Fairfax, this charming Mr. Dixon, and the
+not going to Ireland, she said, with the insidious design of farther
+discovery,
+
+“You must feel it very fortunate that Miss Fairfax should be allowed to
+come to you at such a time. Considering the very particular friendship
+between her and Mrs. Dixon, you could hardly have expected her to be
+excused from accompanying Colonel and Mrs. Campbell.”
+
+“Very true, very true, indeed. The very thing that we have always been
+rather afraid of; for we should not have liked to have her at such a
+distance from us, for months together--not able to come if any thing was
+to happen. But you see, every thing turns out for the best. They want
+her (Mr. and Mrs. Dixon) excessively to come over with Colonel and Mrs.
+Campbell; quite depend upon it; nothing can be more kind or pressing
+than their _joint_ invitation, Jane says, as you will hear presently;
+Mr. Dixon does not seem in the least backward in any attention. He is
+a most charming young man. Ever since the service he rendered Jane at
+Weymouth, when they were out in that party on the water, and she, by the
+sudden whirling round of something or other among the sails, would have
+been dashed into the sea at once, and actually was all but gone, if he
+had not, with the greatest presence of mind, caught hold of her habit--
+(I can never think of it without trembling!)--But ever since we had the
+history of that day, I have been so fond of Mr. Dixon!”
+
+“But, in spite of all her friends’ urgency, and her own wish of seeing
+Ireland, Miss Fairfax prefers devoting the time to you and Mrs. Bates?”
+
+“Yes--entirely her own doing, entirely her own choice; and Colonel
+and Mrs. Campbell think she does quite right, just what they should
+recommend; and indeed they particularly _wish_ her to try her native
+air, as she has not been quite so well as usual lately.”
+
+“I am concerned to hear of it. I think they judge wisely. But Mrs.
+Dixon must be very much disappointed. Mrs. Dixon, I understand, has
+no remarkable degree of personal beauty; is not, by any means, to be
+compared with Miss Fairfax.”
+
+“Oh! no. You are very obliging to say such things--but certainly not.
+There is no comparison between them. Miss Campbell always was absolutely
+plain--but extremely elegant and amiable.”
+
+“Yes, that of course.”
+
+“Jane caught a bad cold, poor thing! so long ago as the 7th of November,
+(as I am going to read to you,) and has never been well since. A long
+time, is not it, for a cold to hang upon her? She never mentioned
+it before, because she would not alarm us. Just like her! so
+considerate!--But however, she is so far from well, that her kind
+friends the Campbells think she had better come home, and try an air
+that always agrees with her; and they have no doubt that three or four
+months at Highbury will entirely cure her--and it is certainly a great
+deal better that she should come here, than go to Ireland, if she is
+unwell. Nobody could nurse her, as we should do.”
+
+“It appears to me the most desirable arrangement in the world.”
+
+“And so she is to come to us next Friday or Saturday, and the Campbells
+leave town in their way to Holyhead the Monday following--as you will
+find from Jane’s letter. So sudden!--You may guess, dear Miss Woodhouse,
+what a flurry it has thrown me in! If it was not for the drawback of
+her illness--but I am afraid we must expect to see her grown thin, and
+looking very poorly. I must tell you what an unlucky thing happened to
+me, as to that. I always make a point of reading Jane’s letters through
+to myself first, before I read them aloud to my mother, you know, for
+fear of there being any thing in them to distress her. Jane desired me
+to do it, so I always do: and so I began to-day with my usual caution;
+but no sooner did I come to the mention of her being unwell, than I
+burst out, quite frightened, with ‘Bless me! poor Jane is ill!’--which
+my mother, being on the watch, heard distinctly, and was sadly alarmed
+at. However, when I read on, I found it was not near so bad as I had
+fancied at first; and I make so light of it now to her, that she does
+not think much about it. But I cannot imagine how I could be so off my
+guard. If Jane does not get well soon, we will call in Mr. Perry. The
+expense shall not be thought of; and though he is so liberal, and so
+fond of Jane that I dare say he would not mean to charge any thing for
+attendance, we could not suffer it to be so, you know. He has a wife and
+family to maintain, and is not to be giving away his time. Well, now I
+have just given you a hint of what Jane writes about, we will turn to
+her letter, and I am sure she tells her own story a great deal better
+than I can tell it for her.”
+
+“I am afraid we must be running away,” said Emma, glancing at Harriet,
+and beginning to rise--“My father will be expecting us. I had no
+intention, I thought I had no power of staying more than five minutes,
+when I first entered the house. I merely called, because I would not
+pass the door without inquiring after Mrs. Bates; but I have been so
+pleasantly detained! Now, however, we must wish you and Mrs. Bates good
+morning.”
+
+And not all that could be urged to detain her succeeded. She regained
+the street--happy in this, that though much had been forced on her
+against her will, though she had in fact heard the whole substance of
+Jane Fairfax’s letter, she had been able to escape the letter itself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Jane Fairfax was an orphan, the only child of Mrs. Bates’s youngest
+daughter.
+
+The marriage of Lieut. Fairfax of the ----regiment of infantry,
+and Miss Jane Bates, had had its day of fame and pleasure, hope
+and interest; but nothing now remained of it, save the melancholy
+remembrance of him dying in action abroad--of his widow sinking under
+consumption and grief soon afterwards--and this girl.
+
+By birth she belonged to Highbury: and when at three years old, on
+losing her mother, she became the property, the charge, the consolation,
+the foundling of her grandmother and aunt, there had seemed every
+probability of her being permanently fixed there; of her being taught
+only what very limited means could command, and growing up with no
+advantages of connexion or improvement, to be engrafted on what
+nature had given her in a pleasing person, good understanding, and
+warm-hearted, well-meaning relations.
+
+But the compassionate feelings of a friend of her father gave a change
+to her destiny. This was Colonel Campbell, who had very highly regarded
+Fairfax, as an excellent officer and most deserving young man; and
+farther, had been indebted to him for such attentions, during a severe
+camp-fever, as he believed had saved his life. These were claims which
+he did not learn to overlook, though some years passed away from the
+death of poor Fairfax, before his own return to England put any thing in
+his power. When he did return, he sought out the child and took notice
+of her. He was a married man, with only one living child, a girl, about
+Jane’s age: and Jane became their guest, paying them long visits and
+growing a favourite with all; and before she was nine years old, his
+daughter’s great fondness for her, and his own wish of being a real
+friend, united to produce an offer from Colonel Campbell of undertaking
+the whole charge of her education. It was accepted; and from that period
+Jane had belonged to Colonel Campbell’s family, and had lived with them
+entirely, only visiting her grandmother from time to time.
+
+The plan was that she should be brought up for educating others; the
+very few hundred pounds which she inherited from her father making
+independence impossible. To provide for her otherwise was out of Colonel
+Campbell’s power; for though his income, by pay and appointments, was
+handsome, his fortune was moderate and must be all his daughter’s;
+but, by giving her an education, he hoped to be supplying the means of
+respectable subsistence hereafter.
+
+Such was Jane Fairfax’s history. She had fallen into good hands, known
+nothing but kindness from the Campbells, and been given an excellent
+education. Living constantly with right-minded and well-informed people,
+her heart and understanding had received every advantage of discipline
+and culture; and Colonel Campbell’s residence being in London, every
+lighter talent had been done full justice to, by the attendance of
+first-rate masters. Her disposition and abilities were equally worthy
+of all that friendship could do; and at eighteen or nineteen she was,
+as far as such an early age can be qualified for the care of children,
+fully competent to the office of instruction herself; but she was too
+much beloved to be parted with. Neither father nor mother could promote,
+and the daughter could not endure it. The evil day was put off. It was
+easy to decide that she was still too young; and Jane remained with
+them, sharing, as another daughter, in all the rational pleasures of
+an elegant society, and a judicious mixture of home and amusement, with
+only the drawback of the future, the sobering suggestions of her own
+good understanding to remind her that all this might soon be over.
+
+The affection of the whole family, the warm attachment of Miss
+Campbell in particular, was the more honourable to each party from
+the circumstance of Jane’s decided superiority both in beauty and
+acquirements. That nature had given it in feature could not be unseen
+by the young woman, nor could her higher powers of mind be unfelt by the
+parents. They continued together with unabated regard however, till the
+marriage of Miss Campbell, who by that chance, that luck which so often
+defies anticipation in matrimonial affairs, giving attraction to what is
+moderate rather than to what is superior, engaged the affections of
+Mr. Dixon, a young man, rich and agreeable, almost as soon as they were
+acquainted; and was eligibly and happily settled, while Jane Fairfax had
+yet her bread to earn.
+
+This event had very lately taken place; too lately for any thing to be
+yet attempted by her less fortunate friend towards entering on her path
+of duty; though she had now reached the age which her own judgment had
+fixed on for beginning. She had long resolved that one-and-twenty
+should be the period. With the fortitude of a devoted novitiate, she had
+resolved at one-and-twenty to complete the sacrifice, and retire from
+all the pleasures of life, of rational intercourse, equal society, peace
+and hope, to penance and mortification for ever.
+
+The good sense of Colonel and Mrs. Campbell could not oppose such
+a resolution, though their feelings did. As long as they lived, no
+exertions would be necessary, their home might be hers for ever; and for
+their own comfort they would have retained her wholly; but this would
+be selfishness:--what must be at last, had better be soon. Perhaps they
+began to feel it might have been kinder and wiser to have resisted the
+temptation of any delay, and spared her from a taste of such enjoyments
+of ease and leisure as must now be relinquished. Still, however,
+affection was glad to catch at any reasonable excuse for not hurrying
+on the wretched moment. She had never been quite well since the time of
+their daughter’s marriage; and till she should have completely recovered
+her usual strength, they must forbid her engaging in duties, which, so
+far from being compatible with a weakened frame and varying spirits,
+seemed, under the most favourable circumstances, to require something
+more than human perfection of body and mind to be discharged with
+tolerable comfort.
+
+With regard to her not accompanying them to Ireland, her account to her
+aunt contained nothing but truth, though there might be some truths
+not told. It was her own choice to give the time of their absence to
+Highbury; to spend, perhaps, her last months of perfect liberty with
+those kind relations to whom she was so very dear: and the Campbells,
+whatever might be their motive or motives, whether single, or double, or
+treble, gave the arrangement their ready sanction, and said, that they
+depended more on a few months spent in her native air, for the recovery
+of her health, than on any thing else. Certain it was that she was to
+come; and that Highbury, instead of welcoming that perfect novelty which
+had been so long promised it--Mr. Frank Churchill--must put up for the
+present with Jane Fairfax, who could bring only the freshness of a two
+years’ absence.
+
+Emma was sorry;--to have to pay civilities to a person she did not like
+through three long months!--to be always doing more than she wished,
+and less than she ought! Why she did not like Jane Fairfax might be a
+difficult question to answer; Mr. Knightley had once told her it was
+because she saw in her the really accomplished young woman, which she
+wanted to be thought herself; and though the accusation had been eagerly
+refuted at the time, there were moments of self-examination in which
+her conscience could not quite acquit her. But “she could never get
+acquainted with her: she did not know how it was, but there was such
+coldness and reserve--such apparent indifference whether she pleased or
+not--and then, her aunt was such an eternal talker!--and she was made
+such a fuss with by every body!--and it had been always imagined that
+they were to be so intimate--because their ages were the same, every
+body had supposed they must be so fond of each other.” These were her
+reasons--she had no better.
+
+It was a dislike so little just--every imputed fault was so magnified
+by fancy, that she never saw Jane Fairfax the first time after any
+considerable absence, without feeling that she had injured her; and
+now, when the due visit was paid, on her arrival, after a two years’
+interval, she was particularly struck with the very appearance and
+manners, which for those two whole years she had been depreciating. Jane
+Fairfax was very elegant, remarkably elegant; and she had herself the
+highest value for elegance. Her height was pretty, just such as almost
+every body would think tall, and nobody could think very tall; her
+figure particularly graceful; her size a most becoming medium, between
+fat and thin, though a slight appearance of ill-health seemed to point
+out the likeliest evil of the two. Emma could not but feel all this; and
+then, her face--her features--there was more beauty in them altogether
+than she had remembered; it was not regular, but it was very pleasing
+beauty. Her eyes, a deep grey, with dark eye-lashes and eyebrows, had
+never been denied their praise; but the skin, which she had been used to
+cavil at, as wanting colour, had a clearness and delicacy which really
+needed no fuller bloom. It was a style of beauty, of which elegance was
+the reigning character, and as such, she must, in honour, by all her
+principles, admire it:--elegance, which, whether of person or of mind,
+she saw so little in Highbury. There, not to be vulgar, was distinction,
+and merit.
+
+In short, she sat, during the first visit, looking at Jane Fairfax with
+twofold complacency; the sense of pleasure and the sense of rendering
+justice, and was determining that she would dislike her no longer. When
+she took in her history, indeed, her situation, as well as her beauty;
+when she considered what all this elegance was destined to, what she was
+going to sink from, how she was going to live, it seemed impossible
+to feel any thing but compassion and respect; especially, if to every
+well-known particular entitling her to interest, were added the highly
+probable circumstance of an attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she had
+so naturally started to herself. In that case, nothing could be more
+pitiable or more honourable than the sacrifices she had resolved on.
+Emma was very willing now to acquit her of having seduced Mr. Dixon’s
+actions from his wife, or of any thing mischievous which her imagination
+had suggested at first. If it were love, it might be simple, single,
+successless love on her side alone. She might have been unconsciously
+sucking in the sad poison, while a sharer of his conversation with her
+friend; and from the best, the purest of motives, might now be
+denying herself this visit to Ireland, and resolving to divide herself
+effectually from him and his connexions by soon beginning her career of
+laborious duty.
+
+Upon the whole, Emma left her with such softened, charitable feelings,
+as made her look around in walking home, and lament that Highbury
+afforded no young man worthy of giving her independence; nobody that she
+could wish to scheme about for her.
+
+These were charming feelings--but not lasting. Before she had committed
+herself by any public profession of eternal friendship for Jane Fairfax,
+or done more towards a recantation of past prejudices and errors, than
+saying to Mr. Knightley, “She certainly is handsome; she is better than
+handsome!” Jane had spent an evening at Hartfield with her grandmother
+and aunt, and every thing was relapsing much into its usual state.
+Former provocations reappeared. The aunt was as tiresome as ever; more
+tiresome, because anxiety for her health was now added to admiration
+of her powers; and they had to listen to the description of exactly how
+little bread and butter she ate for breakfast, and how small a slice
+of mutton for dinner, as well as to see exhibitions of new caps and new
+workbags for her mother and herself; and Jane’s offences rose again.
+They had music; Emma was obliged to play; and the thanks and praise
+which necessarily followed appeared to her an affectation of candour, an
+air of greatness, meaning only to shew off in higher style her own very
+superior performance. She was, besides, which was the worst of all, so
+cold, so cautious! There was no getting at her real opinion. Wrapt up in
+a cloak of politeness, she seemed determined to hazard nothing. She was
+disgustingly, was suspiciously reserved.
+
+If any thing could be more, where all was most, she was more reserved on
+the subject of Weymouth and the Dixons than any thing. She seemed bent
+on giving no real insight into Mr. Dixon’s character, or her own value
+for his company, or opinion of the suitableness of the match. It was all
+general approbation and smoothness; nothing delineated or distinguished.
+It did her no service however. Her caution was thrown away. Emma saw
+its artifice, and returned to her first surmises. There probably _was_
+something more to conceal than her own preference; Mr. Dixon, perhaps,
+had been very near changing one friend for the other, or been fixed only
+to Miss Campbell, for the sake of the future twelve thousand pounds.
+
+The like reserve prevailed on other topics. She and Mr. Frank Churchill
+had been at Weymouth at the same time. It was known that they were a
+little acquainted; but not a syllable of real information could Emma
+procure as to what he truly was. “Was he handsome?”--“She believed
+he was reckoned a very fine young man.” “Was he agreeable?”--“He was
+generally thought so.” “Did he appear a sensible young man; a young
+man of information?”--“At a watering-place, or in a common London
+acquaintance, it was difficult to decide on such points. Manners were
+all that could be safely judged of, under a much longer knowledge than
+they had yet had of Mr. Churchill. She believed every body found his
+manners pleasing.” Emma could not forgive her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+Emma could not forgive her;--but as neither provocation nor resentment
+were discerned by Mr. Knightley, who had been of the party, and had
+seen only proper attention and pleasing behaviour on each side, he was
+expressing the next morning, being at Hartfield again on business with
+Mr. Woodhouse, his approbation of the whole; not so openly as he might
+have done had her father been out of the room, but speaking plain enough
+to be very intelligible to Emma. He had been used to think her unjust to
+Jane, and had now great pleasure in marking an improvement.
+
+“A very pleasant evening,” he began, as soon as Mr. Woodhouse had been
+talked into what was necessary, told that he understood, and the papers
+swept away;--“particularly pleasant. You and Miss Fairfax gave us some
+very good music. I do not know a more luxurious state, sir, than sitting
+at one’s ease to be entertained a whole evening by two such young women;
+sometimes with music and sometimes with conversation. I am sure Miss
+Fairfax must have found the evening pleasant, Emma. You left nothing
+undone. I was glad you made her play so much, for having no instrument
+at her grandmother’s, it must have been a real indulgence.”
+
+“I am happy you approved,” said Emma, smiling; “but I hope I am not
+often deficient in what is due to guests at Hartfield.”
+
+“No, my dear,” said her father instantly; “_that_ I am sure you are not.
+There is nobody half so attentive and civil as you are. If any thing,
+you are too attentive. The muffin last night--if it had been handed
+round once, I think it would have been enough.”
+
+“No,” said Mr. Knightley, nearly at the same time; “you are not often
+deficient; not often deficient either in manner or comprehension. I
+think you understand me, therefore.”
+
+An arch look expressed--“I understand you well enough;” but she said
+only, “Miss Fairfax is reserved.”
+
+“I always told you she was--a little; but you will soon overcome all
+that part of her reserve which ought to be overcome, all that has its
+foundation in diffidence. What arises from discretion must be honoured.”
+
+“You think her diffident. I do not see it.”
+
+“My dear Emma,” said he, moving from his chair into one close by her,
+“you are not going to tell me, I hope, that you had not a pleasant
+evening.”
+
+“Oh! no; I was pleased with my own perseverance in asking questions; and
+amused to think how little information I obtained.”
+
+“I am disappointed,” was his only answer.
+
+“I hope every body had a pleasant evening,” said Mr. Woodhouse, in his
+quiet way. “I had. Once, I felt the fire rather too much; but then I
+moved back my chair a little, a very little, and it did not disturb me.
+Miss Bates was very chatty and good-humoured, as she always is, though
+she speaks rather too quick. However, she is very agreeable, and Mrs.
+Bates too, in a different way. I like old friends; and Miss Jane
+Fairfax is a very pretty sort of young lady, a very pretty and a
+very well-behaved young lady indeed. She must have found the evening
+agreeable, Mr. Knightley, because she had Emma.”
+
+“True, sir; and Emma, because she had Miss Fairfax.”
+
+Emma saw his anxiety, and wishing to appease it, at least for the
+present, said, and with a sincerity which no one could question--
+
+“She is a sort of elegant creature that one cannot keep one’s eyes from.
+I am always watching her to admire; and I do pity her from my heart.”
+
+Mr. Knightley looked as if he were more gratified than he cared to
+express; and before he could make any reply, Mr. Woodhouse, whose
+thoughts were on the Bates’s, said--
+
+“It is a great pity that their circumstances should be so confined! a
+great pity indeed! and I have often wished--but it is so little one can
+venture to do--small, trifling presents, of any thing uncommon--Now we
+have killed a porker, and Emma thinks of sending them a loin or a leg;
+it is very small and delicate--Hartfield pork is not like any other
+pork--but still it is pork--and, my dear Emma, unless one could be sure
+of their making it into steaks, nicely fried, as ours are fried, without
+the smallest grease, and not roast it, for no stomach can bear roast
+pork--I think we had better send the leg--do not you think so, my dear?”
+
+“My dear papa, I sent the whole hind-quarter. I knew you would wish it.
+There will be the leg to be salted, you know, which is so very nice, and
+the loin to be dressed directly in any manner they like.”
+
+“That’s right, my dear, very right. I had not thought of it before, but
+that is the best way. They must not over-salt the leg; and then, if it
+is not over-salted, and if it is very thoroughly boiled, just as Serle
+boils ours, and eaten very moderately of, with a boiled turnip, and a
+little carrot or parsnip, I do not consider it unwholesome.”
+
+“Emma,” said Mr. Knightley presently, “I have a piece of news for you.
+You like news--and I heard an article in my way hither that I think will
+interest you.”
+
+“News! Oh! yes, I always like news. What is it?--why do you smile
+so?--where did you hear it?--at Randalls?”
+
+He had time only to say,
+
+“No, not at Randalls; I have not been near Randalls,” when the door was
+thrown open, and Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax walked into the room. Full
+of thanks, and full of news, Miss Bates knew not which to give quickest.
+Mr. Knightley soon saw that he had lost his moment, and that not another
+syllable of communication could rest with him.
+
+“Oh! my dear sir, how are you this morning? My dear Miss Woodhouse--I
+come quite over-powered. Such a beautiful hind-quarter of pork! You
+are too bountiful! Have you heard the news? Mr. Elton is going to be
+married.”
+
+Emma had not had time even to think of Mr. Elton, and she was so
+completely surprized that she could not avoid a little start, and a
+little blush, at the sound.
+
+“There is my news:--I thought it would interest you,” said Mr.
+Knightley, with a smile which implied a conviction of some part of what
+had passed between them.
+
+“But where could _you_ hear it?” cried Miss Bates. “Where could you
+possibly hear it, Mr. Knightley? For it is not five minutes since I
+received Mrs. Cole’s note--no, it cannot be more than five--or at least
+ten--for I had got my bonnet and spencer on, just ready to come out--I
+was only gone down to speak to Patty again about the pork--Jane was
+standing in the passage--were not you, Jane?--for my mother was so
+afraid that we had not any salting-pan large enough. So I said I would
+go down and see, and Jane said, ‘Shall I go down instead? for I think
+you have a little cold, and Patty has been washing the kitchen.’--‘Oh!
+my dear,’ said I--well, and just then came the note. A Miss
+Hawkins--that’s all I know. A Miss Hawkins of Bath. But, Mr. Knightley,
+how could you possibly have heard it? for the very moment Mr. Cole told
+Mrs. Cole of it, she sat down and wrote to me. A Miss Hawkins--”
+
+“I was with Mr. Cole on business an hour and a half ago. He had just
+read Elton’s letter as I was shewn in, and handed it to me directly.”
+
+“Well! that is quite--I suppose there never was a piece of news more
+generally interesting. My dear sir, you really are too bountiful. My
+mother desires her very best compliments and regards, and a thousand
+thanks, and says you really quite oppress her.”
+
+“We consider our Hartfield pork,” replied Mr. Woodhouse--“indeed it
+certainly is, so very superior to all other pork, that Emma and I cannot
+have a greater pleasure than--”
+
+“Oh! my dear sir, as my mother says, our friends are only too good
+to us. If ever there were people who, without having great wealth
+themselves, had every thing they could wish for, I am sure it is us.
+We may well say that ‘our lot is cast in a goodly heritage.’ Well, Mr.
+Knightley, and so you actually saw the letter; well--”
+
+“It was short--merely to announce--but cheerful, exulting, of course.”--
+Here was a sly glance at Emma. “He had been so fortunate as to--I forget
+the precise words--one has no business to remember them. The information
+was, as you state, that he was going to be married to a Miss Hawkins. By
+his style, I should imagine it just settled.”
+
+“Mr. Elton going to be married!” said Emma, as soon as she could speak.
+“He will have every body’s wishes for his happiness.”
+
+“He is very young to settle,” was Mr. Woodhouse’s observation. “He had
+better not be in a hurry. He seemed to me very well off as he was. We
+were always glad to see him at Hartfield.”
+
+“A new neighbour for us all, Miss Woodhouse!” said Miss Bates, joyfully;
+“my mother is so pleased!--she says she cannot bear to have the poor old
+Vicarage without a mistress. This is great news, indeed. Jane, you have
+never seen Mr. Elton!--no wonder that you have such a curiosity to see
+him.”
+
+Jane’s curiosity did not appear of that absorbing nature as wholly to
+occupy her.
+
+“No--I have never seen Mr. Elton,” she replied, starting on this appeal;
+“is he--is he a tall man?”
+
+“Who shall answer that question?” cried Emma. “My father would say
+‘yes,’ Mr. Knightley ‘no;’ and Miss Bates and I that he is just the
+happy medium. When you have been here a little longer, Miss Fairfax,
+you will understand that Mr. Elton is the standard of perfection in
+Highbury, both in person and mind.”
+
+“Very true, Miss Woodhouse, so she will. He is the very best young
+man--But, my dear Jane, if you remember, I told you yesterday he
+was precisely the height of Mr. Perry. Miss Hawkins,--I dare say, an
+excellent young woman. His extreme attention to my mother--wanting
+her to sit in the vicarage pew, that she might hear the better, for my
+mother is a little deaf, you know--it is not much, but she does not
+hear quite quick. Jane says that Colonel Campbell is a little deaf. He
+fancied bathing might be good for it--the warm bath--but she says it did
+him no lasting benefit. Colonel Campbell, you know, is quite our angel.
+And Mr. Dixon seems a very charming young man, quite worthy of him. It
+is such a happiness when good people get together--and they always do.
+Now, here will be Mr. Elton and Miss Hawkins; and there are the Coles,
+such very good people; and the Perrys--I suppose there never was a
+happier or a better couple than Mr. and Mrs. Perry. I say, sir,” turning
+to Mr. Woodhouse, “I think there are few places with such society as
+Highbury. I always say, we are quite blessed in our neighbours.--My dear
+sir, if there is one thing my mother loves better than another, it is
+pork--a roast loin of pork--”
+
+“As to who, or what Miss Hawkins is, or how long he has been acquainted
+with her,” said Emma, “nothing I suppose can be known. One feels that it
+cannot be a very long acquaintance. He has been gone only four weeks.”
+
+Nobody had any information to give; and, after a few more wonderings,
+Emma said,
+
+“You are silent, Miss Fairfax--but I hope you mean to take an interest
+in this news. You, who have been hearing and seeing so much of late
+on these subjects, who must have been so deep in the business on Miss
+Campbell’s account--we shall not excuse your being indifferent about Mr.
+Elton and Miss Hawkins.”
+
+“When I have seen Mr. Elton,” replied Jane, “I dare say I shall be
+interested--but I believe it requires _that_ with me. And as it is some
+months since Miss Campbell married, the impression may be a little worn
+off.”
+
+“Yes, he has been gone just four weeks, as you observe, Miss Woodhouse,”
+ said Miss Bates, “four weeks yesterday.--A Miss Hawkins!--Well, I had
+always rather fancied it would be some young lady hereabouts; not that
+I ever--Mrs. Cole once whispered to me--but I immediately said, ‘No, Mr.
+Elton is a most worthy young man--but’--In short, I do not think I am
+particularly quick at those sort of discoveries. I do not pretend to it.
+What is before me, I see. At the same time, nobody could wonder if
+Mr. Elton should have aspired--Miss Woodhouse lets me chatter on, so
+good-humouredly. She knows I would not offend for the world. How does
+Miss Smith do? She seems quite recovered now. Have you heard from Mrs.
+John Knightley lately? Oh! those dear little children. Jane, do you
+know I always fancy Mr. Dixon like Mr. John Knightley. I mean in
+person--tall, and with that sort of look--and not very talkative.”
+
+“Quite wrong, my dear aunt; there is no likeness at all.”
+
+“Very odd! but one never does form a just idea of any body beforehand.
+One takes up a notion, and runs away with it. Mr. Dixon, you say, is
+not, strictly speaking, handsome?”
+
+“Handsome! Oh! no--far from it--certainly plain. I told you he was
+plain.”
+
+“My dear, you said that Miss Campbell would not allow him to be plain,
+and that you yourself--”
+
+“Oh! as for me, my judgment is worth nothing. Where I have a regard,
+I always think a person well-looking. But I gave what I believed the
+general opinion, when I called him plain.”
+
+“Well, my dear Jane, I believe we must be running away. The weather does
+not look well, and grandmama will be uneasy. You are too obliging, my
+dear Miss Woodhouse; but we really must take leave. This has been a most
+agreeable piece of news indeed. I shall just go round by Mrs. Cole’s;
+but I shall not stop three minutes: and, Jane, you had better go home
+directly--I would not have you out in a shower!--We think she is the
+better for Highbury already. Thank you, we do indeed. I shall not
+attempt calling on Mrs. Goddard, for I really do not think she cares for
+any thing but _boiled_ pork: when we dress the leg it will be another
+thing. Good morning to you, my dear sir. Oh! Mr. Knightley is coming
+too. Well, that is so very!--I am sure if Jane is tired, you will be
+so kind as to give her your arm.--Mr. Elton, and Miss Hawkins!--Good
+morning to you.”
+
+Emma, alone with her father, had half her attention wanted by him while
+he lamented that young people would be in such a hurry to marry--and to
+marry strangers too--and the other half she could give to her own view
+of the subject. It was to herself an amusing and a very welcome piece
+of news, as proving that Mr. Elton could not have suffered long; but she
+was sorry for Harriet: Harriet must feel it--and all that she could hope
+was, by giving the first information herself, to save her from hearing
+it abruptly from others. It was now about the time that she was likely
+to call. If she were to meet Miss Bates in her way!--and upon its
+beginning to rain, Emma was obliged to expect that the weather would
+be detaining her at Mrs. Goddard’s, and that the intelligence would
+undoubtedly rush upon her without preparation.
+
+The shower was heavy, but short; and it had not been over five minutes,
+when in came Harriet, with just the heated, agitated look which
+hurrying thither with a full heart was likely to give; and the “Oh! Miss
+Woodhouse, what do you think has happened!” which instantly burst forth,
+had all the evidence of corresponding perturbation. As the blow was
+given, Emma felt that she could not now shew greater kindness than in
+listening; and Harriet, unchecked, ran eagerly through what she had to
+tell. “She had set out from Mrs. Goddard’s half an hour ago--she had
+been afraid it would rain--she had been afraid it would pour down
+every moment--but she thought she might get to Hartfield first--she
+had hurried on as fast as possible; but then, as she was passing by the
+house where a young woman was making up a gown for her, she thought she
+would just step in and see how it went on; and though she did not seem
+to stay half a moment there, soon after she came out it began to rain,
+and she did not know what to do; so she ran on directly, as fast as
+she could, and took shelter at Ford’s.”--Ford’s was the principal
+woollen-draper, linen-draper, and haberdasher’s shop united; the shop
+first in size and fashion in the place.--“And so, there she had
+set, without an idea of any thing in the world, full ten minutes,
+perhaps--when, all of a sudden, who should come in--to be sure it was
+so very odd!--but they always dealt at Ford’s--who should come in, but
+Elizabeth Martin and her brother!--Dear Miss Woodhouse! only think. I
+thought I should have fainted. I did not know what to do. I was sitting
+near the door--Elizabeth saw me directly; but he did not; he was busy
+with the umbrella. I am sure she saw me, but she looked away directly,
+and took no notice; and they both went to quite the farther end of the
+shop; and I kept sitting near the door!--Oh! dear; I was so miserable!
+I am sure I must have been as white as my gown. I could not go away
+you know, because of the rain; but I did so wish myself anywhere in the
+world but there.--Oh! dear, Miss Woodhouse--well, at last, I fancy, he
+looked round and saw me; for instead of going on with her buyings, they
+began whispering to one another. I am sure they were talking of me; and
+I could not help thinking that he was persuading her to speak to me--(do
+you think he was, Miss Woodhouse?)--for presently she came forward--came
+quite up to me, and asked me how I did, and seemed ready to shake hands,
+if I would. She did not do any of it in the same way that she used; I
+could see she was altered; but, however, she seemed to _try_ to be very
+friendly, and we shook hands, and stood talking some time; but I know no
+more what I said--I was in such a tremble!--I remember she said she
+was sorry we never met now; which I thought almost too kind! Dear, Miss
+Woodhouse, I was absolutely miserable! By that time, it was beginning to
+hold up, and I was determined that nothing should stop me from getting
+away--and then--only think!--I found he was coming up towards me
+too--slowly you know, and as if he did not quite know what to do; and
+so he came and spoke, and I answered--and I stood for a minute, feeling
+dreadfully, you know, one can’t tell how; and then I took courage, and
+said it did not rain, and I must go; and so off I set; and I had not got
+three yards from the door, when he came after me, only to say, if I was
+going to Hartfield, he thought I had much better go round by Mr. Cole’s
+stables, for I should find the near way quite floated by this rain. Oh!
+dear, I thought it would have been the death of me! So I said, I was
+very much obliged to him: you know I could not do less; and then he went
+back to Elizabeth, and I came round by the stables--I believe I did--but
+I hardly knew where I was, or any thing about it. Oh! Miss Woodhouse,
+I would rather done any thing than have it happen: and yet, you know,
+there was a sort of satisfaction in seeing him behave so pleasantly and
+so kindly. And Elizabeth, too. Oh! Miss Woodhouse, do talk to me and
+make me comfortable again.”
+
+Very sincerely did Emma wish to do so; but it was not immediately in
+her power. She was obliged to stop and think. She was not thoroughly
+comfortable herself. The young man’s conduct, and his sister’s, seemed
+the result of real feeling, and she could not but pity them. As Harriet
+described it, there had been an interesting mixture of wounded affection
+and genuine delicacy in their behaviour. But she had believed them to be
+well-meaning, worthy people before; and what difference did this make
+in the evils of the connexion? It was folly to be disturbed by it. Of
+course, he must be sorry to lose her--they must be all sorry. Ambition,
+as well as love, had probably been mortified. They might all have hoped
+to rise by Harriet’s acquaintance: and besides, what was the value of
+Harriet’s description?--So easily pleased--so little discerning;--what
+signified her praise?
+
+She exerted herself, and did try to make her comfortable, by considering
+all that had passed as a mere trifle, and quite unworthy of being dwelt
+on,
+
+“It might be distressing, for the moment,” said she; “but you seem to
+have behaved extremely well; and it is over--and may never--can never,
+as a first meeting, occur again, and therefore you need not think about
+it.”
+
+Harriet said, “very true,” and she “would not think about it;” but still
+she talked of it--still she could talk of nothing else; and Emma, at
+last, in order to put the Martins out of her head, was obliged to hurry
+on the news, which she had meant to give with so much tender caution;
+hardly knowing herself whether to rejoice or be angry, ashamed or only
+amused, at such a state of mind in poor Harriet--such a conclusion of
+Mr. Elton’s importance with her!
+
+Mr. Elton’s rights, however, gradually revived. Though she did not feel
+the first intelligence as she might have done the day before, or an hour
+before, its interest soon increased; and before their first conversation
+was over, she had talked herself into all the sensations of curiosity,
+wonder and regret, pain and pleasure, as to this fortunate Miss Hawkins,
+which could conduce to place the Martins under proper subordination in
+her fancy.
+
+Emma learned to be rather glad that there had been such a meeting. It
+had been serviceable in deadening the first shock, without retaining any
+influence to alarm. As Harriet now lived, the Martins could not get
+at her, without seeking her, where hitherto they had wanted either the
+courage or the condescension to seek her; for since her refusal of the
+brother, the sisters never had been at Mrs. Goddard’s; and a twelvemonth
+might pass without their being thrown together again, with any
+necessity, or even any power of speech.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Human nature is so well disposed towards those who are in interesting
+situations, that a young person, who either marries or dies, is sure of
+being kindly spoken of.
+
+A week had not passed since Miss Hawkins’s name was first mentioned in
+Highbury, before she was, by some means or other, discovered to have
+every recommendation of person and mind; to be handsome, elegant, highly
+accomplished, and perfectly amiable: and when Mr. Elton himself arrived
+to triumph in his happy prospects, and circulate the fame of her merits,
+there was very little more for him to do, than to tell her Christian
+name, and say whose music she principally played.
+
+Mr. Elton returned, a very happy man. He had gone away rejected and
+mortified--disappointed in a very sanguine hope, after a series of what
+appeared to him strong encouragement; and not only losing the right
+lady, but finding himself debased to the level of a very wrong one. He
+had gone away deeply offended--he came back engaged to another--and
+to another as superior, of course, to the first, as under such
+circumstances what is gained always is to what is lost. He came back gay
+and self-satisfied, eager and busy, caring nothing for Miss Woodhouse,
+and defying Miss Smith.
+
+The charming Augusta Hawkins, in addition to all the usual advantages of
+perfect beauty and merit, was in possession of an independent fortune,
+of so many thousands as would always be called ten; a point of some
+dignity, as well as some convenience: the story told well; he had not
+thrown himself away--he had gained a woman of 10,000 l. or thereabouts;
+and he had gained her with such delightful rapidity--the first hour of
+introduction had been so very soon followed by distinguishing notice;
+the history which he had to give Mrs. Cole of the rise and progress
+of the affair was so glorious--the steps so quick, from the accidental
+rencontre, to the dinner at Mr. Green’s, and the party at Mrs.
+Brown’s--smiles and blushes rising in importance--with consciousness and
+agitation richly scattered--the lady had been so easily impressed--so
+sweetly disposed--had in short, to use a most intelligible phrase,
+been so very ready to have him, that vanity and prudence were equally
+contented.
+
+He had caught both substance and shadow--both fortune and affection, and
+was just the happy man he ought to be; talking only of himself and
+his own concerns--expecting to be congratulated--ready to be laughed
+at--and, with cordial, fearless smiles, now addressing all the young
+ladies of the place, to whom, a few weeks ago, he would have been more
+cautiously gallant.
+
+The wedding was no distant event, as the parties had only themselves to
+please, and nothing but the necessary preparations to wait for; and
+when he set out for Bath again, there was a general expectation, which
+a certain glance of Mrs. Cole’s did not seem to contradict, that when he
+next entered Highbury he would bring his bride.
+
+During his present short stay, Emma had barely seen him; but just enough
+to feel that the first meeting was over, and to give her the impression
+of his not being improved by the mixture of pique and pretension, now
+spread over his air. She was, in fact, beginning very much to wonder
+that she had ever thought him pleasing at all; and his sight was so
+inseparably connected with some very disagreeable feelings, that,
+except in a moral light, as a penance, a lesson, a source of profitable
+humiliation to her own mind, she would have been thankful to be assured
+of never seeing him again. She wished him very well; but he gave
+her pain, and his welfare twenty miles off would administer most
+satisfaction.
+
+The pain of his continued residence in Highbury, however, must
+certainly be lessened by his marriage. Many vain solicitudes would be
+prevented--many awkwardnesses smoothed by it. A _Mrs._ _Elton_ would
+be an excuse for any change of intercourse; former intimacy might sink
+without remark. It would be almost beginning their life of civility
+again.
+
+Of the lady, individually, Emma thought very little. She was good enough
+for Mr. Elton, no doubt; accomplished enough for Highbury--handsome
+enough--to look plain, probably, by Harriet’s side. As to connexion,
+there Emma was perfectly easy; persuaded, that after all his own vaunted
+claims and disdain of Harriet, he had done nothing. On that article,
+truth seemed attainable. _What_ she was, must be uncertain; but _who_
+she was, might be found out; and setting aside the 10,000 l., it did not
+appear that she was at all Harriet’s superior. She brought no name, no
+blood, no alliance. Miss Hawkins was the youngest of the two daughters
+of a Bristol--merchant, of course, he must be called; but, as the whole
+of the profits of his mercantile life appeared so very moderate, it
+was not unfair to guess the dignity of his line of trade had been very
+moderate also. Part of every winter she had been used to spend in Bath;
+but Bristol was her home, the very heart of Bristol; for though the
+father and mother had died some years ago, an uncle remained--in the law
+line--nothing more distinctly honourable was hazarded of him, than
+that he was in the law line; and with him the daughter had lived. Emma
+guessed him to be the drudge of some attorney, and too stupid to rise.
+And all the grandeur of the connexion seemed dependent on the elder
+sister, who was _very_ _well_ _married_, to a gentleman in a _great_
+_way_, near Bristol, who kept two carriages! That was the wind-up of the
+history; that was the glory of Miss Hawkins.
+
+Could she but have given Harriet her feelings about it all! She had
+talked her into love; but, alas! she was not so easily to be talked out
+of it. The charm of an object to occupy the many vacancies of Harriet’s
+mind was not to be talked away. He might be superseded by another; he
+certainly would indeed; nothing could be clearer; even a Robert Martin
+would have been sufficient; but nothing else, she feared, would cure
+her. Harriet was one of those, who, having once begun, would be always
+in love. And now, poor girl! she was considerably worse from this
+reappearance of Mr. Elton. She was always having a glimpse of him
+somewhere or other. Emma saw him only once; but two or three times every
+day Harriet was sure _just_ to meet with him, or _just_ to miss him,
+_just_ to hear his voice, or see his shoulder, _just_ to have something
+occur to preserve him in her fancy, in all the favouring warmth of
+surprize and conjecture. She was, moreover, perpetually hearing about
+him; for, excepting when at Hartfield, she was always among those who
+saw no fault in Mr. Elton, and found nothing so interesting as
+the discussion of his concerns; and every report, therefore, every
+guess--all that had already occurred, all that might occur in the
+arrangement of his affairs, comprehending income, servants, and
+furniture, was continually in agitation around her. Her regard was
+receiving strength by invariable praise of him, and her regrets kept
+alive, and feelings irritated by ceaseless repetitions of Miss
+Hawkins’s happiness, and continual observation of, how much he seemed
+attached!--his air as he walked by the house--the very sitting of his
+hat, being all in proof of how much he was in love!
+
+Had it been allowable entertainment, had there been no pain to her
+friend, or reproach to herself, in the waverings of Harriet’s mind,
+Emma would have been amused by its variations. Sometimes Mr. Elton
+predominated, sometimes the Martins; and each was occasionally useful
+as a check to the other. Mr. Elton’s engagement had been the cure of
+the agitation of meeting Mr. Martin. The unhappiness produced by the
+knowledge of that engagement had been a little put aside by Elizabeth
+Martin’s calling at Mrs. Goddard’s a few days afterwards. Harriet had
+not been at home; but a note had been prepared and left for her, written
+in the very style to touch; a small mixture of reproach, with a great
+deal of kindness; and till Mr. Elton himself appeared, she had been much
+occupied by it, continually pondering over what could be done in return,
+and wishing to do more than she dared to confess. But Mr. Elton, in
+person, had driven away all such cares. While he staid, the Martins were
+forgotten; and on the very morning of his setting off for Bath again,
+Emma, to dissipate some of the distress it occasioned, judged it best
+for her to return Elizabeth Martin’s visit.
+
+How that visit was to be acknowledged--what would be necessary--and
+what might be safest, had been a point of some doubtful consideration.
+Absolute neglect of the mother and sisters, when invited to come, would
+be ingratitude. It must not be: and yet the danger of a renewal of the
+acquaintance--!
+
+After much thinking, she could determine on nothing better, than
+Harriet’s returning the visit; but in a way that, if they had
+understanding, should convince them that it was to be only a formal
+acquaintance. She meant to take her in the carriage, leave her at the
+Abbey Mill, while she drove a little farther, and call for her again
+so soon, as to allow no time for insidious applications or dangerous
+recurrences to the past, and give the most decided proof of what degree
+of intimacy was chosen for the future.
+
+She could think of nothing better: and though there was something in it
+which her own heart could not approve--something of ingratitude, merely
+glossed over--it must be done, or what would become of Harriet?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+Small heart had Harriet for visiting. Only half an hour before her
+friend called for her at Mrs. Goddard’s, her evil stars had led her
+to the very spot where, at that moment, a trunk, directed to _The Rev.
+Philip Elton, White-Hart, Bath_, was to be seen under the operation of
+being lifted into the butcher’s cart, which was to convey it to where
+the coaches past; and every thing in this world, excepting that trunk
+and the direction, was consequently a blank.
+
+She went, however; and when they reached the farm, and she was to be
+put down, at the end of the broad, neat gravel walk, which led between
+espalier apple-trees to the front door, the sight of every thing which
+had given her so much pleasure the autumn before, was beginning to
+revive a little local agitation; and when they parted, Emma observed her
+to be looking around with a sort of fearful curiosity, which determined
+her not to allow the visit to exceed the proposed quarter of an hour.
+She went on herself, to give that portion of time to an old servant who
+was married, and settled in Donwell.
+
+The quarter of an hour brought her punctually to the white gate again;
+and Miss Smith receiving her summons, was with her without delay, and
+unattended by any alarming young man. She came solitarily down the
+gravel walk--a Miss Martin just appearing at the door, and parting with
+her seemingly with ceremonious civility.
+
+Harriet could not very soon give an intelligible account. She was
+feeling too much; but at last Emma collected from her enough to
+understand the sort of meeting, and the sort of pain it was creating.
+She had seen only Mrs. Martin and the two girls. They had received her
+doubtingly, if not coolly; and nothing beyond the merest commonplace had
+been talked almost all the time--till just at last, when Mrs. Martin’s
+saying, all of a sudden, that she thought Miss Smith was grown, had
+brought on a more interesting subject, and a warmer manner. In that very
+room she had been measured last September, with her two friends. There
+were the pencilled marks and memorandums on the wainscot by the window.
+_He_ had done it. They all seemed to remember the day, the hour,
+the party, the occasion--to feel the same consciousness, the same
+regrets--to be ready to return to the same good understanding; and they
+were just growing again like themselves, (Harriet, as Emma must suspect,
+as ready as the best of them to be cordial and happy,) when the carriage
+reappeared, and all was over. The style of the visit, and the shortness
+of it, were then felt to be decisive. Fourteen minutes to be given
+to those with whom she had thankfully passed six weeks not six months
+ago!--Emma could not but picture it all, and feel how justly they might
+resent, how naturally Harriet must suffer. It was a bad business. She
+would have given a great deal, or endured a great deal, to have had
+the Martins in a higher rank of life. They were so deserving, that a
+_little_ higher should have been enough: but as it was, how could she
+have done otherwise?--Impossible!--She could not repent. They must be
+separated; but there was a great deal of pain in the process--so much
+to herself at this time, that she soon felt the necessity of a little
+consolation, and resolved on going home by way of Randalls to
+procure it. Her mind was quite sick of Mr. Elton and the Martins. The
+refreshment of Randalls was absolutely necessary.
+
+It was a good scheme; but on driving to the door they heard that neither
+“master nor mistress was at home;” they had both been out some time; the
+man believed they were gone to Hartfield.
+
+“This is too bad,” cried Emma, as they turned away. “And now we shall
+just miss them; too provoking!--I do not know when I have been so
+disappointed.” And she leaned back in the corner, to indulge her
+murmurs, or to reason them away; probably a little of both--such being
+the commonest process of a not ill-disposed mind. Presently the carriage
+stopt; she looked up; it was stopt by Mr. and Mrs. Weston, who were
+standing to speak to her. There was instant pleasure in the sight of
+them, and still greater pleasure was conveyed in sound--for Mr. Weston
+immediately accosted her with,
+
+“How d’ye do?--how d’ye do?--We have been sitting with your father--glad
+to see him so well. Frank comes to-morrow--I had a letter this
+morning--we see him to-morrow by dinner-time to a certainty--he is at
+Oxford to-day, and he comes for a whole fortnight; I knew it would be
+so. If he had come at Christmas he could not have staid three days; I
+was always glad he did not come at Christmas; now we are going to have
+just the right weather for him, fine, dry, settled weather. We shall
+enjoy him completely; every thing has turned out exactly as we could
+wish.”
+
+There was no resisting such news, no possibility of avoiding the
+influence of such a happy face as Mr. Weston’s, confirmed as it all was
+by the words and the countenance of his wife, fewer and quieter, but not
+less to the purpose. To know that _she_ thought his coming certain was
+enough to make Emma consider it so, and sincerely did she rejoice in
+their joy. It was a most delightful reanimation of exhausted spirits.
+The worn-out past was sunk in the freshness of what was coming; and in
+the rapidity of half a moment’s thought, she hoped Mr. Elton would now
+be talked of no more.
+
+Mr. Weston gave her the history of the engagements at Enscombe, which
+allowed his son to answer for having an entire fortnight at his command,
+as well as the route and the method of his journey; and she listened,
+and smiled, and congratulated.
+
+“I shall soon bring him over to Hartfield,” said he, at the conclusion.
+
+Emma could imagine she saw a touch of the arm at this speech, from his
+wife.
+
+“We had better move on, Mr. Weston,” said she, “we are detaining the
+girls.”
+
+“Well, well, I am ready;”--and turning again to Emma, “but you must
+not be expecting such a _very_ fine young man; you have only
+had _my_ account you know; I dare say he is really nothing
+extraordinary:”--though his own sparkling eyes at the moment were
+speaking a very different conviction.
+
+Emma could look perfectly unconscious and innocent, and answer in a
+manner that appropriated nothing.
+
+“Think of me to-morrow, my dear Emma, about four o’clock,” was Mrs.
+Weston’s parting injunction; spoken with some anxiety, and meant only
+for her.
+
+“Four o’clock!--depend upon it he will be here by three,” was Mr.
+Weston’s quick amendment; and so ended a most satisfactory meeting.
+Emma’s spirits were mounted quite up to happiness; every thing wore
+a different air; James and his horses seemed not half so sluggish as
+before. When she looked at the hedges, she thought the elder at least
+must soon be coming out; and when she turned round to Harriet, she saw
+something like a look of spring, a tender smile even there.
+
+“Will Mr. Frank Churchill pass through Bath as well as Oxford?”--was a
+question, however, which did not augur much.
+
+But neither geography nor tranquillity could come all at once, and Emma
+was now in a humour to resolve that they should both come in time.
+
+The morning of the interesting day arrived, and Mrs. Weston’s faithful
+pupil did not forget either at ten, or eleven, or twelve o’clock, that
+she was to think of her at four.
+
+“My dear, dear anxious friend,”--said she, in mental soliloquy, while
+walking downstairs from her own room, “always overcareful for every
+body’s comfort but your own; I see you now in all your little fidgets,
+going again and again into his room, to be sure that all is right.”
+ The clock struck twelve as she passed through the hall. “‘Tis twelve;
+I shall not forget to think of you four hours hence; and by this
+time to-morrow, perhaps, or a little later, I may be thinking of the
+possibility of their all calling here. I am sure they will bring him
+soon.”
+
+She opened the parlour door, and saw two gentlemen sitting with her
+father--Mr. Weston and his son. They had been arrived only a few
+minutes, and Mr. Weston had scarcely finished his explanation of Frank’s
+being a day before his time, and her father was yet in the midst of his
+very civil welcome and congratulations, when she appeared, to have her
+share of surprize, introduction, and pleasure.
+
+The Frank Churchill so long talked of, so high in interest, was actually
+before her--he was presented to her, and she did not think too much had
+been said in his praise; he was a _very_ good looking young man; height,
+air, address, all were unexceptionable, and his countenance had a great
+deal of the spirit and liveliness of his father’s; he looked quick and
+sensible. She felt immediately that she should like him; and there was
+a well-bred ease of manner, and a readiness to talk, which convinced her
+that he came intending to be acquainted with her, and that acquainted
+they soon must be.
+
+He had reached Randalls the evening before. She was pleased with the
+eagerness to arrive which had made him alter his plan, and travel
+earlier, later, and quicker, that he might gain half a day.
+
+“I told you yesterday,” cried Mr. Weston with exultation, “I told you
+all that he would be here before the time named. I remembered what I
+used to do myself. One cannot creep upon a journey; one cannot help
+getting on faster than one has planned; and the pleasure of coming in
+upon one’s friends before the look-out begins, is worth a great deal
+more than any little exertion it needs.”
+
+“It is a great pleasure where one can indulge in it,” said the young
+man, “though there are not many houses that I should presume on so far;
+but in coming _home_ I felt I might do any thing.”
+
+The word _home_ made his father look on him with fresh complacency.
+Emma was directly sure that he knew how to make himself agreeable; the
+conviction was strengthened by what followed. He was very much pleased
+with Randalls, thought it a most admirably arranged house, would hardly
+allow it even to be very small, admired the situation, the walk to
+Highbury, Highbury itself, Hartfield still more, and professed himself
+to have always felt the sort of interest in the country which none but
+one’s _own_ country gives, and the greatest curiosity to visit it. That
+he should never have been able to indulge so amiable a feeling before,
+passed suspiciously through Emma’s brain; but still, if it were a
+falsehood, it was a pleasant one, and pleasantly handled. His manner had
+no air of study or exaggeration. He did really look and speak as if in a
+state of no common enjoyment.
+
+Their subjects in general were such as belong to an opening
+acquaintance. On his side were the inquiries,--“Was she a
+horsewoman?--Pleasant rides?--Pleasant walks?--Had they a large
+neighbourhood?--Highbury, perhaps, afforded society enough?--There were
+several very pretty houses in and about it.--Balls--had they balls?--Was
+it a musical society?”
+
+But when satisfied on all these points, and their acquaintance
+proportionably advanced, he contrived to find an opportunity, while
+their two fathers were engaged with each other, of introducing his
+mother-in-law, and speaking of her with so much handsome praise, so much
+warm admiration, so much gratitude for the happiness she secured to his
+father, and her very kind reception of himself, as was an additional
+proof of his knowing how to please--and of his certainly thinking it
+worth while to try to please her. He did not advance a word of praise
+beyond what she knew to be thoroughly deserved by Mrs. Weston; but,
+undoubtedly he could know very little of the matter. He understood
+what would be welcome; he could be sure of little else. “His father’s
+marriage,” he said, “had been the wisest measure, every friend must
+rejoice in it; and the family from whom he had received such a blessing
+must be ever considered as having conferred the highest obligation on
+him.”
+
+He got as near as he could to thanking her for Miss Taylor’s merits,
+without seeming quite to forget that in the common course of things it
+was to be rather supposed that Miss Taylor had formed Miss Woodhouse’s
+character, than Miss Woodhouse Miss Taylor’s. And at last, as if
+resolved to qualify his opinion completely for travelling round to its
+object, he wound it all up with astonishment at the youth and beauty of
+her person.
+
+“Elegant, agreeable manners, I was prepared for,” said he; “but I
+confess that, considering every thing, I had not expected more than a
+very tolerably well-looking woman of a certain age; I did not know that
+I was to find a pretty young woman in Mrs. Weston.”
+
+“You cannot see too much perfection in Mrs. Weston for my feelings,”
+ said Emma; “were you to guess her to be _eighteen_, I should listen with
+pleasure; but _she_ would be ready to quarrel with you for using such
+words. Don’t let her imagine that you have spoken of her as a pretty
+young woman.”
+
+“I hope I should know better,” he replied; “no, depend upon it, (with a
+gallant bow,) that in addressing Mrs. Weston I should understand whom
+I might praise without any danger of being thought extravagant in my
+terms.”
+
+Emma wondered whether the same suspicion of what might be expected from
+their knowing each other, which had taken strong possession of her mind,
+had ever crossed his; and whether his compliments were to be considered
+as marks of acquiescence, or proofs of defiance. She must see more
+of him to understand his ways; at present she only felt they were
+agreeable.
+
+She had no doubt of what Mr. Weston was often thinking about. His quick
+eye she detected again and again glancing towards them with a happy
+expression; and even, when he might have determined not to look, she was
+confident that he was often listening.
+
+Her own father’s perfect exemption from any thought of the kind, the
+entire deficiency in him of all such sort of penetration or suspicion,
+was a most comfortable circumstance. Happily he was not farther from
+approving matrimony than from foreseeing it.--Though always objecting
+to every marriage that was arranged, he never suffered beforehand from
+the apprehension of any; it seemed as if he could not think so ill of
+any two persons’ understanding as to suppose they meant to marry till it
+were proved against them. She blessed the favouring blindness. He could
+now, without the drawback of a single unpleasant surmise, without a
+glance forward at any possible treachery in his guest, give way to all
+his natural kind-hearted civility in solicitous inquiries after Mr.
+Frank Churchill’s accommodation on his journey, through the sad evils
+of sleeping two nights on the road, and express very genuine unmixed
+anxiety to know that he had certainly escaped catching cold--which,
+however, he could not allow him to feel quite assured of himself till
+after another night.
+
+A reasonable visit paid, Mr. Weston began to move.--“He must be going.
+He had business at the Crown about his hay, and a great many errands for
+Mrs. Weston at Ford’s, but he need not hurry any body else.” His son,
+too well bred to hear the hint, rose immediately also, saying,
+
+“As you are going farther on business, sir, I will take the opportunity
+of paying a visit, which must be paid some day or other, and therefore
+may as well be paid now. I have the honour of being acquainted with
+a neighbour of yours, (turning to Emma,) a lady residing in or near
+Highbury; a family of the name of Fairfax. I shall have no difficulty,
+I suppose, in finding the house; though Fairfax, I believe, is not
+the proper name--I should rather say Barnes, or Bates. Do you know any
+family of that name?”
+
+“To be sure we do,” cried his father; “Mrs. Bates--we passed her
+house--I saw Miss Bates at the window. True, true, you are acquainted
+with Miss Fairfax; I remember you knew her at Weymouth, and a fine girl
+she is. Call upon her, by all means.”
+
+“There is no necessity for my calling this morning,” said the young man;
+“another day would do as well; but there was that degree of acquaintance
+at Weymouth which--”
+
+“Oh! go to-day, go to-day. Do not defer it. What is right to be done
+cannot be done too soon. And, besides, I must give you a hint, Frank;
+any want of attention to her _here_ should be carefully avoided. You saw
+her with the Campbells, when she was the equal of every body she mixed
+with, but here she is with a poor old grandmother, who has barely enough
+to live on. If you do not call early it will be a slight.”
+
+The son looked convinced.
+
+“I have heard her speak of the acquaintance,” said Emma; “she is a very
+elegant young woman.”
+
+He agreed to it, but with so quiet a “Yes,” as inclined her almost to
+doubt his real concurrence; and yet there must be a very distinct sort
+of elegance for the fashionable world, if Jane Fairfax could be thought
+only ordinarily gifted with it.
+
+“If you were never particularly struck by her manners before,” said she,
+“I think you will to-day. You will see her to advantage; see her and
+hear her--no, I am afraid you will not hear her at all, for she has an
+aunt who never holds her tongue.”
+
+“You are acquainted with Miss Jane Fairfax, sir, are you?” said Mr.
+Woodhouse, always the last to make his way in conversation; “then give
+me leave to assure you that you will find her a very agreeable young
+lady. She is staying here on a visit to her grandmama and aunt, very
+worthy people; I have known them all my life. They will be extremely
+glad to see you, I am sure; and one of my servants shall go with you to
+shew you the way.”
+
+“My dear sir, upon no account in the world; my father can direct me.”
+
+“But your father is not going so far; he is only going to the Crown,
+quite on the other side of the street, and there are a great many
+houses; you might be very much at a loss, and it is a very dirty walk,
+unless you keep on the footpath; but my coachman can tell you where you
+had best cross the street.”
+
+Mr. Frank Churchill still declined it, looking as serious as he could,
+and his father gave his hearty support by calling out, “My good friend,
+this is quite unnecessary; Frank knows a puddle of water when he sees
+it, and as to Mrs. Bates’s, he may get there from the Crown in a hop,
+step, and jump.”
+
+They were permitted to go alone; and with a cordial nod from one, and a
+graceful bow from the other, the two gentlemen took leave. Emma remained
+very well pleased with this beginning of the acquaintance, and could now
+engage to think of them all at Randalls any hour of the day, with full
+confidence in their comfort.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+The next morning brought Mr. Frank Churchill again. He came with Mrs.
+Weston, to whom and to Highbury he seemed to take very cordially. He had
+been sitting with her, it appeared, most companionably at home, till
+her usual hour of exercise; and on being desired to chuse their walk,
+immediately fixed on Highbury.--“He did not doubt there being very
+pleasant walks in every direction, but if left to him, he should always
+chuse the same. Highbury, that airy, cheerful, happy-looking Highbury,
+would be his constant attraction.”--Highbury, with Mrs. Weston, stood
+for Hartfield; and she trusted to its bearing the same construction with
+him. They walked thither directly.
+
+Emma had hardly expected them: for Mr. Weston, who had called in for
+half a minute, in order to hear that his son was very handsome, knew
+nothing of their plans; and it was an agreeable surprize to her,
+therefore, to perceive them walking up to the house together, arm in
+arm. She was wanting to see him again, and especially to see him in
+company with Mrs. Weston, upon his behaviour to whom her opinion of him
+was to depend. If he were deficient there, nothing should make amends
+for it. But on seeing them together, she became perfectly satisfied. It
+was not merely in fine words or hyperbolical compliment that he paid his
+duty; nothing could be more proper or pleasing than his whole manner to
+her--nothing could more agreeably denote his wish of considering her as
+a friend and securing her affection. And there was time enough for Emma
+to form a reasonable judgment, as their visit included all the rest of
+the morning. They were all three walking about together for an hour
+or two--first round the shrubberies of Hartfield, and afterwards
+in Highbury. He was delighted with every thing; admired Hartfield
+sufficiently for Mr. Woodhouse’s ear; and when their going farther was
+resolved on, confessed his wish to be made acquainted with the whole
+village, and found matter of commendation and interest much oftener than
+Emma could have supposed.
+
+Some of the objects of his curiosity spoke very amiable feelings. He
+begged to be shewn the house which his father had lived in so long, and
+which had been the home of his father’s father; and on recollecting that
+an old woman who had nursed him was still living, walked in quest of
+her cottage from one end of the street to the other; and though in
+some points of pursuit or observation there was no positive merit, they
+shewed, altogether, a good-will towards Highbury in general, which must
+be very like a merit to those he was with.
+
+Emma watched and decided, that with such feelings as were now shewn, it
+could not be fairly supposed that he had been ever voluntarily absenting
+himself; that he had not been acting a part, or making a parade of
+insincere professions; and that Mr. Knightley certainly had not done him
+justice.
+
+Their first pause was at the Crown Inn, an inconsiderable house, though
+the principal one of the sort, where a couple of pair of post-horses
+were kept, more for the convenience of the neighbourhood than from any
+run on the road; and his companions had not expected to be detained by
+any interest excited there; but in passing it they gave the history of
+the large room visibly added; it had been built many years ago for
+a ball-room, and while the neighbourhood had been in a particularly
+populous, dancing state, had been occasionally used as such;--but such
+brilliant days had long passed away, and now the highest purpose for
+which it was ever wanted was to accommodate a whist club established
+among the gentlemen and half-gentlemen of the place. He was immediately
+interested. Its character as a ball-room caught him; and instead of
+passing on, he stopt for several minutes at the two superior sashed
+windows which were open, to look in and contemplate its capabilities,
+and lament that its original purpose should have ceased. He saw no fault
+in the room, he would acknowledge none which they suggested. No, it
+was long enough, broad enough, handsome enough. It would hold the
+very number for comfort. They ought to have balls there at least every
+fortnight through the winter. Why had not Miss Woodhouse revived
+the former good old days of the room?--She who could do any thing in
+Highbury! The want of proper families in the place, and the conviction
+that none beyond the place and its immediate environs could be tempted
+to attend, were mentioned; but he was not satisfied. He could not be
+persuaded that so many good-looking houses as he saw around him, could
+not furnish numbers enough for such a meeting; and even when particulars
+were given and families described, he was still unwilling to admit that
+the inconvenience of such a mixture would be any thing, or that there
+would be the smallest difficulty in every body’s returning into their
+proper place the next morning. He argued like a young man very much bent
+on dancing; and Emma was rather surprized to see the constitution of
+the Weston prevail so decidedly against the habits of the Churchills.
+He seemed to have all the life and spirit, cheerful feelings, and social
+inclinations of his father, and nothing of the pride or reserve of
+Enscombe. Of pride, indeed, there was, perhaps, scarcely enough; his
+indifference to a confusion of rank, bordered too much on inelegance of
+mind. He could be no judge, however, of the evil he was holding cheap.
+It was but an effusion of lively spirits.
+
+At last he was persuaded to move on from the front of the Crown;
+and being now almost facing the house where the Bateses lodged, Emma
+recollected his intended visit the day before, and asked him if he had
+paid it.
+
+“Yes, oh! yes”--he replied; “I was just going to mention it. A very
+successful visit:--I saw all the three ladies; and felt very much
+obliged to you for your preparatory hint. If the talking aunt had taken
+me quite by surprize, it must have been the death of me. As it was, I
+was only betrayed into paying a most unreasonable visit. Ten minutes
+would have been all that was necessary, perhaps all that was proper; and
+I had told my father I should certainly be at home before him--but there
+was no getting away, no pause; and, to my utter astonishment, I found,
+when he (finding me nowhere else) joined me there at last, that I had
+been actually sitting with them very nearly three-quarters of an hour.
+The good lady had not given me the possibility of escape before.”
+
+“And how did you think Miss Fairfax looking?”
+
+“Ill, very ill--that is, if a young lady can ever be allowed to look
+ill. But the expression is hardly admissible, Mrs. Weston, is it? Ladies
+can never look ill. And, seriously, Miss Fairfax is naturally so
+pale, as almost always to give the appearance of ill health.--A most
+deplorable want of complexion.”
+
+Emma would not agree to this, and began a warm defence of Miss Fairfax’s
+complexion. “It was certainly never brilliant, but she would not
+allow it to have a sickly hue in general; and there was a softness and
+delicacy in her skin which gave peculiar elegance to the character of
+her face.” He listened with all due deference; acknowledged that he had
+heard many people say the same--but yet he must confess, that to him
+nothing could make amends for the want of the fine glow of health. Where
+features were indifferent, a fine complexion gave beauty to them all;
+and where they were good, the effect was--fortunately he need not
+attempt to describe what the effect was.
+
+“Well,” said Emma, “there is no disputing about taste.--At least you
+admire her except her complexion.”
+
+He shook his head and laughed.--“I cannot separate Miss Fairfax and her
+complexion.”
+
+“Did you see her often at Weymouth? Were you often in the same society?”
+
+At this moment they were approaching Ford’s, and he hastily exclaimed,
+“Ha! this must be the very shop that every body attends every day of
+their lives, as my father informs me. He comes to Highbury himself, he
+says, six days out of the seven, and has always business at Ford’s.
+If it be not inconvenient to you, pray let us go in, that I may prove
+myself to belong to the place, to be a true citizen of Highbury. I must
+buy something at Ford’s. It will be taking out my freedom.--I dare say
+they sell gloves.”
+
+“Oh! yes, gloves and every thing. I do admire your patriotism. You will
+be adored in Highbury. You were very popular before you came, because
+you were Mr. Weston’s son--but lay out half a guinea at Ford’s, and your
+popularity will stand upon your own virtues.”
+
+They went in; and while the sleek, well-tied parcels of “Men’s Beavers”
+ and “York Tan” were bringing down and displaying on the counter, he
+said--“But I beg your pardon, Miss Woodhouse, you were speaking to me,
+you were saying something at the very moment of this burst of my _amor_
+_patriae_. Do not let me lose it. I assure you the utmost stretch of
+public fame would not make me amends for the loss of any happiness in
+private life.”
+
+“I merely asked, whether you had known much of Miss Fairfax and her
+party at Weymouth.”
+
+“And now that I understand your question, I must pronounce it to be a
+very unfair one. It is always the lady’s right to decide on the degree
+of acquaintance. Miss Fairfax must already have given her account.--I
+shall not commit myself by claiming more than she may chuse to allow.”
+
+“Upon my word! you answer as discreetly as she could do herself. But
+her account of every thing leaves so much to be guessed, she is so very
+reserved, so very unwilling to give the least information about any
+body, that I really think you may say what you like of your acquaintance
+with her.”
+
+“May I, indeed?--Then I will speak the truth, and nothing suits me so
+well. I met her frequently at Weymouth. I had known the Campbells a
+little in town; and at Weymouth we were very much in the same set.
+Colonel Campbell is a very agreeable man, and Mrs. Campbell a friendly,
+warm-hearted woman. I like them all.”
+
+“You know Miss Fairfax’s situation in life, I conclude; what she is
+destined to be?”
+
+“Yes--(rather hesitatingly)--I believe I do.”
+
+“You get upon delicate subjects, Emma,” said Mrs. Weston smiling;
+“remember that I am here.--Mr. Frank Churchill hardly knows what to say
+when you speak of Miss Fairfax’s situation in life. I will move a little
+farther off.”
+
+“I certainly do forget to think of _her_,” said Emma, “as having ever
+been any thing but my friend and my dearest friend.”
+
+He looked as if he fully understood and honoured such a sentiment.
+
+When the gloves were bought, and they had quitted the shop again, “Did
+you ever hear the young lady we were speaking of, play?” said Frank
+Churchill.
+
+“Ever hear her!” repeated Emma. “You forget how much she belongs to
+Highbury. I have heard her every year of our lives since we both began.
+She plays charmingly.”
+
+“You think so, do you?--I wanted the opinion of some one who
+could really judge. She appeared to me to play well, that is, with
+considerable taste, but I know nothing of the matter myself.--I am
+excessively fond of music, but without the smallest skill or right
+of judging of any body’s performance.--I have been used to hear her’s
+admired; and I remember one proof of her being thought to play well:--a
+man, a very musical man, and in love with another woman--engaged to
+her--on the point of marriage--would yet never ask that other woman
+to sit down to the instrument, if the lady in question could sit down
+instead--never seemed to like to hear one if he could hear the other.
+That, I thought, in a man of known musical talent, was some proof.”
+
+“Proof indeed!” said Emma, highly amused.--“Mr. Dixon is very musical,
+is he? We shall know more about them all, in half an hour, from you,
+than Miss Fairfax would have vouchsafed in half a year.”
+
+“Yes, Mr. Dixon and Miss Campbell were the persons; and I thought it a
+very strong proof.”
+
+“Certainly--very strong it was; to own the truth, a great deal stronger
+than, if _I_ had been Miss Campbell, would have been at all agreeable
+to me. I could not excuse a man’s having more music than love--more ear
+than eye--a more acute sensibility to fine sounds than to my feelings.
+How did Miss Campbell appear to like it?”
+
+“It was her very particular friend, you know.”
+
+“Poor comfort!” said Emma, laughing. “One would rather have a stranger
+preferred than one’s very particular friend--with a stranger it might
+not recur again--but the misery of having a very particular friend
+always at hand, to do every thing better than one does oneself!--Poor
+Mrs. Dixon! Well, I am glad she is gone to settle in Ireland.”
+
+“You are right. It was not very flattering to Miss Campbell; but she
+really did not seem to feel it.”
+
+“So much the better--or so much the worse:--I do not know which. But
+be it sweetness or be it stupidity in her--quickness of friendship, or
+dulness of feeling--there was one person, I think, who must have felt
+it: Miss Fairfax herself. She must have felt the improper and dangerous
+distinction.”
+
+“As to that--I do not--”
+
+“Oh! do not imagine that I expect an account of Miss Fairfax’s
+sensations from you, or from any body else. They are known to no human
+being, I guess, but herself. But if she continued to play whenever she
+was asked by Mr. Dixon, one may guess what one chuses.”
+
+“There appeared such a perfectly good understanding among them all--”
+ he began rather quickly, but checking himself, added, “however, it is
+impossible for me to say on what terms they really were--how it might
+all be behind the scenes. I can only say that there was smoothness
+outwardly. But you, who have known Miss Fairfax from a child, must be
+a better judge of her character, and of how she is likely to conduct
+herself in critical situations, than I can be.”
+
+“I have known her from a child, undoubtedly; we have been children
+and women together; and it is natural to suppose that we should be
+intimate,--that we should have taken to each other whenever she visited
+her friends. But we never did. I hardly know how it has happened; a
+little, perhaps, from that wickedness on my side which was prone to take
+disgust towards a girl so idolized and so cried up as she always was,
+by her aunt and grandmother, and all their set. And then, her reserve--I
+never could attach myself to any one so completely reserved.”
+
+“It is a most repulsive quality, indeed,” said he. “Oftentimes very
+convenient, no doubt, but never pleasing. There is safety in reserve,
+but no attraction. One cannot love a reserved person.”
+
+“Not till the reserve ceases towards oneself; and then the attraction
+may be the greater. But I must be more in want of a friend, or an
+agreeable companion, than I have yet been, to take the trouble of
+conquering any body’s reserve to procure one. Intimacy between Miss
+Fairfax and me is quite out of the question. I have no reason to think
+ill of her--not the least--except that such extreme and perpetual
+cautiousness of word and manner, such a dread of giving a distinct idea
+about any body, is apt to suggest suspicions of there being something to
+conceal.”
+
+He perfectly agreed with her: and after walking together so long, and
+thinking so much alike, Emma felt herself so well acquainted with him,
+that she could hardly believe it to be only their second meeting. He was
+not exactly what she had expected; less of the man of the world in some
+of his notions, less of the spoiled child of fortune, therefore better
+than she had expected. His ideas seemed more moderate--his feelings
+warmer. She was particularly struck by his manner of considering Mr.
+Elton’s house, which, as well as the church, he would go and look at,
+and would not join them in finding much fault with. No, he could not
+believe it a bad house; not such a house as a man was to be pitied for
+having. If it were to be shared with the woman he loved, he could not
+think any man to be pitied for having that house. There must be ample
+room in it for every real comfort. The man must be a blockhead who
+wanted more.
+
+Mrs. Weston laughed, and said he did not know what he was talking about.
+Used only to a large house himself, and without ever thinking how many
+advantages and accommodations were attached to its size, he could be no
+judge of the privations inevitably belonging to a small one. But Emma,
+in her own mind, determined that he _did_ know what he was talking
+about, and that he shewed a very amiable inclination to settle early in
+life, and to marry, from worthy motives. He might not be aware of the
+inroads on domestic peace to be occasioned by no housekeeper’s room, or
+a bad butler’s pantry, but no doubt he did perfectly feel that Enscombe
+could not make him happy, and that whenever he were attached, he would
+willingly give up much of wealth to be allowed an early establishment.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+Emma’s very good opinion of Frank Churchill was a little shaken the
+following day, by hearing that he was gone off to London, merely to have
+his hair cut. A sudden freak seemed to have seized him at breakfast, and
+he had sent for a chaise and set off, intending to return to dinner,
+but with no more important view that appeared than having his hair cut.
+There was certainly no harm in his travelling sixteen miles twice over
+on such an errand; but there was an air of foppery and nonsense in it
+which she could not approve. It did not accord with the rationality of
+plan, the moderation in expense, or even the unselfish warmth of heart,
+which she had believed herself to discern in him yesterday. Vanity,
+extravagance, love of change, restlessness of temper, which must be
+doing something, good or bad; heedlessness as to the pleasure of his
+father and Mrs. Weston, indifferent as to how his conduct might appear
+in general; he became liable to all these charges. His father only
+called him a coxcomb, and thought it a very good story; but that Mrs.
+Weston did not like it, was clear enough, by her passing it over as
+quickly as possible, and making no other comment than that “all young
+people would have their little whims.”
+
+With the exception of this little blot, Emma found that his visit
+hitherto had given her friend only good ideas of him. Mrs. Weston
+was very ready to say how attentive and pleasant a companion he made
+himself--how much she saw to like in his disposition altogether. He
+appeared to have a very open temper--certainly a very cheerful and
+lively one; she could observe nothing wrong in his notions, a great deal
+decidedly right; he spoke of his uncle with warm regard, was fond of
+talking of him--said he would be the best man in the world if he were
+left to himself; and though there was no being attached to the aunt, he
+acknowledged her kindness with gratitude, and seemed to mean always to
+speak of her with respect. This was all very promising; and, but for
+such an unfortunate fancy for having his hair cut, there was nothing to
+denote him unworthy of the distinguished honour which her imagination
+had given him; the honour, if not of being really in love with her,
+of being at least very near it, and saved only by her own
+indifference--(for still her resolution held of never marrying)--the
+honour, in short, of being marked out for her by all their joint
+acquaintance.
+
+Mr. Weston, on his side, added a virtue to the account which must
+have some weight. He gave her to understand that Frank admired her
+extremely--thought her very beautiful and very charming; and with so
+much to be said for him altogether, she found she must not judge him
+harshly. As Mrs. Weston observed, “all young people would have their
+little whims.”
+
+There was one person among his new acquaintance in Surry, not so
+leniently disposed. In general he was judged, throughout the parishes of
+Donwell and Highbury, with great candour; liberal allowances were made
+for the little excesses of such a handsome young man--one who smiled so
+often and bowed so well; but there was one spirit among them not to be
+softened, from its power of censure, by bows or smiles--Mr. Knightley.
+The circumstance was told him at Hartfield; for the moment, he was
+silent; but Emma heard him almost immediately afterwards say to himself,
+over a newspaper he held in his hand, “Hum! just the trifling, silly
+fellow I took him for.” She had half a mind to resent; but an instant’s
+observation convinced her that it was really said only to relieve his
+own feelings, and not meant to provoke; and therefore she let it pass.
+
+Although in one instance the bearers of not good tidings, Mr. and
+Mrs. Weston’s visit this morning was in another respect particularly
+opportune. Something occurred while they were at Hartfield, to make Emma
+want their advice; and, which was still more lucky, she wanted exactly
+the advice they gave.
+
+This was the occurrence:--The Coles had been settled some years in
+Highbury, and were very good sort of people--friendly, liberal, and
+unpretending; but, on the other hand, they were of low origin, in trade,
+and only moderately genteel. On their first coming into the country,
+they had lived in proportion to their income, quietly, keeping little
+company, and that little unexpensively; but the last year or two had
+brought them a considerable increase of means--the house in town had
+yielded greater profits, and fortune in general had smiled on them. With
+their wealth, their views increased; their want of a larger house, their
+inclination for more company. They added to their house, to their number
+of servants, to their expenses of every sort; and by this time were,
+in fortune and style of living, second only to the family at Hartfield.
+Their love of society, and their new dining-room, prepared every body
+for their keeping dinner-company; and a few parties, chiefly among the
+single men, had already taken place. The regular and best families Emma
+could hardly suppose they would presume to invite--neither Donwell, nor
+Hartfield, nor Randalls. Nothing should tempt _her_ to go, if they did;
+and she regretted that her father’s known habits would be giving
+her refusal less meaning than she could wish. The Coles were very
+respectable in their way, but they ought to be taught that it was not
+for them to arrange the terms on which the superior families would visit
+them. This lesson, she very much feared, they would receive only from
+herself; she had little hope of Mr. Knightley, none of Mr. Weston.
+
+But she had made up her mind how to meet this presumption so many weeks
+before it appeared, that when the insult came at last, it found her
+very differently affected. Donwell and Randalls had received their
+invitation, and none had come for her father and herself; and Mrs.
+Weston’s accounting for it with “I suppose they will not take the
+liberty with you; they know you do not dine out,” was not quite
+sufficient. She felt that she should like to have had the power of
+refusal; and afterwards, as the idea of the party to be assembled there,
+consisting precisely of those whose society was dearest to her, occurred
+again and again, she did not know that she might not have been tempted
+to accept. Harriet was to be there in the evening, and the Bateses. They
+had been speaking of it as they walked about Highbury the day before,
+and Frank Churchill had most earnestly lamented her absence. Might
+not the evening end in a dance? had been a question of his. The bare
+possibility of it acted as a farther irritation on her spirits; and
+her being left in solitary grandeur, even supposing the omission to be
+intended as a compliment, was but poor comfort.
+
+It was the arrival of this very invitation while the Westons were at
+Hartfield, which made their presence so acceptable; for though her first
+remark, on reading it, was that “of course it must be declined,” she so
+very soon proceeded to ask them what they advised her to do, that their
+advice for her going was most prompt and successful.
+
+She owned that, considering every thing, she was not absolutely
+without inclination for the party. The Coles expressed themselves so
+properly--there was so much real attention in the manner of it--so much
+consideration for her father. “They would have solicited the honour
+earlier, but had been waiting the arrival of a folding-screen from
+London, which they hoped might keep Mr. Woodhouse from any draught of
+air, and therefore induce him the more readily to give them the honour
+of his company.” Upon the whole, she was very persuadable; and it being
+briefly settled among themselves how it might be done without neglecting
+his comfort--how certainly Mrs. Goddard, if not Mrs. Bates, might be
+depended on for bearing him company--Mr. Woodhouse was to be talked
+into an acquiescence of his daughter’s going out to dinner on a day now
+near at hand, and spending the whole evening away from him. As for _his_
+going, Emma did not wish him to think it possible, the hours would be
+too late, and the party too numerous. He was soon pretty well resigned.
+
+“I am not fond of dinner-visiting,” said he--“I never was. No more is
+Emma. Late hours do not agree with us. I am sorry Mr. and Mrs. Cole
+should have done it. I think it would be much better if they would come
+in one afternoon next summer, and take their tea with us--take us
+in their afternoon walk; which they might do, as our hours are so
+reasonable, and yet get home without being out in the damp of the
+evening. The dews of a summer evening are what I would not expose any
+body to. However, as they are so very desirous to have dear Emma dine
+with them, and as you will both be there, and Mr. Knightley too, to take
+care of her, I cannot wish to prevent it, provided the weather be what
+it ought, neither damp, nor cold, nor windy.” Then turning to Mrs.
+Weston, with a look of gentle reproach--“Ah! Miss Taylor, if you had not
+married, you would have staid at home with me.”
+
+“Well, sir,” cried Mr. Weston, “as I took Miss Taylor away, it is
+incumbent on me to supply her place, if I can; and I will step to Mrs.
+Goddard in a moment, if you wish it.”
+
+But the idea of any thing to be done in a _moment_, was increasing,
+not lessening, Mr. Woodhouse’s agitation. The ladies knew better how
+to allay it. Mr. Weston must be quiet, and every thing deliberately
+arranged.
+
+With this treatment, Mr. Woodhouse was soon composed enough for talking
+as usual. “He should be happy to see Mrs. Goddard. He had a great regard
+for Mrs. Goddard; and Emma should write a line, and invite her. James
+could take the note. But first of all, there must be an answer written
+to Mrs. Cole.”
+
+“You will make my excuses, my dear, as civilly as possible. You will say
+that I am quite an invalid, and go no where, and therefore must decline
+their obliging invitation; beginning with my _compliments_, of course.
+But you will do every thing right. I need not tell you what is to be
+done. We must remember to let James know that the carriage will be
+wanted on Tuesday. I shall have no fears for you with him. We have never
+been there above once since the new approach was made; but still I have
+no doubt that James will take you very safely. And when you get there,
+you must tell him at what time you would have him come for you again;
+and you had better name an early hour. You will not like staying late.
+You will get very tired when tea is over.”
+
+“But you would not wish me to come away before I am tired, papa?”
+
+“Oh! no, my love; but you will soon be tired. There will be a great many
+people talking at once. You will not like the noise.”
+
+“But, my dear sir,” cried Mr. Weston, “if Emma comes away early, it will
+be breaking up the party.”
+
+“And no great harm if it does,” said Mr. Woodhouse. “The sooner every
+party breaks up, the better.”
+
+“But you do not consider how it may appear to the Coles. Emma’s going
+away directly after tea might be giving offence. They are good-natured
+people, and think little of their own claims; but still they must
+feel that any body’s hurrying away is no great compliment; and Miss
+Woodhouse’s doing it would be more thought of than any other person’s in
+the room. You would not wish to disappoint and mortify the Coles, I am
+sure, sir; friendly, good sort of people as ever lived, and who have
+been your neighbours these _ten_ years.”
+
+“No, upon no account in the world, Mr. Weston; I am much obliged to
+you for reminding me. I should be extremely sorry to be giving them any
+pain. I know what worthy people they are. Perry tells me that Mr. Cole
+never touches malt liquor. You would not think it to look at him, but
+he is bilious--Mr. Cole is very bilious. No, I would not be the means
+of giving them any pain. My dear Emma, we must consider this. I am sure,
+rather than run the risk of hurting Mr. and Mrs. Cole, you would stay a
+little longer than you might wish. You will not regard being tired. You
+will be perfectly safe, you know, among your friends.”
+
+“Oh yes, papa. I have no fears at all for myself; and I should have no
+scruples of staying as late as Mrs. Weston, but on your account. I am
+only afraid of your sitting up for me. I am not afraid of your not being
+exceedingly comfortable with Mrs. Goddard. She loves piquet, you
+know; but when she is gone home, I am afraid you will be sitting up by
+yourself, instead of going to bed at your usual time--and the idea of
+that would entirely destroy my comfort. You must promise me not to sit
+up.”
+
+He did, on the condition of some promises on her side: such as that,
+if she came home cold, she would be sure to warm herself thoroughly; if
+hungry, that she would take something to eat; that her own maid should
+sit up for her; and that Serle and the butler should see that every
+thing were safe in the house, as usual.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+Frank Churchill came back again; and if he kept his father’s dinner
+waiting, it was not known at Hartfield; for Mrs. Weston was too anxious
+for his being a favourite with Mr. Woodhouse, to betray any imperfection
+which could be concealed.
+
+He came back, had had his hair cut, and laughed at himself with a very
+good grace, but without seeming really at all ashamed of what he had
+done. He had no reason to wish his hair longer, to conceal any confusion
+of face; no reason to wish the money unspent, to improve his spirits.
+He was quite as undaunted and as lively as ever; and, after seeing him,
+Emma thus moralised to herself:--
+
+“I do not know whether it ought to be so, but certainly silly things
+do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent
+way. Wickedness is always wickedness, but folly is not always folly.--It
+depends upon the character of those who handle it. Mr. Knightley, he is
+_not_ a trifling, silly young man. If he were, he would have done this
+differently. He would either have gloried in the achievement, or
+been ashamed of it. There would have been either the ostentation of
+a coxcomb, or the evasions of a mind too weak to defend its own
+vanities.--No, I am perfectly sure that he is not trifling or silly.”
+
+With Tuesday came the agreeable prospect of seeing him again, and for
+a longer time than hitherto; of judging of his general manners, and by
+inference, of the meaning of his manners towards herself; of guessing
+how soon it might be necessary for her to throw coldness into her air;
+and of fancying what the observations of all those might be, who were
+now seeing them together for the first time.
+
+She meant to be very happy, in spite of the scene being laid at Mr.
+Cole’s; and without being able to forget that among the failings of Mr.
+Elton, even in the days of his favour, none had disturbed her more than
+his propensity to dine with Mr. Cole.
+
+Her father’s comfort was amply secured, Mrs. Bates as well as Mrs.
+Goddard being able to come; and her last pleasing duty, before she left
+the house, was to pay her respects to them as they sat together after
+dinner; and while her father was fondly noticing the beauty of her
+dress, to make the two ladies all the amends in her power, by helping
+them to large slices of cake and full glasses of wine, for whatever
+unwilling self-denial his care of their constitution might have obliged
+them to practise during the meal.--She had provided a plentiful dinner
+for them; she wished she could know that they had been allowed to eat
+it.
+
+She followed another carriage to Mr. Cole’s door; and was pleased to see
+that it was Mr. Knightley’s; for Mr. Knightley keeping no horses,
+having little spare money and a great deal of health, activity, and
+independence, was too apt, in Emma’s opinion, to get about as he could,
+and not use his carriage so often as became the owner of Donwell Abbey.
+She had an opportunity now of speaking her approbation while warm from
+her heart, for he stopped to hand her out.
+
+“This is coming as you should do,” said she; “like a gentleman.--I am
+quite glad to see you.”
+
+He thanked her, observing, “How lucky that we should arrive at the same
+moment! for, if we had met first in the drawing-room, I doubt whether
+you would have discerned me to be more of a gentleman than usual.--You
+might not have distinguished how I came, by my look or manner.”
+
+“Yes I should, I am sure I should. There is always a look of
+consciousness or bustle when people come in a way which they know to be
+beneath them. You think you carry it off very well, I dare say, but
+with you it is a sort of bravado, an air of affected unconcern; I always
+observe it whenever I meet you under those circumstances. _Now_ you have
+nothing to try for. You are not afraid of being supposed ashamed. You
+are not striving to look taller than any body else. _Now_ I shall really
+be very happy to walk into the same room with you.”
+
+“Nonsensical girl!” was his reply, but not at all in anger.
+
+Emma had as much reason to be satisfied with the rest of the party as
+with Mr. Knightley. She was received with a cordial respect which could
+not but please, and given all the consequence she could wish for.
+When the Westons arrived, the kindest looks of love, the strongest of
+admiration were for her, from both husband and wife; the son approached
+her with a cheerful eagerness which marked her as his peculiar object,
+and at dinner she found him seated by her--and, as she firmly believed,
+not without some dexterity on his side.
+
+The party was rather large, as it included one other family, a proper
+unobjectionable country family, whom the Coles had the advantage of
+naming among their acquaintance, and the male part of Mr. Cox’s family,
+the lawyer of Highbury. The less worthy females were to come in the
+evening, with Miss Bates, Miss Fairfax, and Miss Smith; but already,
+at dinner, they were too numerous for any subject of conversation to be
+general; and, while politics and Mr. Elton were talked over, Emma could
+fairly surrender all her attention to the pleasantness of her neighbour.
+The first remote sound to which she felt herself obliged to attend, was
+the name of Jane Fairfax. Mrs. Cole seemed to be relating something of
+her that was expected to be very interesting. She listened, and found
+it well worth listening to. That very dear part of Emma, her fancy,
+received an amusing supply. Mrs. Cole was telling that she had been
+calling on Miss Bates, and as soon as she entered the room had
+been struck by the sight of a pianoforte--a very elegant looking
+instrument--not a grand, but a large-sized square pianoforte; and the
+substance of the story, the end of all the dialogue which ensued of
+surprize, and inquiry, and congratulations on her side, and explanations
+on Miss Bates’s, was, that this pianoforte had arrived from
+Broadwood’s the day before, to the great astonishment of both aunt and
+niece--entirely unexpected; that at first, by Miss Bates’s account,
+Jane herself was quite at a loss, quite bewildered to think who could
+possibly have ordered it--but now, they were both perfectly satisfied
+that it could be from only one quarter;--of course it must be from
+Colonel Campbell.
+
+“One can suppose nothing else,” added Mrs. Cole, “and I was only
+surprized that there could ever have been a doubt. But Jane, it seems,
+had a letter from them very lately, and not a word was said about it.
+She knows their ways best; but I should not consider their silence as
+any reason for their not meaning to make the present. They might chuse
+to surprize her.”
+
+Mrs. Cole had many to agree with her; every body who spoke on the
+subject was equally convinced that it must come from Colonel Campbell,
+and equally rejoiced that such a present had been made; and there were
+enough ready to speak to allow Emma to think her own way, and still
+listen to Mrs. Cole.
+
+“I declare, I do not know when I have heard any thing that has given me
+more satisfaction!--It always has quite hurt me that Jane Fairfax, who
+plays so delightfully, should not have an instrument. It seemed quite
+a shame, especially considering how many houses there are where fine
+instruments are absolutely thrown away. This is like giving ourselves
+a slap, to be sure! and it was but yesterday I was telling Mr. Cole,
+I really was ashamed to look at our new grand pianoforte in the
+drawing-room, while I do not know one note from another, and our little
+girls, who are but just beginning, perhaps may never make any thing of
+it; and there is poor Jane Fairfax, who is mistress of music, has not
+any thing of the nature of an instrument, not even the pitifullest old
+spinet in the world, to amuse herself with.--I was saying this to
+Mr. Cole but yesterday, and he quite agreed with me; only he is so
+particularly fond of music that he could not help indulging himself
+in the purchase, hoping that some of our good neighbours might be so
+obliging occasionally to put it to a better use than we can; and that
+really is the reason why the instrument was bought--or else I am sure
+we ought to be ashamed of it.--We are in great hopes that Miss Woodhouse
+may be prevailed with to try it this evening.”
+
+Miss Woodhouse made the proper acquiescence; and finding that nothing
+more was to be entrapped from any communication of Mrs. Cole’s, turned
+to Frank Churchill.
+
+“Why do you smile?” said she.
+
+“Nay, why do you?”
+
+“Me!--I suppose I smile for pleasure at Colonel Campbell’s being so rich
+and so liberal.--It is a handsome present.”
+
+“Very.”
+
+“I rather wonder that it was never made before.”
+
+“Perhaps Miss Fairfax has never been staying here so long before.”
+
+“Or that he did not give her the use of their own instrument--which must
+now be shut up in London, untouched by any body.”
+
+“That is a grand pianoforte, and he might think it too large for Mrs.
+Bates’s house.”
+
+“You may _say_ what you chuse--but your countenance testifies that your
+_thoughts_ on this subject are very much like mine.”
+
+“I do not know. I rather believe you are giving me more credit for
+acuteness than I deserve. I smile because you smile, and shall probably
+suspect whatever I find you suspect; but at present I do not see what
+there is to question. If Colonel Campbell is not the person, who can
+be?”
+
+“What do you say to Mrs. Dixon?”
+
+“Mrs. Dixon! very true indeed. I had not thought of Mrs. Dixon. She must
+know as well as her father, how acceptable an instrument would be; and
+perhaps the mode of it, the mystery, the surprize, is more like a young
+woman’s scheme than an elderly man’s. It is Mrs. Dixon, I dare say. I
+told you that your suspicions would guide mine.”
+
+“If so, you must extend your suspicions and comprehend _Mr_. Dixon in
+them.”
+
+“Mr. Dixon.--Very well. Yes, I immediately perceive that it must be the
+joint present of Mr. and Mrs. Dixon. We were speaking the other day, you
+know, of his being so warm an admirer of her performance.”
+
+“Yes, and what you told me on that head, confirmed an idea which I had
+entertained before.--I do not mean to reflect upon the good intentions
+of either Mr. Dixon or Miss Fairfax, but I cannot help suspecting either
+that, after making his proposals to her friend, he had the misfortune
+to fall in love with _her_, or that he became conscious of a little
+attachment on her side. One might guess twenty things without guessing
+exactly the right; but I am sure there must be a particular cause for
+her chusing to come to Highbury instead of going with the Campbells
+to Ireland. Here, she must be leading a life of privation and penance;
+there it would have been all enjoyment. As to the pretence of trying her
+native air, I look upon that as a mere excuse.--In the summer it might
+have passed; but what can any body’s native air do for them in the
+months of January, February, and March? Good fires and carriages would
+be much more to the purpose in most cases of delicate health, and I dare
+say in her’s. I do not require you to adopt all my suspicions, though
+you make so noble a profession of doing it, but I honestly tell you what
+they are.”
+
+“And, upon my word, they have an air of great probability. Mr. Dixon’s
+preference of her music to her friend’s, I can answer for being very
+decided.”
+
+“And then, he saved her life. Did you ever hear of that?--A water
+party; and by some accident she was falling overboard. He caught her.”
+
+“He did. I was there--one of the party.”
+
+“Were you really?--Well!--But you observed nothing of course, for it
+seems to be a new idea to you.--If I had been there, I think I should
+have made some discoveries.”
+
+“I dare say you would; but I, simple I, saw nothing but the fact, that
+Miss Fairfax was nearly dashed from the vessel and that Mr. Dixon caught
+her.--It was the work of a moment. And though the consequent shock and
+alarm was very great and much more durable--indeed I believe it was
+half an hour before any of us were comfortable again--yet that was too
+general a sensation for any thing of peculiar anxiety to be
+observable. I do not mean to say, however, that you might not have made
+discoveries.”
+
+The conversation was here interrupted. They were called on to share
+in the awkwardness of a rather long interval between the courses, and
+obliged to be as formal and as orderly as the others; but when the table
+was again safely covered, when every corner dish was placed exactly
+right, and occupation and ease were generally restored, Emma said,
+
+“The arrival of this pianoforte is decisive with me. I wanted to know
+a little more, and this tells me quite enough. Depend upon it, we shall
+soon hear that it is a present from Mr. and Mrs. Dixon.”
+
+“And if the Dixons should absolutely deny all knowledge of it we must
+conclude it to come from the Campbells.”
+
+“No, I am sure it is not from the Campbells. Miss Fairfax knows it is
+not from the Campbells, or they would have been guessed at first. She
+would not have been puzzled, had she dared fix on them. I may not have
+convinced you perhaps, but I am perfectly convinced myself that Mr.
+Dixon is a principal in the business.”
+
+“Indeed you injure me if you suppose me unconvinced. Your reasonings
+carry my judgment along with them entirely. At first, while I supposed
+you satisfied that Colonel Campbell was the giver, I saw it only as
+paternal kindness, and thought it the most natural thing in the world.
+But when you mentioned Mrs. Dixon, I felt how much more probable that it
+should be the tribute of warm female friendship. And now I can see it in
+no other light than as an offering of love.”
+
+There was no occasion to press the matter farther. The conviction seemed
+real; he looked as if he felt it. She said no more, other subjects
+took their turn; and the rest of the dinner passed away; the dessert
+succeeded, the children came in, and were talked to and admired amid the
+usual rate of conversation; a few clever things said, a few downright
+silly, but by much the larger proportion neither the one nor the
+other--nothing worse than everyday remarks, dull repetitions, old news,
+and heavy jokes.
+
+The ladies had not been long in the drawing-room, before the other
+ladies, in their different divisions, arrived. Emma watched the entree
+of her own particular little friend; and if she could not exult in her
+dignity and grace, she could not only love the blooming sweetness and
+the artless manner, but could most heartily rejoice in that light,
+cheerful, unsentimental disposition which allowed her so many
+alleviations of pleasure, in the midst of the pangs of disappointed
+affection. There she sat--and who would have guessed how many tears she
+had been lately shedding? To be in company, nicely dressed herself and
+seeing others nicely dressed, to sit and smile and look pretty, and say
+nothing, was enough for the happiness of the present hour. Jane Fairfax
+did look and move superior; but Emma suspected she might have been
+glad to change feelings with Harriet, very glad to have purchased the
+mortification of having loved--yes, of having loved even Mr. Elton in
+vain--by the surrender of all the dangerous pleasure of knowing herself
+beloved by the husband of her friend.
+
+In so large a party it was not necessary that Emma should approach her.
+She did not wish to speak of the pianoforte, she felt too much in the
+secret herself, to think the appearance of curiosity or interest fair,
+and therefore purposely kept at a distance; but by the others, the
+subject was almost immediately introduced, and she saw the blush of
+consciousness with which congratulations were received, the blush
+of guilt which accompanied the name of “my excellent friend Colonel
+Campbell.”
+
+Mrs. Weston, kind-hearted and musical, was particularly interested
+by the circumstance, and Emma could not help being amused at her
+perseverance in dwelling on the subject; and having so much to ask and
+to say as to tone, touch, and pedal, totally unsuspicious of that wish
+of saying as little about it as possible, which she plainly read in the
+fair heroine’s countenance.
+
+They were soon joined by some of the gentlemen; and the very first
+of the early was Frank Churchill. In he walked, the first and the
+handsomest; and after paying his compliments en passant to Miss Bates
+and her niece, made his way directly to the opposite side of the circle,
+where sat Miss Woodhouse; and till he could find a seat by her, would
+not sit at all. Emma divined what every body present must be thinking.
+She was his object, and every body must perceive it. She introduced him
+to her friend, Miss Smith, and, at convenient moments afterwards, heard
+what each thought of the other. “He had never seen so lovely a face, and
+was delighted with her naivete.” And she, “Only to be sure it was paying
+him too great a compliment, but she did think there were some looks a
+little like Mr. Elton.” Emma restrained her indignation, and only turned
+from her in silence.
+
+Smiles of intelligence passed between her and the gentleman on first
+glancing towards Miss Fairfax; but it was most prudent to avoid speech.
+He told her that he had been impatient to leave the dining-room--hated
+sitting long--was always the first to move when he could--that his
+father, Mr. Knightley, Mr. Cox, and Mr. Cole, were left very busy over
+parish business--that as long as he had staid, however, it had been
+pleasant enough, as he had found them in general a set of gentlemanlike,
+sensible men; and spoke so handsomely of Highbury altogether--thought it
+so abundant in agreeable families--that Emma began to feel she had been
+used to despise the place rather too much. She questioned him as to the
+society in Yorkshire--the extent of the neighbourhood about Enscombe,
+and the sort; and could make out from his answers that, as far as
+Enscombe was concerned, there was very little going on, that their
+visitings were among a range of great families, none very near; and
+that even when days were fixed, and invitations accepted, it was an even
+chance that Mrs. Churchill were not in health and spirits for going;
+that they made a point of visiting no fresh person; and that, though
+he had his separate engagements, it was not without difficulty, without
+considerable address _at_ _times_, that he could get away, or introduce
+an acquaintance for a night.
+
+She saw that Enscombe could not satisfy, and that Highbury, taken at
+its best, might reasonably please a young man who had more retirement at
+home than he liked. His importance at Enscombe was very evident. He did
+not boast, but it naturally betrayed itself, that he had persuaded his
+aunt where his uncle could do nothing, and on her laughing and noticing
+it, he owned that he believed (excepting one or two points) he could
+_with_ _time_ persuade her to any thing. One of those points on which
+his influence failed, he then mentioned. He had wanted very much to
+go abroad--had been very eager indeed to be allowed to travel--but she
+would not hear of it. This had happened the year before. _Now_, he said,
+he was beginning to have no longer the same wish.
+
+The unpersuadable point, which he did not mention, Emma guessed to be
+good behaviour to his father.
+
+“I have made a most wretched discovery,” said he, after a short pause.--
+“I have been here a week to-morrow--half my time. I never knew days fly
+so fast. A week to-morrow!--And I have hardly begun to enjoy myself.
+But just got acquainted with Mrs. Weston, and others!--I hate the
+recollection.”
+
+“Perhaps you may now begin to regret that you spent one whole day, out
+of so few, in having your hair cut.”
+
+“No,” said he, smiling, “that is no subject of regret at all. I have
+no pleasure in seeing my friends, unless I can believe myself fit to be
+seen.”
+
+The rest of the gentlemen being now in the room, Emma found herself
+obliged to turn from him for a few minutes, and listen to Mr. Cole. When
+Mr. Cole had moved away, and her attention could be restored as before,
+she saw Frank Churchill looking intently across the room at Miss
+Fairfax, who was sitting exactly opposite.
+
+“What is the matter?” said she.
+
+He started. “Thank you for rousing me,” he replied. “I believe I have
+been very rude; but really Miss Fairfax has done her hair in so odd a
+way--so very odd a way--that I cannot keep my eyes from her. I never saw
+any thing so outree!--Those curls!--This must be a fancy of her own. I
+see nobody else looking like her!--I must go and ask her whether it
+is an Irish fashion. Shall I?--Yes, I will--I declare I will--and you
+shall see how she takes it;--whether she colours.”
+
+He was gone immediately; and Emma soon saw him standing before Miss
+Fairfax, and talking to her; but as to its effect on the young lady,
+as he had improvidently placed himself exactly between them, exactly in
+front of Miss Fairfax, she could absolutely distinguish nothing.
+
+Before he could return to his chair, it was taken by Mrs. Weston.
+
+“This is the luxury of a large party,” said she:--“one can get near
+every body, and say every thing. My dear Emma, I am longing to talk
+to you. I have been making discoveries and forming plans, just like
+yourself, and I must tell them while the idea is fresh. Do you know how
+Miss Bates and her niece came here?”
+
+“How?--They were invited, were not they?”
+
+“Oh! yes--but how they were conveyed hither?--the manner of their
+coming?”
+
+“They walked, I conclude. How else could they come?”
+
+“Very true.--Well, a little while ago it occurred to me how very sad
+it would be to have Jane Fairfax walking home again, late at night, and
+cold as the nights are now. And as I looked at her, though I never saw
+her appear to more advantage, it struck me that she was heated, and
+would therefore be particularly liable to take cold. Poor girl! I could
+not bear the idea of it; so, as soon as Mr. Weston came into the room,
+and I could get at him, I spoke to him about the carriage. You may guess
+how readily he came into my wishes; and having his approbation, I made
+my way directly to Miss Bates, to assure her that the carriage would be
+at her service before it took us home; for I thought it would be making
+her comfortable at once. Good soul! she was as grateful as possible, you
+may be sure. ‘Nobody was ever so fortunate as herself!’--but with many,
+many thanks--‘there was no occasion to trouble us, for Mr. Knightley’s
+carriage had brought, and was to take them home again.’ I was quite
+surprized;--very glad, I am sure; but really quite surprized. Such a
+very kind attention--and so thoughtful an attention!--the sort of thing
+that so few men would think of. And, in short, from knowing his
+usual ways, I am very much inclined to think that it was for their
+accommodation the carriage was used at all. I do suspect he would not
+have had a pair of horses for himself, and that it was only as an excuse
+for assisting them.”
+
+“Very likely,” said Emma--“nothing more likely. I know no man more
+likely than Mr. Knightley to do the sort of thing--to do any thing
+really good-natured, useful, considerate, or benevolent. He is not a
+gallant man, but he is a very humane one; and this, considering Jane
+Fairfax’s ill-health, would appear a case of humanity to him;--and for
+an act of unostentatious kindness, there is nobody whom I would fix on
+more than on Mr. Knightley. I know he had horses to-day--for we arrived
+together; and I laughed at him about it, but he said not a word that
+could betray.”
+
+“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, smiling, “you give him credit for more simple,
+disinterested benevolence in this instance than I do; for while Miss
+Bates was speaking, a suspicion darted into my head, and I have never
+been able to get it out again. The more I think of it, the more probable
+it appears. In short, I have made a match between Mr. Knightley and Jane
+Fairfax. See the consequence of keeping you company!--What do you say to
+it?”
+
+“Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax!” exclaimed Emma. “Dear Mrs. Weston, how
+could you think of such a thing?--Mr. Knightley!--Mr. Knightley must not
+marry!--You would not have little Henry cut out from Donwell?--Oh! no,
+no, Henry must have Donwell. I cannot at all consent to Mr. Knightley’s
+marrying; and I am sure it is not at all likely. I am amazed that you
+should think of such a thing.”
+
+“My dear Emma, I have told you what led me to think of it. I do not want
+the match--I do not want to injure dear little Henry--but the idea has
+been given me by circumstances; and if Mr. Knightley really wished to
+marry, you would not have him refrain on Henry’s account, a boy of six
+years old, who knows nothing of the matter?”
+
+“Yes, I would. I could not bear to have Henry supplanted.--Mr.
+Knightley marry!--No, I have never had such an idea, and I cannot adopt
+it now. And Jane Fairfax, too, of all women!”
+
+“Nay, she has always been a first favourite with him, as you very well
+know.”
+
+“But the imprudence of such a match!”
+
+“I am not speaking of its prudence; merely its probability.”
+
+“I see no probability in it, unless you have any better foundation than
+what you mention. His good-nature, his humanity, as I tell you, would
+be quite enough to account for the horses. He has a great regard for the
+Bateses, you know, independent of Jane Fairfax--and is always glad to
+shew them attention. My dear Mrs. Weston, do not take to match-making.
+You do it very ill. Jane Fairfax mistress of the Abbey!--Oh! no,
+no;--every feeling revolts. For his own sake, I would not have him do so
+mad a thing.”
+
+“Imprudent, if you please--but not mad. Excepting inequality of fortune,
+and perhaps a little disparity of age, I can see nothing unsuitable.”
+
+“But Mr. Knightley does not want to marry. I am sure he has not the
+least idea of it. Do not put it into his head. Why should he marry?--He
+is as happy as possible by himself; with his farm, and his sheep, and
+his library, and all the parish to manage; and he is extremely fond of
+his brother’s children. He has no occasion to marry, either to fill up
+his time or his heart.”
+
+“My dear Emma, as long as he thinks so, it is so; but if he really loves
+Jane Fairfax--”
+
+“Nonsense! He does not care about Jane Fairfax. In the way of love, I am
+sure he does not. He would do any good to her, or her family; but--”
+
+“Well,” said Mrs. Weston, laughing, “perhaps the greatest good he could
+do them, would be to give Jane such a respectable home.”
+
+“If it would be good to her, I am sure it would be evil to himself; a
+very shameful and degrading connexion. How would he bear to have Miss
+Bates belonging to him?--To have her haunting the Abbey, and thanking
+him all day long for his great kindness in marrying Jane?--‘So very
+kind and obliging!--But he always had been such a very kind neighbour!’
+And then fly off, through half a sentence, to her mother’s old
+petticoat. ‘Not that it was such a very old petticoat either--for still
+it would last a great while--and, indeed, she must thankfully say that
+their petticoats were all very strong.’”
+
+“For shame, Emma! Do not mimic her. You divert me against my conscience.
+And, upon my word, I do not think Mr. Knightley would be much disturbed
+by Miss Bates. Little things do not irritate him. She might talk on; and
+if he wanted to say any thing himself, he would only talk louder, and
+drown her voice. But the question is not, whether it would be a bad
+connexion for him, but whether he wishes it; and I think he does. I have
+heard him speak, and so must you, so very highly of Jane Fairfax! The
+interest he takes in her--his anxiety about her health--his concern that
+she should have no happier prospect! I have heard him express himself
+so warmly on those points!--Such an admirer of her performance on the
+pianoforte, and of her voice! I have heard him say that he could listen
+to her for ever. Oh! and I had almost forgotten one idea that occurred
+to me--this pianoforte that has been sent here by somebody--though
+we have all been so well satisfied to consider it a present from the
+Campbells, may it not be from Mr. Knightley? I cannot help suspecting
+him. I think he is just the person to do it, even without being in
+love.”
+
+“Then it can be no argument to prove that he is in love. But I do not
+think it is at all a likely thing for him to do. Mr. Knightley does
+nothing mysteriously.”
+
+“I have heard him lamenting her having no instrument repeatedly; oftener
+than I should suppose such a circumstance would, in the common course of
+things, occur to him.”
+
+“Very well; and if he had intended to give her one, he would have told
+her so.”
+
+“There might be scruples of delicacy, my dear Emma. I have a very strong
+notion that it comes from him. I am sure he was particularly silent when
+Mrs. Cole told us of it at dinner.”
+
+“You take up an idea, Mrs. Weston, and run away with it; as you have
+many a time reproached me with doing. I see no sign of attachment--I
+believe nothing of the pianoforte--and proof only shall convince me that
+Mr. Knightley has any thought of marrying Jane Fairfax.”
+
+They combated the point some time longer in the same way; Emma rather
+gaining ground over the mind of her friend; for Mrs. Weston was the most
+used of the two to yield; till a little bustle in the room shewed them
+that tea was over, and the instrument in preparation;--and at the same
+moment Mr. Cole approaching to entreat Miss Woodhouse would do them the
+honour of trying it. Frank Churchill, of whom, in the eagerness of her
+conversation with Mrs. Weston, she had been seeing nothing, except that
+he had found a seat by Miss Fairfax, followed Mr. Cole, to add his very
+pressing entreaties; and as, in every respect, it suited Emma best to
+lead, she gave a very proper compliance.
+
+She knew the limitations of her own powers too well to attempt more than
+she could perform with credit; she wanted neither taste nor spirit in
+the little things which are generally acceptable, and could accompany
+her own voice well. One accompaniment to her song took her agreeably by
+surprize--a second, slightly but correctly taken by Frank Churchill. Her
+pardon was duly begged at the close of the song, and every thing usual
+followed. He was accused of having a delightful voice, and a perfect
+knowledge of music; which was properly denied; and that he knew nothing
+of the matter, and had no voice at all, roundly asserted. They sang
+together once more; and Emma would then resign her place to Miss
+Fairfax, whose performance, both vocal and instrumental, she never could
+attempt to conceal from herself, was infinitely superior to her own.
+
+With mixed feelings, she seated herself at a little distance from the
+numbers round the instrument, to listen. Frank Churchill sang again.
+They had sung together once or twice, it appeared, at Weymouth. But the
+sight of Mr. Knightley among the most attentive, soon drew away half
+Emma’s mind; and she fell into a train of thinking on the subject of
+Mrs. Weston’s suspicions, to which the sweet sounds of the united voices
+gave only momentary interruptions. Her objections to Mr. Knightley’s
+marrying did not in the least subside. She could see nothing but evil
+in it. It would be a great disappointment to Mr. John Knightley;
+consequently to Isabella. A real injury to the children--a most
+mortifying change, and material loss to them all;--a very great
+deduction from her father’s daily comfort--and, as to herself, she could
+not at all endure the idea of Jane Fairfax at Donwell Abbey. A Mrs.
+Knightley for them all to give way to!--No--Mr. Knightley must never
+marry. Little Henry must remain the heir of Donwell.
+
+Presently Mr. Knightley looked back, and came and sat down by her. They
+talked at first only of the performance. His admiration was certainly
+very warm; yet she thought, but for Mrs. Weston, it would not have
+struck her. As a sort of touchstone, however, she began to speak of his
+kindness in conveying the aunt and niece; and though his answer was in
+the spirit of cutting the matter short, she believed it to indicate only
+his disinclination to dwell on any kindness of his own.
+
+“I often feel concern,” said she, “that I dare not make our carriage
+more useful on such occasions. It is not that I am without the wish; but
+you know how impossible my father would deem it that James should put-to
+for such a purpose.”
+
+“Quite out of the question, quite out of the question,” he
+replied;--“but you must often wish it, I am sure.” And he smiled with
+such seeming pleasure at the conviction, that she must proceed another
+step.
+
+“This present from the Campbells,” said she--“this pianoforte is very
+kindly given.”
+
+“Yes,” he replied, and without the smallest apparent
+embarrassment.--“But they would have done better had they given
+her notice of it. Surprizes are foolish things. The pleasure is not
+enhanced, and the inconvenience is often considerable. I should have
+expected better judgment in Colonel Campbell.”
+
+From that moment, Emma could have taken her oath that Mr. Knightley had
+had no concern in giving the instrument. But whether he were
+entirely free from peculiar attachment--whether there were no actual
+preference--remained a little longer doubtful. Towards the end of Jane’s
+second song, her voice grew thick.
+
+“That will do,” said he, when it was finished, thinking aloud--“you have
+sung quite enough for one evening--now be quiet.”
+
+Another song, however, was soon begged for. “One more;--they would not
+fatigue Miss Fairfax on any account, and would only ask for one more.”
+ And Frank Churchill was heard to say, “I think you could manage this
+without effort; the first part is so very trifling. The strength of the
+song falls on the second.”
+
+Mr. Knightley grew angry.
+
+“That fellow,” said he, indignantly, “thinks of nothing but shewing off
+his own voice. This must not be.” And touching Miss Bates, who at that
+moment passed near--“Miss Bates, are you mad, to let your niece sing
+herself hoarse in this manner? Go, and interfere. They have no mercy on
+her.”
+
+Miss Bates, in her real anxiety for Jane, could hardly stay even to
+be grateful, before she stept forward and put an end to all farther
+singing. Here ceased the concert part of the evening, for Miss Woodhouse
+and Miss Fairfax were the only young lady performers; but soon (within
+five minutes) the proposal of dancing--originating nobody exactly knew
+where--was so effectually promoted by Mr. and Mrs. Cole, that every
+thing was rapidly clearing away, to give proper space. Mrs. Weston,
+capital in her country-dances, was seated, and beginning an irresistible
+waltz; and Frank Churchill, coming up with most becoming gallantry to
+Emma, had secured her hand, and led her up to the top.
+
+While waiting till the other young people could pair themselves off,
+Emma found time, in spite of the compliments she was receiving on
+her voice and her taste, to look about, and see what became of Mr.
+Knightley. This would be a trial. He was no dancer in general. If he
+were to be very alert in engaging Jane Fairfax now, it might augur
+something. There was no immediate appearance. No; he was talking to Mrs.
+Cole--he was looking on unconcerned; Jane was asked by somebody else,
+and he was still talking to Mrs. Cole.
+
+Emma had no longer an alarm for Henry; his interest was yet safe; and
+she led off the dance with genuine spirit and enjoyment. Not more than
+five couple could be mustered; but the rarity and the suddenness of
+it made it very delightful, and she found herself well matched in a
+partner. They were a couple worth looking at.
+
+Two dances, unfortunately, were all that could be allowed. It was
+growing late, and Miss Bates became anxious to get home, on her mother’s
+account. After some attempts, therefore, to be permitted to begin again,
+they were obliged to thank Mrs. Weston, look sorrowful, and have done.
+
+“Perhaps it is as well,” said Frank Churchill, as he attended Emma to
+her carriage. “I must have asked Miss Fairfax, and her languid dancing
+would not have agreed with me, after yours.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+Emma did not repent her condescension in going to the Coles. The visit
+afforded her many pleasant recollections the next day; and all that she
+might be supposed to have lost on the side of dignified seclusion, must
+be amply repaid in the splendour of popularity. She must have delighted
+the Coles--worthy people, who deserved to be made happy!--And left a
+name behind her that would not soon die away.
+
+Perfect happiness, even in memory, is not common; and there were two
+points on which she was not quite easy. She doubted whether she had not
+transgressed the duty of woman by woman, in betraying her suspicions of
+Jane Fairfax’s feelings to Frank Churchill. It was hardly right; but it
+had been so strong an idea, that it would escape her, and his submission
+to all that she told, was a compliment to her penetration, which made
+it difficult for her to be quite certain that she ought to have held her
+tongue.
+
+The other circumstance of regret related also to Jane Fairfax; and
+there she had no doubt. She did unfeignedly and unequivocally regret the
+inferiority of her own playing and singing. She did most heartily
+grieve over the idleness of her childhood--and sat down and practised
+vigorously an hour and a half.
+
+She was then interrupted by Harriet’s coming in; and if Harriet’s praise
+could have satisfied her, she might soon have been comforted.
+
+“Oh! if I could but play as well as you and Miss Fairfax!”
+
+“Don’t class us together, Harriet. My playing is no more like her’s,
+than a lamp is like sunshine.”
+
+“Oh! dear--I think you play the best of the two. I think you play quite
+as well as she does. I am sure I had much rather hear you. Every body
+last night said how well you played.”
+
+“Those who knew any thing about it, must have felt the difference. The
+truth is, Harriet, that my playing is just good enough to be praised,
+but Jane Fairfax’s is much beyond it.”
+
+“Well, I always shall think that you play quite as well as she does, or
+that if there is any difference nobody would ever find it out. Mr. Cole
+said how much taste you had; and Mr. Frank Churchill talked a great deal
+about your taste, and that he valued taste much more than execution.”
+
+“Ah! but Jane Fairfax has them both, Harriet.”
+
+“Are you sure? I saw she had execution, but I did not know she had any
+taste. Nobody talked about it. And I hate Italian singing.--There is no
+understanding a word of it. Besides, if she does play so very well, you
+know, it is no more than she is obliged to do, because she will have to
+teach. The Coxes were wondering last night whether she would get into
+any great family. How did you think the Coxes looked?”
+
+“Just as they always do--very vulgar.”
+
+“They told me something,” said Harriet rather hesitatingly; “but it is
+nothing of any consequence.”
+
+Emma was obliged to ask what they had told her, though fearful of its
+producing Mr. Elton.
+
+“They told me--that Mr. Martin dined with them last Saturday.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“He came to their father upon some business, and he asked him to stay to
+dinner.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“They talked a great deal about him, especially Anne Cox. I do not know
+what she meant, but she asked me if I thought I should go and stay there
+again next summer.”
+
+“She meant to be impertinently curious, just as such an Anne Cox should
+be.”
+
+“She said he was very agreeable the day he dined there. He sat by her at
+dinner. Miss Nash thinks either of the Coxes would be very glad to marry
+him.”
+
+“Very likely.--I think they are, without exception, the most vulgar
+girls in Highbury.”
+
+Harriet had business at Ford’s.--Emma thought it most prudent to go with
+her. Another accidental meeting with the Martins was possible, and in
+her present state, would be dangerous.
+
+Harriet, tempted by every thing and swayed by half a word, was always
+very long at a purchase; and while she was still hanging over muslins
+and changing her mind, Emma went to the door for amusement.--Much could
+not be hoped from the traffic of even the busiest part of Highbury;--Mr.
+Perry walking hastily by, Mr. William Cox letting himself in at the
+office-door, Mr. Cole’s carriage-horses returning from exercise, or a
+stray letter-boy on an obstinate mule, were the liveliest objects she
+could presume to expect; and when her eyes fell only on the butcher with
+his tray, a tidy old woman travelling homewards from shop with her full
+basket, two curs quarrelling over a dirty bone, and a string of dawdling
+children round the baker’s little bow-window eyeing the gingerbread, she
+knew she had no reason to complain, and was amused enough; quite enough
+still to stand at the door. A mind lively and at ease, can do with
+seeing nothing, and can see nothing that does not answer.
+
+She looked down the Randalls road. The scene enlarged; two persons
+appeared; Mrs. Weston and her son-in-law; they were walking into
+Highbury;--to Hartfield of course. They were stopping, however, in the
+first place at Mrs. Bates’s; whose house was a little nearer
+Randalls than Ford’s; and had all but knocked, when Emma caught their
+eye.--Immediately they crossed the road and came forward to her; and the
+agreeableness of yesterday’s engagement seemed to give fresh pleasure to
+the present meeting. Mrs. Weston informed her that she was going to call
+on the Bateses, in order to hear the new instrument.
+
+“For my companion tells me,” said she, “that I absolutely promised Miss
+Bates last night, that I would come this morning. I was not aware of it
+myself. I did not know that I had fixed a day, but as he says I did, I
+am going now.”
+
+“And while Mrs. Weston pays her visit, I may be allowed, I hope,” said
+Frank Churchill, “to join your party and wait for her at Hartfield--if
+you are going home.”
+
+Mrs. Weston was disappointed.
+
+“I thought you meant to go with me. They would be very much pleased.”
+
+“Me! I should be quite in the way. But, perhaps--I may be equally in the
+way here. Miss Woodhouse looks as if she did not want me. My aunt always
+sends me off when she is shopping. She says I fidget her to death; and
+Miss Woodhouse looks as if she could almost say the same. What am I to
+do?”
+
+“I am here on no business of my own,” said Emma; “I am only waiting for
+my friend. She will probably have soon done, and then we shall go home.
+But you had better go with Mrs. Weston and hear the instrument.”
+
+“Well--if you advise it.--But (with a smile) if Colonel Campbell should
+have employed a careless friend, and if it should prove to have an
+indifferent tone--what shall I say? I shall be no support to Mrs.
+Weston. She might do very well by herself. A disagreeable truth would be
+palatable through her lips, but I am the wretchedest being in the world
+at a civil falsehood.”
+
+“I do not believe any such thing,” replied Emma.--“I am persuaded that
+you can be as insincere as your neighbours, when it is necessary; but
+there is no reason to suppose the instrument is indifferent. Quite
+otherwise indeed, if I understood Miss Fairfax’s opinion last night.”
+
+“Do come with me,” said Mrs. Weston, “if it be not very disagreeable to
+you. It need not detain us long. We will go to Hartfield afterwards.
+We will follow them to Hartfield. I really wish you to call with me. It
+will be felt so great an attention! and I always thought you meant it.”
+
+He could say no more; and with the hope of Hartfield to reward him,
+returned with Mrs. Weston to Mrs. Bates’s door. Emma watched them in,
+and then joined Harriet at the interesting counter,--trying, with all
+the force of her own mind, to convince her that if she wanted plain
+muslin it was of no use to look at figured; and that a blue ribbon, be
+it ever so beautiful, would still never match her yellow pattern. At
+last it was all settled, even to the destination of the parcel.
+
+“Should I send it to Mrs. Goddard’s, ma’am?” asked Mrs.
+Ford.--“Yes--no--yes, to Mrs. Goddard’s. Only my pattern gown is at
+Hartfield. No, you shall send it to Hartfield, if you please. But then,
+Mrs. Goddard will want to see it.--And I could take the pattern gown
+home any day. But I shall want the ribbon directly--so it had better go
+to Hartfield--at least the ribbon. You could make it into two parcels,
+Mrs. Ford, could not you?”
+
+“It is not worth while, Harriet, to give Mrs. Ford the trouble of two
+parcels.”
+
+“No more it is.”
+
+“No trouble in the world, ma’am,” said the obliging Mrs. Ford.
+
+“Oh! but indeed I would much rather have it only in one. Then, if you
+please, you shall send it all to Mrs. Goddard’s--I do not know--No, I
+think, Miss Woodhouse, I may just as well have it sent to Hartfield, and
+take it home with me at night. What do you advise?”
+
+“That you do not give another half-second to the subject. To Hartfield,
+if you please, Mrs. Ford.”
+
+“Aye, that will be much best,” said Harriet, quite satisfied, “I should
+not at all like to have it sent to Mrs. Goddard’s.”
+
+Voices approached the shop--or rather one voice and two ladies: Mrs.
+Weston and Miss Bates met them at the door.
+
+“My dear Miss Woodhouse,” said the latter, “I am just run across to
+entreat the favour of you to come and sit down with us a little while,
+and give us your opinion of our new instrument; you and Miss Smith. How
+do you do, Miss Smith?--Very well I thank you.--And I begged Mrs. Weston
+to come with me, that I might be sure of succeeding.”
+
+“I hope Mrs. Bates and Miss Fairfax are--”
+
+“Very well, I am much obliged to you. My mother is delightfully well;
+and Jane caught no cold last night. How is Mr. Woodhouse?--I am so glad
+to hear such a good account. Mrs. Weston told me you were here.--Oh!
+then, said I, I must run across, I am sure Miss Woodhouse will allow me
+just to run across and entreat her to come in; my mother will be so
+very happy to see her--and now we are such a nice party, she cannot
+refuse.--‘Aye, pray do,’ said Mr. Frank Churchill, ‘Miss Woodhouse’s
+opinion of the instrument will be worth having.’--But, said I, I shall
+be more sure of succeeding if one of you will go with me.--‘Oh,’ said
+he, ‘wait half a minute, till I have finished my job;’--For, would you
+believe it, Miss Woodhouse, there he is, in the most obliging manner in
+the world, fastening in the rivet of my mother’s spectacles.--The rivet
+came out, you know, this morning.--So very obliging!--For my mother had
+no use of her spectacles--could not put them on. And, by the bye, every
+body ought to have two pair of spectacles; they should indeed. Jane said
+so. I meant to take them over to John Saunders the first thing I did,
+but something or other hindered me all the morning; first one thing,
+then another, there is no saying what, you know. At one time Patty came
+to say she thought the kitchen chimney wanted sweeping. Oh, said I,
+Patty do not come with your bad news to me. Here is the rivet of your
+mistress’s spectacles out. Then the baked apples came home, Mrs. Wallis
+sent them by her boy; they are extremely civil and obliging to us, the
+Wallises, always--I have heard some people say that Mrs. Wallis can be
+uncivil and give a very rude answer, but we have never known any thing
+but the greatest attention from them. And it cannot be for the value
+of our custom now, for what is our consumption of bread, you know?
+Only three of us.--besides dear Jane at present--and she really eats
+nothing--makes such a shocking breakfast, you would be quite frightened
+if you saw it. I dare not let my mother know how little she eats--so I
+say one thing and then I say another, and it passes off. But about the
+middle of the day she gets hungry, and there is nothing she likes so
+well as these baked apples, and they are extremely wholesome, for I took
+the opportunity the other day of asking Mr. Perry; I happened to meet
+him in the street. Not that I had any doubt before--I have so often
+heard Mr. Woodhouse recommend a baked apple. I believe it is the only
+way that Mr. Woodhouse thinks the fruit thoroughly wholesome. We
+have apple-dumplings, however, very often. Patty makes an excellent
+apple-dumpling. Well, Mrs. Weston, you have prevailed, I hope, and these
+ladies will oblige us.”
+
+Emma would be “very happy to wait on Mrs. Bates, &c.,” and they did at
+last move out of the shop, with no farther delay from Miss Bates than,
+
+“How do you do, Mrs. Ford? I beg your pardon. I did not see you before.
+I hear you have a charming collection of new ribbons from town. Jane
+came back delighted yesterday. Thank ye, the gloves do very well--only a
+little too large about the wrist; but Jane is taking them in.”
+
+“What was I talking of?” said she, beginning again when they were all in
+the street.
+
+Emma wondered on what, of all the medley, she would fix.
+
+“I declare I cannot recollect what I was talking of.--Oh! my mother’s
+spectacles. So very obliging of Mr. Frank Churchill! ‘Oh!’ said he,
+‘I do think I can fasten the rivet; I like a job of this kind
+excessively.’--Which you know shewed him to be so very.... Indeed I must
+say that, much as I had heard of him before and much as I had expected,
+he very far exceeds any thing.... I do congratulate you, Mrs. Weston,
+most warmly. He seems every thing the fondest parent could....
+‘Oh!’ said he, ‘I can fasten the rivet. I like a job of that sort
+excessively.’ I never shall forget his manner. And when I brought out
+the baked apples from the closet, and hoped our friends would be so very
+obliging as to take some, ‘Oh!’ said he directly, ‘there is nothing
+in the way of fruit half so good, and these are the finest-looking
+home-baked apples I ever saw in my life.’ That, you know, was so
+very.... And I am sure, by his manner, it was no compliment. Indeed they
+are very delightful apples, and Mrs. Wallis does them full justice--only
+we do not have them baked more than twice, and Mr. Woodhouse made us
+promise to have them done three times--but Miss Woodhouse will be so
+good as not to mention it. The apples themselves are the very finest
+sort for baking, beyond a doubt; all from Donwell--some of Mr.
+Knightley’s most liberal supply. He sends us a sack every year; and
+certainly there never was such a keeping apple anywhere as one of his
+trees--I believe there is two of them. My mother says the orchard was
+always famous in her younger days. But I was really quite shocked the
+other day--for Mr. Knightley called one morning, and Jane was eating
+these apples, and we talked about them and said how much she enjoyed
+them, and he asked whether we were not got to the end of our stock. ‘I
+am sure you must be,’ said he, ‘and I will send you another supply; for
+I have a great many more than I can ever use. William Larkins let me
+keep a larger quantity than usual this year. I will send you some more,
+before they get good for nothing.’ So I begged he would not--for really
+as to ours being gone, I could not absolutely say that we had a great
+many left--it was but half a dozen indeed; but they should be all kept
+for Jane; and I could not at all bear that he should be sending us more,
+so liberal as he had been already; and Jane said the same. And when
+he was gone, she almost quarrelled with me--No, I should not say
+quarrelled, for we never had a quarrel in our lives; but she was quite
+distressed that I had owned the apples were so nearly gone; she wished
+I had made him believe we had a great many left. Oh, said I, my dear,
+I did say as much as I could. However, the very same evening William
+Larkins came over with a large basket of apples, the same sort of
+apples, a bushel at least, and I was very much obliged, and went down
+and spoke to William Larkins and said every thing, as you may suppose.
+William Larkins is such an old acquaintance! I am always glad to see
+him. But, however, I found afterwards from Patty, that William said it
+was all the apples of _that_ sort his master had; he had brought them
+all--and now his master had not one left to bake or boil. William did
+not seem to mind it himself, he was so pleased to think his master had
+sold so many; for William, you know, thinks more of his master’s profit
+than any thing; but Mrs. Hodges, he said, was quite displeased at their
+being all sent away. She could not bear that her master should not be
+able to have another apple-tart this spring. He told Patty this, but bid
+her not mind it, and be sure not to say any thing to us about it, for
+Mrs. Hodges _would_ be cross sometimes, and as long as so many sacks
+were sold, it did not signify who ate the remainder. And so Patty told
+me, and I was excessively shocked indeed! I would not have Mr. Knightley
+know any thing about it for the world! He would be so very.... I wanted
+to keep it from Jane’s knowledge; but, unluckily, I had mentioned it
+before I was aware.”
+
+Miss Bates had just done as Patty opened the door; and her visitors
+walked upstairs without having any regular narration to attend to,
+pursued only by the sounds of her desultory good-will.
+
+“Pray take care, Mrs. Weston, there is a step at the turning. Pray take
+care, Miss Woodhouse, ours is rather a dark staircase--rather darker
+and narrower than one could wish. Miss Smith, pray take care. Miss
+Woodhouse, I am quite concerned, I am sure you hit your foot. Miss
+Smith, the step at the turning.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+The appearance of the little sitting-room as they entered, was
+tranquillity itself; Mrs. Bates, deprived of her usual employment,
+slumbering on one side of the fire, Frank Churchill, at a table near
+her, most deedily occupied about her spectacles, and Jane Fairfax,
+standing with her back to them, intent on her pianoforte.
+
+Busy as he was, however, the young man was yet able to shew a most happy
+countenance on seeing Emma again.
+
+“This is a pleasure,” said he, in rather a low voice, “coming at least
+ten minutes earlier than I had calculated. You find me trying to be
+useful; tell me if you think I shall succeed.”
+
+“What!” said Mrs. Weston, “have not you finished it yet? you would not
+earn a very good livelihood as a working silversmith at this rate.”
+
+“I have not been working uninterruptedly,” he replied, “I have been
+assisting Miss Fairfax in trying to make her instrument stand steadily,
+it was not quite firm; an unevenness in the floor, I believe. You see
+we have been wedging one leg with paper. This was very kind of you to be
+persuaded to come. I was almost afraid you would be hurrying home.”
+
+He contrived that she should be seated by him; and was sufficiently
+employed in looking out the best baked apple for her, and trying to make
+her help or advise him in his work, till Jane Fairfax was quite ready
+to sit down to the pianoforte again. That she was not immediately ready,
+Emma did suspect to arise from the state of her nerves; she had not yet
+possessed the instrument long enough to touch it without emotion; she
+must reason herself into the power of performance; and Emma could not
+but pity such feelings, whatever their origin, and could not but resolve
+never to expose them to her neighbour again.
+
+At last Jane began, and though the first bars were feebly given, the
+powers of the instrument were gradually done full justice to. Mrs.
+Weston had been delighted before, and was delighted again; Emma
+joined her in all her praise; and the pianoforte, with every proper
+discrimination, was pronounced to be altogether of the highest promise.
+
+“Whoever Colonel Campbell might employ,” said Frank Churchill, with a
+smile at Emma, “the person has not chosen ill. I heard a good deal of
+Colonel Campbell’s taste at Weymouth; and the softness of the upper
+notes I am sure is exactly what he and _all_ _that_ _party_ would
+particularly prize. I dare say, Miss Fairfax, that he either gave his
+friend very minute directions, or wrote to Broadwood himself. Do not you
+think so?”
+
+Jane did not look round. She was not obliged to hear. Mrs. Weston had
+been speaking to her at the same moment.
+
+“It is not fair,” said Emma, in a whisper; “mine was a random guess. Do
+not distress her.”
+
+He shook his head with a smile, and looked as if he had very little
+doubt and very little mercy. Soon afterwards he began again,
+
+“How much your friends in Ireland must be enjoying your pleasure on this
+occasion, Miss Fairfax. I dare say they often think of you, and wonder
+which will be the day, the precise day of the instrument’s coming to
+hand. Do you imagine Colonel Campbell knows the business to be going
+forward just at this time?--Do you imagine it to be the consequence
+of an immediate commission from him, or that he may have sent only
+a general direction, an order indefinite as to time, to depend upon
+contingencies and conveniences?”
+
+He paused. She could not but hear; she could not avoid answering,
+
+“Till I have a letter from Colonel Campbell,” said she, in a voice of
+forced calmness, “I can imagine nothing with any confidence. It must be
+all conjecture.”
+
+“Conjecture--aye, sometimes one conjectures right, and sometimes one
+conjectures wrong. I wish I could conjecture how soon I shall make this
+rivet quite firm. What nonsense one talks, Miss Woodhouse, when hard
+at work, if one talks at all;--your real workmen, I suppose, hold their
+tongues; but we gentlemen labourers if we get hold of a word--Miss
+Fairfax said something about conjecturing. There, it is done. I have the
+pleasure, madam, (to Mrs. Bates,) of restoring your spectacles, healed
+for the present.”
+
+He was very warmly thanked both by mother and daughter; to escape a
+little from the latter, he went to the pianoforte, and begged Miss
+Fairfax, who was still sitting at it, to play something more.
+
+“If you are very kind,” said he, “it will be one of the waltzes we
+danced last night;--let me live them over again. You did not enjoy them
+as I did; you appeared tired the whole time. I believe you were glad we
+danced no longer; but I would have given worlds--all the worlds one ever
+has to give--for another half-hour.”
+
+She played.
+
+“What felicity it is to hear a tune again which _has_ made one
+happy!--If I mistake not that was danced at Weymouth.”
+
+She looked up at him for a moment, coloured deeply, and played something
+else. He took some music from a chair near the pianoforte, and turning
+to Emma, said,
+
+“Here is something quite new to me. Do you know it?--Cramer.--And here
+are a new set of Irish melodies. That, from such a quarter, one might
+expect. This was all sent with the instrument. Very thoughtful of
+Colonel Campbell, was not it?--He knew Miss Fairfax could have no music
+here. I honour that part of the attention particularly; it shews it to
+have been so thoroughly from the heart. Nothing hastily done; nothing
+incomplete. True affection only could have prompted it.”
+
+Emma wished he would be less pointed, yet could not help being amused;
+and when on glancing her eye towards Jane Fairfax she caught the remains
+of a smile, when she saw that with all the deep blush of consciousness,
+there had been a smile of secret delight, she had less scruple in the
+amusement, and much less compunction with respect to her.--This
+amiable, upright, perfect Jane Fairfax was apparently cherishing very
+reprehensible feelings.
+
+He brought all the music to her, and they looked it over together.--Emma
+took the opportunity of whispering,
+
+“You speak too plain. She must understand you.”
+
+“I hope she does. I would have her understand me. I am not in the least
+ashamed of my meaning.”
+
+“But really, I am half ashamed, and wish I had never taken up the idea.”
+
+“I am very glad you did, and that you communicated it to me. I have now
+a key to all her odd looks and ways. Leave shame to her. If she does
+wrong, she ought to feel it.”
+
+“She is not entirely without it, I think.”
+
+“I do not see much sign of it. She is playing _Robin_ _Adair_ at this
+moment--_his_ favourite.”
+
+Shortly afterwards Miss Bates, passing near the window, descried Mr.
+Knightley on horse-back not far off.
+
+“Mr. Knightley I declare!--I must speak to him if possible, just to
+thank him. I will not open the window here; it would give you all cold;
+but I can go into my mother’s room you know. I dare say he will come
+in when he knows who is here. Quite delightful to have you all meet
+so!--Our little room so honoured!”
+
+She was in the adjoining chamber while she still spoke, and opening the
+casement there, immediately called Mr. Knightley’s attention, and every
+syllable of their conversation was as distinctly heard by the others, as
+if it had passed within the same apartment.
+
+“How d’ ye do?--how d’ye do?--Very well, I thank you. So obliged to you
+for the carriage last night. We were just in time; my mother just ready
+for us. Pray come in; do come in. You will find some friends here.”
+
+So began Miss Bates; and Mr. Knightley seemed determined to be heard in
+his turn, for most resolutely and commandingly did he say,
+
+“How is your niece, Miss Bates?--I want to inquire after you all, but
+particularly your niece. How is Miss Fairfax?--I hope she caught no cold
+last night. How is she to-day? Tell me how Miss Fairfax is.”
+
+And Miss Bates was obliged to give a direct answer before he would hear
+her in any thing else. The listeners were amused; and Mrs. Weston gave
+Emma a look of particular meaning. But Emma still shook her head in
+steady scepticism.
+
+“So obliged to you!--so very much obliged to you for the carriage,”
+ resumed Miss Bates.
+
+He cut her short with,
+
+“I am going to Kingston. Can I do any thing for you?”
+
+“Oh! dear, Kingston--are you?--Mrs. Cole was saying the other day she
+wanted something from Kingston.”
+
+“Mrs. Cole has servants to send. Can I do any thing for _you_?”
+
+“No, I thank you. But do come in. Who do you think is here?--Miss
+Woodhouse and Miss Smith; so kind as to call to hear the new pianoforte.
+Do put up your horse at the Crown, and come in.”
+
+“Well,” said he, in a deliberating manner, “for five minutes, perhaps.”
+
+“And here is Mrs. Weston and Mr. Frank Churchill too!--Quite delightful;
+so many friends!”
+
+“No, not now, I thank you. I could not stay two minutes. I must get on
+to Kingston as fast as I can.”
+
+“Oh! do come in. They will be so very happy to see you.”
+
+“No, no; your room is full enough. I will call another day, and hear the
+pianoforte.”
+
+“Well, I am so sorry!--Oh! Mr. Knightley, what a delightful party last
+night; how extremely pleasant.--Did you ever see such dancing?--Was not
+it delightful?--Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill; I never saw any
+thing equal to it.”
+
+“Oh! very delightful indeed; I can say nothing less, for I suppose Miss
+Woodhouse and Mr. Frank Churchill are hearing every thing that passes.
+And (raising his voice still more) I do not see why Miss Fairfax should
+not be mentioned too. I think Miss Fairfax dances very well; and Mrs.
+Weston is the very best country-dance player, without exception,
+in England. Now, if your friends have any gratitude, they will say
+something pretty loud about you and me in return; but I cannot stay to
+hear it.”
+
+“Oh! Mr. Knightley, one moment more; something of consequence--so
+shocked!--Jane and I are both so shocked about the apples!”
+
+“What is the matter now?”
+
+“To think of your sending us all your store apples. You said you had
+a great many, and now you have not one left. We really are so shocked!
+Mrs. Hodges may well be angry. William Larkins mentioned it here. You
+should not have done it, indeed you should not. Ah! he is off. He never
+can bear to be thanked. But I thought he would have staid now, and it
+would have been a pity not to have mentioned.... Well, (returning to the
+room,) I have not been able to succeed. Mr. Knightley cannot stop. He is
+going to Kingston. He asked me if he could do any thing....”
+
+“Yes,” said Jane, “we heard his kind offers, we heard every thing.”
+
+“Oh! yes, my dear, I dare say you might, because you know, the door was
+open, and the window was open, and Mr. Knightley spoke loud. You must
+have heard every thing to be sure. ‘Can I do any thing for you at
+Kingston?’ said he; so I just mentioned.... Oh! Miss Woodhouse, must you
+be going?--You seem but just come--so very obliging of you.”
+
+Emma found it really time to be at home; the visit had already lasted
+long; and on examining watches, so much of the morning was perceived
+to be gone, that Mrs. Weston and her companion taking leave also, could
+allow themselves only to walk with the two young ladies to Hartfield
+gates, before they set off for Randalls.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+It may be possible to do without dancing entirely. Instances have been
+known of young people passing many, many months successively, without
+being at any ball of any description, and no material injury accrue
+either to body or mind;--but when a beginning is made--when the
+felicities of rapid motion have once been, though slightly, felt--it
+must be a very heavy set that does not ask for more.
+
+Frank Churchill had danced once at Highbury, and longed to dance again;
+and the last half-hour of an evening which Mr. Woodhouse was persuaded
+to spend with his daughter at Randalls, was passed by the two young
+people in schemes on the subject. Frank’s was the first idea; and his
+the greatest zeal in pursuing it; for the lady was the best judge of the
+difficulties, and the most solicitous for accommodation and appearance.
+But still she had inclination enough for shewing people again how
+delightfully Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse danced--for
+doing that in which she need not blush to compare herself with Jane
+Fairfax--and even for simple dancing itself, without any of the wicked
+aids of vanity--to assist him first in pacing out the room they were in
+to see what it could be made to hold--and then in taking the dimensions
+of the other parlour, in the hope of discovering, in spite of all that
+Mr. Weston could say of their exactly equal size, that it was a little
+the largest.
+
+His first proposition and request, that the dance begun at Mr. Cole’s
+should be finished there--that the same party should be collected,
+and the same musician engaged, met with the readiest acquiescence. Mr.
+Weston entered into the idea with thorough enjoyment, and Mrs. Weston
+most willingly undertook to play as long as they could wish to dance;
+and the interesting employment had followed, of reckoning up exactly who
+there would be, and portioning out the indispensable division of space
+to every couple.
+
+“You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss
+Coxes five,” had been repeated many times over. “And there will be the
+two Gilberts, young Cox, my father, and myself, besides Mr. Knightley.
+Yes, that will be quite enough for pleasure. You and Miss Smith, and
+Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss Coxes five; and for five
+couple there will be plenty of room.”
+
+But soon it came to be on one side,
+
+“But will there be good room for five couple?--I really do not think
+there will.”
+
+On another,
+
+“And after all, five couple are not enough to make it worth while to
+stand up. Five couple are nothing, when one thinks seriously about it.
+It will not do to _invite_ five couple. It can be allowable only as the
+thought of the moment.”
+
+Somebody said that _Miss_ Gilbert was expected at her brother’s, and
+must be invited with the rest. Somebody else believed _Mrs_. Gilbert
+would have danced the other evening, if she had been asked. A word was
+put in for a second young Cox; and at last, Mr. Weston naming one family
+of cousins who must be included, and another of very old acquaintance
+who could not be left out, it became a certainty that the five couple
+would be at least ten, and a very interesting speculation in what
+possible manner they could be disposed of.
+
+The doors of the two rooms were just opposite each other. “Might not
+they use both rooms, and dance across the passage?” It seemed the
+best scheme; and yet it was not so good but that many of them wanted a
+better. Emma said it would be awkward; Mrs. Weston was in distress about
+the supper; and Mr. Woodhouse opposed it earnestly, on the score of
+health. It made him so very unhappy, indeed, that it could not be
+persevered in.
+
+“Oh! no,” said he; “it would be the extreme of imprudence. I could not
+bear it for Emma!--Emma is not strong. She would catch a dreadful cold.
+So would poor little Harriet. So you would all. Mrs. Weston, you would
+be quite laid up; do not let them talk of such a wild thing. Pray do
+not let them talk of it. That young man (speaking lower) is very
+thoughtless. Do not tell his father, but that young man is not quite
+the thing. He has been opening the doors very often this evening,
+and keeping them open very inconsiderately. He does not think of the
+draught. I do not mean to set you against him, but indeed he is not
+quite the thing!”
+
+Mrs. Weston was sorry for such a charge. She knew the importance of
+it, and said every thing in her power to do it away. Every door was now
+closed, the passage plan given up, and the first scheme of dancing only
+in the room they were in resorted to again; and with such good-will on
+Frank Churchill’s part, that the space which a quarter of an hour before
+had been deemed barely sufficient for five couple, was now endeavoured
+to be made out quite enough for ten.
+
+“We were too magnificent,” said he. “We allowed unnecessary room. Ten
+couple may stand here very well.”
+
+Emma demurred. “It would be a crowd--a sad crowd; and what could be
+worse than dancing without space to turn in?”
+
+“Very true,” he gravely replied; “it was very bad.” But still he went on
+measuring, and still he ended with,
+
+“I think there will be very tolerable room for ten couple.”
+
+“No, no,” said she, “you are quite unreasonable. It would be dreadful
+to be standing so close! Nothing can be farther from pleasure than to be
+dancing in a crowd--and a crowd in a little room!”
+
+“There is no denying it,” he replied. “I agree with you exactly. A crowd
+in a little room--Miss Woodhouse, you have the art of giving pictures
+in a few words. Exquisite, quite exquisite!--Still, however, having
+proceeded so far, one is unwilling to give the matter up. It would be
+a disappointment to my father--and altogether--I do not know that--I am
+rather of opinion that ten couple might stand here very well.”
+
+Emma perceived that the nature of his gallantry was a little
+self-willed, and that he would rather oppose than lose the pleasure of
+dancing with her; but she took the compliment, and forgave the rest.
+Had she intended ever to _marry_ him, it might have been worth while to
+pause and consider, and try to understand the value of his preference,
+and the character of his temper; but for all the purposes of their
+acquaintance, he was quite amiable enough.
+
+Before the middle of the next day, he was at Hartfield; and he entered
+the room with such an agreeable smile as certified the continuance of
+the scheme. It soon appeared that he came to announce an improvement.
+
+“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” he almost immediately began, “your inclination
+for dancing has not been quite frightened away, I hope, by the terrors
+of my father’s little rooms. I bring a new proposal on the subject:--a
+thought of my father’s, which waits only your approbation to be acted
+upon. May I hope for the honour of your hand for the two first dances
+of this little projected ball, to be given, not at Randalls, but at the
+Crown Inn?”
+
+“The Crown!”
+
+“Yes; if you and Mr. Woodhouse see no objection, and I trust you cannot,
+my father hopes his friends will be so kind as to visit him there.
+Better accommodations, he can promise them, and not a less grateful
+welcome than at Randalls. It is his own idea. Mrs. Weston sees no
+objection to it, provided you are satisfied. This is what we all feel.
+Oh! you were perfectly right! Ten couple, in either of the Randalls
+rooms, would have been insufferable!--Dreadful!--I felt how right you
+were the whole time, but was too anxious for securing _any_ _thing_
+to like to yield. Is not it a good exchange?--You consent--I hope you
+consent?”
+
+“It appears to me a plan that nobody can object to, if Mr. and Mrs.
+Weston do not. I think it admirable; and, as far as I can answer for
+myself, shall be most happy--It seems the only improvement that could
+be. Papa, do you not think it an excellent improvement?”
+
+She was obliged to repeat and explain it, before it was fully
+comprehended; and then, being quite new, farther representations were
+necessary to make it acceptable.
+
+“No; he thought it very far from an improvement--a very bad plan--much
+worse than the other. A room at an inn was always damp and dangerous;
+never properly aired, or fit to be inhabited. If they must dance, they
+had better dance at Randalls. He had never been in the room at the Crown
+in his life--did not know the people who kept it by sight.--Oh! no--a
+very bad plan. They would catch worse colds at the Crown than anywhere.”
+
+“I was going to observe, sir,” said Frank Churchill, “that one of the
+great recommendations of this change would be the very little danger
+of any body’s catching cold--so much less danger at the Crown than at
+Randalls! Mr. Perry might have reason to regret the alteration, but
+nobody else could.”
+
+“Sir,” said Mr. Woodhouse, rather warmly, “you are very much mistaken
+if you suppose Mr. Perry to be that sort of character. Mr. Perry is
+extremely concerned when any of us are ill. But I do not understand how
+the room at the Crown can be safer for you than your father’s house.”
+
+“From the very circumstance of its being larger, sir. We shall have no
+occasion to open the windows at all--not once the whole evening; and it
+is that dreadful habit of opening the windows, letting in cold air upon
+heated bodies, which (as you well know, sir) does the mischief.”
+
+“Open the windows!--but surely, Mr. Churchill, nobody would think of
+opening the windows at Randalls. Nobody could be so imprudent! I never
+heard of such a thing. Dancing with open windows!--I am sure, neither
+your father nor Mrs. Weston (poor Miss Taylor that was) would suffer
+it.”
+
+“Ah! sir--but a thoughtless young person will sometimes step behind a
+window-curtain, and throw up a sash, without its being suspected. I have
+often known it done myself.”
+
+“Have you indeed, sir?--Bless me! I never could have supposed it. But I
+live out of the world, and am often astonished at what I hear. However,
+this does make a difference; and, perhaps, when we come to talk it
+over--but these sort of things require a good deal of consideration. One
+cannot resolve upon them in a hurry. If Mr. and Mrs. Weston will be so
+obliging as to call here one morning, we may talk it over, and see what
+can be done.”
+
+“But, unfortunately, sir, my time is so limited--”
+
+“Oh!” interrupted Emma, “there will be plenty of time for talking every
+thing over. There is no hurry at all. If it can be contrived to be at
+the Crown, papa, it will be very convenient for the horses. They will be
+so near their own stable.”
+
+“So they will, my dear. That is a great thing. Not that James ever
+complains; but it is right to spare our horses when we can. If I could
+be sure of the rooms being thoroughly aired--but is Mrs. Stokes to be
+trusted? I doubt it. I do not know her, even by sight.”
+
+“I can answer for every thing of that nature, sir, because it will be
+under Mrs. Weston’s care. Mrs. Weston undertakes to direct the whole.”
+
+“There, papa!--Now you must be satisfied--Our own dear Mrs. Weston, who
+is carefulness itself. Do not you remember what Mr. Perry said, so many
+years ago, when I had the measles? ‘If _Miss_ _Taylor_ undertakes to
+wrap Miss Emma up, you need not have any fears, sir.’ How often have I
+heard you speak of it as such a compliment to her!”
+
+“Aye, very true. Mr. Perry did say so. I shall never forget it. Poor
+little Emma! You were very bad with the measles; that is, you would have
+been very bad, but for Perry’s great attention. He came four times a day
+for a week. He said, from the first, it was a very good sort--which
+was our great comfort; but the measles are a dreadful complaint. I hope
+whenever poor Isabella’s little ones have the measles, she will send for
+Perry.”
+
+“My father and Mrs. Weston are at the Crown at this moment,” said Frank
+Churchill, “examining the capabilities of the house. I left them there
+and came on to Hartfield, impatient for your opinion, and hoping you
+might be persuaded to join them and give your advice on the spot. I was
+desired to say so from both. It would be the greatest pleasure to
+them, if you could allow me to attend you there. They can do nothing
+satisfactorily without you.”
+
+Emma was most happy to be called to such a council; and her father,
+engaging to think it all over while she was gone, the two young people
+set off together without delay for the Crown. There were Mr. and Mrs.
+Weston; delighted to see her and receive her approbation, very busy and
+very happy in their different way; she, in some little distress; and he,
+finding every thing perfect.
+
+“Emma,” said she, “this paper is worse than I expected. Look! in places
+you see it is dreadfully dirty; and the wainscot is more yellow and
+forlorn than any thing I could have imagined.”
+
+“My dear, you are too particular,” said her husband. “What does all that
+signify? You will see nothing of it by candlelight. It will be as
+clean as Randalls by candlelight. We never see any thing of it on our
+club-nights.”
+
+The ladies here probably exchanged looks which meant, “Men never know
+when things are dirty or not;” and the gentlemen perhaps thought each to
+himself, “Women will have their little nonsenses and needless cares.”
+
+One perplexity, however, arose, which the gentlemen did not disdain.
+It regarded a supper-room. At the time of the ballroom’s being built,
+suppers had not been in question; and a small card-room adjoining, was
+the only addition. What was to be done? This card-room would be wanted
+as a card-room now; or, if cards were conveniently voted unnecessary
+by their four selves, still was it not too small for any comfortable
+supper? Another room of much better size might be secured for the
+purpose; but it was at the other end of the house, and a long awkward
+passage must be gone through to get at it. This made a difficulty. Mrs.
+Weston was afraid of draughts for the young people in that passage;
+and neither Emma nor the gentlemen could tolerate the prospect of being
+miserably crowded at supper.
+
+Mrs. Weston proposed having no regular supper; merely sandwiches,
+&c., set out in the little room; but that was scouted as a wretched
+suggestion. A private dance, without sitting down to supper, was
+pronounced an infamous fraud upon the rights of men and women; and
+Mrs. Weston must not speak of it again. She then took another line of
+expediency, and looking into the doubtful room, observed,
+
+“I do not think it _is_ so very small. We shall not be many, you know.”
+
+And Mr. Weston at the same time, walking briskly with long steps through
+the passage, was calling out,
+
+“You talk a great deal of the length of this passage, my dear. It is a
+mere nothing after all; and not the least draught from the stairs.”
+
+“I wish,” said Mrs. Weston, “one could know which arrangement our guests
+in general would like best. To do what would be most generally pleasing
+must be our object--if one could but tell what that would be.”
+
+“Yes, very true,” cried Frank, “very true. You want your neighbours’
+opinions. I do not wonder at you. If one could ascertain what the chief
+of them--the Coles, for instance. They are not far off. Shall I call
+upon them? Or Miss Bates? She is still nearer.--And I do not know
+whether Miss Bates is not as likely to understand the inclinations of
+the rest of the people as any body. I think we do want a larger council.
+Suppose I go and invite Miss Bates to join us?”
+
+“Well--if you please,” said Mrs. Weston rather hesitating, “if you think
+she will be of any use.”
+
+“You will get nothing to the purpose from Miss Bates,” said Emma. “She
+will be all delight and gratitude, but she will tell you nothing. She
+will not even listen to your questions. I see no advantage in consulting
+Miss Bates.”
+
+“But she is so amusing, so extremely amusing! I am very fond of hearing
+Miss Bates talk. And I need not bring the whole family, you know.”
+
+Here Mr. Weston joined them, and on hearing what was proposed, gave it
+his decided approbation.
+
+“Aye, do, Frank.--Go and fetch Miss Bates, and let us end the matter at
+once. She will enjoy the scheme, I am sure; and I do not know a properer
+person for shewing us how to do away difficulties. Fetch Miss Bates.
+We are growing a little too nice. She is a standing lesson of how to be
+happy. But fetch them both. Invite them both.”
+
+“Both sir! Can the old lady?”...
+
+“The old lady! No, the young lady, to be sure. I shall think you a great
+blockhead, Frank, if you bring the aunt without the niece.”
+
+“Oh! I beg your pardon, sir. I did not immediately recollect.
+Undoubtedly if you wish it, I will endeavour to persuade them both.” And
+away he ran.
+
+Long before he reappeared, attending the short, neat, brisk-moving aunt,
+and her elegant niece,--Mrs. Weston, like a sweet-tempered woman and
+a good wife, had examined the passage again, and found the evils of it
+much less than she had supposed before--indeed very trifling; and here
+ended the difficulties of decision. All the rest, in speculation at
+least, was perfectly smooth. All the minor arrangements of table and
+chair, lights and music, tea and supper, made themselves; or were left
+as mere trifles to be settled at any time between Mrs. Weston and Mrs.
+Stokes.--Every body invited, was certainly to come; Frank had already
+written to Enscombe to propose staying a few days beyond his fortnight,
+which could not possibly be refused. And a delightful dance it was to
+be.
+
+Most cordially, when Miss Bates arrived, did she agree that it must.
+As a counsellor she was not wanted; but as an approver, (a much safer
+character,) she was truly welcome. Her approbation, at once general
+and minute, warm and incessant, could not but please; and for another
+half-hour they were all walking to and fro, between the different rooms,
+some suggesting, some attending, and all in happy enjoyment of the
+future. The party did not break up without Emma’s being positively
+secured for the two first dances by the hero of the evening, nor without
+her overhearing Mr. Weston whisper to his wife, “He has asked her, my
+dear. That’s right. I knew he would!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+One thing only was wanting to make the prospect of the ball completely
+satisfactory to Emma--its being fixed for a day within the granted
+term of Frank Churchill’s stay in Surry; for, in spite of Mr. Weston’s
+confidence, she could not think it so very impossible that the
+Churchills might not allow their nephew to remain a day beyond his
+fortnight. But this was not judged feasible. The preparations must take
+their time, nothing could be properly ready till the third week were
+entered on, and for a few days they must be planning, proceeding and
+hoping in uncertainty--at the risk--in her opinion, the great risk, of
+its being all in vain.
+
+Enscombe however was gracious, gracious in fact, if not in word. His
+wish of staying longer evidently did not please; but it was not opposed.
+All was safe and prosperous; and as the removal of one solicitude
+generally makes way for another, Emma, being now certain of her
+ball, began to adopt as the next vexation Mr. Knightley’s provoking
+indifference about it. Either because he did not dance himself, or
+because the plan had been formed without his being consulted, he
+seemed resolved that it should not interest him, determined against its
+exciting any present curiosity, or affording him any future amusement.
+To her voluntary communications Emma could get no more approving reply,
+than,
+
+“Very well. If the Westons think it worth while to be at all this
+trouble for a few hours of noisy entertainment, I have nothing to say
+against it, but that they shall not chuse pleasures for me.--Oh! yes,
+I must be there; I could not refuse; and I will keep as much awake as
+I can; but I would rather be at home, looking over William Larkins’s
+week’s account; much rather, I confess.--Pleasure in seeing
+dancing!--not I, indeed--I never look at it--I do not know who
+does.--Fine dancing, I believe, like virtue, must be its own reward.
+Those who are standing by are usually thinking of something very
+different.”
+
+This Emma felt was aimed at her; and it made her quite angry. It was not
+in compliment to Jane Fairfax however that he was so indifferent, or so
+indignant; he was not guided by _her_ feelings in reprobating the ball,
+for _she_ enjoyed the thought of it to an extraordinary degree. It made
+her animated--open hearted--she voluntarily said;--
+
+“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, I hope nothing may happen to prevent the ball.
+What a disappointment it would be! I do look forward to it, I own, with
+_very_ great pleasure.”
+
+It was not to oblige Jane Fairfax therefore that he would have preferred
+the society of William Larkins. No!--she was more and more convinced
+that Mrs. Weston was quite mistaken in that surmise. There was a great
+deal of friendly and of compassionate attachment on his side--but no
+love.
+
+Alas! there was soon no leisure for quarrelling with Mr. Knightley. Two
+days of joyful security were immediately followed by the over-throw of
+every thing. A letter arrived from Mr. Churchill to urge his nephew’s
+instant return. Mrs. Churchill was unwell--far too unwell to do without
+him; she had been in a very suffering state (so said her husband)
+when writing to her nephew two days before, though from her usual
+unwillingness to give pain, and constant habit of never thinking of
+herself, she had not mentioned it; but now she was too ill to trifle,
+and must entreat him to set off for Enscombe without delay.
+
+The substance of this letter was forwarded to Emma, in a note from Mrs.
+Weston, instantly. As to his going, it was inevitable. He must be gone
+within a few hours, though without feeling any real alarm for his aunt,
+to lessen his repugnance. He knew her illnesses; they never occurred but
+for her own convenience.
+
+Mrs. Weston added, “that he could only allow himself time to hurry to
+Highbury, after breakfast, and take leave of the few friends there
+whom he could suppose to feel any interest in him; and that he might be
+expected at Hartfield very soon.”
+
+This wretched note was the finale of Emma’s breakfast. When once it had
+been read, there was no doing any thing, but lament and exclaim. The
+loss of the ball--the loss of the young man--and all that the young man
+might be feeling!--It was too wretched!--Such a delightful evening as
+it would have been!--Every body so happy! and she and her partner the
+happiest!--“I said it would be so,” was the only consolation.
+
+Her father’s feelings were quite distinct. He thought principally of
+Mrs. Churchill’s illness, and wanted to know how she was treated; and as
+for the ball, it was shocking to have dear Emma disappointed; but they
+would all be safer at home.
+
+Emma was ready for her visitor some time before he appeared; but if this
+reflected at all upon his impatience, his sorrowful look and total want
+of spirits when he did come might redeem him. He felt the going away
+almost too much to speak of it. His dejection was most evident. He
+sat really lost in thought for the first few minutes; and when rousing
+himself, it was only to say,
+
+“Of all horrid things, leave-taking is the worst.”
+
+“But you will come again,” said Emma. “This will not be your only visit
+to Randalls.”
+
+“Ah!--(shaking his head)--the uncertainty of when I may be able to
+return!--I shall try for it with a zeal!--It will be the object of
+all my thoughts and cares!--and if my uncle and aunt go to town this
+spring--but I am afraid--they did not stir last spring--I am afraid it
+is a custom gone for ever.”
+
+“Our poor ball must be quite given up.”
+
+“Ah! that ball!--why did we wait for any thing?--why not seize the
+pleasure at once?--How often is happiness destroyed by preparation,
+foolish preparation!--You told us it would be so.--Oh! Miss Woodhouse,
+why are you always so right?”
+
+“Indeed, I am very sorry to be right in this instance. I would much
+rather have been merry than wise.”
+
+“If I can come again, we are still to have our ball. My father depends
+on it. Do not forget your engagement.”
+
+Emma looked graciously.
+
+“Such a fortnight as it has been!” he continued; “every day more
+precious and more delightful than the day before!--every day making
+me less fit to bear any other place. Happy those, who can remain at
+Highbury!”
+
+“As you do us such ample justice now,” said Emma, laughing, “I will
+venture to ask, whether you did not come a little doubtfully at first?
+Do not we rather surpass your expectations? I am sure we do. I am sure
+you did not much expect to like us. You would not have been so long in
+coming, if you had had a pleasant idea of Highbury.”
+
+He laughed rather consciously; and though denying the sentiment, Emma
+was convinced that it had been so.
+
+“And you must be off this very morning?”
+
+“Yes; my father is to join me here: we shall walk back together, and I
+must be off immediately. I am almost afraid that every moment will bring
+him.”
+
+“Not five minutes to spare even for your friends Miss Fairfax and Miss
+Bates? How unlucky! Miss Bates’s powerful, argumentative mind might have
+strengthened yours.”
+
+“Yes--I _have_ called there; passing the door, I thought it better. It
+was a right thing to do. I went in for three minutes, and was detained
+by Miss Bates’s being absent. She was out; and I felt it impossible not
+to wait till she came in. She is a woman that one may, that one _must_
+laugh at; but that one would not wish to slight. It was better to pay my
+visit, then”--
+
+He hesitated, got up, walked to a window.
+
+“In short,” said he, “perhaps, Miss Woodhouse--I think you can hardly be
+quite without suspicion”--
+
+He looked at her, as if wanting to read her thoughts. She hardly knew
+what to say. It seemed like the forerunner of something absolutely
+serious, which she did not wish. Forcing herself to speak, therefore, in
+the hope of putting it by, she calmly said,
+
+“You are quite in the right; it was most natural to pay your visit,
+then”--
+
+He was silent. She believed he was looking at her; probably reflecting
+on what she had said, and trying to understand the manner. She heard
+him sigh. It was natural for him to feel that he had _cause_ to sigh.
+He could not believe her to be encouraging him. A few awkward moments
+passed, and he sat down again; and in a more determined manner said,
+
+“It was something to feel that all the rest of my time might be given to
+Hartfield. My regard for Hartfield is most warm”--
+
+He stopt again, rose again, and seemed quite embarrassed.--He was more
+in love with her than Emma had supposed; and who can say how it might
+have ended, if his father had not made his appearance? Mr. Woodhouse
+soon followed; and the necessity of exertion made him composed.
+
+A very few minutes more, however, completed the present trial. Mr.
+Weston, always alert when business was to be done, and as incapable of
+procrastinating any evil that was inevitable, as of foreseeing any that
+was doubtful, said, “It was time to go;” and the young man, though he
+might and did sigh, could not but agree, to take leave.
+
+“I shall hear about you all,” said he; “that is my chief consolation.
+I shall hear of every thing that is going on among you. I have engaged
+Mrs. Weston to correspond with me. She has been so kind as to promise
+it. Oh! the blessing of a female correspondent, when one is really
+interested in the absent!--she will tell me every thing. In her letters
+I shall be at dear Highbury again.”
+
+A very friendly shake of the hand, a very earnest “Good-bye,” closed the
+speech, and the door had soon shut out Frank Churchill. Short had been
+the notice--short their meeting; he was gone; and Emma felt so sorry
+to part, and foresaw so great a loss to their little society from his
+absence as to begin to be afraid of being too sorry, and feeling it too
+much.
+
+It was a sad change. They had been meeting almost every day since his
+arrival. Certainly his being at Randalls had given great spirit to
+the last two weeks--indescribable spirit; the idea, the expectation
+of seeing him which every morning had brought, the assurance of his
+attentions, his liveliness, his manners! It had been a very happy
+fortnight, and forlorn must be the sinking from it into the common
+course of Hartfield days. To complete every other recommendation, he had
+_almost_ told her that he loved her. What strength, or what constancy of
+affection he might be subject to, was another point; but at present
+she could not doubt his having a decidedly warm admiration, a conscious
+preference of herself; and this persuasion, joined to all the rest,
+made her think that she _must_ be a little in love with him, in spite of
+every previous determination against it.
+
+“I certainly must,” said she. “This sensation of listlessness,
+weariness, stupidity, this disinclination to sit down and employ myself,
+this feeling of every thing’s being dull and insipid about the house!--
+I must be in love; I should be the oddest creature in the world if I
+were not--for a few weeks at least. Well! evil to some is always good to
+others. I shall have many fellow-mourners for the ball, if not for Frank
+Churchill; but Mr. Knightley will be happy. He may spend the evening
+with his dear William Larkins now if he likes.”
+
+Mr. Knightley, however, shewed no triumphant happiness. He could not say
+that he was sorry on his own account; his very cheerful look would have
+contradicted him if he had; but he said, and very steadily, that he
+was sorry for the disappointment of the others, and with considerable
+kindness added,
+
+“You, Emma, who have so few opportunities of dancing, you are really out
+of luck; you are very much out of luck!”
+
+It was some days before she saw Jane Fairfax, to judge of her honest
+regret in this woeful change; but when they did meet, her composure
+was odious. She had been particularly unwell, however, suffering from
+headache to a degree, which made her aunt declare, that had the ball
+taken place, she did not think Jane could have attended it; and it was
+charity to impute some of her unbecoming indifference to the languor of
+ill-health.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Emma continued to entertain no doubt of her being in love. Her ideas
+only varied as to the how much. At first, she thought it was a good
+deal; and afterwards, but little. She had great pleasure in hearing
+Frank Churchill talked of; and, for his sake, greater pleasure than ever
+in seeing Mr. and Mrs. Weston; she was very often thinking of him, and
+quite impatient for a letter, that she might know how he was, how were
+his spirits, how was his aunt, and what was the chance of his coming to
+Randalls again this spring. But, on the other hand, she could not admit
+herself to be unhappy, nor, after the first morning, to be less disposed
+for employment than usual; she was still busy and cheerful; and,
+pleasing as he was, she could yet imagine him to have faults; and
+farther, though thinking of him so much, and, as she sat drawing or
+working, forming a thousand amusing schemes for the progress and close
+of their attachment, fancying interesting dialogues, and inventing
+elegant letters; the conclusion of every imaginary declaration on his
+side was that she _refused_ _him_. Their affection was always to subside
+into friendship. Every thing tender and charming was to mark their
+parting; but still they were to part. When she became sensible of this,
+it struck her that she could not be very much in love; for in spite of
+her previous and fixed determination never to quit her father, never
+to marry, a strong attachment certainly must produce more of a struggle
+than she could foresee in her own feelings.
+
+“I do not find myself making any use of the word _sacrifice_,” said
+she.--“In not one of all my clever replies, my delicate negatives, is
+there any allusion to making a sacrifice. I do suspect that he is not
+really necessary to my happiness. So much the better. I certainly will
+not persuade myself to feel more than I do. I am quite enough in love. I
+should be sorry to be more.”
+
+Upon the whole, she was equally contented with her view of his feelings.
+
+“_He_ is undoubtedly very much in love--every thing denotes it--very
+much in love indeed!--and when he comes again, if his affection
+continue, I must be on my guard not to encourage it.--It would be most
+inexcusable to do otherwise, as my own mind is quite made up. Not that I
+imagine he can think I have been encouraging him hitherto. No, if he
+had believed me at all to share his feelings, he would not have been
+so wretched. Could he have thought himself encouraged, his looks and
+language at parting would have been different.--Still, however, I must
+be on my guard. This is in the supposition of his attachment continuing
+what it now is; but I do not know that I expect it will; I do not look
+upon him to be quite the sort of man--I do not altogether build upon
+his steadiness or constancy.--His feelings are warm, but I can imagine
+them rather changeable.--Every consideration of the subject, in short,
+makes me thankful that my happiness is not more deeply involved.--I
+shall do very well again after a little while--and then, it will be a
+good thing over; for they say every body is in love once in their lives,
+and I shall have been let off easily.”
+
+When his letter to Mrs. Weston arrived, Emma had the perusal of it; and
+she read it with a degree of pleasure and admiration which made her
+at first shake her head over her own sensations, and think she had
+undervalued their strength. It was a long, well-written letter, giving
+the particulars of his journey and of his feelings, expressing all the
+affection, gratitude, and respect which was natural and honourable,
+and describing every thing exterior and local that could be supposed
+attractive, with spirit and precision. No suspicious flourishes now of
+apology or concern; it was the language of real feeling towards Mrs.
+Weston; and the transition from Highbury to Enscombe, the contrast
+between the places in some of the first blessings of social life was
+just enough touched on to shew how keenly it was felt, and how much more
+might have been said but for the restraints of propriety.--The charm
+of her own name was not wanting. _Miss_ _Woodhouse_ appeared more than
+once, and never without a something of pleasing connexion, either a
+compliment to her taste, or a remembrance of what she had said; and in
+the very last time of its meeting her eye, unadorned as it was by any
+such broad wreath of gallantry, she yet could discern the effect of
+her influence and acknowledge the greatest compliment perhaps of all
+conveyed. Compressed into the very lowest vacant corner were these
+words--“I had not a spare moment on Tuesday, as you know, for Miss
+Woodhouse’s beautiful little friend. Pray make my excuses and adieus
+to her.” This, Emma could not doubt, was all for herself. Harriet was
+remembered only from being _her_ friend. His information and prospects
+as to Enscombe were neither worse nor better than had been anticipated;
+Mrs. Churchill was recovering, and he dared not yet, even in his own
+imagination, fix a time for coming to Randalls again.
+
+Gratifying, however, and stimulative as was the letter in the material
+part, its sentiments, she yet found, when it was folded up and returned
+to Mrs. Weston, that it had not added any lasting warmth, that she could
+still do without the writer, and that he must learn to do without her.
+Her intentions were unchanged. Her resolution of refusal only grew more
+interesting by the addition of a scheme for his subsequent consolation
+and happiness. His recollection of Harriet, and the words which
+clothed it, the “beautiful little friend,” suggested to her the
+idea of Harriet’s succeeding her in his affections. Was it
+impossible?--No.--Harriet undoubtedly was greatly his inferior in
+understanding; but he had been very much struck with the loveliness
+of her face and the warm simplicity of her manner; and all the
+probabilities of circumstance and connexion were in her favour.--For
+Harriet, it would be advantageous and delightful indeed.
+
+“I must not dwell upon it,” said she.--“I must not think of it. I know
+the danger of indulging such speculations. But stranger things have
+happened; and when we cease to care for each other as we do now, it
+will be the means of confirming us in that sort of true disinterested
+friendship which I can already look forward to with pleasure.”
+
+It was well to have a comfort in store on Harriet’s behalf, though it
+might be wise to let the fancy touch it seldom; for evil in that quarter
+was at hand. As Frank Churchill’s arrival had succeeded Mr. Elton’s
+engagement in the conversation of Highbury, as the latest interest
+had entirely borne down the first, so now upon Frank Churchill’s
+disappearance, Mr. Elton’s concerns were assuming the most irresistible
+form.--His wedding-day was named. He would soon be among them again; Mr.
+Elton and his bride. There was hardly time to talk over the first letter
+from Enscombe before “Mr. Elton and his bride” was in every body’s
+mouth, and Frank Churchill was forgotten. Emma grew sick at the sound.
+She had had three weeks of happy exemption from Mr. Elton; and Harriet’s
+mind, she had been willing to hope, had been lately gaining strength.
+With Mr. Weston’s ball in view at least, there had been a great deal of
+insensibility to other things; but it was now too evident that she had
+not attained such a state of composure as could stand against the actual
+approach--new carriage, bell-ringing, and all.
+
+Poor Harriet was in a flutter of spirits which required all the
+reasonings and soothings and attentions of every kind that Emma could
+give. Emma felt that she could not do too much for her, that Harriet had
+a right to all her ingenuity and all her patience; but it was heavy work
+to be for ever convincing without producing any effect, for ever agreed
+to, without being able to make their opinions the same. Harriet listened
+submissively, and said “it was very true--it was just as Miss Woodhouse
+described--it was not worth while to think about them--and she would not
+think about them any longer” but no change of subject could avail, and
+the next half-hour saw her as anxious and restless about the Eltons as
+before. At last Emma attacked her on another ground.
+
+“Your allowing yourself to be so occupied and so unhappy about Mr.
+Elton’s marrying, Harriet, is the strongest reproach you can make _me_.
+You could not give me a greater reproof for the mistake I fell into.
+It was all my doing, I know. I have not forgotten it, I assure
+you.--Deceived myself, I did very miserably deceive you--and it will
+be a painful reflection to me for ever. Do not imagine me in danger of
+forgetting it.”
+
+Harriet felt this too much to utter more than a few words of eager
+exclamation. Emma continued,
+
+“I have not said, exert yourself Harriet for my sake; think less, talk
+less of Mr. Elton for my sake; because for your own sake rather, I
+would wish it to be done, for the sake of what is more important than my
+comfort, a habit of self-command in you, a consideration of what is your
+duty, an attention to propriety, an endeavour to avoid the suspicions of
+others, to save your health and credit, and restore your tranquillity.
+These are the motives which I have been pressing on you. They are very
+important--and sorry I am that you cannot feel them sufficiently to act
+upon them. My being saved from pain is a very secondary consideration.
+I want you to save yourself from greater pain. Perhaps I may sometimes
+have felt that Harriet would not forget what was due--or rather what
+would be kind by me.”
+
+This appeal to her affections did more than all the rest. The idea of
+wanting gratitude and consideration for Miss Woodhouse, whom she really
+loved extremely, made her wretched for a while, and when the violence
+of grief was comforted away, still remained powerful enough to prompt to
+what was right and support her in it very tolerably.
+
+“You, who have been the best friend I ever had in my life--Want
+gratitude to you!--Nobody is equal to you!--I care for nobody as I do
+for you!--Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how ungrateful I have been!”
+
+Such expressions, assisted as they were by every thing that look and
+manner could do, made Emma feel that she had never loved Harriet so
+well, nor valued her affection so highly before.
+
+“There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart,” said she afterwards to
+herself. “There is nothing to be compared to it. Warmth and tenderness
+of heart, with an affectionate, open manner, will beat all the
+clearness of head in the world, for attraction, I am sure it will. It
+is tenderness of heart which makes my dear father so generally
+beloved--which gives Isabella all her popularity.--I have it not--but
+I know how to prize and respect it.--Harriet is my superior in all the
+charm and all the felicity it gives. Dear Harriet!--I would not change
+you for the clearest-headed, longest-sighted, best-judging female
+breathing. Oh! the coldness of a Jane Fairfax!--Harriet is worth a
+hundred such--And for a wife--a sensible man’s wife--it is invaluable. I
+mention no names; but happy the man who changes Emma for Harriet!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Mrs. Elton was first seen at church: but though devotion might be
+interrupted, curiosity could not be satisfied by a bride in a pew, and
+it must be left for the visits in form which were then to be paid, to
+settle whether she were very pretty indeed, or only rather pretty, or
+not pretty at all.
+
+Emma had feelings, less of curiosity than of pride or propriety, to make
+her resolve on not being the last to pay her respects; and she made a
+point of Harriet’s going with her, that the worst of the business might
+be gone through as soon as possible.
+
+She could not enter the house again, could not be in the same room to
+which she had with such vain artifice retreated three months ago, to
+lace up her boot, without _recollecting_. A thousand vexatious thoughts
+would recur. Compliments, charades, and horrible blunders; and it was
+not to be supposed that poor Harriet should not be recollecting too; but
+she behaved very well, and was only rather pale and silent. The visit
+was of course short; and there was so much embarrassment and occupation
+of mind to shorten it, that Emma would not allow herself entirely to
+form an opinion of the lady, and on no account to give one, beyond the
+nothing-meaning terms of being “elegantly dressed, and very pleasing.”
+
+She did not really like her. She would not be in a hurry to find fault,
+but she suspected that there was no elegance;--ease, but not elegance.--
+She was almost sure that for a young woman, a stranger, a bride, there
+was too much ease. Her person was rather good; her face not unpretty;
+but neither feature, nor air, nor voice, nor manner, were elegant. Emma
+thought at least it would turn out so.
+
+As for Mr. Elton, his manners did not appear--but no, she would not
+permit a hasty or a witty word from herself about his manners. It was an
+awkward ceremony at any time to be receiving wedding visits, and a man
+had need be all grace to acquit himself well through it. The woman
+was better off; she might have the assistance of fine clothes, and the
+privilege of bashfulness, but the man had only his own good sense to
+depend on; and when she considered how peculiarly unlucky poor Mr.
+Elton was in being in the same room at once with the woman he had just
+married, the woman he had wanted to marry, and the woman whom he had
+been expected to marry, she must allow him to have the right to look as
+little wise, and to be as much affectedly, and as little really easy as
+could be.
+
+“Well, Miss Woodhouse,” said Harriet, when they had quitted the
+house, and after waiting in vain for her friend to begin; “Well, Miss
+Woodhouse, (with a gentle sigh,) what do you think of her?--Is not she
+very charming?”
+
+There was a little hesitation in Emma’s answer.
+
+“Oh! yes--very--a very pleasing young woman.”
+
+“I think her beautiful, quite beautiful.”
+
+“Very nicely dressed, indeed; a remarkably elegant gown.”
+
+“I am not at all surprized that he should have fallen in love.”
+
+“Oh! no--there is nothing to surprize one at all.--A pretty fortune; and
+she came in his way.”
+
+“I dare say,” returned Harriet, sighing again, “I dare say she was very
+much attached to him.”
+
+“Perhaps she might; but it is not every man’s fate to marry the woman
+who loves him best. Miss Hawkins perhaps wanted a home, and thought this
+the best offer she was likely to have.”
+
+“Yes,” said Harriet earnestly, “and well she might, nobody could ever
+have a better. Well, I wish them happy with all my heart. And now, Miss
+Woodhouse, I do not think I shall mind seeing them again. He is just as
+superior as ever;--but being married, you know, it is quite a different
+thing. No, indeed, Miss Woodhouse, you need not be afraid; I can sit and
+admire him now without any great misery. To know that he has not thrown
+himself away, is such a comfort!--She does seem a charming young woman,
+just what he deserves. Happy creature! He called her ‘Augusta.’ How
+delightful!”
+
+When the visit was returned, Emma made up her mind. She could then see
+more and judge better. From Harriet’s happening not to be at Hartfield,
+and her father’s being present to engage Mr. Elton, she had a quarter
+of an hour of the lady’s conversation to herself, and could composedly
+attend to her; and the quarter of an hour quite convinced her that
+Mrs. Elton was a vain woman, extremely well satisfied with herself, and
+thinking much of her own importance; that she meant to shine and be very
+superior, but with manners which had been formed in a bad school, pert
+and familiar; that all her notions were drawn from one set of people,
+and one style of living; that if not foolish she was ignorant, and that
+her society would certainly do Mr. Elton no good.
+
+Harriet would have been a better match. If not wise or refined herself,
+she would have connected him with those who were; but Miss Hawkins, it
+might be fairly supposed from her easy conceit, had been the best of
+her own set. The rich brother-in-law near Bristol was the pride of the
+alliance, and his place and his carriages were the pride of him.
+
+The very first subject after being seated was Maple Grove, “My brother
+Mr. Suckling’s seat;”--a comparison of Hartfield to Maple Grove. The
+grounds of Hartfield were small, but neat and pretty; and the house was
+modern and well-built. Mrs. Elton seemed most favourably impressed
+by the size of the room, the entrance, and all that she could see or
+imagine. “Very like Maple Grove indeed!--She was quite struck by the
+likeness!--That room was the very shape and size of the morning-room
+at Maple Grove; her sister’s favourite room.”--Mr. Elton was appealed
+to.--“Was not it astonishingly like?--She could really almost fancy
+herself at Maple Grove.”
+
+“And the staircase--You know, as I came in, I observed how very like the
+staircase was; placed exactly in the same part of the house. I really
+could not help exclaiming! I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, it is very
+delightful to me, to be reminded of a place I am so extremely partial to
+as Maple Grove. I have spent so many happy months there! (with a little
+sigh of sentiment). A charming place, undoubtedly. Every body who
+sees it is struck by its beauty; but to me, it has been quite a home.
+Whenever you are transplanted, like me, Miss Woodhouse, you will
+understand how very delightful it is to meet with any thing at all like
+what one has left behind. I always say this is quite one of the evils of
+matrimony.”
+
+Emma made as slight a reply as she could; but it was fully sufficient
+for Mrs. Elton, who only wanted to be talking herself.
+
+“So extremely like Maple Grove! And it is not merely the house--the
+grounds, I assure you, as far as I could observe, are strikingly like.
+The laurels at Maple Grove are in the same profusion as here, and stand
+very much in the same way--just across the lawn; and I had a glimpse
+of a fine large tree, with a bench round it, which put me so exactly in
+mind! My brother and sister will be enchanted with this place. People
+who have extensive grounds themselves are always pleased with any thing
+in the same style.”
+
+Emma doubted the truth of this sentiment. She had a great idea that
+people who had extensive grounds themselves cared very little for the
+extensive grounds of any body else; but it was not worth while to attack
+an error so double-dyed, and therefore only said in reply,
+
+“When you have seen more of this country, I am afraid you will think you
+have overrated Hartfield. Surry is full of beauties.”
+
+“Oh! yes, I am quite aware of that. It is the garden of England, you
+know. Surry is the garden of England.”
+
+“Yes; but we must not rest our claims on that distinction. Many
+counties, I believe, are called the garden of England, as well as
+Surry.”
+
+“No, I fancy not,” replied Mrs. Elton, with a most satisfied smile.
+“I never heard any county but Surry called so.”
+
+Emma was silenced.
+
+“My brother and sister have promised us a visit in the spring, or summer
+at farthest,” continued Mrs. Elton; “and that will be our time for
+exploring. While they are with us, we shall explore a great deal, I dare
+say. They will have their barouche-landau, of course, which holds four
+perfectly; and therefore, without saying any thing of _our_ carriage,
+we should be able to explore the different beauties extremely well. They
+would hardly come in their chaise, I think, at that season of the
+year. Indeed, when the time draws on, I shall decidedly recommend their
+bringing the barouche-landau; it will be so very much preferable.
+When people come into a beautiful country of this sort, you know, Miss
+Woodhouse, one naturally wishes them to see as much as possible; and Mr.
+Suckling is extremely fond of exploring. We explored to King’s-Weston
+twice last summer, in that way, most delightfully, just after their
+first having the barouche-landau. You have many parties of that kind
+here, I suppose, Miss Woodhouse, every summer?”
+
+“No; not immediately here. We are rather out of distance of the very
+striking beauties which attract the sort of parties you speak of; and we
+are a very quiet set of people, I believe; more disposed to stay at home
+than engage in schemes of pleasure.”
+
+“Ah! there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. Nobody can
+be more devoted to home than I am. I was quite a proverb for it at Maple
+Grove. Many a time has Selina said, when she has been going to Bristol,
+‘I really cannot get this girl to move from the house. I absolutely must
+go in by myself, though I hate being stuck up in the barouche-landau
+without a companion; but Augusta, I believe, with her own good-will,
+would never stir beyond the park paling.’ Many a time has she said so;
+and yet I am no advocate for entire seclusion. I think, on the contrary,
+when people shut themselves up entirely from society, it is a very
+bad thing; and that it is much more advisable to mix in the world in
+a proper degree, without living in it either too much or too little. I
+perfectly understand your situation, however, Miss Woodhouse--(looking
+towards Mr. Woodhouse), Your father’s state of health must be a great
+drawback. Why does not he try Bath?--Indeed he should. Let me recommend
+Bath to you. I assure you I have no doubt of its doing Mr. Woodhouse
+good.”
+
+“My father tried it more than once, formerly; but without receiving any
+benefit; and Mr. Perry, whose name, I dare say, is not unknown to you,
+does not conceive it would be at all more likely to be useful now.”
+
+“Ah! that’s a great pity; for I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, where the
+waters do agree, it is quite wonderful the relief they give. In my Bath
+life, I have seen such instances of it! And it is so cheerful a place,
+that it could not fail of being of use to Mr. Woodhouse’s spirits,
+which, I understand, are sometimes much depressed. And as to its
+recommendations to _you_, I fancy I need not take much pains to dwell
+on them. The advantages of Bath to the young are pretty generally
+understood. It would be a charming introduction for you, who have lived
+so secluded a life; and I could immediately secure you some of the best
+society in the place. A line from me would bring you a little host of
+acquaintance; and my particular friend, Mrs. Partridge, the lady I have
+always resided with when in Bath, would be most happy to shew you any
+attentions, and would be the very person for you to go into public
+with.”
+
+It was as much as Emma could bear, without being impolite. The idea
+of her being indebted to Mrs. Elton for what was called an
+_introduction_--of her going into public under the auspices of a friend
+of Mrs. Elton’s--probably some vulgar, dashing widow, who, with the
+help of a boarder, just made a shift to live!--The dignity of Miss
+Woodhouse, of Hartfield, was sunk indeed!
+
+She restrained herself, however, from any of the reproofs she could have
+given, and only thanked Mrs. Elton coolly; “but their going to Bath was
+quite out of the question; and she was not perfectly convinced that
+the place might suit her better than her father.” And then, to prevent
+farther outrage and indignation, changed the subject directly.
+
+“I do not ask whether you are musical, Mrs. Elton. Upon these occasions,
+a lady’s character generally precedes her; and Highbury has long known
+that you are a superior performer.”
+
+“Oh! no, indeed; I must protest against any such idea. A superior
+performer!--very far from it, I assure you. Consider from how partial
+a quarter your information came. I am doatingly fond of
+music--passionately fond;--and my friends say I am not entirely devoid
+of taste; but as to any thing else, upon my honour my performance is
+_mediocre_ to the last degree. You, Miss Woodhouse, I well know, play
+delightfully. I assure you it has been the greatest satisfaction,
+comfort, and delight to me, to hear what a musical society I am got
+into. I absolutely cannot do without music. It is a necessary of life to
+me; and having always been used to a very musical society, both at
+Maple Grove and in Bath, it would have been a most serious sacrifice. I
+honestly said as much to Mr. E. when he was speaking of my future
+home, and expressing his fears lest the retirement of it should be
+disagreeable; and the inferiority of the house too--knowing what I had
+been accustomed to--of course he was not wholly without apprehension.
+When he was speaking of it in that way, I honestly said that _the_
+_world_ I could give up--parties, balls, plays--for I had no fear of
+retirement. Blessed with so many resources within myself, the world was
+not necessary to _me_. I could do very well without it. To those who had
+no resources it was a different thing; but my resources made me quite
+independent. And as to smaller-sized rooms than I had been used to, I
+really could not give it a thought. I hoped I was perfectly equal to any
+sacrifice of that description. Certainly I had been accustomed to every
+luxury at Maple Grove; but I did assure him that two carriages were not
+necessary to my happiness, nor were spacious apartments. ‘But,’ said I,
+‘to be quite honest, I do not think I can live without something of a
+musical society. I condition for nothing else; but without music, life
+would be a blank to me.’”
+
+“We cannot suppose,” said Emma, smiling, “that Mr. Elton would hesitate
+to assure you of there being a _very_ musical society in Highbury; and
+I hope you will not find he has outstepped the truth more than may be
+pardoned, in consideration of the motive.”
+
+“No, indeed, I have no doubts at all on that head. I am delighted to
+find myself in such a circle. I hope we shall have many sweet little
+concerts together. I think, Miss Woodhouse, you and I must establish a
+musical club, and have regular weekly meetings at your house, or ours.
+Will not it be a good plan? If _we_ exert ourselves, I think we shall
+not be long in want of allies. Something of that nature would be
+particularly desirable for _me_, as an inducement to keep me in
+practice; for married women, you know--there is a sad story against
+them, in general. They are but too apt to give up music.”
+
+“But you, who are so extremely fond of it--there can be no danger,
+surely?”
+
+“I should hope not; but really when I look around among my acquaintance,
+I tremble. Selina has entirely given up music--never touches the
+instrument--though she played sweetly. And the same may be said of Mrs.
+Jeffereys--Clara Partridge, that was--and of the two Milmans, now Mrs.
+Bird and Mrs. James Cooper; and of more than I can enumerate. Upon my
+word it is enough to put one in a fright. I used to be quite angry with
+Selina; but really I begin now to comprehend that a married woman has
+many things to call her attention. I believe I was half an hour this
+morning shut up with my housekeeper.”
+
+“But every thing of that kind,” said Emma, “will soon be in so regular a
+train--”
+
+“Well,” said Mrs. Elton, laughing, “we shall see.”
+
+Emma, finding her so determined upon neglecting her music, had nothing
+more to say; and, after a moment’s pause, Mrs. Elton chose another
+subject.
+
+“We have been calling at Randalls,” said she, “and found them both at
+home; and very pleasant people they seem to be. I like them extremely.
+Mr. Weston seems an excellent creature--quite a first-rate favourite
+with me already, I assure you. And _she_ appears so truly good--there is
+something so motherly and kind-hearted about her, that it wins upon one
+directly. She was your governess, I think?”
+
+Emma was almost too much astonished to answer; but Mrs. Elton hardly
+waited for the affirmative before she went on.
+
+“Having understood as much, I was rather astonished to find her so very
+lady-like! But she is really quite the gentlewoman.”
+
+“Mrs. Weston’s manners,” said Emma, “were always particularly good.
+Their propriety, simplicity, and elegance, would make them the safest
+model for any young woman.”
+
+“And who do you think came in while we were there?”
+
+Emma was quite at a loss. The tone implied some old acquaintance--and
+how could she possibly guess?
+
+“Knightley!” continued Mrs. Elton; “Knightley himself!--Was not it
+lucky?--for, not being within when he called the other day, I had never
+seen him before; and of course, as so particular a friend of Mr. E.’s,
+I had a great curiosity. ‘My friend Knightley’ had been so often
+mentioned, that I was really impatient to see him; and I must do my
+caro sposo the justice to say that he need not be ashamed of his friend.
+Knightley is quite the gentleman. I like him very much. Decidedly, I
+think, a very gentleman-like man.”
+
+Happily, it was now time to be gone. They were off; and Emma could
+breathe.
+
+“Insufferable woman!” was her immediate exclamation. “Worse than I had
+supposed. Absolutely insufferable! Knightley!--I could not have
+believed it. Knightley!--never seen him in her life before, and call
+him Knightley!--and discover that he is a gentleman! A little upstart,
+vulgar being, with her Mr. E., and her _caro_ _sposo_, and her
+resources, and all her airs of pert pretension and underbred finery.
+Actually to discover that Mr. Knightley is a gentleman! I doubt whether
+he will return the compliment, and discover her to be a lady. I could
+not have believed it! And to propose that she and I should unite to
+form a musical club! One would fancy we were bosom friends! And Mrs.
+Weston!--Astonished that the person who had brought me up should be a
+gentlewoman! Worse and worse. I never met with her equal. Much beyond
+my hopes. Harriet is disgraced by any comparison. Oh! what would Frank
+Churchill say to her, if he were here? How angry and how diverted he
+would be! Ah! there I am--thinking of him directly. Always the first
+person to be thought of! How I catch myself out! Frank Churchill comes
+as regularly into my mind!”--
+
+All this ran so glibly through her thoughts, that by the time her father
+had arranged himself, after the bustle of the Eltons’ departure, and was
+ready to speak, she was very tolerably capable of attending.
+
+“Well, my dear,” he deliberately began, “considering we never saw her
+before, she seems a very pretty sort of young lady; and I dare say she
+was very much pleased with you. She speaks a little too quick. A little
+quickness of voice there is which rather hurts the ear. But I believe
+I am nice; I do not like strange voices; and nobody speaks like you and
+poor Miss Taylor. However, she seems a very obliging, pretty-behaved
+young lady, and no doubt will make him a very good wife. Though I think
+he had better not have married. I made the best excuses I could for not
+having been able to wait on him and Mrs. Elton on this happy occasion; I
+said that I hoped I _should_ in the course of the summer. But I ought to
+have gone before. Not to wait upon a bride is very remiss. Ah! it shews
+what a sad invalid I am! But I do not like the corner into Vicarage
+Lane.”
+
+“I dare say your apologies were accepted, sir. Mr. Elton knows you.”
+
+“Yes: but a young lady--a bride--I ought to have paid my respects to her
+if possible. It was being very deficient.”
+
+“But, my dear papa, you are no friend to matrimony; and therefore why
+should you be so anxious to pay your respects to a _bride_? It ought to
+be no recommendation to _you_. It is encouraging people to marry if you
+make so much of them.”
+
+“No, my dear, I never encouraged any body to marry, but I would always
+wish to pay every proper attention to a lady--and a bride, especially,
+is never to be neglected. More is avowedly due to _her_. A bride, you
+know, my dear, is always the first in company, let the others be who
+they may.”
+
+“Well, papa, if this is not encouragement to marry, I do not know what
+is. And I should never have expected you to be lending your sanction to
+such vanity-baits for poor young ladies.”
+
+“My dear, you do not understand me. This is a matter of mere
+common politeness and good-breeding, and has nothing to do with any
+encouragement to people to marry.”
+
+Emma had done. Her father was growing nervous, and could not understand
+_her_. Her mind returned to Mrs. Elton’s offences, and long, very long,
+did they occupy her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+Emma was not required, by any subsequent discovery, to retract her ill
+opinion of Mrs. Elton. Her observation had been pretty correct. Such as
+Mrs. Elton appeared to her on this second interview, such she appeared
+whenever they met again,--self-important, presuming, familiar, ignorant,
+and ill-bred. She had a little beauty and a little accomplishment,
+but so little judgment that she thought herself coming with superior
+knowledge of the world, to enliven and improve a country neighbourhood;
+and conceived Miss Hawkins to have held such a place in society as Mrs.
+Elton’s consequence only could surpass.
+
+There was no reason to suppose Mr. Elton thought at all differently from
+his wife. He seemed not merely happy with her, but proud. He had the air
+of congratulating himself on having brought such a woman to Highbury,
+as not even Miss Woodhouse could equal; and the greater part of her
+new acquaintance, disposed to commend, or not in the habit of judging,
+following the lead of Miss Bates’s good-will, or taking it for granted
+that the bride must be as clever and as agreeable as she professed
+herself, were very well satisfied; so that Mrs. Elton’s praise
+passed from one mouth to another as it ought to do, unimpeded by Miss
+Woodhouse, who readily continued her first contribution and talked with
+a good grace of her being “very pleasant and very elegantly dressed.”
+
+In one respect Mrs. Elton grew even worse than she had appeared at
+first. Her feelings altered towards Emma.--Offended, probably, by the
+little encouragement which her proposals of intimacy met with, she drew
+back in her turn and gradually became much more cold and distant; and
+though the effect was agreeable, the ill-will which produced it was
+necessarily increasing Emma’s dislike. Her manners, too--and Mr.
+Elton’s, were unpleasant towards Harriet. They were sneering and
+negligent. Emma hoped it must rapidly work Harriet’s cure; but the
+sensations which could prompt such behaviour sunk them both very
+much.--It was not to be doubted that poor Harriet’s attachment had been
+an offering to conjugal unreserve, and her own share in the story, under
+a colouring the least favourable to her and the most soothing to him,
+had in all likelihood been given also. She was, of course, the object
+of their joint dislike.--When they had nothing else to say, it must be
+always easy to begin abusing Miss Woodhouse; and the enmity which
+they dared not shew in open disrespect to her, found a broader vent in
+contemptuous treatment of Harriet.
+
+Mrs. Elton took a great fancy to Jane Fairfax; and from the first. Not
+merely when a state of warfare with one young lady might be supposed to
+recommend the other, but from the very first; and she was not satisfied
+with expressing a natural and reasonable admiration--but without
+solicitation, or plea, or privilege, she must be wanting to assist and
+befriend her.--Before Emma had forfeited her confidence, and about the
+third time of their meeting, she heard all Mrs. Elton’s knight-errantry
+on the subject.--
+
+“Jane Fairfax is absolutely charming, Miss Woodhouse.--I quite rave
+about Jane Fairfax.--A sweet, interesting creature. So mild and
+ladylike--and with such talents!--I assure you I think she has very
+extraordinary talents. I do not scruple to say that she plays extremely
+well. I know enough of music to speak decidedly on that point. Oh! she
+is absolutely charming! You will laugh at my warmth--but, upon my word,
+I talk of nothing but Jane Fairfax.--And her situation is so calculated
+to affect one!--Miss Woodhouse, we must exert ourselves and endeavour
+to do something for her. We must bring her forward. Such talent as hers
+must not be suffered to remain unknown.--I dare say you have heard those
+charming lines of the poet,
+
+ ‘Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
+ ‘And waste its fragrance on the desert air.’
+
+We must not allow them to be verified in sweet Jane Fairfax.”
+
+“I cannot think there is any danger of it,” was Emma’s calm answer--“and
+when you are better acquainted with Miss Fairfax’s situation and
+understand what her home has been, with Colonel and Mrs. Campbell, I
+have no idea that you will suppose her talents can be unknown.”
+
+“Oh! but dear Miss Woodhouse, she is now in such retirement, such
+obscurity, so thrown away.--Whatever advantages she may have enjoyed
+with the Campbells are so palpably at an end! And I think she feels it.
+I am sure she does. She is very timid and silent. One can see that she
+feels the want of encouragement. I like her the better for it. I
+must confess it is a recommendation to me. I am a great advocate for
+timidity--and I am sure one does not often meet with it.--But in those
+who are at all inferior, it is extremely prepossessing. Oh! I assure
+you, Jane Fairfax is a very delightful character, and interests me more
+than I can express.”
+
+“You appear to feel a great deal--but I am not aware how you or any of
+Miss Fairfax’s acquaintance here, any of those who have known her longer
+than yourself, can shew her any other attention than”--
+
+“My dear Miss Woodhouse, a vast deal may be done by those who dare to
+act. You and I need not be afraid. If _we_ set the example, many will
+follow it as far as they can; though all have not our situations. _We_
+have carriages to fetch and convey her home, and _we_ live in a style
+which could not make the addition of Jane Fairfax, at any time, the
+least inconvenient.--I should be extremely displeased if Wright were to
+send us up such a dinner, as could make me regret having asked _more_
+than Jane Fairfax to partake of it. I have no idea of that sort of
+thing. It is not likely that I _should_, considering what I have been
+used to. My greatest danger, perhaps, in housekeeping, may be quite the
+other way, in doing too much, and being too careless of expense. Maple
+Grove will probably be my model more than it ought to be--for we do not
+at all affect to equal my brother, Mr. Suckling, in income.--However, my
+resolution is taken as to noticing Jane Fairfax.--I shall certainly have
+her very often at my house, shall introduce her wherever I can, shall
+have musical parties to draw out her talents, and shall be constantly
+on the watch for an eligible situation. My acquaintance is so very
+extensive, that I have little doubt of hearing of something to suit
+her shortly.--I shall introduce her, of course, very particularly to my
+brother and sister when they come to us. I am sure they will like her
+extremely; and when she gets a little acquainted with them, her fears
+will completely wear off, for there really is nothing in the manners
+of either but what is highly conciliating.--I shall have her very often
+indeed while they are with me, and I dare say we shall sometimes find a
+seat for her in the barouche-landau in some of our exploring parties.”
+
+“Poor Jane Fairfax!”--thought Emma.--“You have not deserved this. You
+may have done wrong with regard to Mr. Dixon, but this is a punishment
+beyond what you can have merited!--The kindness and protection of Mrs.
+Elton!--‘Jane Fairfax and Jane Fairfax.’ Heavens! Let me not suppose
+that she dares go about, Emma Woodhouse-ing me!--But upon my honour,
+there seems no limits to the licentiousness of that woman’s tongue!”
+
+Emma had not to listen to such paradings again--to any so exclusively
+addressed to herself--so disgustingly decorated with a “dear Miss
+Woodhouse.” The change on Mrs. Elton’s side soon afterwards appeared,
+and she was left in peace--neither forced to be the very particular
+friend of Mrs. Elton, nor, under Mrs. Elton’s guidance, the very active
+patroness of Jane Fairfax, and only sharing with others in a general
+way, in knowing what was felt, what was meditated, what was done.
+
+She looked on with some amusement.--Miss Bates’s gratitude for
+Mrs. Elton’s attentions to Jane was in the first style of guileless
+simplicity and warmth. She was quite one of her worthies--the
+most amiable, affable, delightful woman--just as accomplished and
+condescending as Mrs. Elton meant to be considered. Emma’s only surprize
+was that Jane Fairfax should accept those attentions and tolerate Mrs.
+Elton as she seemed to do. She heard of her walking with the Eltons,
+sitting with the Eltons, spending a day with the Eltons! This was
+astonishing!--She could not have believed it possible that the taste or
+the pride of Miss Fairfax could endure such society and friendship as
+the Vicarage had to offer.
+
+“She is a riddle, quite a riddle!” said she.--“To chuse to remain here
+month after month, under privations of every sort! And now to chuse the
+mortification of Mrs. Elton’s notice and the penury of her conversation,
+rather than return to the superior companions who have always loved her
+with such real, generous affection.”
+
+Jane had come to Highbury professedly for three months; the Campbells
+were gone to Ireland for three months; but now the Campbells had
+promised their daughter to stay at least till Midsummer, and fresh
+invitations had arrived for her to join them there. According to Miss
+Bates--it all came from her--Mrs. Dixon had written most pressingly.
+Would Jane but go, means were to be found, servants sent, friends
+contrived--no travelling difficulty allowed to exist; but still she had
+declined it!
+
+“She must have some motive, more powerful than appears, for refusing
+this invitation,” was Emma’s conclusion. “She must be under some sort
+of penance, inflicted either by the Campbells or herself. There is great
+fear, great caution, great resolution somewhere.--She is _not_ to be
+with the _Dixons_. The decree is issued by somebody. But why must she
+consent to be with the Eltons?--Here is quite a separate puzzle.”
+
+Upon her speaking her wonder aloud on that part of the subject, before
+the few who knew her opinion of Mrs. Elton, Mrs. Weston ventured this
+apology for Jane.
+
+“We cannot suppose that she has any great enjoyment at the Vicarage,
+my dear Emma--but it is better than being always at home. Her aunt is a
+good creature, but, as a constant companion, must be very tiresome. We
+must consider what Miss Fairfax quits, before we condemn her taste for
+what she goes to.”
+
+“You are right, Mrs. Weston,” said Mr. Knightley warmly, “Miss Fairfax
+is as capable as any of us of forming a just opinion of Mrs. Elton.
+Could she have chosen with whom to associate, she would not have chosen
+her. But (with a reproachful smile at Emma) she receives attentions from
+Mrs. Elton, which nobody else pays her.”
+
+Emma felt that Mrs. Weston was giving her a momentary glance; and she
+was herself struck by his warmth. With a faint blush, she presently
+replied,
+
+“Such attentions as Mrs. Elton’s, I should have imagined, would rather
+disgust than gratify Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton’s invitations I should
+have imagined any thing but inviting.”
+
+“I should not wonder,” said Mrs. Weston, “if Miss Fairfax were to have
+been drawn on beyond her own inclination, by her aunt’s eagerness in
+accepting Mrs. Elton’s civilities for her. Poor Miss Bates may
+very likely have committed her niece and hurried her into a greater
+appearance of intimacy than her own good sense would have dictated, in
+spite of the very natural wish of a little change.”
+
+Both felt rather anxious to hear him speak again; and after a few
+minutes silence, he said,
+
+“Another thing must be taken into consideration too--Mrs. Elton does
+not talk _to_ Miss Fairfax as she speaks _of_ her. We all know the
+difference between the pronouns he or she and thou, the plainest spoken
+amongst us; we all feel the influence of a something beyond common
+civility in our personal intercourse with each other--a something more
+early implanted. We cannot give any body the disagreeable hints that we
+may have been very full of the hour before. We feel things differently.
+And besides the operation of this, as a general principle, you may be
+sure that Miss Fairfax awes Mrs. Elton by her superiority both of mind
+and manner; and that, face to face, Mrs. Elton treats her with all the
+respect which she has a claim to. Such a woman as Jane Fairfax probably
+never fell in Mrs. Elton’s way before--and no degree of vanity can
+prevent her acknowledging her own comparative littleness in action, if
+not in consciousness.”
+
+“I know how highly you think of Jane Fairfax,” said Emma. Little Henry
+was in her thoughts, and a mixture of alarm and delicacy made her
+irresolute what else to say.
+
+“Yes,” he replied, “any body may know how highly I think of her.”
+
+“And yet,” said Emma, beginning hastily and with an arch look, but soon
+stopping--it was better, however, to know the worst at once--she hurried
+on--“And yet, perhaps, you may hardly be aware yourself how highly it
+is. The extent of your admiration may take you by surprize some day or
+other.”
+
+Mr. Knightley was hard at work upon the lower buttons of his thick
+leather gaiters, and either the exertion of getting them together, or
+some other cause, brought the colour into his face, as he answered,
+
+“Oh! are you there?--But you are miserably behindhand. Mr. Cole gave me
+a hint of it six weeks ago.”
+
+He stopped.--Emma felt her foot pressed by Mrs. Weston, and did not
+herself know what to think. In a moment he went on--
+
+“That will never be, however, I can assure you. Miss Fairfax, I dare
+say, would not have me if I were to ask her--and I am very sure I shall
+never ask her.”
+
+Emma returned her friend’s pressure with interest; and was pleased
+enough to exclaim,
+
+“You are not vain, Mr. Knightley. I will say that for you.”
+
+He seemed hardly to hear her; he was thoughtful--and in a manner which
+shewed him not pleased, soon afterwards said,
+
+“So you have been settling that I should marry Jane Fairfax?”
+
+“No indeed I have not. You have scolded me too much for match-making,
+for me to presume to take such a liberty with you. What I said just now,
+meant nothing. One says those sort of things, of course, without any
+idea of a serious meaning. Oh! no, upon my word I have not the smallest
+wish for your marrying Jane Fairfax or Jane any body. You would not come
+in and sit with us in this comfortable way, if you were married.”
+
+Mr. Knightley was thoughtful again. The result of his reverie was, “No,
+Emma, I do not think the extent of my admiration for her will ever take
+me by surprize.--I never had a thought of her in that way, I assure
+you.” And soon afterwards, “Jane Fairfax is a very charming young
+woman--but not even Jane Fairfax is perfect. She has a fault. She has
+not the open temper which a man would wish for in a wife.”
+
+Emma could not but rejoice to hear that she had a fault. “Well,” said
+she, “and you soon silenced Mr. Cole, I suppose?”
+
+“Yes, very soon. He gave me a quiet hint; I told him he was mistaken;
+he asked my pardon and said no more. Cole does not want to be wiser or
+wittier than his neighbours.”
+
+“In that respect how unlike dear Mrs. Elton, who wants to be wiser and
+wittier than all the world! I wonder how she speaks of the Coles--what
+she calls them! How can she find any appellation for them, deep enough
+in familiar vulgarity? She calls you, Knightley--what can she do for
+Mr. Cole? And so I am not to be surprized that Jane Fairfax accepts
+her civilities and consents to be with her. Mrs. Weston, your argument
+weighs most with me. I can much more readily enter into the temptation
+of getting away from Miss Bates, than I can believe in the triumph of
+Miss Fairfax’s mind over Mrs. Elton. I have no faith in Mrs. Elton’s
+acknowledging herself the inferior in thought, word, or deed; or in her
+being under any restraint beyond her own scanty rule of good-breeding.
+I cannot imagine that she will not be continually insulting her visitor
+with praise, encouragement, and offers of service; that she will not be
+continually detailing her magnificent intentions, from the procuring her
+a permanent situation to the including her in those delightful exploring
+parties which are to take place in the barouche-landau.”
+
+“Jane Fairfax has feeling,” said Mr. Knightley--“I do not accuse her
+of want of feeling. Her sensibilities, I suspect, are strong--and her
+temper excellent in its power of forbearance, patience, self-control;
+but it wants openness. She is reserved, more reserved, I think, than
+she used to be--And I love an open temper. No--till Cole alluded to my
+supposed attachment, it had never entered my head. I saw Jane Fairfax
+and conversed with her, with admiration and pleasure always--but with no
+thought beyond.”
+
+“Well, Mrs. Weston,” said Emma triumphantly when he left them, “what do
+you say now to Mr. Knightley’s marrying Jane Fairfax?”
+
+“Why, really, dear Emma, I say that he is so very much occupied by the
+idea of _not_ being in love with her, that I should not wonder if it
+were to end in his being so at last. Do not beat me.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+Every body in and about Highbury who had ever visited Mr. Elton, was
+disposed to pay him attention on his marriage. Dinner-parties and
+evening-parties were made for him and his lady; and invitations flowed
+in so fast that she had soon the pleasure of apprehending they were
+never to have a disengaged day.
+
+“I see how it is,” said she. “I see what a life I am to lead among you.
+Upon my word we shall be absolutely dissipated. We really seem quite
+the fashion. If this is living in the country, it is nothing very
+formidable. From Monday next to Saturday, I assure you we have not a
+disengaged day!--A woman with fewer resources than I have, need not have
+been at a loss.”
+
+No invitation came amiss to her. Her Bath habits made evening-parties
+perfectly natural to her, and Maple Grove had given her a taste for
+dinners. She was a little shocked at the want of two drawing rooms, at
+the poor attempt at rout-cakes, and there being no ice in the Highbury
+card-parties. Mrs. Bates, Mrs. Perry, Mrs. Goddard and others, were a
+good deal behind-hand in knowledge of the world, but she would soon shew
+them how every thing ought to be arranged. In the course of the spring
+she must return their civilities by one very superior party--in which
+her card-tables should be set out with their separate candles and
+unbroken packs in the true style--and more waiters engaged for the
+evening than their own establishment could furnish, to carry round the
+refreshments at exactly the proper hour, and in the proper order.
+
+Emma, in the meanwhile, could not be satisfied without a dinner at
+Hartfield for the Eltons. They must not do less than others, or she
+should be exposed to odious suspicions, and imagined capable of pitiful
+resentment. A dinner there must be. After Emma had talked about it for
+ten minutes, Mr. Woodhouse felt no unwillingness, and only made the
+usual stipulation of not sitting at the bottom of the table himself,
+with the usual regular difficulty of deciding who should do it for him.
+
+The persons to be invited, required little thought. Besides the
+Eltons, it must be the Westons and Mr. Knightley; so far it was all of
+course--and it was hardly less inevitable that poor little Harriet must
+be asked to make the eighth:--but this invitation was not given with
+equal satisfaction, and on many accounts Emma was particularly pleased
+by Harriet’s begging to be allowed to decline it. “She would rather not
+be in his company more than she could help. She was not yet quite
+able to see him and his charming happy wife together, without feeling
+uncomfortable. If Miss Woodhouse would not be displeased, she would
+rather stay at home.” It was precisely what Emma would have wished, had
+she deemed it possible enough for wishing. She was delighted with the
+fortitude of her little friend--for fortitude she knew it was in her to
+give up being in company and stay at home; and she could now invite the
+very person whom she really wanted to make the eighth, Jane Fairfax.--
+Since her last conversation with Mrs. Weston and Mr. Knightley, she
+was more conscience-stricken about Jane Fairfax than she had often
+been.--Mr. Knightley’s words dwelt with her. He had said that Jane
+Fairfax received attentions from Mrs. Elton which nobody else paid her.
+
+“This is very true,” said she, “at least as far as relates to me, which
+was all that was meant--and it is very shameful.--Of the same age--and
+always knowing her--I ought to have been more her friend.--She will
+never like me now. I have neglected her too long. But I will shew her
+greater attention than I have done.”
+
+Every invitation was successful. They were all disengaged and all
+happy.--The preparatory interest of this dinner, however, was not yet
+over. A circumstance rather unlucky occurred. The two eldest little
+Knightleys were engaged to pay their grandpapa and aunt a visit of some
+weeks in the spring, and their papa now proposed bringing them, and
+staying one whole day at Hartfield--which one day would be the very day
+of this party.--His professional engagements did not allow of his being
+put off, but both father and daughter were disturbed by its happening
+so. Mr. Woodhouse considered eight persons at dinner together as the
+utmost that his nerves could bear--and here would be a ninth--and Emma
+apprehended that it would be a ninth very much out of humour at not
+being able to come even to Hartfield for forty-eight hours without
+falling in with a dinner-party.
+
+She comforted her father better than she could comfort herself, by
+representing that though he certainly would make them nine, yet
+he always said so little, that the increase of noise would be very
+immaterial. She thought it in reality a sad exchange for herself, to
+have him with his grave looks and reluctant conversation opposed to her
+instead of his brother.
+
+The event was more favourable to Mr. Woodhouse than to Emma. John
+Knightley came; but Mr. Weston was unexpectedly summoned to town and
+must be absent on the very day. He might be able to join them in the
+evening, but certainly not to dinner. Mr. Woodhouse was quite at ease;
+and the seeing him so, with the arrival of the little boys and the
+philosophic composure of her brother on hearing his fate, removed the
+chief of even Emma’s vexation.
+
+The day came, the party were punctually assembled, and Mr. John
+Knightley seemed early to devote himself to the business of being
+agreeable. Instead of drawing his brother off to a window while they
+waited for dinner, he was talking to Miss Fairfax. Mrs. Elton,
+as elegant as lace and pearls could make her, he looked at in
+silence--wanting only to observe enough for Isabella’s information--but
+Miss Fairfax was an old acquaintance and a quiet girl, and he could talk
+to her. He had met her before breakfast as he was returning from a walk
+with his little boys, when it had been just beginning to rain. It was
+natural to have some civil hopes on the subject, and he said,
+
+“I hope you did not venture far, Miss Fairfax, this morning, or I am
+sure you must have been wet.--We scarcely got home in time. I hope you
+turned directly.”
+
+“I went only to the post-office,” said she, “and reached home before the
+rain was much. It is my daily errand. I always fetch the letters when
+I am here. It saves trouble, and is a something to get me out. A walk
+before breakfast does me good.”
+
+“Not a walk in the rain, I should imagine.”
+
+“No, but it did not absolutely rain when I set out.”
+
+Mr. John Knightley smiled, and replied,
+
+“That is to say, you chose to have your walk, for you were not six yards
+from your own door when I had the pleasure of meeting you; and Henry
+and John had seen more drops than they could count long before. The
+post-office has a great charm at one period of our lives. When you have
+lived to my age, you will begin to think letters are never worth going
+through the rain for.”
+
+There was a little blush, and then this answer,
+
+“I must not hope to be ever situated as you are, in the midst of every
+dearest connexion, and therefore I cannot expect that simply growing
+older should make me indifferent about letters.”
+
+“Indifferent! Oh! no--I never conceived you could become indifferent.
+Letters are no matter of indifference; they are generally a very
+positive curse.”
+
+“You are speaking of letters of business; mine are letters of
+friendship.”
+
+“I have often thought them the worst of the two,” replied he coolly.
+“Business, you know, may bring money, but friendship hardly ever does.”
+
+“Ah! you are not serious now. I know Mr. John Knightley too well--I am
+very sure he understands the value of friendship as well as any body. I
+can easily believe that letters are very little to you, much less than
+to me, but it is not your being ten years older than myself which
+makes the difference, it is not age, but situation. You have every
+body dearest to you always at hand, I, probably, never shall again;
+and therefore till I have outlived all my affections, a post-office,
+I think, must always have power to draw me out, in worse weather than
+to-day.”
+
+“When I talked of your being altered by time, by the progress of years,”
+ said John Knightley, “I meant to imply the change of situation which
+time usually brings. I consider one as including the other. Time will
+generally lessen the interest of every attachment not within the daily
+circle--but that is not the change I had in view for you. As an old
+friend, you will allow me to hope, Miss Fairfax, that ten years hence
+you may have as many concentrated objects as I have.”
+
+It was kindly said, and very far from giving offence. A pleasant “thank
+you” seemed meant to laugh it off, but a blush, a quivering lip, a tear
+in the eye, shewed that it was felt beyond a laugh. Her attention was
+now claimed by Mr. Woodhouse, who being, according to his custom on such
+occasions, making the circle of his guests, and paying his particular
+compliments to the ladies, was ending with her--and with all his mildest
+urbanity, said,
+
+“I am very sorry to hear, Miss Fairfax, of your being out this morning
+in the rain. Young ladies should take care of themselves.--Young ladies
+are delicate plants. They should take care of their health and their
+complexion. My dear, did you change your stockings?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I did indeed; and I am very much obliged by your kind
+solicitude about me.”
+
+“My dear Miss Fairfax, young ladies are very sure to be cared for.--I
+hope your good grand-mama and aunt are well. They are some of my very
+old friends. I wish my health allowed me to be a better neighbour. You
+do us a great deal of honour to-day, I am sure. My daughter and I
+are both highly sensible of your goodness, and have the greatest
+satisfaction in seeing you at Hartfield.”
+
+The kind-hearted, polite old man might then sit down and feel that he
+had done his duty, and made every fair lady welcome and easy.
+
+By this time, the walk in the rain had reached Mrs. Elton, and her
+remonstrances now opened upon Jane.
+
+“My dear Jane, what is this I hear?--Going to the post-office in the
+rain!--This must not be, I assure you.--You sad girl, how could you do
+such a thing?--It is a sign I was not there to take care of you.”
+
+Jane very patiently assured her that she had not caught any cold.
+
+“Oh! do not tell _me_. You really are a very sad girl, and do not know
+how to take care of yourself.--To the post-office indeed! Mrs. Weston,
+did you ever hear the like? You and I must positively exert our
+authority.”
+
+“My advice,” said Mrs. Weston kindly and persuasively, “I certainly do
+feel tempted to give. Miss Fairfax, you must not run such risks.--Liable
+as you have been to severe colds, indeed you ought to be particularly
+careful, especially at this time of year. The spring I always think
+requires more than common care. Better wait an hour or two, or even
+half a day for your letters, than run the risk of bringing on your cough
+again. Now do not you feel that you had? Yes, I am sure you are much too
+reasonable. You look as if you would not do such a thing again.”
+
+“Oh! she _shall_ _not_ do such a thing again,” eagerly rejoined Mrs.
+Elton. “We will not allow her to do such a thing again:”--and nodding
+significantly--“there must be some arrangement made, there must indeed.
+I shall speak to Mr. E. The man who fetches our letters every morning
+(one of our men, I forget his name) shall inquire for yours too and
+bring them to you. That will obviate all difficulties you know; and from
+_us_ I really think, my dear Jane, you can have no scruple to accept
+such an accommodation.”
+
+“You are extremely kind,” said Jane; “but I cannot give up my early
+walk. I am advised to be out of doors as much as I can, I must walk
+somewhere, and the post-office is an object; and upon my word, I have
+scarcely ever had a bad morning before.”
+
+“My dear Jane, say no more about it. The thing is determined, that is
+(laughing affectedly) as far as I can presume to determine any thing
+without the concurrence of my lord and master. You know, Mrs. Weston,
+you and I must be cautious how we express ourselves. But I do flatter
+myself, my dear Jane, that my influence is not entirely worn out. If I
+meet with no insuperable difficulties therefore, consider that point as
+settled.”
+
+“Excuse me,” said Jane earnestly, “I cannot by any means consent to such
+an arrangement, so needlessly troublesome to your servant. If the errand
+were not a pleasure to me, it could be done, as it always is when I am
+not here, by my grandmama’s.”
+
+“Oh! my dear; but so much as Patty has to do!--And it is a kindness to
+employ our men.”
+
+Jane looked as if she did not mean to be conquered; but instead of
+answering, she began speaking again to Mr. John Knightley.
+
+“The post-office is a wonderful establishment!” said she.--“The
+regularity and despatch of it! If one thinks of all that it has to do,
+and all that it does so well, it is really astonishing!”
+
+“It is certainly very well regulated.”
+
+“So seldom that any negligence or blunder appears! So seldom that
+a letter, among the thousands that are constantly passing about the
+kingdom, is even carried wrong--and not one in a million, I suppose,
+actually lost! And when one considers the variety of hands, and of bad
+hands too, that are to be deciphered, it increases the wonder.”
+
+“The clerks grow expert from habit.--They must begin with some quickness
+of sight and hand, and exercise improves them. If you want any farther
+explanation,” continued he, smiling, “they are paid for it. That is
+the key to a great deal of capacity. The public pays and must be served
+well.”
+
+The varieties of handwriting were farther talked of, and the usual
+observations made.
+
+“I have heard it asserted,” said John Knightley, “that the same sort
+of handwriting often prevails in a family; and where the same master
+teaches, it is natural enough. But for that reason, I should imagine
+the likeness must be chiefly confined to the females, for boys have very
+little teaching after an early age, and scramble into any hand they can
+get. Isabella and Emma, I think, do write very much alike. I have not
+always known their writing apart.”
+
+“Yes,” said his brother hesitatingly, “there is a likeness. I know what
+you mean--but Emma’s hand is the strongest.”
+
+“Isabella and Emma both write beautifully,” said Mr. Woodhouse; “and
+always did. And so does poor Mrs. Weston”--with half a sigh and half a
+smile at her.
+
+“I never saw any gentleman’s handwriting”--Emma began, looking also at
+Mrs. Weston; but stopped, on perceiving that Mrs. Weston was attending
+to some one else--and the pause gave her time to reflect, “Now, how am
+I going to introduce him?--Am I unequal to speaking his name at once
+before all these people? Is it necessary for me to use any roundabout
+phrase?--Your Yorkshire friend--your correspondent in Yorkshire;--that
+would be the way, I suppose, if I were very bad.--No, I can pronounce
+his name without the smallest distress. I certainly get better and
+better.--Now for it.”
+
+Mrs. Weston was disengaged and Emma began again--“Mr. Frank Churchill
+writes one of the best gentleman’s hands I ever saw.”
+
+“I do not admire it,” said Mr. Knightley. “It is too small--wants
+strength. It is like a woman’s writing.”
+
+This was not submitted to by either lady. They vindicated him against
+the base aspersion. “No, it by no means wanted strength--it was not a
+large hand, but very clear and certainly strong. Had not Mrs. Weston any
+letter about her to produce?” No, she had heard from him very lately,
+but having answered the letter, had put it away.
+
+“If we were in the other room,” said Emma, “if I had my writing-desk, I
+am sure I could produce a specimen. I have a note of his.--Do not you
+remember, Mrs. Weston, employing him to write for you one day?”
+
+“He chose to say he was employed”--
+
+“Well, well, I have that note; and can shew it after dinner to convince
+Mr. Knightley.”
+
+“Oh! when a gallant young man, like Mr. Frank Churchill,” said Mr.
+Knightley dryly, “writes to a fair lady like Miss Woodhouse, he will, of
+course, put forth his best.”
+
+Dinner was on table.--Mrs. Elton, before she could be spoken to, was
+ready; and before Mr. Woodhouse had reached her with his request to be
+allowed to hand her into the dining-parlour, was saying--
+
+“Must I go first? I really am ashamed of always leading the way.”
+
+Jane’s solicitude about fetching her own letters had not escaped Emma.
+She had heard and seen it all; and felt some curiosity to know whether
+the wet walk of this morning had produced any. She suspected that it
+_had_; that it would not have been so resolutely encountered but in full
+expectation of hearing from some one very dear, and that it had not been
+in vain. She thought there was an air of greater happiness than usual--a
+glow both of complexion and spirits.
+
+She could have made an inquiry or two, as to the expedition and the
+expense of the Irish mails;--it was at her tongue’s end--but she
+abstained. She was quite determined not to utter a word that should hurt
+Jane Fairfax’s feelings; and they followed the other ladies out of the
+room, arm in arm, with an appearance of good-will highly becoming to the
+beauty and grace of each.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+When the ladies returned to the drawing-room after dinner, Emma found it
+hardly possible to prevent their making two distinct parties;--with so
+much perseverance in judging and behaving ill did Mrs. Elton engross
+Jane Fairfax and slight herself. She and Mrs. Weston were obliged to
+be almost always either talking together or silent together. Mrs. Elton
+left them no choice. If Jane repressed her for a little time, she
+soon began again; and though much that passed between them was in a
+half-whisper, especially on Mrs. Elton’s side, there was no avoiding
+a knowledge of their principal subjects: The post-office--catching
+cold--fetching letters--and friendship, were long under discussion;
+and to them succeeded one, which must be at least equally unpleasant
+to Jane--inquiries whether she had yet heard of any situation likely to
+suit her, and professions of Mrs. Elton’s meditated activity.
+
+“Here is April come!” said she, “I get quite anxious about you. June
+will soon be here.”
+
+“But I have never fixed on June or any other month--merely looked
+forward to the summer in general.”
+
+“But have you really heard of nothing?”
+
+“I have not even made any inquiry; I do not wish to make any yet.”
+
+“Oh! my dear, we cannot begin too early; you are not aware of the
+difficulty of procuring exactly the desirable thing.”
+
+“I not aware!” said Jane, shaking her head; “dear Mrs. Elton, who can
+have thought of it as I have done?”
+
+“But you have not seen so much of the world as I have. You do not know
+how many candidates there always are for the _first_ situations. I saw
+a vast deal of that in the neighbourhood round Maple Grove. A cousin of
+Mr. Suckling, Mrs. Bragge, had such an infinity of applications; every
+body was anxious to be in her family, for she moves in the first circle.
+Wax-candles in the schoolroom! You may imagine how desirable! Of all
+houses in the kingdom Mrs. Bragge’s is the one I would most wish to see
+you in.”
+
+“Colonel and Mrs. Campbell are to be in town again by midsummer,”
+ said Jane. “I must spend some time with them; I am sure they will want
+it;--afterwards I may probably be glad to dispose of myself. But I would
+not wish you to take the trouble of making any inquiries at present.”
+
+“Trouble! aye, I know your scruples. You are afraid of giving me
+trouble; but I assure you, my dear Jane, the Campbells can hardly be
+more interested about you than I am. I shall write to Mrs. Partridge in
+a day or two, and shall give her a strict charge to be on the look-out
+for any thing eligible.”
+
+“Thank you, but I would rather you did not mention the subject to
+her; till the time draws nearer, I do not wish to be giving any body
+trouble.”
+
+“But, my dear child, the time is drawing near; here is April, and June,
+or say even July, is very near, with such business to accomplish before
+us. Your inexperience really amuses me! A situation such as you deserve,
+and your friends would require for you, is no everyday occurrence,
+is not obtained at a moment’s notice; indeed, indeed, we must begin
+inquiring directly.”
+
+“Excuse me, ma’am, but this is by no means my intention; I make no
+inquiry myself, and should be sorry to have any made by my friends. When
+I am quite determined as to the time, I am not at all afraid of being
+long unemployed. There are places in town, offices, where inquiry
+would soon produce something--Offices for the sale--not quite of human
+flesh--but of human intellect.”
+
+“Oh! my dear, human flesh! You quite shock me; if you mean a fling at
+the slave-trade, I assure you Mr. Suckling was always rather a friend to
+the abolition.”
+
+“I did not mean, I was not thinking of the slave-trade,” replied Jane;
+“governess-trade, I assure you, was all that I had in view; widely
+different certainly as to the guilt of those who carry it on; but as to
+the greater misery of the victims, I do not know where it lies. But
+I only mean to say that there are advertising offices, and that by
+applying to them I should have no doubt of very soon meeting with
+something that would do.”
+
+“Something that would do!” repeated Mrs. Elton. “Aye, _that_ may suit
+your humble ideas of yourself;--I know what a modest creature you are;
+but it will not satisfy your friends to have you taking up with any
+thing that may offer, any inferior, commonplace situation, in a family
+not moving in a certain circle, or able to command the elegancies of
+life.”
+
+“You are very obliging; but as to all that, I am very indifferent;
+it would be no object to me to be with the rich; my mortifications, I
+think, would only be the greater; I should suffer more from comparison.
+A gentleman’s family is all that I should condition for.”
+
+“I know you, I know you; you would take up with any thing; but I shall
+be a little more nice, and I am sure the good Campbells will be quite
+on my side; with your superior talents, you have a right to move in the
+first circle. Your musical knowledge alone would entitle you to name
+your own terms, have as many rooms as you like, and mix in the family
+as much as you chose;--that is--I do not know--if you knew the harp, you
+might do all that, I am very sure; but you sing as well as play;--yes, I
+really believe you might, even without the harp, stipulate for what
+you chose;--and you must and shall be delightfully, honourably and
+comfortably settled before the Campbells or I have any rest.”
+
+“You may well class the delight, the honour, and the comfort of such
+a situation together,” said Jane, “they are pretty sure to be equal;
+however, I am very serious in not wishing any thing to be attempted
+at present for me. I am exceedingly obliged to you, Mrs. Elton, I am
+obliged to any body who feels for me, but I am quite serious in wishing
+nothing to be done till the summer. For two or three months longer I
+shall remain where I am, and as I am.”
+
+“And I am quite serious too, I assure you,” replied Mrs. Elton gaily,
+“in resolving to be always on the watch, and employing my friends to
+watch also, that nothing really unexceptionable may pass us.”
+
+In this style she ran on; never thoroughly stopped by any thing till Mr.
+Woodhouse came into the room; her vanity had then a change of object,
+and Emma heard her saying in the same half-whisper to Jane,
+
+“Here comes this dear old beau of mine, I protest!--Only think of his
+gallantry in coming away before the other men!--what a dear creature
+he is;--I assure you I like him excessively. I admire all that quaint,
+old-fashioned politeness; it is much more to my taste than modern ease;
+modern ease often disgusts me. But this good old Mr. Woodhouse, I wish
+you had heard his gallant speeches to me at dinner. Oh! I assure you I
+began to think my caro sposo would be absolutely jealous. I fancy I
+am rather a favourite; he took notice of my gown. How do you like
+it?--Selina’s choice--handsome, I think, but I do not know whether it
+is not over-trimmed; I have the greatest dislike to the idea of being
+over-trimmed--quite a horror of finery. I must put on a few ornaments
+now, because it is expected of me. A bride, you know, must appear like
+a bride, but my natural taste is all for simplicity; a simple style
+of dress is so infinitely preferable to finery. But I am quite in the
+minority, I believe; few people seem to value simplicity of dress,--show
+and finery are every thing. I have some notion of putting such a
+trimming as this to my white and silver poplin. Do you think it will
+look well?”
+
+The whole party were but just reassembled in the drawing-room when Mr.
+Weston made his appearance among them. He had returned to a late dinner,
+and walked to Hartfield as soon as it was over. He had been too much
+expected by the best judges, for surprize--but there was great joy. Mr.
+Woodhouse was almost as glad to see him now, as he would have been sorry
+to see him before. John Knightley only was in mute astonishment.--That
+a man who might have spent his evening quietly at home after a day
+of business in London, should set off again, and walk half a mile
+to another man’s house, for the sake of being in mixed company till
+bed-time, of finishing his day in the efforts of civility and the noise
+of numbers, was a circumstance to strike him deeply. A man who had been
+in motion since eight o’clock in the morning, and might now have been
+still, who had been long talking, and might have been silent, who had
+been in more than one crowd, and might have been alone!--Such a man, to
+quit the tranquillity and independence of his own fireside, and on the
+evening of a cold sleety April day rush out again into the world!--Could
+he by a touch of his finger have instantly taken back his wife, there
+would have been a motive; but his coming would probably prolong rather
+than break up the party. John Knightley looked at him with amazement,
+then shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I could not have believed it
+even of _him_.”
+
+Mr. Weston meanwhile, perfectly unsuspicious of the indignation he was
+exciting, happy and cheerful as usual, and with all the right of being
+principal talker, which a day spent anywhere from home confers, was
+making himself agreeable among the rest; and having satisfied the
+inquiries of his wife as to his dinner, convincing her that none of all
+her careful directions to the servants had been forgotten, and spread
+abroad what public news he had heard, was proceeding to a family
+communication, which, though principally addressed to Mrs. Weston, he
+had not the smallest doubt of being highly interesting to every body in
+the room. He gave her a letter, it was from Frank, and to herself; he
+had met with it in his way, and had taken the liberty of opening it.
+
+“Read it, read it,” said he, “it will give you pleasure; only a few
+lines--will not take you long; read it to Emma.”
+
+The two ladies looked over it together; and he sat smiling and talking
+to them the whole time, in a voice a little subdued, but very audible to
+every body.
+
+“Well, he is coming, you see; good news, I think. Well, what do you say
+to it?--I always told you he would be here again soon, did not I?--Anne,
+my dear, did not I always tell you so, and you would not believe me?--In
+town next week, you see--at the latest, I dare say; for _she_ is as
+impatient as the black gentleman when any thing is to be done; most
+likely they will be there to-morrow or Saturday. As to her illness, all
+nothing of course. But it is an excellent thing to have Frank among us
+again, so near as town. They will stay a good while when they do come,
+and he will be half his time with us. This is precisely what I wanted.
+Well, pretty good news, is not it? Have you finished it? Has Emma read
+it all? Put it up, put it up; we will have a good talk about it some
+other time, but it will not do now. I shall only just mention the
+circumstance to the others in a common way.”
+
+Mrs. Weston was most comfortably pleased on the occasion. Her looks
+and words had nothing to restrain them. She was happy, she knew she was
+happy, and knew she ought to be happy. Her congratulations were warm and
+open; but Emma could not speak so fluently. _She_ was a little occupied
+in weighing her own feelings, and trying to understand the degree of her
+agitation, which she rather thought was considerable.
+
+Mr. Weston, however, too eager to be very observant, too communicative
+to want others to talk, was very well satisfied with what she did say,
+and soon moved away to make the rest of his friends happy by a partial
+communication of what the whole room must have overheard already.
+
+It was well that he took every body’s joy for granted, or he might
+not have thought either Mr. Woodhouse or Mr. Knightley particularly
+delighted. They were the first entitled, after Mrs. Weston and Emma, to
+be made happy;--from them he would have proceeded to Miss Fairfax, but
+she was so deep in conversation with John Knightley, that it would have
+been too positive an interruption; and finding himself close to Mrs.
+Elton, and her attention disengaged, he necessarily began on the subject
+with her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+“I hope I shall soon have the pleasure of introducing my son to you,”
+ said Mr. Weston.
+
+Mrs. Elton, very willing to suppose a particular compliment intended her
+by such a hope, smiled most graciously.
+
+“You have heard of a certain Frank Churchill, I presume,” he
+continued--“and know him to be my son, though he does not bear my name.”
+
+“Oh! yes, and I shall be very happy in his acquaintance. I am sure Mr.
+Elton will lose no time in calling on him; and we shall both have great
+pleasure in seeing him at the Vicarage.”
+
+“You are very obliging.--Frank will be extremely happy, I am sure.--
+He is to be in town next week, if not sooner. We have notice of it in a
+letter to-day. I met the letters in my way this morning, and seeing my
+son’s hand, presumed to open it--though it was not directed to me--it
+was to Mrs. Weston. She is his principal correspondent, I assure you. I
+hardly ever get a letter.”
+
+“And so you absolutely opened what was directed to her! Oh! Mr.
+Weston--(laughing affectedly) I must protest against that.--A most
+dangerous precedent indeed!--I beg you will not let your neighbours
+follow your example.--Upon my word, if this is what I am to expect, we
+married women must begin to exert ourselves!--Oh! Mr. Weston, I could
+not have believed it of you!”
+
+“Aye, we men are sad fellows. You must take care of yourself, Mrs.
+Elton.--This letter tells us--it is a short letter--written in a hurry,
+merely to give us notice--it tells us that they are all coming up to
+town directly, on Mrs. Churchill’s account--she has not been well the
+whole winter, and thinks Enscombe too cold for her--so they are all to
+move southward without loss of time.”
+
+“Indeed!--from Yorkshire, I think. Enscombe is in Yorkshire?”
+
+“Yes, they are about one hundred and ninety miles from London, a
+considerable journey.”
+
+“Yes, upon my word, very considerable. Sixty-five miles farther than
+from Maple Grove to London. But what is distance, Mr. Weston, to people
+of large fortune?--You would be amazed to hear how my brother, Mr.
+Suckling, sometimes flies about. You will hardly believe me--but twice
+in one week he and Mr. Bragge went to London and back again with four
+horses.”
+
+“The evil of the distance from Enscombe,” said Mr. Weston, “is, that
+Mrs. Churchill, _as_ _we_ _understand_, has not been able to leave the
+sofa for a week together. In Frank’s last letter she complained, he
+said, of being too weak to get into her conservatory without having
+both his arm and his uncle’s! This, you know, speaks a great degree of
+weakness--but now she is so impatient to be in town, that she means to
+sleep only two nights on the road.--So Frank writes word. Certainly,
+delicate ladies have very extraordinary constitutions, Mrs. Elton. You
+must grant me that.”
+
+“No, indeed, I shall grant you nothing. I always take the part of my
+own sex. I do indeed. I give you notice--You will find me a formidable
+antagonist on that point. I always stand up for women--and I assure you,
+if you knew how Selina feels with respect to sleeping at an inn, you
+would not wonder at Mrs. Churchill’s making incredible exertions to
+avoid it. Selina says it is quite horror to her--and I believe I have
+caught a little of her nicety. She always travels with her own sheets;
+an excellent precaution. Does Mrs. Churchill do the same?”
+
+“Depend upon it, Mrs. Churchill does every thing that any other fine
+lady ever did. Mrs. Churchill will not be second to any lady in the land
+for”--
+
+Mrs. Elton eagerly interposed with,
+
+“Oh! Mr. Weston, do not mistake me. Selina is no fine lady, I assure
+you. Do not run away with such an idea.”
+
+“Is not she? Then she is no rule for Mrs. Churchill, who is as thorough
+a fine lady as any body ever beheld.”
+
+Mrs. Elton began to think she had been wrong in disclaiming so warmly.
+It was by no means her object to have it believed that her sister was
+_not_ a fine lady; perhaps there was want of spirit in the pretence of
+it;--and she was considering in what way she had best retract, when Mr.
+Weston went on.
+
+“Mrs. Churchill is not much in my good graces, as you may suspect--but
+this is quite between ourselves. She is very fond of Frank, and
+therefore I would not speak ill of her. Besides, she is out of health
+now; but _that_ indeed, by her own account, she has always been. I would
+not say so to every body, Mrs. Elton, but I have not much faith in Mrs.
+Churchill’s illness.”
+
+“If she is really ill, why not go to Bath, Mr. Weston?--To Bath, or to
+Clifton?” “She has taken it into her head that Enscombe is too cold for
+her. The fact is, I suppose, that she is tired of Enscombe. She has now
+been a longer time stationary there, than she ever was before, and she
+begins to want change. It is a retired place. A fine place, but very
+retired.”
+
+“Aye--like Maple Grove, I dare say. Nothing can stand more retired from
+the road than Maple Grove. Such an immense plantation all round it! You
+seem shut out from every thing--in the most complete retirement.--And
+Mrs. Churchill probably has not health or spirits like Selina to enjoy
+that sort of seclusion. Or, perhaps she may not have resources enough in
+herself to be qualified for a country life. I always say a woman cannot
+have too many resources--and I feel very thankful that I have so many
+myself as to be quite independent of society.”
+
+“Frank was here in February for a fortnight.”
+
+“So I remember to have heard. He will find an _addition_ to the society
+of Highbury when he comes again; that is, if I may presume to call
+myself an addition. But perhaps he may never have heard of there being
+such a creature in the world.”
+
+This was too loud a call for a compliment to be passed by, and Mr.
+Weston, with a very good grace, immediately exclaimed,
+
+“My dear madam! Nobody but yourself could imagine such a thing possible.
+Not heard of you!--I believe Mrs. Weston’s letters lately have been full
+of very little else than Mrs. Elton.”
+
+He had done his duty and could return to his son.
+
+“When Frank left us,” continued he, “it was quite uncertain when we
+might see him again, which makes this day’s news doubly welcome. It has
+been completely unexpected. That is, _I_ always had a strong persuasion
+he would be here again soon, I was sure something favourable would turn
+up--but nobody believed me. He and Mrs. Weston were both dreadfully
+desponding. ‘How could he contrive to come? And how could it be supposed
+that his uncle and aunt would spare him again?’ and so forth--I always
+felt that something would happen in our favour; and so it has, you see.
+I have observed, Mrs. Elton, in the course of my life, that if things
+are going untowardly one month, they are sure to mend the next.”
+
+“Very true, Mr. Weston, perfectly true. It is just what I used to say to
+a certain gentleman in company in the days of courtship, when, because
+things did not go quite right, did not proceed with all the rapidity
+which suited his feelings, he was apt to be in despair, and exclaim that
+he was sure at this rate it would be _May_ before Hymen’s saffron robe
+would be put on for us. Oh! the pains I have been at to dispel those
+gloomy ideas and give him cheerfuller views! The carriage--we had
+disappointments about the carriage;--one morning, I remember, he came to
+me quite in despair.”
+
+She was stopped by a slight fit of coughing, and Mr. Weston instantly
+seized the opportunity of going on.
+
+“You were mentioning May. May is the very month which Mrs. Churchill
+is ordered, or has ordered herself, to spend in some warmer place than
+Enscombe--in short, to spend in London; so that we have the agreeable
+prospect of frequent visits from Frank the whole spring--precisely the
+season of the year which one should have chosen for it: days almost at
+the longest; weather genial and pleasant, always inviting one out, and
+never too hot for exercise. When he was here before, we made the best
+of it; but there was a good deal of wet, damp, cheerless weather;
+there always is in February, you know, and we could not do half that we
+intended. Now will be the time. This will be complete enjoyment; and I
+do not know, Mrs. Elton, whether the uncertainty of our meetings, the
+sort of constant expectation there will be of his coming in to-day or
+to-morrow, and at any hour, may not be more friendly to happiness than
+having him actually in the house. I think it is so. I think it is the
+state of mind which gives most spirit and delight. I hope you will be
+pleased with my son; but you must not expect a prodigy. He is generally
+thought a fine young man, but do not expect a prodigy. Mrs. Weston’s
+partiality for him is very great, and, as you may suppose, most
+gratifying to me. She thinks nobody equal to him.”
+
+“And I assure you, Mr. Weston, I have very little doubt that my opinion
+will be decidedly in his favour. I have heard so much in praise of Mr.
+Frank Churchill.--At the same time it is fair to observe, that I am one
+of those who always judge for themselves, and are by no means implicitly
+guided by others. I give you notice that as I find your son, so I shall
+judge of him.--I am no flatterer.”
+
+Mr. Weston was musing.
+
+“I hope,” said he presently, “I have not been severe upon poor Mrs.
+Churchill. If she is ill I should be sorry to do her injustice; but
+there are some traits in her character which make it difficult for me to
+speak of her with the forbearance I could wish. You cannot be ignorant,
+Mrs. Elton, of my connexion with the family, nor of the treatment I have
+met with; and, between ourselves, the whole blame of it is to be laid
+to her. She was the instigator. Frank’s mother would never have been
+slighted as she was but for her. Mr. Churchill has pride; but his pride
+is nothing to his wife’s: his is a quiet, indolent, gentlemanlike sort
+of pride that would harm nobody, and only make himself a little helpless
+and tiresome; but her pride is arrogance and insolence! And what
+inclines one less to bear, she has no fair pretence of family or blood.
+She was nobody when he married her, barely the daughter of a gentleman;
+but ever since her being turned into a Churchill she has out-Churchill’d
+them all in high and mighty claims: but in herself, I assure you, she is
+an upstart.”
+
+“Only think! well, that must be infinitely provoking! I have quite
+a horror of upstarts. Maple Grove has given me a thorough disgust to
+people of that sort; for there is a family in that neighbourhood who
+are such an annoyance to my brother and sister from the airs they give
+themselves! Your description of Mrs. Churchill made me think of them
+directly. People of the name of Tupman, very lately settled there, and
+encumbered with many low connexions, but giving themselves immense airs,
+and expecting to be on a footing with the old established families.
+A year and a half is the very utmost that they can have lived at West
+Hall; and how they got their fortune nobody knows. They came from
+Birmingham, which is not a place to promise much, you know, Mr. Weston.
+One has not great hopes from Birmingham. I always say there is something
+direful in the sound: but nothing more is positively known of the
+Tupmans, though a good many things I assure you are suspected; and
+yet by their manners they evidently think themselves equal even to
+my brother, Mr. Suckling, who happens to be one of their nearest
+neighbours. It is infinitely too bad. Mr. Suckling, who has been eleven
+years a resident at Maple Grove, and whose father had it before him--I
+believe, at least--I am almost sure that old Mr. Suckling had completed
+the purchase before his death.”
+
+They were interrupted. Tea was carrying round, and Mr. Weston, having
+said all that he wanted, soon took the opportunity of walking away.
+
+After tea, Mr. and Mrs. Weston, and Mr. Elton sat down with Mr.
+Woodhouse to cards. The remaining five were left to their own powers,
+and Emma doubted their getting on very well; for Mr. Knightley seemed
+little disposed for conversation; Mrs. Elton was wanting notice, which
+nobody had inclination to pay, and she was herself in a worry of spirits
+which would have made her prefer being silent.
+
+Mr. John Knightley proved more talkative than his brother. He was to
+leave them early the next day; and he soon began with--
+
+“Well, Emma, I do not believe I have any thing more to say about the
+boys; but you have your sister’s letter, and every thing is down at full
+length there we may be sure. My charge would be much more concise than
+her’s, and probably not much in the same spirit; all that I have to
+recommend being comprised in, do not spoil them, and do not physic
+them.”
+
+“I rather hope to satisfy you both,” said Emma, “for I shall do all
+in my power to make them happy, which will be enough for Isabella; and
+happiness must preclude false indulgence and physic.”
+
+“And if you find them troublesome, you must send them home again.”
+
+“That is very likely. You think so, do not you?”
+
+“I hope I am aware that they may be too noisy for your father--or even
+may be some encumbrance to you, if your visiting engagements continue to
+increase as much as they have done lately.”
+
+“Increase!”
+
+“Certainly; you must be sensible that the last half-year has made a
+great difference in your way of life.”
+
+“Difference! No indeed I am not.”
+
+“There can be no doubt of your being much more engaged with company than
+you used to be. Witness this very time. Here am I come down for only
+one day, and you are engaged with a dinner-party!--When did it happen
+before, or any thing like it? Your neighbourhood is increasing, and you
+mix more with it. A little while ago, every letter to Isabella brought
+an account of fresh gaieties; dinners at Mr. Cole’s, or balls at the
+Crown. The difference which Randalls, Randalls alone makes in your
+goings-on, is very great.”
+
+“Yes,” said his brother quickly, “it is Randalls that does it all.”
+
+“Very well--and as Randalls, I suppose, is not likely to have less
+influence than heretofore, it strikes me as a possible thing, Emma, that
+Henry and John may be sometimes in the way. And if they are, I only beg
+you to send them home.”
+
+“No,” cried Mr. Knightley, “that need not be the consequence. Let them
+be sent to Donwell. I shall certainly be at leisure.”
+
+“Upon my word,” exclaimed Emma, “you amuse me! I should like to know how
+many of all my numerous engagements take place without your being of
+the party; and why I am to be supposed in danger of wanting leisure to
+attend to the little boys. These amazing engagements of mine--what have
+they been? Dining once with the Coles--and having a ball talked of,
+which never took place. I can understand you--(nodding at Mr. John
+Knightley)--your good fortune in meeting with so many of your friends at
+once here, delights you too much to pass unnoticed. But you, (turning to
+Mr. Knightley,) who know how very, very seldom I am ever two hours from
+Hartfield, why you should foresee such a series of dissipation for me, I
+cannot imagine. And as to my dear little boys, I must say, that if Aunt
+Emma has not time for them, I do not think they would fare much better
+with Uncle Knightley, who is absent from home about five hours where she
+is absent one--and who, when he is at home, is either reading to himself
+or settling his accounts.”
+
+Mr. Knightley seemed to be trying not to smile; and succeeded without
+difficulty, upon Mrs. Elton’s beginning to talk to him.
+
+
+
+
+VOLUME III
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+A very little quiet reflection was enough to satisfy Emma as to the
+nature of her agitation on hearing this news of Frank Churchill. She
+was soon convinced that it was not for herself she was feeling at all
+apprehensive or embarrassed; it was for him. Her own attachment had
+really subsided into a mere nothing; it was not worth thinking of;--but
+if he, who had undoubtedly been always so much the most in love of the
+two, were to be returning with the same warmth of sentiment which he had
+taken away, it would be very distressing. If a separation of two
+months should not have cooled him, there were dangers and evils before
+her:--caution for him and for herself would be necessary. She did
+not mean to have her own affections entangled again, and it would be
+incumbent on her to avoid any encouragement of his.
+
+She wished she might be able to keep him from an absolute declaration.
+That would be so very painful a conclusion of their present
+acquaintance! and yet, she could not help rather anticipating something
+decisive. She felt as if the spring would not pass without bringing a
+crisis, an event, a something to alter her present composed and tranquil
+state.
+
+It was not very long, though rather longer than Mr. Weston had foreseen,
+before she had the power of forming some opinion of Frank Churchill’s
+feelings. The Enscombe family were not in town quite so soon as had been
+imagined, but he was at Highbury very soon afterwards. He rode down
+for a couple of hours; he could not yet do more; but as he came from
+Randalls immediately to Hartfield, she could then exercise all her quick
+observation, and speedily determine how he was influenced, and how she
+must act. They met with the utmost friendliness. There could be no doubt
+of his great pleasure in seeing her. But she had an almost instant doubt
+of his caring for her as he had done, of his feeling the same tenderness
+in the same degree. She watched him well. It was a clear thing he was
+less in love than he had been. Absence, with the conviction probably
+of her indifference, had produced this very natural and very desirable
+effect.
+
+He was in high spirits; as ready to talk and laugh as ever, and seemed
+delighted to speak of his former visit, and recur to old stories: and he
+was not without agitation. It was not in his calmness that she read
+his comparative difference. He was not calm; his spirits were evidently
+fluttered; there was restlessness about him. Lively as he was, it seemed
+a liveliness that did not satisfy himself; but what decided her belief
+on the subject, was his staying only a quarter of an hour, and hurrying
+away to make other calls in Highbury. “He had seen a group of old
+acquaintance in the street as he passed--he had not stopped, he would
+not stop for more than a word--but he had the vanity to think they would
+be disappointed if he did not call, and much as he wished to stay longer
+at Hartfield, he must hurry off.” She had no doubt as to his being less
+in love--but neither his agitated spirits, nor his hurrying away, seemed
+like a perfect cure; and she was rather inclined to think it implied a
+dread of her returning power, and a discreet resolution of not trusting
+himself with her long.
+
+This was the only visit from Frank Churchill in the course of ten days.
+He was often hoping, intending to come--but was always prevented. His
+aunt could not bear to have him leave her. Such was his own account at
+Randall’s. If he were quite sincere, if he really tried to come, it was
+to be inferred that Mrs. Churchill’s removal to London had been of no
+service to the wilful or nervous part of her disorder. That she was
+really ill was very certain; he had declared himself convinced of it, at
+Randalls. Though much might be fancy, he could not doubt, when he looked
+back, that she was in a weaker state of health than she had been half a
+year ago. He did not believe it to proceed from any thing that care
+and medicine might not remove, or at least that she might not have many
+years of existence before her; but he could not be prevailed on, by all
+his father’s doubts, to say that her complaints were merely imaginary,
+or that she was as strong as ever.
+
+It soon appeared that London was not the place for her. She could
+not endure its noise. Her nerves were under continual irritation and
+suffering; and by the ten days’ end, her nephew’s letter to Randalls
+communicated a change of plan. They were going to remove immediately to
+Richmond. Mrs. Churchill had been recommended to the medical skill of
+an eminent person there, and had otherwise a fancy for the place. A
+ready-furnished house in a favourite spot was engaged, and much benefit
+expected from the change.
+
+Emma heard that Frank wrote in the highest spirits of this arrangement,
+and seemed most fully to appreciate the blessing of having two months
+before him of such near neighbourhood to many dear friends--for the
+house was taken for May and June. She was told that now he wrote with
+the greatest confidence of being often with them, almost as often as he
+could even wish.
+
+Emma saw how Mr. Weston understood these joyous prospects. He was
+considering her as the source of all the happiness they offered. She
+hoped it was not so. Two months must bring it to the proof.
+
+Mr. Weston’s own happiness was indisputable. He was quite delighted.
+It was the very circumstance he could have wished for. Now, it would be
+really having Frank in their neighbourhood. What were nine miles to
+a young man?--An hour’s ride. He would be always coming over. The
+difference in that respect of Richmond and London was enough to make
+the whole difference of seeing him always and seeing him never. Sixteen
+miles--nay, eighteen--it must be full eighteen to Manchester-street--was
+a serious obstacle. Were he ever able to get away, the day would be
+spent in coming and returning. There was no comfort in having him in
+London; he might as well be at Enscombe; but Richmond was the very
+distance for easy intercourse. Better than nearer!
+
+One good thing was immediately brought to a certainty by this
+removal,--the ball at the Crown. It had not been forgotten before,
+but it had been soon acknowledged vain to attempt to fix a day. Now,
+however, it was absolutely to be; every preparation was resumed, and
+very soon after the Churchills had removed to Richmond, a few lines from
+Frank, to say that his aunt felt already much better for the change, and
+that he had no doubt of being able to join them for twenty-four hours at
+any given time, induced them to name as early a day as possible.
+
+Mr. Weston’s ball was to be a real thing. A very few to-morrows stood
+between the young people of Highbury and happiness.
+
+Mr. Woodhouse was resigned. The time of year lightened the evil to him.
+May was better for every thing than February. Mrs. Bates was engaged to
+spend the evening at Hartfield, James had due notice, and he sanguinely
+hoped that neither dear little Henry nor dear little John would have any
+thing the matter with them, while dear Emma were gone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+No misfortune occurred, again to prevent the ball. The day approached,
+the day arrived; and after a morning of some anxious watching, Frank
+Churchill, in all the certainty of his own self, reached Randalls before
+dinner, and every thing was safe.
+
+No second meeting had there yet been between him and Emma. The room
+at the Crown was to witness it;--but it would be better than a
+common meeting in a crowd. Mr. Weston had been so very earnest in his
+entreaties for her arriving there as soon as possible after themselves,
+for the purpose of taking her opinion as to the propriety and comfort of
+the rooms before any other persons came, that she could not refuse him,
+and must therefore spend some quiet interval in the young man’s company.
+She was to convey Harriet, and they drove to the Crown in good time, the
+Randalls party just sufficiently before them.
+
+Frank Churchill seemed to have been on the watch; and though he did not
+say much, his eyes declared that he meant to have a delightful evening.
+They all walked about together, to see that every thing was as it should
+be; and within a few minutes were joined by the contents of another
+carriage, which Emma could not hear the sound of at first, without great
+surprize. “So unreasonably early!” she was going to exclaim; but she
+presently found that it was a family of old friends, who were coming,
+like herself, by particular desire, to help Mr. Weston’s judgment; and
+they were so very closely followed by another carriage of cousins,
+who had been entreated to come early with the same distinguishing
+earnestness, on the same errand, that it seemed as if half the company
+might soon be collected together for the purpose of preparatory
+inspection.
+
+Emma perceived that her taste was not the only taste on which Mr. Weston
+depended, and felt, that to be the favourite and intimate of a man
+who had so many intimates and confidantes, was not the very first
+distinction in the scale of vanity. She liked his open manners, but
+a little less of open-heartedness would have made him a higher
+character.--General benevolence, but not general friendship, made a
+man what he ought to be.--She could fancy such a man. The whole party
+walked about, and looked, and praised again; and then, having nothing
+else to do, formed a sort of half-circle round the fire, to observe
+in their various modes, till other subjects were started, that, though
+_May_, a fire in the evening was still very pleasant.
+
+Emma found that it was not Mr. Weston’s fault that the number of privy
+councillors was not yet larger. They had stopped at Mrs. Bates’s door
+to offer the use of their carriage, but the aunt and niece were to be
+brought by the Eltons.
+
+Frank was standing by her, but not steadily; there was a restlessness,
+which shewed a mind not at ease. He was looking about, he was going to
+the door, he was watching for the sound of other carriages,--impatient
+to begin, or afraid of being always near her.
+
+Mrs. Elton was spoken of. “I think she must be here soon,” said he. “I
+have a great curiosity to see Mrs. Elton, I have heard so much of her.
+It cannot be long, I think, before she comes.”
+
+A carriage was heard. He was on the move immediately; but coming back,
+said,
+
+“I am forgetting that I am not acquainted with her. I have never seen
+either Mr. or Mrs. Elton. I have no business to put myself forward.”
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Elton appeared; and all the smiles and the proprieties
+passed.
+
+“But Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax!” said Mr. Weston, looking about. “We
+thought you were to bring them.”
+
+The mistake had been slight. The carriage was sent for them now. Emma
+longed to know what Frank’s first opinion of Mrs. Elton might be; how
+he was affected by the studied elegance of her dress, and her smiles of
+graciousness. He was immediately qualifying himself to form an opinion,
+by giving her very proper attention, after the introduction had passed.
+
+In a few minutes the carriage returned.--Somebody talked of rain.--“I
+will see that there are umbrellas, sir,” said Frank to his father:
+“Miss Bates must not be forgotten:” and away he went. Mr. Weston was
+following; but Mrs. Elton detained him, to gratify him by her opinion
+of his son; and so briskly did she begin, that the young man himself,
+though by no means moving slowly, could hardly be out of hearing.
+
+“A very fine young man indeed, Mr. Weston. You know I candidly told you
+I should form my own opinion; and I am happy to say that I am extremely
+pleased with him.--You may believe me. I never compliment. I think him
+a very handsome young man, and his manners are precisely what I like and
+approve--so truly the gentleman, without the least conceit or puppyism.
+You must know I have a vast dislike to puppies--quite a horror of them.
+They were never tolerated at Maple Grove. Neither Mr. Suckling nor
+me had ever any patience with them; and we used sometimes to say very
+cutting things! Selina, who is mild almost to a fault, bore with them
+much better.”
+
+While she talked of his son, Mr. Weston’s attention was chained; but
+when she got to Maple Grove, he could recollect that there were ladies
+just arriving to be attended to, and with happy smiles must hurry away.
+
+Mrs. Elton turned to Mrs. Weston. “I have no doubt of its being our
+carriage with Miss Bates and Jane. Our coachman and horses are so
+extremely expeditious!--I believe we drive faster than any body.--What
+a pleasure it is to send one’s carriage for a friend!--I understand you
+were so kind as to offer, but another time it will be quite unnecessary.
+You may be very sure I shall always take care of _them_.”
+
+Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax, escorted by the two gentlemen, walked into
+the room; and Mrs. Elton seemed to think it as much her duty as Mrs.
+Weston’s to receive them. Her gestures and movements might be understood
+by any one who looked on like Emma; but her words, every body’s words,
+were soon lost under the incessant flow of Miss Bates, who came in
+talking, and had not finished her speech under many minutes after her
+being admitted into the circle at the fire. As the door opened she was
+heard,
+
+“So very obliging of you!--No rain at all. Nothing to signify. I do not
+care for myself. Quite thick shoes. And Jane declares--Well!--(as soon
+as she was within the door) Well! This is brilliant indeed!--This is
+admirable!--Excellently contrived, upon my word. Nothing wanting. Could
+not have imagined it.--So well lighted up!--Jane, Jane, look!--did you
+ever see any thing? Oh! Mr. Weston, you must really have had Aladdin’s
+lamp. Good Mrs. Stokes would not know her own room again. I saw her as
+I came in; she was standing in the entrance. ‘Oh! Mrs. Stokes,’ said
+I--but I had not time for more.” She was now met by Mrs. Weston.--“Very
+well, I thank you, ma’am. I hope you are quite well. Very happy to hear
+it. So afraid you might have a headache!--seeing you pass by so often,
+and knowing how much trouble you must have. Delighted to hear it indeed.
+Ah! dear Mrs. Elton, so obliged to you for the carriage!--excellent
+time. Jane and I quite ready. Did not keep the horses a moment. Most
+comfortable carriage.--Oh! and I am sure our thanks are due to you,
+Mrs. Weston, on that score. Mrs. Elton had most kindly sent Jane a note,
+or we should have been.--But two such offers in one day!--Never were
+such neighbours. I said to my mother, ‘Upon my word, ma’am--.’ Thank
+you, my mother is remarkably well. Gone to Mr. Woodhouse’s. I made her
+take her shawl--for the evenings are not warm--her large new shawl--
+Mrs. Dixon’s wedding-present.--So kind of her to think of my mother!
+Bought at Weymouth, you know--Mr. Dixon’s choice. There were three
+others, Jane says, which they hesitated about some time. Colonel
+Campbell rather preferred an olive. My dear Jane, are you sure you did
+not wet your feet?--It was but a drop or two, but I am so afraid:--but
+Mr. Frank Churchill was so extremely--and there was a mat to step
+upon--I shall never forget his extreme politeness.--Oh! Mr. Frank
+Churchill, I must tell you my mother’s spectacles have never been in
+fault since; the rivet never came out again. My mother often talks of
+your good-nature. Does not she, Jane?--Do not we often talk of Mr. Frank
+Churchill?--Ah! here’s Miss Woodhouse.--Dear Miss Woodhouse, how do
+you do?--Very well I thank you, quite well. This is meeting quite
+in fairy-land!--Such a transformation!--Must not compliment, I know
+(eyeing Emma most complacently)--that would be rude--but upon my word,
+Miss Woodhouse, you do look--how do you like Jane’s hair?--You are
+a judge.--She did it all herself. Quite wonderful how she does her
+hair!--No hairdresser from London I think could.--Ah! Dr. Hughes I
+declare--and Mrs. Hughes. Must go and speak to Dr. and Mrs. Hughes for a
+moment.--How do you do? How do you do?--Very well, I thank you. This
+is delightful, is not it?--Where’s dear Mr. Richard?--Oh! there he is.
+Don’t disturb him. Much better employed talking to the young ladies. How
+do you do, Mr. Richard?--I saw you the other day as you rode through
+the town--Mrs. Otway, I protest!--and good Mr. Otway, and Miss Otway
+and Miss Caroline.--Such a host of friends!--and Mr. George and Mr.
+Arthur!--How do you do? How do you all do?--Quite well, I am much
+obliged to you. Never better.--Don’t I hear another carriage?--Who can
+this be?--very likely the worthy Coles.--Upon my word, this is charming
+to be standing about among such friends! And such a noble fire!--I am
+quite roasted. No coffee, I thank you, for me--never take coffee.--A
+little tea if you please, sir, by and bye,--no hurry--Oh! here it comes.
+Every thing so good!”
+
+Frank Churchill returned to his station by Emma; and as soon as Miss
+Bates was quiet, she found herself necessarily overhearing the discourse
+of Mrs. Elton and Miss Fairfax, who were standing a little way behind
+her.--He was thoughtful. Whether he were overhearing too, she could not
+determine. After a good many compliments to Jane on her dress and look,
+compliments very quietly and properly taken, Mrs. Elton was evidently
+wanting to be complimented herself--and it was, “How do you like
+my gown?--How do you like my trimming?--How has Wright done my
+hair?”--with many other relative questions, all answered with patient
+politeness. Mrs. Elton then said, “Nobody can think less of dress in
+general than I do--but upon such an occasion as this, when every body’s
+eyes are so much upon me, and in compliment to the Westons--who I have
+no doubt are giving this ball chiefly to do me honour--I would not wish
+to be inferior to others. And I see very few pearls in the room except
+mine.--So Frank Churchill is a capital dancer, I understand.--We shall
+see if our styles suit.--A fine young man certainly is Frank Churchill.
+I like him very well.”
+
+At this moment Frank began talking so vigorously, that Emma could not
+but imagine he had overheard his own praises, and did not want to hear
+more;--and the voices of the ladies were drowned for a while, till
+another suspension brought Mrs. Elton’s tones again distinctly
+forward.--Mr. Elton had just joined them, and his wife was exclaiming,
+
+“Oh! you have found us out at last, have you, in our seclusion?--I was
+this moment telling Jane, I thought you would begin to be impatient for
+tidings of us.”
+
+“Jane!”--repeated Frank Churchill, with a look of surprize and
+displeasure.--“That is easy--but Miss Fairfax does not disapprove it, I
+suppose.”
+
+“How do you like Mrs. Elton?” said Emma in a whisper.
+
+“Not at all.”
+
+“You are ungrateful.”
+
+“Ungrateful!--What do you mean?” Then changing from a frown to a
+smile--“No, do not tell me--I do not want to know what you mean.--Where
+is my father?--When are we to begin dancing?”
+
+Emma could hardly understand him; he seemed in an odd humour. He walked
+off to find his father, but was quickly back again with both Mr. and
+Mrs. Weston. He had met with them in a little perplexity, which must be
+laid before Emma. It had just occurred to Mrs. Weston that Mrs. Elton
+must be asked to begin the ball; that she would expect it; which
+interfered with all their wishes of giving Emma that distinction.--Emma
+heard the sad truth with fortitude.
+
+“And what are we to do for a proper partner for her?” said Mr. Weston.
+“She will think Frank ought to ask her.”
+
+Frank turned instantly to Emma, to claim her former promise; and
+boasted himself an engaged man, which his father looked his most perfect
+approbation of--and it then appeared that Mrs. Weston was wanting _him_
+to dance with Mrs. Elton himself, and that their business was to help to
+persuade him into it, which was done pretty soon.--Mr. Weston and Mrs.
+Elton led the way, Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse followed.
+Emma must submit to stand second to Mrs. Elton, though she had always
+considered the ball as peculiarly for her. It was almost enough to make
+her think of marrying. Mrs. Elton had undoubtedly the advantage, at this
+time, in vanity completely gratified; for though she had intended to
+begin with Frank Churchill, she could not lose by the change. Mr. Weston
+might be his son’s superior.--In spite of this little rub, however,
+Emma was smiling with enjoyment, delighted to see the respectable length
+of the set as it was forming, and to feel that she had so many hours
+of unusual festivity before her.--She was more disturbed by Mr.
+Knightley’s not dancing than by any thing else.--There he was, among
+the standers-by, where he ought not to be; he ought to be dancing,--not
+classing himself with the husbands, and fathers, and whist-players, who
+were pretending to feel an interest in the dance till their rubbers were
+made up,--so young as he looked!--He could not have appeared to greater
+advantage perhaps anywhere, than where he had placed himself. His tall,
+firm, upright figure, among the bulky forms and stooping shoulders of
+the elderly men, was such as Emma felt must draw every body’s eyes;
+and, excepting her own partner, there was not one among the whole row of
+young men who could be compared with him.--He moved a few steps nearer,
+and those few steps were enough to prove in how gentlemanlike a manner,
+with what natural grace, he must have danced, would he but take the
+trouble.--Whenever she caught his eye, she forced him to smile; but
+in general he was looking grave. She wished he could love a ballroom
+better, and could like Frank Churchill better.--He seemed often
+observing her. She must not flatter herself that he thought of her
+dancing, but if he were criticising her behaviour, she did not feel
+afraid. There was nothing like flirtation between her and her partner.
+They seemed more like cheerful, easy friends, than lovers. That Frank
+Churchill thought less of her than he had done, was indubitable.
+
+The ball proceeded pleasantly. The anxious cares, the incessant
+attentions of Mrs. Weston, were not thrown away. Every body seemed
+happy; and the praise of being a delightful ball, which is seldom
+bestowed till after a ball has ceased to be, was repeatedly given in
+the very beginning of the existence of this. Of very important, very
+recordable events, it was not more productive than such meetings usually
+are. There was one, however, which Emma thought something of.--The two
+last dances before supper were begun, and Harriet had no partner;--the
+only young lady sitting down;--and so equal had been hitherto the
+number of dancers, that how there could be any one disengaged was the
+wonder!--But Emma’s wonder lessened soon afterwards, on seeing Mr. Elton
+sauntering about. He would not ask Harriet to dance if it were possible
+to be avoided: she was sure he would not--and she was expecting him
+every moment to escape into the card-room.
+
+Escape, however, was not his plan. He came to the part of the room where
+the sitters-by were collected, spoke to some, and walked about in front
+of them, as if to shew his liberty, and his resolution of maintaining
+it. He did not omit being sometimes directly before Miss Smith, or
+speaking to those who were close to her.--Emma saw it. She was not yet
+dancing; she was working her way up from the bottom, and had therefore
+leisure to look around, and by only turning her head a little she saw
+it all. When she was half-way up the set, the whole group were exactly
+behind her, and she would no longer allow her eyes to watch; but Mr.
+Elton was so near, that she heard every syllable of a dialogue which
+just then took place between him and Mrs. Weston; and she perceived that
+his wife, who was standing immediately above her, was not only
+listening also, but even encouraging him by significant glances.--The
+kind-hearted, gentle Mrs. Weston had left her seat to join him and say,
+“Do not you dance, Mr. Elton?” to which his prompt reply was, “Most
+readily, Mrs. Weston, if you will dance with me.”
+
+“Me!--oh! no--I would get you a better partner than myself. I am no
+dancer.”
+
+“If Mrs. Gilbert wishes to dance,” said he, “I shall have great
+pleasure, I am sure--for, though beginning to feel myself rather an old
+married man, and that my dancing days are over, it would give me very
+great pleasure at any time to stand up with an old friend like Mrs.
+Gilbert.”
+
+“Mrs. Gilbert does not mean to dance, but there is a young lady
+disengaged whom I should be very glad to see dancing--Miss Smith.” “Miss
+Smith!--oh!--I had not observed.--You are extremely obliging--and if I
+were not an old married man.--But my dancing days are over, Mrs. Weston.
+You will excuse me. Any thing else I should be most happy to do, at your
+command--but my dancing days are over.”
+
+Mrs. Weston said no more; and Emma could imagine with what surprize and
+mortification she must be returning to her seat. This was Mr. Elton! the
+amiable, obliging, gentle Mr. Elton.--She looked round for a moment; he
+had joined Mr. Knightley at a little distance, and was arranging himself
+for settled conversation, while smiles of high glee passed between him
+and his wife.
+
+She would not look again. Her heart was in a glow, and she feared her
+face might be as hot.
+
+In another moment a happier sight caught her;--Mr. Knightley leading
+Harriet to the set!--Never had she been more surprized, seldom more
+delighted, than at that instant. She was all pleasure and gratitude,
+both for Harriet and herself, and longed to be thanking him; and though
+too distant for speech, her countenance said much, as soon as she could
+catch his eye again.
+
+His dancing proved to be just what she had believed it, extremely good;
+and Harriet would have seemed almost too lucky, if it had not been for
+the cruel state of things before, and for the very complete enjoyment
+and very high sense of the distinction which her happy features
+announced. It was not thrown away on her, she bounded higher than ever,
+flew farther down the middle, and was in a continual course of smiles.
+
+Mr. Elton had retreated into the card-room, looking (Emma trusted) very
+foolish. She did not think he was quite so hardened as his wife, though
+growing very like her;--_she_ spoke some of her feelings, by observing
+audibly to her partner,
+
+“Knightley has taken pity on poor little Miss Smith!--Very good-natured,
+I declare.”
+
+Supper was announced. The move began; and Miss Bates might be heard from
+that moment, without interruption, till her being seated at table and
+taking up her spoon.
+
+“Jane, Jane, my dear Jane, where are you?--Here is your tippet. Mrs.
+Weston begs you to put on your tippet. She says she is afraid there will
+be draughts in the passage, though every thing has been done--One door
+nailed up--Quantities of matting--My dear Jane, indeed you must.
+Mr. Churchill, oh! you are too obliging! How well you put it on!--so
+gratified! Excellent dancing indeed!--Yes, my dear, I ran home, as I
+said I should, to help grandmama to bed, and got back again, and
+nobody missed me.--I set off without saying a word, just as I told you.
+Grandmama was quite well, had a charming evening with Mr. Woodhouse, a
+vast deal of chat, and backgammon.--Tea was made downstairs, biscuits
+and baked apples and wine before she came away: amazing luck in some
+of her throws: and she inquired a great deal about you, how you were
+amused, and who were your partners. ‘Oh!’ said I, ‘I shall not forestall
+Jane; I left her dancing with Mr. George Otway; she will love to tell
+you all about it herself to-morrow: her first partner was Mr. Elton,
+I do not know who will ask her next, perhaps Mr. William Cox.’ My dear
+sir, you are too obliging.--Is there nobody you would not rather?--I am
+not helpless. Sir, you are most kind. Upon my word, Jane on one arm, and
+me on the other!--Stop, stop, let us stand a little back, Mrs. Elton is
+going; dear Mrs. Elton, how elegant she looks!--Beautiful lace!--Now we
+all follow in her train. Quite the queen of the evening!--Well, here we
+are at the passage. Two steps, Jane, take care of the two steps. Oh! no,
+there is but one. Well, I was persuaded there were two. How very odd!
+I was convinced there were two, and there is but one. I never saw any
+thing equal to the comfort and style--Candles everywhere.--I was telling
+you of your grandmama, Jane,--There was a little disappointment.--The
+baked apples and biscuits, excellent in their way, you know; but there
+was a delicate fricassee of sweetbread and some asparagus brought in at
+first, and good Mr. Woodhouse, not thinking the asparagus quite boiled
+enough, sent it all out again. Now there is nothing grandmama loves
+better than sweetbread and asparagus--so she was rather disappointed,
+but we agreed we would not speak of it to any body, for fear of
+its getting round to dear Miss Woodhouse, who would be so very much
+concerned!--Well, this is brilliant! I am all amazement! could not have
+supposed any thing!--Such elegance and profusion!--I have seen nothing
+like it since--Well, where shall we sit? where shall we sit? Anywhere,
+so that Jane is not in a draught. Where _I_ sit is of no consequence.
+Oh! do you recommend this side?--Well, I am sure, Mr. Churchill--only
+it seems too good--but just as you please. What you direct in this house
+cannot be wrong. Dear Jane, how shall we ever recollect half the dishes
+for grandmama? Soup too! Bless me! I should not be helped so soon, but
+it smells most excellent, and I cannot help beginning.”
+
+Emma had no opportunity of speaking to Mr. Knightley till after supper;
+but, when they were all in the ballroom again, her eyes invited
+him irresistibly to come to her and be thanked. He was warm in his
+reprobation of Mr. Elton’s conduct; it had been unpardonable rudeness;
+and Mrs. Elton’s looks also received the due share of censure.
+
+“They aimed at wounding more than Harriet,” said he. “Emma, why is it
+that they are your enemies?”
+
+He looked with smiling penetration; and, on receiving no answer, added,
+“_She_ ought not to be angry with you, I suspect, whatever he may
+be.--To that surmise, you say nothing, of course; but confess, Emma,
+that you did want him to marry Harriet.”
+
+“I did,” replied Emma, “and they cannot forgive me.”
+
+He shook his head; but there was a smile of indulgence with it, and he
+only said,
+
+“I shall not scold you. I leave you to your own reflections.”
+
+“Can you trust me with such flatterers?--Does my vain spirit ever tell
+me I am wrong?”
+
+“Not your vain spirit, but your serious spirit.--If one leads you wrong,
+I am sure the other tells you of it.”
+
+“I do own myself to have been completely mistaken in Mr. Elton. There is
+a littleness about him which you discovered, and which I did not: and I
+was fully convinced of his being in love with Harriet. It was through a
+series of strange blunders!”
+
+“And, in return for your acknowledging so much, I will do you the
+justice to say, that you would have chosen for him better than he has
+chosen for himself.--Harriet Smith has some first-rate qualities, which
+Mrs. Elton is totally without. An unpretending, single-minded, artless
+girl--infinitely to be preferred by any man of sense and taste to such a
+woman as Mrs. Elton. I found Harriet more conversable than I expected.”
+
+Emma was extremely gratified.--They were interrupted by the bustle of
+Mr. Weston calling on every body to begin dancing again.
+
+“Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you all
+doing?--Come Emma, set your companions the example. Every body is lazy!
+Every body is asleep!”
+
+“I am ready,” said Emma, “whenever I am wanted.”
+
+“Whom are you going to dance with?” asked Mr. Knightley.
+
+She hesitated a moment, and then replied, “With you, if you will ask
+me.”
+
+“Will you?” said he, offering his hand.
+
+“Indeed I will. You have shewn that you can dance, and you know we are
+not really so much brother and sister as to make it at all improper.”
+
+“Brother and sister! no, indeed.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+This little explanation with Mr. Knightley gave Emma considerable
+pleasure. It was one of the agreeable recollections of the ball, which
+she walked about the lawn the next morning to enjoy.--She was extremely
+glad that they had come to so good an understanding respecting the
+Eltons, and that their opinions of both husband and wife were so much
+alike; and his praise of Harriet, his concession in her favour, was
+peculiarly gratifying. The impertinence of the Eltons, which for a few
+minutes had threatened to ruin the rest of her evening, had been the
+occasion of some of its highest satisfactions; and she looked forward
+to another happy result--the cure of Harriet’s infatuation.--From
+Harriet’s manner of speaking of the circumstance before they quitted the
+ballroom, she had strong hopes. It seemed as if her eyes were suddenly
+opened, and she were enabled to see that Mr. Elton was not the superior
+creature she had believed him. The fever was over, and Emma could
+harbour little fear of the pulse being quickened again by injurious
+courtesy. She depended on the evil feelings of the Eltons for
+supplying all the discipline of pointed neglect that could be farther
+requisite.--Harriet rational, Frank Churchill not too much in love, and
+Mr. Knightley not wanting to quarrel with her, how very happy a summer
+must be before her!
+
+She was not to see Frank Churchill this morning. He had told her that he
+could not allow himself the pleasure of stopping at Hartfield, as he was
+to be at home by the middle of the day. She did not regret it.
+
+Having arranged all these matters, looked them through, and put them all
+to rights, she was just turning to the house with spirits freshened up
+for the demands of the two little boys, as well as of their grandpapa,
+when the great iron sweep-gate opened, and two persons entered whom she
+had never less expected to see together--Frank Churchill, with Harriet
+leaning on his arm--actually Harriet!--A moment sufficed to convince
+her that something extraordinary had happened. Harriet looked white
+and frightened, and he was trying to cheer her.--The iron gates and the
+front-door were not twenty yards asunder;--they were all three soon in
+the hall, and Harriet immediately sinking into a chair fainted away.
+
+A young lady who faints, must be recovered; questions must be answered,
+and surprizes be explained. Such events are very interesting, but the
+suspense of them cannot last long. A few minutes made Emma acquainted
+with the whole.
+
+Miss Smith, and Miss Bickerton, another parlour boarder at Mrs.
+Goddard’s, who had been also at the ball, had walked out together, and
+taken a road, the Richmond road, which, though apparently public enough
+for safety, had led them into alarm.--About half a mile beyond Highbury,
+making a sudden turn, and deeply shaded by elms on each side, it became
+for a considerable stretch very retired; and when the young ladies
+had advanced some way into it, they had suddenly perceived at a small
+distance before them, on a broader patch of greensward by the side, a
+party of gipsies. A child on the watch, came towards them to beg; and
+Miss Bickerton, excessively frightened, gave a great scream, and calling
+on Harriet to follow her, ran up a steep bank, cleared a slight hedge at
+the top, and made the best of her way by a short cut back to Highbury.
+But poor Harriet could not follow. She had suffered very much from cramp
+after dancing, and her first attempt to mount the bank brought on such
+a return of it as made her absolutely powerless--and in this state, and
+exceedingly terrified, she had been obliged to remain.
+
+How the trampers might have behaved, had the young ladies been more
+courageous, must be doubtful; but such an invitation for attack could
+not be resisted; and Harriet was soon assailed by half a dozen children,
+headed by a stout woman and a great boy, all clamorous, and impertinent
+in look, though not absolutely in word.--More and more frightened, she
+immediately promised them money, and taking out her purse, gave them a
+shilling, and begged them not to want more, or to use her ill.--She
+was then able to walk, though but slowly, and was moving away--but her
+terror and her purse were too tempting, and she was followed, or rather
+surrounded, by the whole gang, demanding more.
+
+In this state Frank Churchill had found her, she trembling and
+conditioning, they loud and insolent. By a most fortunate chance his
+leaving Highbury had been delayed so as to bring him to her assistance
+at this critical moment. The pleasantness of the morning had induced
+him to walk forward, and leave his horses to meet him by another road,
+a mile or two beyond Highbury--and happening to have borrowed a pair
+of scissors the night before of Miss Bates, and to have forgotten to
+restore them, he had been obliged to stop at her door, and go in for a
+few minutes: he was therefore later than he had intended; and being
+on foot, was unseen by the whole party till almost close to them. The
+terror which the woman and boy had been creating in Harriet was then
+their own portion. He had left them completely frightened; and Harriet
+eagerly clinging to him, and hardly able to speak, had just strength
+enough to reach Hartfield, before her spirits were quite overcome.
+It was his idea to bring her to Hartfield: he had thought of no other
+place.
+
+This was the amount of the whole story,--of his communication and of
+Harriet’s as soon as she had recovered her senses and speech.--He dared
+not stay longer than to see her well; these several delays left him
+not another minute to lose; and Emma engaging to give assurance of her
+safety to Mrs. Goddard, and notice of there being such a set of people
+in the neighbourhood to Mr. Knightley, he set off, with all the grateful
+blessings that she could utter for her friend and herself.
+
+Such an adventure as this,--a fine young man and a lovely young woman
+thrown together in such a way, could hardly fail of suggesting certain
+ideas to the coldest heart and the steadiest brain. So Emma thought, at
+least. Could a linguist, could a grammarian, could even a mathematician
+have seen what she did, have witnessed their appearance together, and
+heard their history of it, without feeling that circumstances had been
+at work to make them peculiarly interesting to each other?--How much
+more must an imaginist, like herself, be on fire with speculation and
+foresight!--especially with such a groundwork of anticipation as her
+mind had already made.
+
+It was a very extraordinary thing! Nothing of the sort had ever
+occurred before to any young ladies in the place, within her memory; no
+rencontre, no alarm of the kind;--and now it had happened to the very
+person, and at the very hour, when the other very person was chancing
+to pass by to rescue her!--It certainly was very extraordinary!--And
+knowing, as she did, the favourable state of mind of each at this
+period, it struck her the more. He was wishing to get the better of his
+attachment to herself, she just recovering from her mania for Mr. Elton.
+It seemed as if every thing united to promise the most interesting
+consequences. It was not possible that the occurrence should not be
+strongly recommending each to the other.
+
+In the few minutes’ conversation which she had yet had with him, while
+Harriet had been partially insensible, he had spoken of her terror,
+her naivete, her fervour as she seized and clung to his arm, with a
+sensibility amused and delighted; and just at last, after Harriet’s
+own account had been given, he had expressed his indignation at the
+abominable folly of Miss Bickerton in the warmest terms. Every thing was
+to take its natural course, however, neither impelled nor assisted.
+She would not stir a step, nor drop a hint. No, she had had enough of
+interference. There could be no harm in a scheme, a mere passive scheme.
+It was no more than a wish. Beyond it she would on no account proceed.
+
+Emma’s first resolution was to keep her father from the knowledge of
+what had passed,--aware of the anxiety and alarm it would occasion: but
+she soon felt that concealment must be impossible. Within half an hour
+it was known all over Highbury. It was the very event to engage those
+who talk most, the young and the low; and all the youth and servants in
+the place were soon in the happiness of frightful news. The last night’s
+ball seemed lost in the gipsies. Poor Mr. Woodhouse trembled as he sat,
+and, as Emma had foreseen, would scarcely be satisfied without their
+promising never to go beyond the shrubbery again. It was some comfort
+to him that many inquiries after himself and Miss Woodhouse (for his
+neighbours knew that he loved to be inquired after), as well as Miss
+Smith, were coming in during the rest of the day; and he had
+the pleasure of returning for answer, that they were all very
+indifferent--which, though not exactly true, for she was perfectly well,
+and Harriet not much otherwise, Emma would not interfere with. She had
+an unhappy state of health in general for the child of such a man,
+for she hardly knew what indisposition was; and if he did not invent
+illnesses for her, she could make no figure in a message.
+
+The gipsies did not wait for the operations of justice; they took
+themselves off in a hurry. The young ladies of Highbury might have
+walked again in safety before their panic began, and the whole history
+dwindled soon into a matter of little importance but to Emma and her
+nephews:--in her imagination it maintained its ground, and Henry and
+John were still asking every day for the story of Harriet and the
+gipsies, and still tenaciously setting her right if she varied in the
+slightest particular from the original recital.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+A very few days had passed after this adventure, when Harriet came one
+morning to Emma with a small parcel in her hand, and after sitting down
+and hesitating, thus began:
+
+“Miss Woodhouse--if you are at leisure--I have something that I should
+like to tell you--a sort of confession to make--and then, you know, it
+will be over.”
+
+Emma was a good deal surprized; but begged her to speak. There was a
+seriousness in Harriet’s manner which prepared her, quite as much as her
+words, for something more than ordinary.
+
+“It is my duty, and I am sure it is my wish,” she continued, “to have
+no reserves with you on this subject. As I am happily quite an altered
+creature in _one_ _respect_, it is very fit that you should have
+the satisfaction of knowing it. I do not want to say more than is
+necessary--I am too much ashamed of having given way as I have done, and
+I dare say you understand me.”
+
+“Yes,” said Emma, “I hope I do.”
+
+“How I could so long a time be fancying myself!...” cried Harriet,
+warmly. “It seems like madness! I can see nothing at all extraordinary
+in him now.--I do not care whether I meet him or not--except that of the
+two I had rather not see him--and indeed I would go any distance round
+to avoid him--but I do not envy his wife in the least; I neither admire
+her nor envy her, as I have done: she is very charming, I dare say, and
+all that, but I think her very ill-tempered and disagreeable--I shall
+never forget her look the other night!--However, I assure you, Miss
+Woodhouse, I wish her no evil.--No, let them be ever so happy together,
+it will not give me another moment’s pang: and to convince you that I
+have been speaking truth, I am now going to destroy--what I ought to
+have destroyed long ago--what I ought never to have kept--I know that
+very well (blushing as she spoke).--However, now I will destroy it
+all--and it is my particular wish to do it in your presence, that you
+may see how rational I am grown. Cannot you guess what this parcel
+holds?” said she, with a conscious look.
+
+“Not the least in the world.--Did he ever give you any thing?”
+
+“No--I cannot call them gifts; but they are things that I have valued
+very much.”
+
+She held the parcel towards her, and Emma read the words _Most_
+_precious_ _treasures_ on the top. Her curiosity was greatly excited.
+Harriet unfolded the parcel, and she looked on with impatience. Within
+abundance of silver paper was a pretty little Tunbridge-ware box,
+which Harriet opened: it was well lined with the softest cotton; but,
+excepting the cotton, Emma saw only a small piece of court-plaister.
+
+“Now,” said Harriet, “you _must_ recollect.”
+
+“No, indeed I do not.”
+
+“Dear me! I should not have thought it possible you could forget what
+passed in this very room about court-plaister, one of the very last
+times we ever met in it!--It was but a very few days before I had my
+sore throat--just before Mr. and Mrs. John Knightley came--I think the
+very evening.--Do not you remember his cutting his finger with your new
+penknife, and your recommending court-plaister?--But, as you had none
+about you, and knew I had, you desired me to supply him; and so I took
+mine out and cut him a piece; but it was a great deal too large, and he
+cut it smaller, and kept playing some time with what was left, before he
+gave it back to me. And so then, in my nonsense, I could not help making
+a treasure of it--so I put it by never to be used, and looked at it now
+and then as a great treat.”
+
+“My dearest Harriet!” cried Emma, putting her hand before her face,
+and jumping up, “you make me more ashamed of myself than I can bear.
+Remember it? Aye, I remember it all now; all, except your saving this
+relic--I knew nothing of that till this moment--but the cutting the
+finger, and my recommending court-plaister, and saying I had none
+about me!--Oh! my sins, my sins!--And I had plenty all the while in my
+pocket!--One of my senseless tricks!--I deserve to be under a continual
+blush all the rest of my life.--Well--(sitting down again)--go on--what
+else?”
+
+“And had you really some at hand yourself? I am sure I never suspected
+it, you did it so naturally.”
+
+“And so you actually put this piece of court-plaister by for his sake!”
+ said Emma, recovering from her state of shame and feeling divided
+between wonder and amusement. And secretly she added to herself, “Lord
+bless me! when should I ever have thought of putting by in cotton a
+piece of court-plaister that Frank Churchill had been pulling about! I
+never was equal to this.”
+
+“Here,” resumed Harriet, turning to her box again, “here is something
+still more valuable, I mean that _has_ _been_ more valuable, because
+this is what did really once belong to him, which the court-plaister
+never did.”
+
+Emma was quite eager to see this superior treasure. It was the end of an
+old pencil,--the part without any lead.
+
+“This was really his,” said Harriet.--“Do not you remember one
+morning?--no, I dare say you do not. But one morning--I forget exactly
+the day--but perhaps it was the Tuesday or Wednesday before _that_
+_evening_, he wanted to make a memorandum in his pocket-book; it was
+about spruce-beer. Mr. Knightley had been telling him something about
+brewing spruce-beer, and he wanted to put it down; but when he took out
+his pencil, there was so little lead that he soon cut it all away, and
+it would not do, so you lent him another, and this was left upon the
+table as good for nothing. But I kept my eye on it; and, as soon as I
+dared, caught it up, and never parted with it again from that moment.”
+
+“I do remember it,” cried Emma; “I perfectly remember it.--Talking
+about spruce-beer.--Oh! yes--Mr. Knightley and I both saying we
+liked it, and Mr. Elton’s seeming resolved to learn to like it too. I
+perfectly remember it.--Stop; Mr. Knightley was standing just here, was
+not he? I have an idea he was standing just here.”
+
+“Ah! I do not know. I cannot recollect.--It is very odd, but I cannot
+recollect.--Mr. Elton was sitting here, I remember, much about where I
+am now.”--
+
+“Well, go on.”
+
+“Oh! that’s all. I have nothing more to shew you, or to say--except that
+I am now going to throw them both behind the fire, and I wish you to see
+me do it.”
+
+“My poor dear Harriet! and have you actually found happiness in
+treasuring up these things?”
+
+“Yes, simpleton as I was!--but I am quite ashamed of it now, and wish I
+could forget as easily as I can burn them. It was very wrong of me, you
+know, to keep any remembrances, after he was married. I knew it was--but
+had not resolution enough to part with them.”
+
+“But, Harriet, is it necessary to burn the court-plaister?--I have not
+a word to say for the bit of old pencil, but the court-plaister might be
+useful.”
+
+“I shall be happier to burn it,” replied Harriet. “It has a disagreeable
+look to me. I must get rid of every thing.--There it goes, and there is
+an end, thank Heaven! of Mr. Elton.”
+
+“And when,” thought Emma, “will there be a beginning of Mr. Churchill?”
+
+She had soon afterwards reason to believe that the beginning was already
+made, and could not but hope that the gipsy, though she had _told_ no
+fortune, might be proved to have made Harriet’s.--About a fortnight
+after the alarm, they came to a sufficient explanation, and quite
+undesignedly. Emma was not thinking of it at the moment, which made the
+information she received more valuable. She merely said, in the course
+of some trivial chat, “Well, Harriet, whenever you marry I would advise
+you to do so and so”--and thought no more of it, till after a minute’s
+silence she heard Harriet say in a very serious tone, “I shall never
+marry.”
+
+Emma then looked up, and immediately saw how it was; and after a
+moment’s debate, as to whether it should pass unnoticed or not, replied,
+
+“Never marry!--This is a new resolution.”
+
+“It is one that I shall never change, however.”
+
+After another short hesitation, “I hope it does not proceed from--I hope
+it is not in compliment to Mr. Elton?”
+
+“Mr. Elton indeed!” cried Harriet indignantly.--“Oh! no”--and Emma could
+just catch the words, “so superior to Mr. Elton!”
+
+She then took a longer time for consideration. Should she proceed no
+farther?--should she let it pass, and seem to suspect nothing?--Perhaps
+Harriet might think her cold or angry if she did; or perhaps if she were
+totally silent, it might only drive Harriet into asking her to hear too
+much; and against any thing like such an unreserve as had been, such
+an open and frequent discussion of hopes and chances, she was perfectly
+resolved.--She believed it would be wiser for her to say and know at
+once, all that she meant to say and know. Plain dealing was always
+best. She had previously determined how far she would proceed, on any
+application of the sort; and it would be safer for both, to have the
+judicious law of her own brain laid down with speed.--She was decided,
+and thus spoke--
+
+“Harriet, I will not affect to be in doubt of your meaning. Your
+resolution, or rather your expectation of never marrying, results from
+an idea that the person whom you might prefer, would be too greatly your
+superior in situation to think of you. Is not it so?”
+
+“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, believe me I have not the presumption to suppose--
+Indeed I am not so mad.--But it is a pleasure to me to admire him at a
+distance--and to think of his infinite superiority to all the rest of
+the world, with the gratitude, wonder, and veneration, which are so
+proper, in me especially.”
+
+“I am not at all surprized at you, Harriet. The service he rendered you
+was enough to warm your heart.”
+
+“Service! oh! it was such an inexpressible obligation!--The very
+recollection of it, and all that I felt at the time--when I saw him
+coming--his noble look--and my wretchedness before. Such a change! In
+one moment such a change! From perfect misery to perfect happiness!”
+
+“It is very natural. It is natural, and it is honourable.--Yes,
+honourable, I think, to chuse so well and so gratefully.--But that
+it will be a fortunate preference is more than I can promise. I do not
+advise you to give way to it, Harriet. I do not by any means engage
+for its being returned. Consider what you are about. Perhaps it will be
+wisest in you to check your feelings while you can: at any rate do not
+let them carry you far, unless you are persuaded of his liking you. Be
+observant of him. Let his behaviour be the guide of your sensations. I
+give you this caution now, because I shall never speak to you again on
+the subject. I am determined against all interference. Henceforward I
+know nothing of the matter. Let no name ever pass our lips. We were very
+wrong before; we will be cautious now.--He is your superior, no doubt,
+and there do seem objections and obstacles of a very serious nature; but
+yet, Harriet, more wonderful things have taken place, there have been
+matches of greater disparity. But take care of yourself. I would not
+have you too sanguine; though, however it may end, be assured your
+raising your thoughts to _him_, is a mark of good taste which I shall
+always know how to value.”
+
+Harriet kissed her hand in silent and submissive gratitude. Emma was
+very decided in thinking such an attachment no bad thing for her friend.
+Its tendency would be to raise and refine her mind--and it must be
+saving her from the danger of degradation.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+In this state of schemes, and hopes, and connivance, June opened upon
+Hartfield. To Highbury in general it brought no material change. The
+Eltons were still talking of a visit from the Sucklings, and of the use
+to be made of their barouche-landau; and Jane Fairfax was still at her
+grandmother’s; and as the return of the Campbells from Ireland was again
+delayed, and August, instead of Midsummer, fixed for it, she was likely
+to remain there full two months longer, provided at least she were able
+to defeat Mrs. Elton’s activity in her service, and save herself from
+being hurried into a delightful situation against her will.
+
+Mr. Knightley, who, for some reason best known to himself, had certainly
+taken an early dislike to Frank Churchill, was only growing to dislike
+him more. He began to suspect him of some double dealing in his pursuit
+of Emma. That Emma was his object appeared indisputable. Every thing
+declared it; his own attentions, his father’s hints, his mother-in-law’s
+guarded silence; it was all in unison; words, conduct, discretion, and
+indiscretion, told the same story. But while so many were devoting him
+to Emma, and Emma herself making him over to Harriet, Mr. Knightley
+began to suspect him of some inclination to trifle with Jane Fairfax. He
+could not understand it; but there were symptoms of intelligence between
+them--he thought so at least--symptoms of admiration on his side, which,
+having once observed, he could not persuade himself to think entirely
+void of meaning, however he might wish to escape any of Emma’s errors
+of imagination. _She_ was not present when the suspicion first arose.
+He was dining with the Randalls family, and Jane, at the Eltons’; and he
+had seen a look, more than a single look, at Miss Fairfax, which, from
+the admirer of Miss Woodhouse, seemed somewhat out of place. When he was
+again in their company, he could not help remembering what he had seen;
+nor could he avoid observations which, unless it were like Cowper and
+his fire at twilight,
+
+“Myself creating what I saw,”
+
+brought him yet stronger suspicion of there being a something of private
+liking, of private understanding even, between Frank Churchill and Jane.
+
+He had walked up one day after dinner, as he very often did, to spend
+his evening at Hartfield. Emma and Harriet were going to walk; he joined
+them; and, on returning, they fell in with a larger party, who, like
+themselves, judged it wisest to take their exercise early, as the
+weather threatened rain; Mr. and Mrs. Weston and their son, Miss Bates
+and her niece, who had accidentally met. They all united; and, on
+reaching Hartfield gates, Emma, who knew it was exactly the sort of
+visiting that would be welcome to her father, pressed them all to go in
+and drink tea with him. The Randalls party agreed to it immediately; and
+after a pretty long speech from Miss Bates, which few persons listened
+to, she also found it possible to accept dear Miss Woodhouse’s most
+obliging invitation.
+
+As they were turning into the grounds, Mr. Perry passed by on horseback.
+The gentlemen spoke of his horse.
+
+“By the bye,” said Frank Churchill to Mrs. Weston presently, “what
+became of Mr. Perry’s plan of setting up his carriage?”
+
+Mrs. Weston looked surprized, and said, “I did not know that he ever had
+any such plan.”
+
+“Nay, I had it from you. You wrote me word of it three months ago.”
+
+“Me! impossible!”
+
+“Indeed you did. I remember it perfectly. You mentioned it as what
+was certainly to be very soon. Mrs. Perry had told somebody, and was
+extremely happy about it. It was owing to _her_ persuasion, as she
+thought his being out in bad weather did him a great deal of harm. You
+must remember it now?”
+
+“Upon my word I never heard of it till this moment.”
+
+“Never! really, never!--Bless me! how could it be?--Then I must have
+dreamt it--but I was completely persuaded--Miss Smith, you walk as if
+you were tired. You will not be sorry to find yourself at home.”
+
+“What is this?--What is this?” cried Mr. Weston, “about Perry and a
+carriage? Is Perry going to set up his carriage, Frank? I am glad he can
+afford it. You had it from himself, had you?”
+
+“No, sir,” replied his son, laughing, “I seem to have had it from
+nobody.--Very odd!--I really was persuaded of Mrs. Weston’s having
+mentioned it in one of her letters to Enscombe, many weeks ago, with all
+these particulars--but as she declares she never heard a syllable of
+it before, of course it must have been a dream. I am a great dreamer.
+I dream of every body at Highbury when I am away--and when I have gone
+through my particular friends, then I begin dreaming of Mr. and Mrs.
+Perry.”
+
+“It is odd though,” observed his father, “that you should have had such
+a regular connected dream about people whom it was not very likely you
+should be thinking of at Enscombe. Perry’s setting up his carriage! and
+his wife’s persuading him to it, out of care for his health--just
+what will happen, I have no doubt, some time or other; only a little
+premature. What an air of probability sometimes runs through a dream!
+And at others, what a heap of absurdities it is! Well, Frank, your dream
+certainly shews that Highbury is in your thoughts when you are absent.
+Emma, you are a great dreamer, I think?”
+
+Emma was out of hearing. She had hurried on before her guests to
+prepare her father for their appearance, and was beyond the reach of Mr.
+Weston’s hint.
+
+“Why, to own the truth,” cried Miss Bates, who had been trying in vain
+to be heard the last two minutes, “if I must speak on this subject,
+there is no denying that Mr. Frank Churchill might have--I do not mean
+to say that he did not dream it--I am sure I have sometimes the oddest
+dreams in the world--but if I am questioned about it, I must acknowledge
+that there was such an idea last spring; for Mrs. Perry herself
+mentioned it to my mother, and the Coles knew of it as well as
+ourselves--but it was quite a secret, known to nobody else, and only
+thought of about three days. Mrs. Perry was very anxious that he should
+have a carriage, and came to my mother in great spirits one morning
+because she thought she had prevailed. Jane, don’t you remember
+grandmama’s telling us of it when we got home? I forget where we
+had been walking to--very likely to Randalls; yes, I think it was to
+Randalls. Mrs. Perry was always particularly fond of my mother--indeed
+I do not know who is not--and she had mentioned it to her in confidence;
+she had no objection to her telling us, of course, but it was not to go
+beyond: and, from that day to this, I never mentioned it to a soul that
+I know of. At the same time, I will not positively answer for my having
+never dropt a hint, because I know I do sometimes pop out a thing before
+I am aware. I am a talker, you know; I am rather a talker; and now and
+then I have let a thing escape me which I should not. I am not like
+Jane; I wish I were. I will answer for it _she_ never betrayed the least
+thing in the world. Where is she?--Oh! just behind. Perfectly remember
+Mrs. Perry’s coming.--Extraordinary dream, indeed!”
+
+They were entering the hall. Mr. Knightley’s eyes had preceded Miss
+Bates’s in a glance at Jane. From Frank Churchill’s face, where
+he thought he saw confusion suppressed or laughed away, he had
+involuntarily turned to hers; but she was indeed behind, and too busy
+with her shawl. Mr. Weston had walked in. The two other gentlemen waited
+at the door to let her pass. Mr. Knightley suspected in Frank
+Churchill the determination of catching her eye--he seemed watching her
+intently--in vain, however, if it were so--Jane passed between them
+into the hall, and looked at neither.
+
+There was no time for farther remark or explanation. The dream must be
+borne with, and Mr. Knightley must take his seat with the rest round the
+large modern circular table which Emma had introduced at Hartfield, and
+which none but Emma could have had power to place there and persuade her
+father to use, instead of the small-sized Pembroke, on which two of his
+daily meals had, for forty years been crowded. Tea passed pleasantly,
+and nobody seemed in a hurry to move.
+
+“Miss Woodhouse,” said Frank Churchill, after examining a table behind
+him, which he could reach as he sat, “have your nephews taken away their
+alphabets--their box of letters? It used to stand here. Where is it?
+This is a sort of dull-looking evening, that ought to be treated rather
+as winter than summer. We had great amusement with those letters one
+morning. I want to puzzle you again.”
+
+Emma was pleased with the thought; and producing the box, the table
+was quickly scattered over with alphabets, which no one seemed so much
+disposed to employ as their two selves. They were rapidly forming words
+for each other, or for any body else who would be puzzled. The quietness
+of the game made it particularly eligible for Mr. Woodhouse, who had
+often been distressed by the more animated sort, which Mr. Weston had
+occasionally introduced, and who now sat happily occupied in lamenting,
+with tender melancholy, over the departure of the “poor little boys,”
+ or in fondly pointing out, as he took up any stray letter near him, how
+beautifully Emma had written it.
+
+Frank Churchill placed a word before Miss Fairfax. She gave a slight
+glance round the table, and applied herself to it. Frank was next to
+Emma, Jane opposite to them--and Mr. Knightley so placed as to see them
+all; and it was his object to see as much as he could, with as little
+apparent observation. The word was discovered, and with a faint smile
+pushed away. If meant to be immediately mixed with the others, and
+buried from sight, she should have looked on the table instead of
+looking just across, for it was not mixed; and Harriet, eager after
+every fresh word, and finding out none, directly took it up, and fell to
+work. She was sitting by Mr. Knightley, and turned to him for help. The
+word was _blunder_; and as Harriet exultingly proclaimed it, there was a
+blush on Jane’s cheek which gave it a meaning not otherwise ostensible.
+Mr. Knightley connected it with the dream; but how it could all be,
+was beyond his comprehension. How the delicacy, the discretion of his
+favourite could have been so lain asleep! He feared there must be some
+decided involvement. Disingenuousness and double dealing seemed to meet
+him at every turn. These letters were but the vehicle for gallantry and
+trick. It was a child’s play, chosen to conceal a deeper game on Frank
+Churchill’s part.
+
+With great indignation did he continue to observe him; with great alarm
+and distrust, to observe also his two blinded companions. He saw a short
+word prepared for Emma, and given to her with a look sly and demure. He
+saw that Emma had soon made it out, and found it highly entertaining,
+though it was something which she judged it proper to appear to censure;
+for she said, “Nonsense! for shame!” He heard Frank Churchill next say,
+with a glance towards Jane, “I will give it to her--shall I?”--and as
+clearly heard Emma opposing it with eager laughing warmth. “No, no, you
+must not; you shall not, indeed.”
+
+It was done however. This gallant young man, who seemed to love without
+feeling, and to recommend himself without complaisance, directly handed
+over the word to Miss Fairfax, and with a particular degree of sedate
+civility entreated her to study it. Mr. Knightley’s excessive curiosity
+to know what this word might be, made him seize every possible moment
+for darting his eye towards it, and it was not long before he saw it
+to be _Dixon_. Jane Fairfax’s perception seemed to accompany his;
+her comprehension was certainly more equal to the covert meaning,
+the superior intelligence, of those five letters so arranged. She was
+evidently displeased; looked up, and seeing herself watched, blushed
+more deeply than he had ever perceived her, and saying only, “I did not
+know that proper names were allowed,” pushed away the letters with even
+an angry spirit, and looked resolved to be engaged by no other word
+that could be offered. Her face was averted from those who had made the
+attack, and turned towards her aunt.
+
+“Aye, very true, my dear,” cried the latter, though Jane had not spoken
+a word--“I was just going to say the same thing. It is time for us to be
+going indeed. The evening is closing in, and grandmama will be looking
+for us. My dear sir, you are too obliging. We really must wish you good
+night.”
+
+Jane’s alertness in moving, proved her as ready as her aunt had
+preconceived. She was immediately up, and wanting to quit the table; but
+so many were also moving, that she could not get away; and Mr. Knightley
+thought he saw another collection of letters anxiously pushed towards
+her, and resolutely swept away by her unexamined. She was afterwards
+looking for her shawl--Frank Churchill was looking also--it was growing
+dusk, and the room was in confusion; and how they parted, Mr. Knightley
+could not tell.
+
+He remained at Hartfield after all the rest, his thoughts full of
+what he had seen; so full, that when the candles came to assist his
+observations, he must--yes, he certainly must, as a friend--an anxious
+friend--give Emma some hint, ask her some question. He could not see her
+in a situation of such danger, without trying to preserve her. It was
+his duty.
+
+“Pray, Emma,” said he, “may I ask in what lay the great amusement, the
+poignant sting of the last word given to you and Miss Fairfax? I saw the
+word, and am curious to know how it could be so very entertaining to the
+one, and so very distressing to the other.”
+
+Emma was extremely confused. She could not endure to give him the true
+explanation; for though her suspicions were by no means removed, she was
+really ashamed of having ever imparted them.
+
+“Oh!” she cried in evident embarrassment, “it all meant nothing; a mere
+joke among ourselves.”
+
+“The joke,” he replied gravely, “seemed confined to you and Mr.
+Churchill.”
+
+He had hoped she would speak again, but she did not. She would rather
+busy herself about any thing than speak. He sat a little while in
+doubt. A variety of evils crossed his mind. Interference--fruitless
+interference. Emma’s confusion, and the acknowledged intimacy, seemed to
+declare her affection engaged. Yet he would speak. He owed it to her,
+to risk any thing that might be involved in an unwelcome interference,
+rather than her welfare; to encounter any thing, rather than the
+remembrance of neglect in such a cause.
+
+“My dear Emma,” said he at last, with earnest kindness, “do you
+think you perfectly understand the degree of acquaintance between the
+gentleman and lady we have been speaking of?”
+
+“Between Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax? Oh! yes, perfectly.--Why
+do you make a doubt of it?”
+
+“Have you never at any time had reason to think that he admired her, or
+that she admired him?”
+
+“Never, never!” she cried with a most open eagerness--“Never, for the
+twentieth part of a moment, did such an idea occur to me. And how could
+it possibly come into your head?”
+
+“I have lately imagined that I saw symptoms of attachment between
+them--certain expressive looks, which I did not believe meant to be
+public.”
+
+“Oh! you amuse me excessively. I am delighted to find that you can
+vouchsafe to let your imagination wander--but it will not do--very sorry
+to check you in your first essay--but indeed it will not do. There is no
+admiration between them, I do assure you; and the appearances which
+have caught you, have arisen from some peculiar circumstances--feelings
+rather of a totally different nature--it is impossible exactly to
+explain:--there is a good deal of nonsense in it--but the part which is
+capable of being communicated, which is sense, is, that they are as far
+from any attachment or admiration for one another, as any two beings in
+the world can be. That is, I _presume_ it to be so on her side, and I
+can _answer_ for its being so on his. I will answer for the gentleman’s
+indifference.”
+
+She spoke with a confidence which staggered, with a satisfaction
+which silenced, Mr. Knightley. She was in gay spirits, and would have
+prolonged the conversation, wanting to hear the particulars of his
+suspicions, every look described, and all the wheres and hows of a
+circumstance which highly entertained her: but his gaiety did not meet
+hers. He found he could not be useful, and his feelings were too much
+irritated for talking. That he might not be irritated into an absolute
+fever, by the fire which Mr. Woodhouse’s tender habits required almost
+every evening throughout the year, he soon afterwards took a hasty
+leave, and walked home to the coolness and solitude of Donwell Abbey.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+After being long fed with hopes of a speedy visit from Mr. and Mrs.
+Suckling, the Highbury world were obliged to endure the mortification
+of hearing that they could not possibly come till the autumn. No such
+importation of novelties could enrich their intellectual stores at
+present. In the daily interchange of news, they must be again restricted
+to the other topics with which for a while the Sucklings’ coming had
+been united, such as the last accounts of Mrs. Churchill, whose health
+seemed every day to supply a different report, and the situation of Mrs.
+Weston, whose happiness it was to be hoped might eventually be as much
+increased by the arrival of a child, as that of all her neighbours was
+by the approach of it.
+
+Mrs. Elton was very much disappointed. It was the delay of a great deal
+of pleasure and parade. Her introductions and recommendations must all
+wait, and every projected party be still only talked of. So she thought
+at first;--but a little consideration convinced her that every thing
+need not be put off. Why should not they explore to Box Hill though
+the Sucklings did not come? They could go there again with them in the
+autumn. It was settled that they should go to Box Hill. That there was
+to be such a party had been long generally known: it had even given the
+idea of another. Emma had never been to Box Hill; she wished to see what
+every body found so well worth seeing, and she and Mr. Weston had agreed
+to chuse some fine morning and drive thither. Two or three more of the
+chosen only were to be admitted to join them, and it was to be done in a
+quiet, unpretending, elegant way, infinitely superior to the bustle and
+preparation, the regular eating and drinking, and picnic parade of the
+Eltons and the Sucklings.
+
+This was so very well understood between them, that Emma could not but
+feel some surprise, and a little displeasure, on hearing from Mr. Weston
+that he had been proposing to Mrs. Elton, as her brother and sister had
+failed her, that the two parties should unite, and go together; and that
+as Mrs. Elton had very readily acceded to it, so it was to be, if she
+had no objection. Now, as her objection was nothing but her very great
+dislike of Mrs. Elton, of which Mr. Weston must already be perfectly
+aware, it was not worth bringing forward again:--it could not be done
+without a reproof to him, which would be giving pain to his wife; and
+she found herself therefore obliged to consent to an arrangement which
+she would have done a great deal to avoid; an arrangement which would
+probably expose her even to the degradation of being said to be of Mrs.
+Elton’s party! Every feeling was offended; and the forbearance of her
+outward submission left a heavy arrear due of secret severity in her
+reflections on the unmanageable goodwill of Mr. Weston’s temper.
+
+“I am glad you approve of what I have done,” said he very comfortably.
+“But I thought you would. Such schemes as these are nothing without
+numbers. One cannot have too large a party. A large party secures its
+own amusement. And she is a good-natured woman after all. One could not
+leave her out.”
+
+Emma denied none of it aloud, and agreed to none of it in private.
+
+It was now the middle of June, and the weather fine; and Mrs. Elton
+was growing impatient to name the day, and settle with Mr. Weston as to
+pigeon-pies and cold lamb, when a lame carriage-horse threw every thing
+into sad uncertainty. It might be weeks, it might be only a few days,
+before the horse were useable; but no preparations could be ventured
+on, and it was all melancholy stagnation. Mrs. Elton’s resources were
+inadequate to such an attack.
+
+“Is not this most vexatious, Knightley?” she cried.--“And such weather
+for exploring!--These delays and disappointments are quite odious. What
+are we to do?--The year will wear away at this rate, and nothing
+done. Before this time last year I assure you we had had a delightful
+exploring party from Maple Grove to Kings Weston.”
+
+“You had better explore to Donwell,” replied Mr. Knightley. “That may
+be done without horses. Come, and eat my strawberries. They are ripening
+fast.”
+
+If Mr. Knightley did not begin seriously, he was obliged to proceed so,
+for his proposal was caught at with delight; and the “Oh! I should like
+it of all things,” was not plainer in words than manner. Donwell was
+famous for its strawberry-beds, which seemed a plea for the invitation:
+but no plea was necessary; cabbage-beds would have been enough to tempt
+the lady, who only wanted to be going somewhere. She promised him again
+and again to come--much oftener than he doubted--and was extremely
+gratified by such a proof of intimacy, such a distinguishing compliment
+as she chose to consider it.
+
+“You may depend upon me,” said she. “I certainly will come. Name your
+day, and I will come. You will allow me to bring Jane Fairfax?”
+
+“I cannot name a day,” said he, “till I have spoken to some others whom
+I would wish to meet you.”
+
+“Oh! leave all that to me. Only give me a carte-blanche.--I am Lady
+Patroness, you know. It is my party. I will bring friends with me.”
+
+“I hope you will bring Elton,” said he: “but I will not trouble you to
+give any other invitations.”
+
+“Oh! now you are looking very sly. But consider--you need not be afraid
+of delegating power to _me_. I am no young lady on her preferment.
+Married women, you know, may be safely authorised. It is my party. Leave
+it all to me. I will invite your guests.”
+
+“No,”--he calmly replied,--“there is but one married woman in the world
+whom I can ever allow to invite what guests she pleases to Donwell, and
+that one is--”
+
+“--Mrs. Weston, I suppose,” interrupted Mrs. Elton, rather mortified.
+
+“No--Mrs. Knightley;--and till she is in being, I will manage such
+matters myself.”
+
+“Ah! you are an odd creature!” she cried, satisfied to have no one
+preferred to herself.--“You are a humourist, and may say what you
+like. Quite a humourist. Well, I shall bring Jane with me--Jane and her
+aunt.--The rest I leave to you. I have no objections at all to meeting
+the Hartfield family. Don’t scruple. I know you are attached to them.”
+
+“You certainly will meet them if I can prevail; and I shall call on Miss
+Bates in my way home.”
+
+“That’s quite unnecessary; I see Jane every day:--but as you like. It
+is to be a morning scheme, you know, Knightley; quite a simple thing. I
+shall wear a large bonnet, and bring one of my little baskets hanging
+on my arm. Here,--probably this basket with pink ribbon. Nothing can be
+more simple, you see. And Jane will have such another. There is to be
+no form or parade--a sort of gipsy party. We are to walk about
+your gardens, and gather the strawberries ourselves, and sit under
+trees;--and whatever else you may like to provide, it is to be all out
+of doors--a table spread in the shade, you know. Every thing as natural
+and simple as possible. Is not that your idea?”
+
+“Not quite. My idea of the simple and the natural will be to have
+the table spread in the dining-room. The nature and the simplicity of
+gentlemen and ladies, with their servants and furniture, I think is
+best observed by meals within doors. When you are tired of eating
+strawberries in the garden, there shall be cold meat in the house.”
+
+“Well--as you please; only don’t have a great set out. And, by the bye,
+can I or my housekeeper be of any use to you with our opinion?--Pray be
+sincere, Knightley. If you wish me to talk to Mrs. Hodges, or to inspect
+anything--”
+
+“I have not the least wish for it, I thank you.”
+
+“Well--but if any difficulties should arise, my housekeeper is extremely
+clever.”
+
+“I will answer for it, that mine thinks herself full as clever, and
+would spurn any body’s assistance.”
+
+“I wish we had a donkey. The thing would be for us all to come on
+donkeys, Jane, Miss Bates, and me--and my caro sposo walking by. I
+really must talk to him about purchasing a donkey. In a country life
+I conceive it to be a sort of necessary; for, let a woman have ever
+so many resources, it is not possible for her to be always shut up at
+home;--and very long walks, you know--in summer there is dust, and in
+winter there is dirt.”
+
+“You will not find either, between Donwell and Highbury. Donwell Lane is
+never dusty, and now it is perfectly dry. Come on a donkey, however, if
+you prefer it. You can borrow Mrs. Cole’s. I would wish every thing to
+be as much to your taste as possible.”
+
+“That I am sure you would. Indeed I do you justice, my good friend.
+Under that peculiar sort of dry, blunt manner, I know you have the
+warmest heart. As I tell Mr. E., you are a thorough humourist.--Yes,
+believe me, Knightley, I am fully sensible of your attention to me in
+the whole of this scheme. You have hit upon the very thing to please
+me.”
+
+Mr. Knightley had another reason for avoiding a table in the shade. He
+wished to persuade Mr. Woodhouse, as well as Emma, to join the party;
+and he knew that to have any of them sitting down out of doors to
+eat would inevitably make him ill. Mr. Woodhouse must not, under the
+specious pretence of a morning drive, and an hour or two spent at
+Donwell, be tempted away to his misery.
+
+He was invited on good faith. No lurking horrors were to upbraid him for
+his easy credulity. He did consent. He had not been at Donwell for two
+years. “Some very fine morning, he, and Emma, and Harriet, could go
+very well; and he could sit still with Mrs. Weston, while the dear girls
+walked about the gardens. He did not suppose they could be damp now,
+in the middle of the day. He should like to see the old house again
+exceedingly, and should be very happy to meet Mr. and Mrs. Elton, and
+any other of his neighbours.--He could not see any objection at all to
+his, and Emma’s, and Harriet’s going there some very fine morning. He
+thought it very well done of Mr. Knightley to invite them--very kind
+and sensible--much cleverer than dining out.--He was not fond of dining
+out.”
+
+Mr. Knightley was fortunate in every body’s most ready concurrence. The
+invitation was everywhere so well received, that it seemed as if, like
+Mrs. Elton, they were all taking the scheme as a particular compliment
+to themselves.--Emma and Harriet professed very high expectations of
+pleasure from it; and Mr. Weston, unasked, promised to get Frank over to
+join them, if possible; a proof of approbation and gratitude which could
+have been dispensed with.--Mr. Knightley was then obliged to say that
+he should be glad to see him; and Mr. Weston engaged to lose no time in
+writing, and spare no arguments to induce him to come.
+
+In the meanwhile the lame horse recovered so fast, that the party to
+Box Hill was again under happy consideration; and at last Donwell was
+settled for one day, and Box Hill for the next,--the weather appearing
+exactly right.
+
+Under a bright mid-day sun, at almost Midsummer, Mr. Woodhouse was
+safely conveyed in his carriage, with one window down, to partake of
+this al-fresco party; and in one of the most comfortable rooms in the
+Abbey, especially prepared for him by a fire all the morning, he was
+happily placed, quite at his ease, ready to talk with pleasure of what
+had been achieved, and advise every body to come and sit down, and not
+to heat themselves.--Mrs. Weston, who seemed to have walked there on
+purpose to be tired, and sit all the time with him, remained, when
+all the others were invited or persuaded out, his patient listener and
+sympathiser.
+
+It was so long since Emma had been at the Abbey, that as soon as she was
+satisfied of her father’s comfort, she was glad to leave him, and look
+around her; eager to refresh and correct her memory with more particular
+observation, more exact understanding of a house and grounds which must
+ever be so interesting to her and all her family.
+
+She felt all the honest pride and complacency which her alliance with
+the present and future proprietor could fairly warrant, as she viewed
+the respectable size and style of the building, its suitable, becoming,
+characteristic situation, low and sheltered--its ample gardens
+stretching down to meadows washed by a stream, of which the Abbey, with
+all the old neglect of prospect, had scarcely a sight--and its abundance
+of timber in rows and avenues, which neither fashion nor extravagance
+had rooted up.--The house was larger than Hartfield, and totally unlike
+it, covering a good deal of ground, rambling and irregular, with many
+comfortable, and one or two handsome rooms.--It was just what it ought
+to be, and it looked what it was--and Emma felt an increasing respect
+for it, as the residence of a family of such true gentility, untainted
+in blood and understanding.--Some faults of temper John Knightley had;
+but Isabella had connected herself unexceptionably. She had given them
+neither men, nor names, nor places, that could raise a blush. These were
+pleasant feelings, and she walked about and indulged them till it
+was necessary to do as the others did, and collect round the
+strawberry-beds.--The whole party were assembled, excepting Frank
+Churchill, who was expected every moment from Richmond; and Mrs. Elton,
+in all her apparatus of happiness, her large bonnet and her basket,
+was very ready to lead the way in gathering, accepting, or
+talking--strawberries, and only strawberries, could now be thought or
+spoken of.--“The best fruit in England--every body’s favourite--always
+wholesome.--These the finest beds and finest sorts.--Delightful to
+gather for one’s self--the only way of really enjoying them.--Morning
+decidedly the best time--never tired--every sort good--hautboy
+infinitely superior--no comparison--the others hardly eatable--hautboys
+very scarce--Chili preferred--white wood finest flavour of all--price
+of strawberries in London--abundance about Bristol--Maple
+Grove--cultivation--beds when to be renewed--gardeners thinking exactly
+different--no general rule--gardeners never to be put out of their
+way--delicious fruit--only too rich to be eaten much of--inferior
+to cherries--currants more refreshing--only objection to gathering
+strawberries the stooping--glaring sun--tired to death--could bear it no
+longer--must go and sit in the shade.”
+
+Such, for half an hour, was the conversation--interrupted only once by
+Mrs. Weston, who came out, in her solicitude after her son-in-law, to
+inquire if he were come--and she was a little uneasy.--She had some
+fears of his horse.
+
+Seats tolerably in the shade were found; and now Emma was obliged
+to overhear what Mrs. Elton and Jane Fairfax were talking of.--A
+situation, a most desirable situation, was in question. Mrs. Elton had
+received notice of it that morning, and was in raptures. It was not
+with Mrs. Suckling, it was not with Mrs. Bragge, but in felicity and
+splendour it fell short only of them: it was with a cousin of Mrs.
+Bragge, an acquaintance of Mrs. Suckling, a lady known at Maple Grove.
+Delightful, charming, superior, first circles, spheres, lines, ranks,
+every thing--and Mrs. Elton was wild to have the offer closed with
+immediately.--On her side, all was warmth, energy, and triumph--and she
+positively refused to take her friend’s negative, though Miss Fairfax
+continued to assure her that she would not at present engage in any
+thing, repeating the same motives which she had been heard to urge
+before.--Still Mrs. Elton insisted on being authorised to write an
+acquiescence by the morrow’s post.--How Jane could bear it at all, was
+astonishing to Emma.--She did look vexed, she did speak pointedly--and
+at last, with a decision of action unusual to her, proposed a
+removal.--“Should not they walk? Would not Mr. Knightley shew them the
+gardens--all the gardens?--She wished to see the whole extent.”--The
+pertinacity of her friend seemed more than she could bear.
+
+It was hot; and after walking some time over the gardens in a scattered,
+dispersed way, scarcely any three together, they insensibly followed one
+another to the delicious shade of a broad short avenue of limes, which
+stretching beyond the garden at an equal distance from the river, seemed
+the finish of the pleasure grounds.--It led to nothing; nothing but a
+view at the end over a low stone wall with high pillars, which seemed
+intended, in their erection, to give the appearance of an approach to
+the house, which never had been there. Disputable, however, as might be
+the taste of such a termination, it was in itself a charming walk, and
+the view which closed it extremely pretty.--The considerable slope, at
+nearly the foot of which the Abbey stood, gradually acquired a steeper
+form beyond its grounds; and at half a mile distant was a bank of
+considerable abruptness and grandeur, well clothed with wood;--and at
+the bottom of this bank, favourably placed and sheltered, rose the
+Abbey Mill Farm, with meadows in front, and the river making a close and
+handsome curve around it.
+
+It was a sweet view--sweet to the eye and the mind. English verdure,
+English culture, English comfort, seen under a sun bright, without being
+oppressive.
+
+In this walk Emma and Mr. Weston found all the others assembled; and
+towards this view she immediately perceived Mr. Knightley and Harriet
+distinct from the rest, quietly leading the way. Mr. Knightley and
+Harriet!--It was an odd tete-a-tete; but she was glad to see it.--There
+had been a time when he would have scorned her as a companion, and
+turned from her with little ceremony. Now they seemed in pleasant
+conversation. There had been a time also when Emma would have been sorry
+to see Harriet in a spot so favourable for the Abbey Mill Farm; but now
+she feared it not. It might be safely viewed with all its appendages of
+prosperity and beauty, its rich pastures, spreading flocks, orchard in
+blossom, and light column of smoke ascending.--She joined them at the
+wall, and found them more engaged in talking than in looking around. He
+was giving Harriet information as to modes of agriculture, etc. and Emma
+received a smile which seemed to say, “These are my own concerns. I have
+a right to talk on such subjects, without being suspected of
+introducing Robert Martin.”--She did not suspect him. It was too old
+a story.--Robert Martin had probably ceased to think of Harriet.--They
+took a few turns together along the walk.--The shade was most
+refreshing, and Emma found it the pleasantest part of the day.
+
+The next remove was to the house; they must all go in and eat;--and they
+were all seated and busy, and still Frank Churchill did not come. Mrs.
+Weston looked, and looked in vain. His father would not own himself
+uneasy, and laughed at her fears; but she could not be cured of wishing
+that he would part with his black mare. He had expressed himself as to
+coming, with more than common certainty. “His aunt was so much better,
+that he had not a doubt of getting over to them.”--Mrs. Churchill’s
+state, however, as many were ready to remind her, was liable to such
+sudden variation as might disappoint her nephew in the most reasonable
+dependence--and Mrs. Weston was at last persuaded to believe, or to say,
+that it must be by some attack of Mrs. Churchill that he was
+prevented coming.--Emma looked at Harriet while the point was under
+consideration; she behaved very well, and betrayed no emotion.
+
+The cold repast was over, and the party were to go out once more to see
+what had not yet been seen, the old Abbey fish-ponds; perhaps get as far
+as the clover, which was to be begun cutting on the morrow, or, at
+any rate, have the pleasure of being hot, and growing cool again.--Mr.
+Woodhouse, who had already taken his little round in the highest part
+of the gardens, where no damps from the river were imagined even by him,
+stirred no more; and his daughter resolved to remain with him, that
+Mrs. Weston might be persuaded away by her husband to the exercise and
+variety which her spirits seemed to need.
+
+Mr. Knightley had done all in his power for Mr. Woodhouse’s
+entertainment. Books of engravings, drawers of medals, cameos, corals,
+shells, and every other family collection within his cabinets, had been
+prepared for his old friend, to while away the morning; and the kindness
+had perfectly answered. Mr. Woodhouse had been exceedingly well amused.
+Mrs. Weston had been shewing them all to him, and now he would shew them
+all to Emma;--fortunate in having no other resemblance to a child, than
+in a total want of taste for what he saw, for he was slow, constant, and
+methodical.--Before this second looking over was begun, however, Emma
+walked into the hall for the sake of a few moments’ free observation of
+the entrance and ground-plot of the house--and was hardly there, when
+Jane Fairfax appeared, coming quickly in from the garden, and with a
+look of escape.--Little expecting to meet Miss Woodhouse so soon, there
+was a start at first; but Miss Woodhouse was the very person she was in
+quest of.
+
+“Will you be so kind,” said she, “when I am missed, as to say that I am
+gone home?--I am going this moment.--My aunt is not aware how late it
+is, nor how long we have been absent--but I am sure we shall be wanted,
+and I am determined to go directly.--I have said nothing about it to any
+body. It would only be giving trouble and distress. Some are gone to the
+ponds, and some to the lime walk. Till they all come in I shall not be
+missed; and when they do, will you have the goodness to say that I am
+gone?”
+
+“Certainly, if you wish it;--but you are not going to walk to Highbury
+alone?”
+
+“Yes--what should hurt me?--I walk fast. I shall be at home in twenty
+minutes.”
+
+“But it is too far, indeed it is, to be walking quite alone. Let my
+father’s servant go with you.--Let me order the carriage. It can be
+round in five minutes.”
+
+“Thank you, thank you--but on no account.--I would rather walk.--And
+for _me_ to be afraid of walking alone!--I, who may so soon have to
+guard others!”
+
+She spoke with great agitation; and Emma very feelingly replied, “That
+can be no reason for your being exposed to danger now. I must order the
+carriage. The heat even would be danger.--You are fatigued already.”
+
+“I am,”--she answered--“I am fatigued; but it is not the sort of
+fatigue--quick walking will refresh me.--Miss Woodhouse, we all know
+at times what it is to be wearied in spirits. Mine, I confess, are
+exhausted. The greatest kindness you can shew me, will be to let me have
+my own way, and only say that I am gone when it is necessary.”
+
+Emma had not another word to oppose. She saw it all; and entering into
+her feelings, promoted her quitting the house immediately, and
+watched her safely off with the zeal of a friend. Her parting look was
+grateful--and her parting words, “Oh! Miss Woodhouse, the comfort of
+being sometimes alone!”--seemed to burst from an overcharged heart, and
+to describe somewhat of the continual endurance to be practised by her,
+even towards some of those who loved her best.
+
+“Such a home, indeed! such an aunt!” said Emma, as she turned back into
+the hall again. “I do pity you. And the more sensibility you betray of
+their just horrors, the more I shall like you.”
+
+Jane had not been gone a quarter of an hour, and they had only
+accomplished some views of St. Mark’s Place, Venice, when Frank
+Churchill entered the room. Emma had not been thinking of him, she had
+forgotten to think of him--but she was very glad to see him. Mrs. Weston
+would be at ease. The black mare was blameless; _they_ were right
+who had named Mrs. Churchill as the cause. He had been detained by
+a temporary increase of illness in her; a nervous seizure, which had
+lasted some hours--and he had quite given up every thought of coming,
+till very late;--and had he known how hot a ride he should have, and
+how late, with all his hurry, he must be, he believed he should not have
+come at all. The heat was excessive; he had never suffered any thing
+like it--almost wished he had staid at home--nothing killed him
+like heat--he could bear any degree of cold, etc., but heat was
+intolerable--and he sat down, at the greatest possible distance from the
+slight remains of Mr. Woodhouse’s fire, looking very deplorable.
+
+“You will soon be cooler, if you sit still,” said Emma.
+
+“As soon as I am cooler I shall go back again. I could very ill be
+spared--but such a point had been made of my coming! You will all be
+going soon I suppose; the whole party breaking up. I met _one_ as I
+came--Madness in such weather!--absolute madness!”
+
+Emma listened, and looked, and soon perceived that Frank Churchill’s
+state might be best defined by the expressive phrase of being out of
+humour. Some people were always cross when they were hot. Such might be
+his constitution; and as she knew that eating and drinking were often
+the cure of such incidental complaints, she recommended his taking
+some refreshment; he would find abundance of every thing in the
+dining-room--and she humanely pointed out the door.
+
+“No--he should not eat. He was not hungry; it would only make him
+hotter.” In two minutes, however, he relented in his own favour; and
+muttering something about spruce-beer, walked off. Emma returned all her
+attention to her father, saying in secret--
+
+“I am glad I have done being in love with him. I should not like a man
+who is so soon discomposed by a hot morning. Harriet’s sweet easy temper
+will not mind it.”
+
+He was gone long enough to have had a very comfortable meal, and came
+back all the better--grown quite cool--and, with good manners, like
+himself--able to draw a chair close to them, take an interest in their
+employment; and regret, in a reasonable way, that he should be so late.
+He was not in his best spirits, but seemed trying to improve them; and,
+at last, made himself talk nonsense very agreeably. They were looking
+over views in Swisserland.
+
+“As soon as my aunt gets well, I shall go abroad,” said he. “I shall
+never be easy till I have seen some of these places. You will have my
+sketches, some time or other, to look at--or my tour to read--or my
+poem. I shall do something to expose myself.”
+
+“That may be--but not by sketches in Swisserland. You will never go to
+Swisserland. Your uncle and aunt will never allow you to leave England.”
+
+“They may be induced to go too. A warm climate may be prescribed for
+her. I have more than half an expectation of our all going abroad. I
+assure you I have. I feel a strong persuasion, this morning, that I
+shall soon be abroad. I ought to travel. I am tired of doing nothing. I
+want a change. I am serious, Miss Woodhouse, whatever your penetrating
+eyes may fancy--I am sick of England--and would leave it to-morrow, if
+I could.”
+
+“You are sick of prosperity and indulgence. Cannot you invent a few
+hardships for yourself, and be contented to stay?”
+
+“_I_ sick of prosperity and indulgence! You are quite mistaken. I do
+not look upon myself as either prosperous or indulged. I am thwarted
+in every thing material. I do not consider myself at all a fortunate
+person.”
+
+“You are not quite so miserable, though, as when you first came. Go and
+eat and drink a little more, and you will do very well. Another slice of
+cold meat, another draught of Madeira and water, will make you nearly on
+a par with the rest of us.”
+
+“No--I shall not stir. I shall sit by you. You are my best cure.”
+
+“We are going to Box Hill to-morrow;--you will join us. It is not
+Swisserland, but it will be something for a young man so much in want of
+a change. You will stay, and go with us?”
+
+“No, certainly not; I shall go home in the cool of the evening.”
+
+“But you may come again in the cool of to-morrow morning.”
+
+“No--It will not be worth while. If I come, I shall be cross.”
+
+“Then pray stay at Richmond.”
+
+“But if I do, I shall be crosser still. I can never bear to think of you
+all there without me.”
+
+“These are difficulties which you must settle for yourself. Chuse your
+own degree of crossness. I shall press you no more.”
+
+The rest of the party were now returning, and all were soon collected.
+With some there was great joy at the sight of Frank Churchill; others
+took it very composedly; but there was a very general distress and
+disturbance on Miss Fairfax’s disappearance being explained. That it was
+time for every body to go, concluded the subject; and with a short final
+arrangement for the next day’s scheme, they parted. Frank Churchill’s
+little inclination to exclude himself increased so much, that his last
+words to Emma were,
+
+“Well;--if _you_ wish me to stay and join the party, I will.”
+
+She smiled her acceptance; and nothing less than a summons from Richmond
+was to take him back before the following evening.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+They had a very fine day for Box Hill; and all the other outward
+circumstances of arrangement, accommodation, and punctuality, were in
+favour of a pleasant party. Mr. Weston directed the whole, officiating
+safely between Hartfield and the Vicarage, and every body was in good
+time. Emma and Harriet went together; Miss Bates and her niece, with
+the Eltons; the gentlemen on horseback. Mrs. Weston remained with Mr.
+Woodhouse. Nothing was wanting but to be happy when they got there.
+Seven miles were travelled in expectation of enjoyment, and every body
+had a burst of admiration on first arriving; but in the general amount
+of the day there was deficiency. There was a languor, a want of spirits,
+a want of union, which could not be got over. They separated too much
+into parties. The Eltons walked together; Mr. Knightley took charge of
+Miss Bates and Jane; and Emma and Harriet belonged to Frank Churchill.
+And Mr. Weston tried, in vain, to make them harmonise better. It seemed
+at first an accidental division, but it never materially varied. Mr. and
+Mrs. Elton, indeed, shewed no unwillingness to mix, and be as agreeable
+as they could; but during the two whole hours that were spent on the
+hill, there seemed a principle of separation, between the other parties,
+too strong for any fine prospects, or any cold collation, or any
+cheerful Mr. Weston, to remove.
+
+At first it was downright dulness to Emma. She had never seen Frank
+Churchill so silent and stupid. He said nothing worth hearing--looked
+without seeing--admired without intelligence--listened without knowing
+what she said. While he was so dull, it was no wonder that Harriet
+should be dull likewise; and they were both insufferable.
+
+When they all sat down it was better; to her taste a great deal better,
+for Frank Churchill grew talkative and gay, making her his first object.
+Every distinguishing attention that could be paid, was paid to her.
+To amuse her, and be agreeable in her eyes, seemed all that he cared
+for--and Emma, glad to be enlivened, not sorry to be flattered, was gay
+and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragement, the admission
+to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first and most animating
+period of their acquaintance; but which now, in her own estimation,
+meant nothing, though in the judgment of most people looking on it must
+have had such an appearance as no English word but flirtation could very
+well describe. “Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse flirted together
+excessively.” They were laying themselves open to that very phrase--and
+to having it sent off in a letter to Maple Grove by one lady, to
+Ireland by another. Not that Emma was gay and thoughtless from any
+real felicity; it was rather because she felt less happy than she had
+expected. She laughed because she was disappointed; and though she liked
+him for his attentions, and thought them all, whether in friendship,
+admiration, or playfulness, extremely judicious, they were not winning
+back her heart. She still intended him for her friend.
+
+“How much I am obliged to you,” said he, “for telling me to come
+to-day!--If it had not been for you, I should certainly have lost all
+the happiness of this party. I had quite determined to go away again.”
+
+“Yes, you were very cross; and I do not know what about, except that you
+were too late for the best strawberries. I was a kinder friend than you
+deserved. But you were humble. You begged hard to be commanded to come.”
+
+“Don’t say I was cross. I was fatigued. The heat overcame me.”
+
+“It is hotter to-day.”
+
+“Not to my feelings. I am perfectly comfortable to-day.”
+
+“You are comfortable because you are under command.”
+
+“Your command?--Yes.”
+
+“Perhaps I intended you to say so, but I meant self-command. You had,
+somehow or other, broken bounds yesterday, and run away from your own
+management; but to-day you are got back again--and as I cannot be always
+with you, it is best to believe your temper under your own command
+rather than mine.”
+
+“It comes to the same thing. I can have no self-command without a
+motive. You order me, whether you speak or not. And you can be always
+with me. You are always with me.”
+
+“Dating from three o’clock yesterday. My perpetual influence could not
+begin earlier, or you would not have been so much out of humour before.”
+
+“Three o’clock yesterday! That is your date. I thought I had seen you
+first in February.”
+
+“Your gallantry is really unanswerable. But (lowering her voice)--nobody
+speaks except ourselves, and it is rather too much to be talking
+nonsense for the entertainment of seven silent people.”
+
+“I say nothing of which I am ashamed,” replied he, with lively
+impudence. “I saw you first in February. Let every body on the Hill
+hear me if they can. Let my accents swell to Mickleham on one side,
+and Dorking on the other. I saw you first in February.” And then
+whispering--“Our companions are excessively stupid. What shall we do
+to rouse them? Any nonsense will serve. They _shall_ talk. Ladies
+and gentlemen, I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse (who, wherever she is,
+presides) to say, that she desires to know what you are all thinking
+of?”
+
+Some laughed, and answered good-humouredly. Miss Bates said a great
+deal; Mrs. Elton swelled at the idea of Miss Woodhouse’s presiding; Mr.
+Knightley’s answer was the most distinct.
+
+“Is Miss Woodhouse sure that she would like to hear what we are all
+thinking of?”
+
+“Oh! no, no”--cried Emma, laughing as carelessly as she could--“Upon no
+account in the world. It is the very last thing I would stand the brunt
+of just now. Let me hear any thing rather than what you are all thinking
+of. I will not say quite all. There are one or two, perhaps, (glancing
+at Mr. Weston and Harriet,) whose thoughts I might not be afraid of
+knowing.”
+
+“It is a sort of thing,” cried Mrs. Elton emphatically, “which _I_
+should not have thought myself privileged to inquire into. Though,
+perhaps, as the _Chaperon_ of the party--_I_ never was in any
+circle--exploring parties--young ladies--married women--”
+
+Her mutterings were chiefly to her husband; and he murmured, in reply,
+
+“Very true, my love, very true. Exactly so, indeed--quite unheard
+of--but some ladies say any thing. Better pass it off as a joke. Every
+body knows what is due to _you_.”
+
+“It will not do,” whispered Frank to Emma; “they are most of them
+affronted. I will attack them with more address. Ladies and gentlemen--I
+am ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say, that she waives her right of
+knowing exactly what you may all be thinking of, and only requires
+something very entertaining from each of you, in a general way. Here
+are seven of you, besides myself, (who, she is pleased to say, am very
+entertaining already,) and she only demands from each of you either one
+thing very clever, be it prose or verse, original or repeated--or two
+things moderately clever--or three things very dull indeed, and she
+engages to laugh heartily at them all.”
+
+“Oh! very well,” exclaimed Miss Bates, “then I need not be uneasy.
+‘Three things very dull indeed.’ That will just do for me, you know. I
+shall be sure to say three dull things as soon as ever I open my mouth,
+shan’t I? (looking round with the most good-humoured dependence on every
+body’s assent)--Do not you all think I shall?”
+
+Emma could not resist.
+
+“Ah! ma’am, but there may be a difficulty. Pardon me--but you will be
+limited as to number--only three at once.”
+
+Miss Bates, deceived by the mock ceremony of her manner, did not
+immediately catch her meaning; but, when it burst on her, it could not
+anger, though a slight blush shewed that it could pain her.
+
+“Ah!--well--to be sure. Yes, I see what she means, (turning to Mr.
+Knightley,) and I will try to hold my tongue. I must make myself very
+disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing to an old friend.”
+
+“I like your plan,” cried Mr. Weston. “Agreed, agreed. I will do my
+best. I am making a conundrum. How will a conundrum reckon?”
+
+“Low, I am afraid, sir, very low,” answered his son;--“but we shall be
+indulgent--especially to any one who leads the way.”
+
+“No, no,” said Emma, “it will not reckon low. A conundrum of Mr.
+Weston’s shall clear him and his next neighbour. Come, sir, pray let me
+hear it.”
+
+“I doubt its being very clever myself,” said Mr. Weston. “It is too much
+a matter of fact, but here it is.--What two letters of the alphabet are
+there, that express perfection?”
+
+“What two letters!--express perfection! I am sure I do not know.”
+
+“Ah! you will never guess. You, (to Emma), I am certain, will never
+guess.--I will tell you.--M. and A.--Em-ma.--Do you understand?”
+
+Understanding and gratification came together. It might be a very
+indifferent piece of wit, but Emma found a great deal to laugh at and
+enjoy in it--and so did Frank and Harriet.--It did not seem to touch
+the rest of the party equally; some looked very stupid about it, and Mr.
+Knightley gravely said,
+
+“This explains the sort of clever thing that is wanted, and Mr. Weston
+has done very well for himself; but he must have knocked up every body
+else. _Perfection_ should not have come quite so soon.”
+
+“Oh! for myself, I protest I must be excused,” said Mrs. Elton; “_I_
+really cannot attempt--I am not at all fond of the sort of thing. I had
+an acrostic once sent to me upon my own name, which I was not at all
+pleased with. I knew who it came from. An abominable puppy!--You know
+who I mean (nodding to her husband). These kind of things are very
+well at Christmas, when one is sitting round the fire; but quite out of
+place, in my opinion, when one is exploring about the country in summer.
+Miss Woodhouse must excuse me. I am not one of those who have witty
+things at every body’s service. I do not pretend to be a wit. I have a
+great deal of vivacity in my own way, but I really must be allowed to
+judge when to speak and when to hold my tongue. Pass us, if you please,
+Mr. Churchill. Pass Mr. E., Knightley, Jane, and myself. We have nothing
+clever to say--not one of us.
+
+“Yes, yes, pray pass _me_,” added her husband, with a sort of sneering
+consciousness; “_I_ have nothing to say that can entertain Miss
+Woodhouse, or any other young lady. An old married man--quite good for
+nothing. Shall we walk, Augusta?”
+
+“With all my heart. I am really tired of exploring so long on one spot.
+Come, Jane, take my other arm.”
+
+Jane declined it, however, and the husband and wife walked off.
+“Happy couple!” said Frank Churchill, as soon as they were out of
+hearing:--“How well they suit one another!--Very lucky--marrying as they
+did, upon an acquaintance formed only in a public place!--They only knew
+each other, I think, a few weeks in Bath! Peculiarly lucky!--for as to
+any real knowledge of a person’s disposition that Bath, or any public
+place, can give--it is all nothing; there can be no knowledge. It is
+only by seeing women in their own homes, among their own set, just as
+they always are, that you can form any just judgment. Short of that, it
+is all guess and luck--and will generally be ill-luck. How many a man
+has committed himself on a short acquaintance, and rued it all the rest
+of his life!”
+
+Miss Fairfax, who had seldom spoken before, except among her own
+confederates, spoke now.
+
+“Such things do occur, undoubtedly.”--She was stopped by a cough. Frank
+Churchill turned towards her to listen.
+
+“You were speaking,” said he, gravely. She recovered her voice.
+
+“I was only going to observe, that though such unfortunate circumstances
+do sometimes occur both to men and women, I cannot imagine them to be
+very frequent. A hasty and imprudent attachment may arise--but there is
+generally time to recover from it afterwards. I would be understood to
+mean, that it can be only weak, irresolute characters, (whose happiness
+must be always at the mercy of chance,) who will suffer an unfortunate
+acquaintance to be an inconvenience, an oppression for ever.”
+
+He made no answer; merely looked, and bowed in submission; and soon
+afterwards said, in a lively tone,
+
+“Well, I have so little confidence in my own judgment, that whenever I
+marry, I hope some body will chuse my wife for me. Will you? (turning to
+Emma.) Will you chuse a wife for me?--I am sure I should like any body
+fixed on by you. You provide for the family, you know, (with a smile at
+his father). Find some body for me. I am in no hurry. Adopt her, educate
+her.”
+
+“And make her like myself.”
+
+“By all means, if you can.”
+
+“Very well. I undertake the commission. You shall have a charming wife.”
+
+“She must be very lively, and have hazle eyes. I care for nothing else.
+I shall go abroad for a couple of years--and when I return, I shall come
+to you for my wife. Remember.”
+
+Emma was in no danger of forgetting. It was a commission to touch every
+favourite feeling. Would not Harriet be the very creature described?
+Hazle eyes excepted, two years more might make her all that he wished.
+He might even have Harriet in his thoughts at the moment; who could say?
+Referring the education to her seemed to imply it.
+
+“Now, ma’am,” said Jane to her aunt, “shall we join Mrs. Elton?”
+
+“If you please, my dear. With all my heart. I am quite ready. I was
+ready to have gone with her, but this will do just as well. We shall
+soon overtake her. There she is--no, that’s somebody else. That’s one
+of the ladies in the Irish car party, not at all like her.--Well, I
+declare--”
+
+They walked off, followed in half a minute by Mr. Knightley. Mr. Weston,
+his son, Emma, and Harriet, only remained; and the young man’s spirits
+now rose to a pitch almost unpleasant. Even Emma grew tired at last of
+flattery and merriment, and wished herself rather walking quietly about
+with any of the others, or sitting almost alone, and quite unattended
+to, in tranquil observation of the beautiful views beneath her. The
+appearance of the servants looking out for them to give notice of the
+carriages was a joyful sight; and even the bustle of collecting and
+preparing to depart, and the solicitude of Mrs. Elton to have _her_
+carriage first, were gladly endured, in the prospect of the quiet drive
+home which was to close the very questionable enjoyments of this day of
+pleasure. Such another scheme, composed of so many ill-assorted people,
+she hoped never to be betrayed into again.
+
+While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr. Knightley by her side. He
+looked around, as if to see that no one were near, and then said,
+
+“Emma, I must once more speak to you as I have been used to do: a
+privilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I must still use it.
+I cannot see you acting wrong, without a remonstrance. How could you be
+so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent in your wit to
+a woman of her character, age, and situation?--Emma, I had not thought
+it possible.”
+
+Emma recollected, blushed, was sorry, but tried to laugh it off.
+
+“Nay, how could I help saying what I did?--Nobody could have helped it.
+It was not so very bad. I dare say she did not understand me.”
+
+“I assure you she did. She felt your full meaning. She has talked of
+it since. I wish you could have heard how she talked of it--with what
+candour and generosity. I wish you could have heard her honouring your
+forbearance, in being able to pay her such attentions, as she was for
+ever receiving from yourself and your father, when her society must be
+so irksome.”
+
+“Oh!” cried Emma, “I know there is not a better creature in the world:
+but you must allow, that what is good and what is ridiculous are most
+unfortunately blended in her.”
+
+“They are blended,” said he, “I acknowledge; and, were she prosperous,
+I could allow much for the occasional prevalence of the ridiculous over
+the good. Were she a woman of fortune, I would leave every harmless
+absurdity to take its chance, I would not quarrel with you for any
+liberties of manner. Were she your equal in situation--but, Emma,
+consider how far this is from being the case. She is poor; she has sunk
+from the comforts she was born to; and, if she live to old age, must
+probably sink more. Her situation should secure your compassion. It was
+badly done, indeed! You, whom she had known from an infant, whom she had
+seen grow up from a period when her notice was an honour, to have you
+now, in thoughtless spirits, and the pride of the moment, laugh at her,
+humble her--and before her niece, too--and before others, many of whom
+(certainly _some_,) would be entirely guided by _your_ treatment
+of her.--This is not pleasant to you, Emma--and it is very far from
+pleasant to me; but I must, I will,--I will tell you truths while I can;
+satisfied with proving myself your friend by very faithful counsel, and
+trusting that you will some time or other do me greater justice than you
+can do now.”
+
+While they talked, they were advancing towards the carriage; it was
+ready; and, before she could speak again, he had handed her in. He had
+misinterpreted the feelings which had kept her face averted, and her
+tongue motionless. They were combined only of anger against herself,
+mortification, and deep concern. She had not been able to speak; and, on
+entering the carriage, sunk back for a moment overcome--then reproaching
+herself for having taken no leave, making no acknowledgment, parting in
+apparent sullenness, she looked out with voice and hand eager to shew a
+difference; but it was just too late. He had turned away, and the horses
+were in motion. She continued to look back, but in vain; and soon, with
+what appeared unusual speed, they were half way down the hill, and
+every thing left far behind. She was vexed beyond what could have been
+expressed--almost beyond what she could conceal. Never had she felt so
+agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. She was
+most forcibly struck. The truth of this representation there was no
+denying. She felt it at her heart. How could she have been so brutal,
+so cruel to Miss Bates! How could she have exposed herself to such ill
+opinion in any one she valued! And how suffer him to leave her without
+saying one word of gratitude, of concurrence, of common kindness!
+
+Time did not compose her. As she reflected more, she seemed but to feel
+it more. She never had been so depressed. Happily it was not necessary
+to speak. There was only Harriet, who seemed not in spirits herself,
+fagged, and very willing to be silent; and Emma felt the tears running
+down her cheeks almost all the way home, without being at any trouble to
+check them, extraordinary as they were.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+The wretchedness of a scheme to Box Hill was in Emma’s thoughts all the
+evening. How it might be considered by the rest of the party, she could
+not tell. They, in their different homes, and their different ways,
+might be looking back on it with pleasure; but in her view it was
+a morning more completely misspent, more totally bare of rational
+satisfaction at the time, and more to be abhorred in recollection, than
+any she had ever passed. A whole evening of back-gammon with her father,
+was felicity to it. _There_, indeed, lay real pleasure, for there she
+was giving up the sweetest hours of the twenty-four to his comfort; and
+feeling that, unmerited as might be the degree of his fond affection and
+confiding esteem, she could not, in her general conduct, be open to any
+severe reproach. As a daughter, she hoped she was not without a heart.
+She hoped no one could have said to her, “How could you be so unfeeling
+to your father?--I must, I will tell you truths while I can.” Miss
+Bates should never again--no, never! If attention, in future, could do
+away the past, she might hope to be forgiven. She had been often remiss,
+her conscience told her so; remiss, perhaps, more in thought than fact;
+scornful, ungracious. But it should be so no more. In the warmth of true
+contrition, she would call upon her the very next morning, and it should
+be the beginning, on her side, of a regular, equal, kindly intercourse.
+
+She was just as determined when the morrow came, and went early, that
+nothing might prevent her. It was not unlikely, she thought, that she
+might see Mr. Knightley in her way; or, perhaps, he might come in
+while she were paying her visit. She had no objection. She would not be
+ashamed of the appearance of the penitence, so justly and truly hers.
+Her eyes were towards Donwell as she walked, but she saw him not.
+
+“The ladies were all at home.” She had never rejoiced at the sound
+before, nor ever before entered the passage, nor walked up the stairs,
+with any wish of giving pleasure, but in conferring obligation, or of
+deriving it, except in subsequent ridicule.
+
+There was a bustle on her approach; a good deal of moving and talking.
+She heard Miss Bates’s voice, something was to be done in a hurry; the
+maid looked frightened and awkward; hoped she would be pleased to wait a
+moment, and then ushered her in too soon. The aunt and niece seemed both
+escaping into the adjoining room. Jane she had a distinct glimpse of,
+looking extremely ill; and, before the door had shut them out, she heard
+Miss Bates saying, “Well, my dear, I shall _say_ you are laid down upon
+the bed, and I am sure you are ill enough.”
+
+Poor old Mrs. Bates, civil and humble as usual, looked as if she did not
+quite understand what was going on.
+
+“I am afraid Jane is not very well,” said she, “but I do not know; they
+_tell_ me she is well. I dare say my daughter will be here presently,
+Miss Woodhouse. I hope you find a chair. I wish Hetty had not gone. I am
+very little able--Have you a chair, ma’am? Do you sit where you like? I
+am sure she will be here presently.”
+
+Emma seriously hoped she would. She had a moment’s fear of Miss Bates
+keeping away from her. But Miss Bates soon came--“Very happy and
+obliged”--but Emma’s conscience told her that there was not the same
+cheerful volubility as before--less ease of look and manner. A very
+friendly inquiry after Miss Fairfax, she hoped, might lead the way to a
+return of old feelings. The touch seemed immediate.
+
+“Ah! Miss Woodhouse, how kind you are!--I suppose you have heard--and
+are come to give us joy. This does not seem much like joy, indeed, in
+me--(twinkling away a tear or two)--but it will be very trying for us
+to part with her, after having had her so long, and she has a dreadful
+headache just now, writing all the morning:--such long letters, you
+know, to be written to Colonel Campbell, and Mrs. Dixon. ‘My dear,’ said
+I, ‘you will blind yourself’--for tears were in her eyes perpetually.
+One cannot wonder, one cannot wonder. It is a great change; and though
+she is amazingly fortunate--such a situation, I suppose, as no
+young woman before ever met with on first going out--do not think us
+ungrateful, Miss Woodhouse, for such surprising good fortune--(again
+dispersing her tears)--but, poor dear soul! if you were to see what a
+headache she has. When one is in great pain, you know one cannot feel
+any blessing quite as it may deserve. She is as low as possible. To
+look at her, nobody would think how delighted and happy she is to have
+secured such a situation. You will excuse her not coming to you--she is
+not able--she is gone into her own room--I want her to lie down upon the
+bed. ‘My dear,’ said I, ‘I shall say you are laid down upon the bed:’
+but, however, she is not; she is walking about the room. But, now that
+she has written her letters, she says she shall soon be well. She will
+be extremely sorry to miss seeing you, Miss Woodhouse, but your
+kindness will excuse her. You were kept waiting at the door--I was quite
+ashamed--but somehow there was a little bustle--for it so happened that
+we had not heard the knock, and till you were on the stairs, we did not
+know any body was coming. ‘It is only Mrs. Cole,’ said I, ‘depend upon
+it. Nobody else would come so early.’ ‘Well,’ said she, ‘it must be
+borne some time or other, and it may as well be now.’ But then Patty
+came in, and said it was you. ‘Oh!’ said I, ‘it is Miss Woodhouse: I am
+sure you will like to see her.’--‘I can see nobody,’ said she; and
+up she got, and would go away; and that was what made us keep you
+waiting--and extremely sorry and ashamed we were. ‘If you must go, my
+dear,’ said I, ‘you must, and I will say you are laid down upon the
+bed.’”
+
+Emma was most sincerely interested. Her heart had been long growing
+kinder towards Jane; and this picture of her present sufferings acted
+as a cure of every former ungenerous suspicion, and left her nothing but
+pity; and the remembrance of the less just and less gentle sensations of
+the past, obliged her to admit that Jane might very naturally resolve on
+seeing Mrs. Cole or any other steady friend, when she might not bear
+to see herself. She spoke as she felt, with earnest regret and
+solicitude--sincerely wishing that the circumstances which she collected
+from Miss Bates to be now actually determined on, might be as much for
+Miss Fairfax’s advantage and comfort as possible. “It must be a severe
+trial to them all. She had understood it was to be delayed till Colonel
+Campbell’s return.”
+
+“So very kind!” replied Miss Bates. “But you are always kind.”
+
+There was no bearing such an “always;” and to break through her dreadful
+gratitude, Emma made the direct inquiry of--
+
+“Where--may I ask?--is Miss Fairfax going?”
+
+“To a Mrs. Smallridge--charming woman--most superior--to have the charge
+of her three little girls--delightful children. Impossible that any
+situation could be more replete with comfort; if we except, perhaps,
+Mrs. Suckling’s own family, and Mrs. Bragge’s; but Mrs. Smallridge is
+intimate with both, and in the very same neighbourhood:--lives only four
+miles from Maple Grove. Jane will be only four miles from Maple Grove.”
+
+“Mrs. Elton, I suppose, has been the person to whom Miss Fairfax owes--”
+
+“Yes, our good Mrs. Elton. The most indefatigable, true friend. She
+would not take a denial. She would not let Jane say, ‘No;’ for when Jane
+first heard of it, (it was the day before yesterday, the very morning
+we were at Donwell,) when Jane first heard of it, she was quite decided
+against accepting the offer, and for the reasons you mention; exactly
+as you say, she had made up her mind to close with nothing till Colonel
+Campbell’s return, and nothing should induce her to enter into any
+engagement at present--and so she told Mrs. Elton over and over
+again--and I am sure I had no more idea that she would change her
+mind!--but that good Mrs. Elton, whose judgment never fails her, saw
+farther than I did. It is not every body that would have stood out in
+such a kind way as she did, and refuse to take Jane’s answer; but she
+positively declared she would _not_ write any such denial yesterday, as
+Jane wished her; she would wait--and, sure enough, yesterday evening it
+was all settled that Jane should go. Quite a surprize to me! I had not
+the least idea!--Jane took Mrs. Elton aside, and told her at once, that
+upon thinking over the advantages of Mrs. Smallridge’s situation, she
+had come to the resolution of accepting it.--I did not know a word of it
+till it was all settled.”
+
+“You spent the evening with Mrs. Elton?”
+
+“Yes, all of us; Mrs. Elton would have us come. It was settled so, upon
+the hill, while we were walking about with Mr. Knightley. ‘You _must_
+_all_ spend your evening with us,’ said she--‘I positively must have you
+_all_ come.’”
+
+“Mr. Knightley was there too, was he?”
+
+“No, not Mr. Knightley; he declined it from the first; and though I
+thought he would come, because Mrs. Elton declared she would not let him
+off, he did not;--but my mother, and Jane, and I, were all there, and
+a very agreeable evening we had. Such kind friends, you know, Miss
+Woodhouse, one must always find agreeable, though every body seemed
+rather fagged after the morning’s party. Even pleasure, you know, is
+fatiguing--and I cannot say that any of them seemed very much to have
+enjoyed it. However, _I_ shall always think it a very pleasant party,
+and feel extremely obliged to the kind friends who included me in it.”
+
+“Miss Fairfax, I suppose, though you were not aware of it, had been
+making up her mind the whole day?”
+
+“I dare say she had.”
+
+“Whenever the time may come, it must be unwelcome to her and all her
+friends--but I hope her engagement will have every alleviation that is
+possible--I mean, as to the character and manners of the family.”
+
+“Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse. Yes, indeed, there is every thing
+in the world that can make her happy in it. Except the Sucklings and
+Bragges, there is not such another nursery establishment, so liberal
+and elegant, in all Mrs. Elton’s acquaintance. Mrs. Smallridge, a most
+delightful woman!--A style of living almost equal to Maple Grove--and as
+to the children, except the little Sucklings and little Bragges, there
+are not such elegant sweet children anywhere. Jane will be treated with
+such regard and kindness!--It will be nothing but pleasure, a life of
+pleasure.--And her salary!--I really cannot venture to name her salary
+to you, Miss Woodhouse. Even you, used as you are to great sums, would
+hardly believe that so much could be given to a young person like Jane.”
+
+“Ah! madam,” cried Emma, “if other children are at all like what I
+remember to have been myself, I should think five times the amount of
+what I have ever yet heard named as a salary on such occasions, dearly
+earned.”
+
+“You are so noble in your ideas!”
+
+“And when is Miss Fairfax to leave you?”
+
+“Very soon, very soon, indeed; that’s the worst of it. Within a
+fortnight. Mrs. Smallridge is in a great hurry. My poor mother does not
+know how to bear it. So then, I try to put it out of her thoughts, and
+say, Come ma’am, do not let us think about it any more.”
+
+“Her friends must all be sorry to lose her; and will not Colonel and
+Mrs. Campbell be sorry to find that she has engaged herself before their
+return?”
+
+“Yes; Jane says she is sure they will; but yet, this is such a situation
+as she cannot feel herself justified in declining. I was so astonished
+when she first told me what she had been saying to Mrs. Elton, and when
+Mrs. Elton at the same moment came congratulating me upon it! It was
+before tea--stay--no, it could not be before tea, because we were
+just going to cards--and yet it was before tea, because I remember
+thinking--Oh! no, now I recollect, now I have it; something happened
+before tea, but not that. Mr. Elton was called out of the room before
+tea, old John Abdy’s son wanted to speak with him. Poor old John, I
+have a great regard for him; he was clerk to my poor father twenty-seven
+years; and now, poor old man, he is bed-ridden, and very poorly with the
+rheumatic gout in his joints--I must go and see him to-day; and so will
+Jane, I am sure, if she gets out at all. And poor John’s son came to
+talk to Mr. Elton about relief from the parish; he is very well to do
+himself, you know, being head man at the Crown, ostler, and every thing
+of that sort, but still he cannot keep his father without some help;
+and so, when Mr. Elton came back, he told us what John ostler had been
+telling him, and then it came out about the chaise having been sent to
+Randalls to take Mr. Frank Churchill to Richmond. That was what happened
+before tea. It was after tea that Jane spoke to Mrs. Elton.”
+
+Miss Bates would hardly give Emma time to say how perfectly new this
+circumstance was to her; but as without supposing it possible that she
+could be ignorant of any of the particulars of Mr. Frank Churchill’s
+going, she proceeded to give them all, it was of no consequence.
+
+What Mr. Elton had learned from the ostler on the subject, being the
+accumulation of the ostler’s own knowledge, and the knowledge of the
+servants at Randalls, was, that a messenger had come over from Richmond
+soon after the return of the party from Box Hill--which messenger,
+however, had been no more than was expected; and that Mr. Churchill had
+sent his nephew a few lines, containing, upon the whole, a tolerable
+account of Mrs. Churchill, and only wishing him not to delay coming
+back beyond the next morning early; but that Mr. Frank Churchill having
+resolved to go home directly, without waiting at all, and his horse
+seeming to have got a cold, Tom had been sent off immediately for the
+Crown chaise, and the ostler had stood out and seen it pass by, the boy
+going a good pace, and driving very steady.
+
+There was nothing in all this either to astonish or interest, and it
+caught Emma’s attention only as it united with the subject which already
+engaged her mind. The contrast between Mrs. Churchill’s importance in
+the world, and Jane Fairfax’s, struck her; one was every thing, the
+other nothing--and she sat musing on the difference of woman’s destiny,
+and quite unconscious on what her eyes were fixed, till roused by Miss
+Bates’s saying,
+
+“Aye, I see what you are thinking of, the pianoforte. What is to become
+of that?--Very true. Poor dear Jane was talking of it just now.--‘You
+must go,’ said she. ‘You and I must part. You will have no business
+here.--Let it stay, however,’ said she; ‘give it houseroom till Colonel
+Campbell comes back. I shall talk about it to him; he will settle for
+me; he will help me out of all my difficulties.’--And to this day, I do
+believe, she knows not whether it was his present or his daughter’s.”
+
+Now Emma was obliged to think of the pianoforte; and the remembrance of
+all her former fanciful and unfair conjectures was so little pleasing,
+that she soon allowed herself to believe her visit had been long enough;
+and, with a repetition of every thing that she could venture to say of
+the good wishes which she really felt, took leave.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+Emma’s pensive meditations, as she walked home, were not interrupted;
+but on entering the parlour, she found those who must rouse her. Mr.
+Knightley and Harriet had arrived during her absence, and were sitting
+with her father.--Mr. Knightley immediately got up, and in a manner
+decidedly graver than usual, said,
+
+“I would not go away without seeing you, but I have no time to spare,
+and therefore must now be gone directly. I am going to London, to spend
+a few days with John and Isabella. Have you any thing to send or say,
+besides the ‘love,’ which nobody carries?”
+
+“Nothing at all. But is not this a sudden scheme?”
+
+“Yes--rather--I have been thinking of it some little time.”
+
+Emma was sure he had not forgiven her; he looked unlike himself. Time,
+however, she thought, would tell him that they ought to be friends
+again. While he stood, as if meaning to go, but not going--her father
+began his inquiries.
+
+“Well, my dear, and did you get there safely?--And how did you find my
+worthy old friend and her daughter?--I dare say they must have been very
+much obliged to you for coming. Dear Emma has been to call on Mrs.
+and Miss Bates, Mr. Knightley, as I told you before. She is always so
+attentive to them!”
+
+Emma’s colour was heightened by this unjust praise; and with a
+smile, and shake of the head, which spoke much, she looked at Mr.
+Knightley.--It seemed as if there were an instantaneous impression in
+her favour, as if his eyes received the truth from hers, and all that
+had passed of good in her feelings were at once caught and honoured.--
+He looked at her with a glow of regard. She was warmly gratified--and in
+another moment still more so, by a little movement of more than common
+friendliness on his part.--He took her hand;--whether she had not
+herself made the first motion, she could not say--she might, perhaps,
+have rather offered it--but he took her hand, pressed it, and certainly
+was on the point of carrying it to his lips--when, from some fancy or
+other, he suddenly let it go.--Why he should feel such a scruple, why
+he should change his mind when it was all but done, she could not
+perceive.--He would have judged better, she thought, if he had not
+stopped.--The intention, however, was indubitable; and whether it was
+that his manners had in general so little gallantry, or however else it
+happened, but she thought nothing became him more.--It was with him,
+of so simple, yet so dignified a nature.--She could not but recall the
+attempt with great satisfaction. It spoke such perfect amity.--He left
+them immediately afterwards--gone in a moment. He always moved with the
+alertness of a mind which could neither be undecided nor dilatory, but
+now he seemed more sudden than usual in his disappearance.
+
+Emma could not regret her having gone to Miss Bates, but she wished she
+had left her ten minutes earlier;--it would have been a great pleasure
+to talk over Jane Fairfax’s situation with Mr. Knightley.--Neither
+would she regret that he should be going to Brunswick Square, for she
+knew how much his visit would be enjoyed--but it might have happened
+at a better time--and to have had longer notice of it, would have been
+pleasanter.--They parted thorough friends, however; she could not
+be deceived as to the meaning of his countenance, and his unfinished
+gallantry;--it was all done to assure her that she had fully recovered
+his good opinion.--He had been sitting with them half an hour, she
+found. It was a pity that she had not come back earlier!
+
+In the hope of diverting her father’s thoughts from the disagreeableness
+of Mr. Knightley’s going to London; and going so suddenly; and going on
+horseback, which she knew would be all very bad; Emma communicated her
+news of Jane Fairfax, and her dependence on the effect was justified;
+it supplied a very useful check,--interested, without disturbing him. He
+had long made up his mind to Jane Fairfax’s going out as governess, and
+could talk of it cheerfully, but Mr. Knightley’s going to London had
+been an unexpected blow.
+
+“I am very glad, indeed, my dear, to hear she is to be so comfortably
+settled. Mrs. Elton is very good-natured and agreeable, and I dare say
+her acquaintance are just what they ought to be. I hope it is a dry
+situation, and that her health will be taken good care of. It ought to
+be a first object, as I am sure poor Miss Taylor’s always was with me.
+You know, my dear, she is going to be to this new lady what Miss Taylor
+was to us. And I hope she will be better off in one respect, and not be
+induced to go away after it has been her home so long.”
+
+The following day brought news from Richmond to throw every thing else
+into the background. An express arrived at Randalls to announce the
+death of Mrs. Churchill! Though her nephew had had no particular reason
+to hasten back on her account, she had not lived above six-and-thirty
+hours after his return. A sudden seizure of a different nature from any
+thing foreboded by her general state, had carried her off after a short
+struggle. The great Mrs. Churchill was no more.
+
+It was felt as such things must be felt. Every body had a degree of
+gravity and sorrow; tenderness towards the departed, solicitude for the
+surviving friends; and, in a reasonable time, curiosity to know where
+she would be buried. Goldsmith tells us, that when lovely woman stoops
+to folly, she has nothing to do but to die; and when she stoops to be
+disagreeable, it is equally to be recommended as a clearer of ill-fame.
+Mrs. Churchill, after being disliked at least twenty-five years, was
+now spoken of with compassionate allowances. In one point she was fully
+justified. She had never been admitted before to be seriously ill. The
+event acquitted her of all the fancifulness, and all the selfishness of
+imaginary complaints.
+
+“Poor Mrs. Churchill! no doubt she had been suffering a great deal:
+more than any body had ever supposed--and continual pain would try the
+temper. It was a sad event--a great shock--with all her faults, what
+would Mr. Churchill do without her? Mr. Churchill’s loss would be
+dreadful indeed. Mr. Churchill would never get over it.”--Even Mr.
+Weston shook his head, and looked solemn, and said, “Ah! poor woman,
+who would have thought it!” and resolved, that his mourning should be as
+handsome as possible; and his wife sat sighing and moralising over her
+broad hems with a commiseration and good sense, true and steady. How it
+would affect Frank was among the earliest thoughts of both. It was also
+a very early speculation with Emma. The character of Mrs. Churchill,
+the grief of her husband--her mind glanced over them both with awe and
+compassion--and then rested with lightened feelings on how Frank might
+be affected by the event, how benefited, how freed. She saw in a moment
+all the possible good. Now, an attachment to Harriet Smith would have
+nothing to encounter. Mr. Churchill, independent of his wife, was feared
+by nobody; an easy, guidable man, to be persuaded into any thing by his
+nephew. All that remained to be wished was, that the nephew should form
+the attachment, as, with all her goodwill in the cause, Emma could feel
+no certainty of its being already formed.
+
+Harriet behaved extremely well on the occasion, with great self-command.
+What ever she might feel of brighter hope, she betrayed nothing. Emma
+was gratified, to observe such a proof in her of strengthened character,
+and refrained from any allusion that might endanger its maintenance.
+They spoke, therefore, of Mrs. Churchill’s death with mutual
+forbearance.
+
+Short letters from Frank were received at Randalls, communicating all
+that was immediately important of their state and plans. Mr. Churchill
+was better than could be expected; and their first removal, on the
+departure of the funeral for Yorkshire, was to be to the house of a very
+old friend in Windsor, to whom Mr. Churchill had been promising a
+visit the last ten years. At present, there was nothing to be done for
+Harriet; good wishes for the future were all that could yet be possible
+on Emma’s side.
+
+It was a more pressing concern to shew attention to Jane Fairfax, whose
+prospects were closing, while Harriet’s opened, and whose engagements
+now allowed of no delay in any one at Highbury, who wished to shew her
+kindness--and with Emma it was grown into a first wish. She had scarcely
+a stronger regret than for her past coldness; and the person, whom she
+had been so many months neglecting, was now the very one on whom she
+would have lavished every distinction of regard or sympathy. She wanted
+to be of use to her; wanted to shew a value for her society, and testify
+respect and consideration. She resolved to prevail on her to spend a day
+at Hartfield. A note was written to urge it. The invitation was refused,
+and by a verbal message. “Miss Fairfax was not well enough to write;”
+ and when Mr. Perry called at Hartfield, the same morning, it appeared
+that she was so much indisposed as to have been visited, though against
+her own consent, by himself, and that she was suffering under severe
+headaches, and a nervous fever to a degree, which made him doubt the
+possibility of her going to Mrs. Smallridge’s at the time proposed.
+Her health seemed for the moment completely deranged--appetite quite
+gone--and though there were no absolutely alarming symptoms, nothing
+touching the pulmonary complaint, which was the standing apprehension
+of the family, Mr. Perry was uneasy about her. He thought she had
+undertaken more than she was equal to, and that she felt it so herself,
+though she would not own it. Her spirits seemed overcome. Her
+present home, he could not but observe, was unfavourable to a nervous
+disorder:--confined always to one room;--he could have wished it
+otherwise--and her good aunt, though his very old friend, he must
+acknowledge to be not the best companion for an invalid of that
+description. Her care and attention could not be questioned; they were,
+in fact, only too great. He very much feared that Miss Fairfax derived
+more evil than good from them. Emma listened with the warmest concern;
+grieved for her more and more, and looked around eager to discover some
+way of being useful. To take her--be it only an hour or two--from
+her aunt, to give her change of air and scene, and quiet rational
+conversation, even for an hour or two, might do her good; and the
+following morning she wrote again to say, in the most feeling language
+she could command, that she would call for her in the carriage at any
+hour that Jane would name--mentioning that she had Mr. Perry’s decided
+opinion, in favour of such exercise for his patient. The answer was only
+in this short note:
+
+“Miss Fairfax’s compliments and thanks, but is quite unequal to any
+exercise.”
+
+Emma felt that her own note had deserved something better; but it was
+impossible to quarrel with words, whose tremulous inequality shewed
+indisposition so plainly, and she thought only of how she might best
+counteract this unwillingness to be seen or assisted. In spite of the
+answer, therefore, she ordered the carriage, and drove to Mrs. Bates’s,
+in the hope that Jane would be induced to join her--but it would not
+do;--Miss Bates came to the carriage door, all gratitude, and agreeing
+with her most earnestly in thinking an airing might be of the greatest
+service--and every thing that message could do was tried--but all in
+vain. Miss Bates was obliged to return without success; Jane was
+quite unpersuadable; the mere proposal of going out seemed to make her
+worse.--Emma wished she could have seen her, and tried her own powers;
+but, almost before she could hint the wish, Miss Bates made it appear
+that she had promised her niece on no account to let Miss Woodhouse in.
+“Indeed, the truth was, that poor dear Jane could not bear to see any
+body--any body at all--Mrs. Elton, indeed, could not be denied--and
+Mrs. Cole had made such a point--and Mrs. Perry had said so much--but,
+except them, Jane would really see nobody.”
+
+Emma did not want to be classed with the Mrs. Eltons, the Mrs. Perrys,
+and the Mrs. Coles, who would force themselves anywhere; neither could
+she feel any right of preference herself--she submitted, therefore, and
+only questioned Miss Bates farther as to her niece’s appetite and diet,
+which she longed to be able to assist. On that subject poor Miss Bates
+was very unhappy, and very communicative; Jane would hardly eat any
+thing:--Mr. Perry recommended nourishing food; but every thing
+they could command (and never had any body such good neighbours) was
+distasteful.
+
+Emma, on reaching home, called the housekeeper directly, to an
+examination of her stores; and some arrowroot of very superior quality
+was speedily despatched to Miss Bates with a most friendly note. In half
+an hour the arrowroot was returned, with a thousand thanks from Miss
+Bates, but “dear Jane would not be satisfied without its being sent
+back; it was a thing she could not take--and, moreover, she insisted on
+her saying, that she was not at all in want of any thing.”
+
+When Emma afterwards heard that Jane Fairfax had been seen wandering
+about the meadows, at some distance from Highbury, on the afternoon of
+the very day on which she had, under the plea of being unequal to any
+exercise, so peremptorily refused to go out with her in the carriage,
+she could have no doubt--putting every thing together--that Jane was
+resolved to receive no kindness from _her_. She was sorry, very sorry.
+Her heart was grieved for a state which seemed but the more pitiable
+from this sort of irritation of spirits, inconsistency of action, and
+inequality of powers; and it mortified her that she was given so little
+credit for proper feeling, or esteemed so little worthy as a friend: but
+she had the consolation of knowing that her intentions were good, and of
+being able to say to herself, that could Mr. Knightley have been privy
+to all her attempts of assisting Jane Fairfax, could he even have seen
+into her heart, he would not, on this occasion, have found any thing to
+reprove.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+One morning, about ten days after Mrs. Churchill’s decease, Emma was
+called downstairs to Mr. Weston, who “could not stay five minutes,
+and wanted particularly to speak with her.”--He met her at the
+parlour-door, and hardly asking her how she did, in the natural key of
+his voice, sunk it immediately, to say, unheard by her father,
+
+“Can you come to Randalls at any time this morning?--Do, if it be
+possible. Mrs. Weston wants to see you. She must see you.”
+
+“Is she unwell?”
+
+“No, no, not at all--only a little agitated. She would have ordered the
+carriage, and come to you, but she must see you _alone_, and that you
+know--(nodding towards her father)--Humph!--Can you come?”
+
+“Certainly. This moment, if you please. It is impossible to refuse what
+you ask in such a way. But what can be the matter?--Is she really not
+ill?”
+
+“Depend upon me--but ask no more questions. You will know it all in
+time. The most unaccountable business! But hush, hush!”
+
+To guess what all this meant, was impossible even for Emma. Something
+really important seemed announced by his looks; but, as her friend was
+well, she endeavoured not to be uneasy, and settling it with her father,
+that she would take her walk now, she and Mr. Weston were soon out of
+the house together and on their way at a quick pace for Randalls.
+
+“Now,”--said Emma, when they were fairly beyond the sweep gates,--“now
+Mr. Weston, do let me know what has happened.”
+
+“No, no,”--he gravely replied.--“Don’t ask me. I promised my wife to
+leave it all to her. She will break it to you better than I can. Do not
+be impatient, Emma; it will all come out too soon.”
+
+“Break it to me,” cried Emma, standing still with terror.--“Good
+God!--Mr. Weston, tell me at once.--Something has happened in Brunswick
+Square. I know it has. Tell me, I charge you tell me this moment what it
+is.”
+
+“No, indeed you are mistaken.”--
+
+“Mr. Weston do not trifle with me.--Consider how many of my dearest
+friends are now in Brunswick Square. Which of them is it?--I charge you
+by all that is sacred, not to attempt concealment.”
+
+“Upon my word, Emma.”--
+
+“Your word!--why not your honour!--why not say upon your honour, that
+it has nothing to do with any of them? Good Heavens!--What can be to be
+_broke_ to me, that does not relate to one of that family?”
+
+“Upon my honour,” said he very seriously, “it does not. It is not in
+the smallest degree connected with any human being of the name of
+Knightley.”
+
+Emma’s courage returned, and she walked on.
+
+“I was wrong,” he continued, “in talking of its being _broke_ to you.
+I should not have used the expression. In fact, it does not concern
+you--it concerns only myself,--that is, we hope.--Humph!--In short, my
+dear Emma, there is no occasion to be so uneasy about it. I don’t
+say that it is not a disagreeable business--but things might be much
+worse.--If we walk fast, we shall soon be at Randalls.”
+
+Emma found that she must wait; and now it required little effort. She
+asked no more questions therefore, merely employed her own fancy, and
+that soon pointed out to her the probability of its being some money
+concern--something just come to light, of a disagreeable nature in the
+circumstances of the family,--something which the late event at Richmond
+had brought forward. Her fancy was very active. Half a dozen natural
+children, perhaps--and poor Frank cut off!--This, though very
+undesirable, would be no matter of agony to her. It inspired little more
+than an animating curiosity.
+
+“Who is that gentleman on horseback?” said she, as they
+proceeded--speaking more to assist Mr. Weston in keeping his secret,
+than with any other view.
+
+“I do not know.--One of the Otways.--Not Frank;--it is not Frank, I
+assure you. You will not see him. He is half way to Windsor by this
+time.”
+
+“Has your son been with you, then?”
+
+“Oh! yes--did not you know?--Well, well, never mind.”
+
+For a moment he was silent; and then added, in a tone much more guarded
+and demure,
+
+“Yes, Frank came over this morning, just to ask us how we did.”
+
+They hurried on, and were speedily at Randalls.--“Well, my dear,” said
+he, as they entered the room--“I have brought her, and now I hope you
+will soon be better. I shall leave you together. There is no use in
+delay. I shall not be far off, if you want me.”--And Emma distinctly
+heard him add, in a lower tone, before he quitted the room,--“I have
+been as good as my word. She has not the least idea.”
+
+Mrs. Weston was looking so ill, and had an air of so much perturbation,
+that Emma’s uneasiness increased; and the moment they were alone, she
+eagerly said,
+
+“What is it my dear friend? Something of a very unpleasant nature, I
+find, has occurred;--do let me know directly what it is. I have been
+walking all this way in complete suspense. We both abhor suspense.
+Do not let mine continue longer. It will do you good to speak of your
+distress, whatever it may be.”
+
+“Have you indeed no idea?” said Mrs. Weston in a trembling voice.
+“Cannot you, my dear Emma--cannot you form a guess as to what you are to
+hear?”
+
+“So far as that it relates to Mr. Frank Churchill, I do guess.”
+
+“You are right. It does relate to him, and I will tell you directly;”
+ (resuming her work, and seeming resolved against looking up.) “He has
+been here this very morning, on a most extraordinary errand. It is
+impossible to express our surprize. He came to speak to his father on a
+subject,--to announce an attachment--”
+
+She stopped to breathe. Emma thought first of herself, and then of
+Harriet.
+
+“More than an attachment, indeed,” resumed Mrs. Weston; “an
+engagement--a positive engagement.--What will you say, Emma--what will
+any body say, when it is known that Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax are
+engaged;--nay, that they have been long engaged!”
+
+Emma even jumped with surprize;--and, horror-struck, exclaimed,
+
+“Jane Fairfax!--Good God! You are not serious? You do not mean it?”
+
+“You may well be amazed,” returned Mrs. Weston, still averting her eyes,
+and talking on with eagerness, that Emma might have time to recover--
+“You may well be amazed. But it is even so. There has been a solemn
+engagement between them ever since October--formed at Weymouth, and
+kept a secret from every body. Not a creature knowing it but
+themselves--neither the Campbells, nor her family, nor his.--It is so
+wonderful, that though perfectly convinced of the fact, it is yet almost
+incredible to myself. I can hardly believe it.--I thought I knew him.”
+
+Emma scarcely heard what was said.--Her mind was divided between two
+ideas--her own former conversations with him about Miss Fairfax; and
+poor Harriet;--and for some time she could only exclaim, and require
+confirmation, repeated confirmation.
+
+“Well,” said she at last, trying to recover herself; “this is a
+circumstance which I must think of at least half a day, before I can at
+all comprehend it. What!--engaged to her all the winter--before either
+of them came to Highbury?”
+
+“Engaged since October,--secretly engaged.--It has hurt me, Emma, very
+much. It has hurt his father equally. _Some_ _part_ of his conduct we
+cannot excuse.”
+
+Emma pondered a moment, and then replied, “I will not pretend _not_ to
+understand you; and to give you all the relief in my power, be assured
+that no such effect has followed his attentions to me, as you are
+apprehensive of.”
+
+Mrs. Weston looked up, afraid to believe; but Emma’s countenance was as
+steady as her words.
+
+“That you may have less difficulty in believing this boast, of my
+present perfect indifference,” she continued, “I will farther tell you,
+that there was a period in the early part of our acquaintance, when I
+did like him, when I was very much disposed to be attached to him--nay,
+was attached--and how it came to cease, is perhaps the wonder.
+Fortunately, however, it did cease. I have really for some time past,
+for at least these three months, cared nothing about him. You may
+believe me, Mrs. Weston. This is the simple truth.”
+
+Mrs. Weston kissed her with tears of joy; and when she could find
+utterance, assured her, that this protestation had done her more good
+than any thing else in the world could do.
+
+“Mr. Weston will be almost as much relieved as myself,” said she. “On
+this point we have been wretched. It was our darling wish that you
+might be attached to each other--and we were persuaded that it was so.--
+Imagine what we have been feeling on your account.”
+
+“I have escaped; and that I should escape, may be a matter of grateful
+wonder to you and myself. But this does not acquit _him_, Mrs. Weston;
+and I must say, that I think him greatly to blame. What right had he
+to come among us with affection and faith engaged, and with manners
+so _very_ disengaged? What right had he to endeavour to please, as
+he certainly did--to distinguish any one young woman with persevering
+attention, as he certainly did--while he really belonged to
+another?--How could he tell what mischief he might be doing?--How could
+he tell that he might not be making me in love with him?--very wrong,
+very wrong indeed.”
+
+“From something that he said, my dear Emma, I rather imagine--”
+
+“And how could _she_ bear such behaviour! Composure with a witness!
+to look on, while repeated attentions were offering to another woman,
+before her face, and not resent it.--That is a degree of placidity,
+which I can neither comprehend nor respect.”
+
+“There were misunderstandings between them, Emma; he said so expressly.
+He had not time to enter into much explanation. He was here only a
+quarter of an hour, and in a state of agitation which did not allow
+the full use even of the time he could stay--but that there had been
+misunderstandings he decidedly said. The present crisis, indeed,
+seemed to be brought on by them; and those misunderstandings might very
+possibly arise from the impropriety of his conduct.”
+
+“Impropriety! Oh! Mrs. Weston--it is too calm a censure. Much, much
+beyond impropriety!--It has sunk him, I cannot say how it has sunk him
+in my opinion. So unlike what a man should be!--None of that upright
+integrity, that strict adherence to truth and principle, that disdain of
+trick and littleness, which a man should display in every transaction of
+his life.”
+
+“Nay, dear Emma, now I must take his part; for though he has been wrong
+in this instance, I have known him long enough to answer for his having
+many, very many, good qualities; and--”
+
+“Good God!” cried Emma, not attending to her.--“Mrs. Smallridge, too!
+Jane actually on the point of going as governess! What could he mean by
+such horrible indelicacy? To suffer her to engage herself--to suffer her
+even to think of such a measure!”
+
+“He knew nothing about it, Emma. On this article I can fully acquit
+him. It was a private resolution of hers, not communicated to him--or at
+least not communicated in a way to carry conviction.--Till yesterday, I
+know he said he was in the dark as to her plans. They burst on him, I do
+not know how, but by some letter or message--and it was the discovery of
+what she was doing, of this very project of hers, which determined him
+to come forward at once, own it all to his uncle, throw himself on
+his kindness, and, in short, put an end to the miserable state of
+concealment that had been carrying on so long.”
+
+Emma began to listen better.
+
+“I am to hear from him soon,” continued Mrs. Weston. “He told me at
+parting, that he should soon write; and he spoke in a manner which
+seemed to promise me many particulars that could not be given now. Let
+us wait, therefore, for this letter. It may bring many extenuations. It
+may make many things intelligible and excusable which now are not to
+be understood. Don’t let us be severe, don’t let us be in a hurry to
+condemn him. Let us have patience. I must love him; and now that I am
+satisfied on one point, the one material point, I am sincerely anxious
+for its all turning out well, and ready to hope that it may. They must
+both have suffered a great deal under such a system of secresy and
+concealment.”
+
+“_His_ sufferings,” replied Emma dryly, “do not appear to have done him
+much harm. Well, and how did Mr. Churchill take it?”
+
+“Most favourably for his nephew--gave his consent with scarcely a
+difficulty. Conceive what the events of a week have done in that family!
+While poor Mrs. Churchill lived, I suppose there could not have been a
+hope, a chance, a possibility;--but scarcely are her remains at rest in
+the family vault, than her husband is persuaded to act exactly opposite
+to what she would have required. What a blessing it is, when undue
+influence does not survive the grave!--He gave his consent with very
+little persuasion.”
+
+“Ah!” thought Emma, “he would have done as much for Harriet.”
+
+“This was settled last night, and Frank was off with the light this
+morning. He stopped at Highbury, at the Bates’s, I fancy, some time--and
+then came on hither; but was in such a hurry to get back to his uncle,
+to whom he is just now more necessary than ever, that, as I tell you,
+he could stay with us but a quarter of an hour.--He was very much
+agitated--very much, indeed--to a degree that made him appear quite
+a different creature from any thing I had ever seen him before.--In
+addition to all the rest, there had been the shock of finding her so
+very unwell, which he had had no previous suspicion of--and there was
+every appearance of his having been feeling a great deal.”
+
+“And do you really believe the affair to have been carrying on with such
+perfect secresy?--The Campbells, the Dixons, did none of them know of
+the engagement?”
+
+Emma could not speak the name of Dixon without a little blush.
+
+“None; not one. He positively said that it had been known to no being in
+the world but their two selves.”
+
+“Well,” said Emma, “I suppose we shall gradually grow reconciled to the
+idea, and I wish them very happy. But I shall always think it a
+very abominable sort of proceeding. What has it been but a system of
+hypocrisy and deceit,--espionage, and treachery?--To come among us with
+professions of openness and simplicity; and such a league in secret
+to judge us all!--Here have we been, the whole winter and spring,
+completely duped, fancying ourselves all on an equal footing of truth
+and honour, with two people in the midst of us who may have been
+carrying round, comparing and sitting in judgment on sentiments and
+words that were never meant for both to hear.--They must take the
+consequence, if they have heard each other spoken of in a way not
+perfectly agreeable!”
+
+“I am quite easy on that head,” replied Mrs. Weston. “I am very sure
+that I never said any thing of either to the other, which both might not
+have heard.”
+
+“You are in luck.--Your only blunder was confined to my ear, when you
+imagined a certain friend of ours in love with the lady.”
+
+“True. But as I have always had a thoroughly good opinion of Miss
+Fairfax, I never could, under any blunder, have spoken ill of her; and
+as to speaking ill of him, there I must have been safe.”
+
+At this moment Mr. Weston appeared at a little distance from the window,
+evidently on the watch. His wife gave him a look which invited him
+in; and, while he was coming round, added, “Now, dearest Emma, let me
+intreat you to say and look every thing that may set his heart at ease,
+and incline him to be satisfied with the match. Let us make the best of
+it--and, indeed, almost every thing may be fairly said in her favour. It
+is not a connexion to gratify; but if Mr. Churchill does not feel that,
+why should we? and it may be a very fortunate circumstance for him, for
+Frank, I mean, that he should have attached himself to a girl of such
+steadiness of character and good judgment as I have always given her
+credit for--and still am disposed to give her credit for, in spite of
+this one great deviation from the strict rule of right. And how much may
+be said in her situation for even that error!”
+
+“Much, indeed!” cried Emma feelingly. “If a woman can ever be
+excused for thinking only of herself, it is in a situation like Jane
+Fairfax’s.--Of such, one may almost say, that ‘the world is not their’s,
+nor the world’s law.’”
+
+She met Mr. Weston on his entrance, with a smiling countenance,
+exclaiming,
+
+“A very pretty trick you have been playing me, upon my word! This was a
+device, I suppose, to sport with my curiosity, and exercise my talent of
+guessing. But you really frightened me. I thought you had lost half
+your property, at least. And here, instead of its being a matter of
+condolence, it turns out to be one of congratulation.--I congratulate
+you, Mr. Weston, with all my heart, on the prospect of having one of the
+most lovely and accomplished young women in England for your daughter.”
+
+A glance or two between him and his wife, convinced him that all was as
+right as this speech proclaimed; and its happy effect on his spirits was
+immediate. His air and voice recovered their usual briskness: he shook
+her heartily and gratefully by the hand, and entered on the subject in
+a manner to prove, that he now only wanted time and persuasion to think
+the engagement no very bad thing. His companions suggested only what
+could palliate imprudence, or smooth objections; and by the time they
+had talked it all over together, and he had talked it all over again
+with Emma, in their walk back to Hartfield, he was become perfectly
+reconciled, and not far from thinking it the very best thing that Frank
+could possibly have done.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+“Harriet, poor Harriet!”--Those were the words; in them lay the
+tormenting ideas which Emma could not get rid of, and which constituted
+the real misery of the business to her. Frank Churchill had behaved very
+ill by herself--very ill in many ways,--but it was not so much _his_
+behaviour as her _own_, which made her so angry with him. It was the
+scrape which he had drawn her into on Harriet’s account, that gave the
+deepest hue to his offence.--Poor Harriet! to be a second time the
+dupe of her misconceptions and flattery. Mr. Knightley had spoken
+prophetically, when he once said, “Emma, you have been no friend
+to Harriet Smith.”--She was afraid she had done her nothing but
+disservice.--It was true that she had not to charge herself, in this
+instance as in the former, with being the sole and original author of
+the mischief; with having suggested such feelings as might otherwise
+never have entered Harriet’s imagination; for Harriet had acknowledged
+her admiration and preference of Frank Churchill before she had ever
+given her a hint on the subject; but she felt completely guilty
+of having encouraged what she might have repressed. She might have
+prevented the indulgence and increase of such sentiments. Her influence
+would have been enough. And now she was very conscious that she ought
+to have prevented them.--She felt that she had been risking her friend’s
+happiness on most insufficient grounds. Common sense would have directed
+her to tell Harriet, that she must not allow herself to think of him,
+and that there were five hundred chances to one against his ever caring
+for her.--“But, with common sense,” she added, “I am afraid I have had
+little to do.”
+
+She was extremely angry with herself. If she could not have been angry
+with Frank Churchill too, it would have been dreadful.--As for Jane
+Fairfax, she might at least relieve her feelings from any present
+solicitude on her account. Harriet would be anxiety enough; she need
+no longer be unhappy about Jane, whose troubles and whose ill-health
+having, of course, the same origin, must be equally under cure.--Her
+days of insignificance and evil were over.--She would soon be well, and
+happy, and prosperous.--Emma could now imagine why her own attentions
+had been slighted. This discovery laid many smaller matters open. No
+doubt it had been from jealousy.--In Jane’s eyes she had been a rival;
+and well might any thing she could offer of assistance or regard be
+repulsed. An airing in the Hartfield carriage would have been the rack,
+and arrowroot from the Hartfield storeroom must have been poison. She
+understood it all; and as far as her mind could disengage itself from
+the injustice and selfishness of angry feelings, she acknowledged that
+Jane Fairfax would have neither elevation nor happiness beyond her
+desert. But poor Harriet was such an engrossing charge! There was little
+sympathy to be spared for any body else. Emma was sadly fearful
+that this second disappointment would be more severe than the first.
+Considering the very superior claims of the object, it ought; and
+judging by its apparently stronger effect on Harriet’s mind, producing
+reserve and self-command, it would.--She must communicate the painful
+truth, however, and as soon as possible. An injunction of secresy had
+been among Mr. Weston’s parting words. “For the present, the whole
+affair was to be completely a secret. Mr. Churchill had made a point of
+it, as a token of respect to the wife he had so very recently lost;
+and every body admitted it to be no more than due decorum.”--Emma had
+promised; but still Harriet must be excepted. It was her superior duty.
+
+In spite of her vexation, she could not help feeling it almost
+ridiculous, that she should have the very same distressing and delicate
+office to perform by Harriet, which Mrs. Weston had just gone through by
+herself. The intelligence, which had been so anxiously announced to her,
+she was now to be anxiously announcing to another. Her heart beat quick
+on hearing Harriet’s footstep and voice; so, she supposed, had poor Mrs.
+Weston felt when _she_ was approaching Randalls. Could the event of
+the disclosure bear an equal resemblance!--But of that, unfortunately,
+there could be no chance.
+
+“Well, Miss Woodhouse!” cried Harriet, coming eagerly into the room--“is
+not this the oddest news that ever was?”
+
+“What news do you mean?” replied Emma, unable to guess, by look or
+voice, whether Harriet could indeed have received any hint.
+
+“About Jane Fairfax. Did you ever hear any thing so strange? Oh!--you
+need not be afraid of owning it to me, for Mr. Weston has told me
+himself. I met him just now. He told me it was to be a great secret;
+and, therefore, I should not think of mentioning it to any body but you,
+but he said you knew it.”
+
+“What did Mr. Weston tell you?”--said Emma, still perplexed.
+
+“Oh! he told me all about it; that Jane Fairfax and Mr. Frank Churchill
+are to be married, and that they have been privately engaged to one
+another this long while. How very odd!”
+
+It was, indeed, so odd; Harriet’s behaviour was so extremely odd,
+that Emma did not know how to understand it. Her character appeared
+absolutely changed. She seemed to propose shewing no agitation, or
+disappointment, or peculiar concern in the discovery. Emma looked at
+her, quite unable to speak.
+
+“Had you any idea,” cried Harriet, “of his being in love with her?--You,
+perhaps, might.--You (blushing as she spoke) who can see into every
+body’s heart; but nobody else--”
+
+“Upon my word,” said Emma, “I begin to doubt my having any such talent.
+Can you seriously ask me, Harriet, whether I imagined him attached
+to another woman at the very time that I was--tacitly, if not
+openly--encouraging you to give way to your own feelings?--I never
+had the slightest suspicion, till within the last hour, of Mr. Frank
+Churchill’s having the least regard for Jane Fairfax. You may be very
+sure that if I had, I should have cautioned you accordingly.”
+
+“Me!” cried Harriet, colouring, and astonished. “Why should you caution
+me?--You do not think I care about Mr. Frank Churchill.”
+
+“I am delighted to hear you speak so stoutly on the subject,” replied
+Emma, smiling; “but you do not mean to deny that there was a time--and
+not very distant either--when you gave me reason to understand that you
+did care about him?”
+
+“Him!--never, never. Dear Miss Woodhouse, how could you so mistake me?”
+ turning away distressed.
+
+“Harriet!” cried Emma, after a moment’s pause--“What do you mean?--Good
+Heaven! what do you mean?--Mistake you!--Am I to suppose then?--”
+
+She could not speak another word.--Her voice was lost; and she sat down,
+waiting in great terror till Harriet should answer.
+
+Harriet, who was standing at some distance, and with face turned from
+her, did not immediately say any thing; and when she did speak, it was
+in a voice nearly as agitated as Emma’s.
+
+“I should not have thought it possible,” she began, “that you could have
+misunderstood me! I know we agreed never to name him--but considering
+how infinitely superior he is to every body else, I should not have
+thought it possible that I could be supposed to mean any other person.
+Mr. Frank Churchill, indeed! I do not know who would ever look at him in
+the company of the other. I hope I have a better taste than to think of
+Mr. Frank Churchill, who is like nobody by his side. And that you should
+have been so mistaken, is amazing!--I am sure, but for believing that
+you entirely approved and meant to encourage me in my attachment, I
+should have considered it at first too great a presumption almost,
+to dare to think of him. At first, if you had not told me that more
+wonderful things had happened; that there had been matches of greater
+disparity (those were your very words);--I should not have dared to
+give way to--I should not have thought it possible--But if _you_, who
+had been always acquainted with him--”
+
+“Harriet!” cried Emma, collecting herself resolutely--“Let us understand
+each other now, without the possibility of farther mistake. Are you
+speaking of--Mr. Knightley?”
+
+“To be sure I am. I never could have an idea of any body else--and so
+I thought you knew. When we talked about him, it was as clear as
+possible.”
+
+“Not quite,” returned Emma, with forced calmness, “for all that you then
+said, appeared to me to relate to a different person. I could almost
+assert that you had _named_ Mr. Frank Churchill. I am sure the service
+Mr. Frank Churchill had rendered you, in protecting you from the
+gipsies, was spoken of.”
+
+“Oh! Miss Woodhouse, how you do forget!”
+
+“My dear Harriet, I perfectly remember the substance of what I said on
+the occasion. I told you that I did not wonder at your attachment;
+that considering the service he had rendered you, it was extremely
+natural:--and you agreed to it, expressing yourself very warmly as to
+your sense of that service, and mentioning even what your sensations had
+been in seeing him come forward to your rescue.--The impression of it is
+strong on my memory.”
+
+“Oh, dear,” cried Harriet, “now I recollect what you mean; but I
+was thinking of something very different at the time. It was not the
+gipsies--it was not Mr. Frank Churchill that I meant. No! (with some
+elevation) I was thinking of a much more precious circumstance--of Mr.
+Knightley’s coming and asking me to dance, when Mr. Elton would not
+stand up with me; and when there was no other partner in the room. That
+was the kind action; that was the noble benevolence and generosity; that
+was the service which made me begin to feel how superior he was to every
+other being upon earth.”
+
+“Good God!” cried Emma, “this has been a most unfortunate--most
+deplorable mistake!--What is to be done?”
+
+“You would not have encouraged me, then, if you had understood me? At
+least, however, I cannot be worse off than I should have been, if the
+other had been the person; and now--it _is_ possible--”
+
+She paused a few moments. Emma could not speak.
+
+“I do not wonder, Miss Woodhouse,” she resumed, “that you should feel a
+great difference between the two, as to me or as to any body. You must
+think one five hundred million times more above me than the other. But
+I hope, Miss Woodhouse, that supposing--that if--strange as it may
+appear--. But you know they were your own words, that _more_ wonderful
+things had happened, matches of _greater_ disparity had taken place than
+between Mr. Frank Churchill and me; and, therefore, it seems as if such
+a thing even as this, may have occurred before--and if I should be so
+fortunate, beyond expression, as to--if Mr. Knightley should really--if
+_he_ does not mind the disparity, I hope, dear Miss Woodhouse, you will
+not set yourself against it, and try to put difficulties in the way. But
+you are too good for that, I am sure.”
+
+Harriet was standing at one of the windows. Emma turned round to look at
+her in consternation, and hastily said,
+
+“Have you any idea of Mr. Knightley’s returning your affection?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Harriet modestly, but not fearfully--“I must say that I
+have.”
+
+Emma’s eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating,
+in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient
+for making her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like hers,
+once opening to suspicion, made rapid progress. She touched--she
+admitted--she acknowledged the whole truth. Why was it so much worse
+that Harriet should be in love with Mr. Knightley, than with Frank
+Churchill? Why was the evil so dreadfully increased by Harriet’s having
+some hope of a return? It darted through her, with the speed of an
+arrow, that Mr. Knightley must marry no one but herself!
+
+Her own conduct, as well as her own heart, was before her in the same
+few minutes. She saw it all with a clearness which had never blessed
+her before. How improperly had she been acting by Harriet! How
+inconsiderate, how indelicate, how irrational, how unfeeling had been
+her conduct! What blindness, what madness, had led her on! It struck her
+with dreadful force, and she was ready to give it every bad name in the
+world. Some portion of respect for herself, however, in spite of all
+these demerits--some concern for her own appearance, and a strong sense
+of justice by Harriet--(there would be no need of _compassion_ to the
+girl who believed herself loved by Mr. Knightley--but justice required
+that she should not be made unhappy by any coldness now,) gave Emma the
+resolution to sit and endure farther with calmness, with even apparent
+kindness.--For her own advantage indeed, it was fit that the utmost
+extent of Harriet’s hopes should be enquired into; and Harriet had done
+nothing to forfeit the regard and interest which had been so voluntarily
+formed and maintained--or to deserve to be slighted by the person, whose
+counsels had never led her right.--Rousing from reflection, therefore,
+and subduing her emotion, she turned to Harriet again, and, in a more
+inviting accent, renewed the conversation; for as to the subject which
+had first introduced it, the wonderful story of Jane Fairfax, that was
+quite sunk and lost.--Neither of them thought but of Mr. Knightley and
+themselves.
+
+Harriet, who had been standing in no unhappy reverie, was yet very glad
+to be called from it, by the now encouraging manner of such a judge, and
+such a friend as Miss Woodhouse, and only wanted invitation, to give
+the history of her hopes with great, though trembling delight.--Emma’s
+tremblings as she asked, and as she listened, were better concealed than
+Harriet’s, but they were not less. Her voice was not unsteady; but her
+mind was in all the perturbation that such a development of self, such
+a burst of threatening evil, such a confusion of sudden and perplexing
+emotions, must create.--She listened with much inward suffering, but
+with great outward patience, to Harriet’s detail.--Methodical, or well
+arranged, or very well delivered, it could not be expected to be; but it
+contained, when separated from all the feebleness and tautology of
+the narration, a substance to sink her spirit--especially with the
+corroborating circumstances, which her own memory brought in favour of
+Mr. Knightley’s most improved opinion of Harriet.
+
+Harriet had been conscious of a difference in his behaviour ever since
+those two decisive dances.--Emma knew that he had, on that occasion,
+found her much superior to his expectation. From that evening, or at
+least from the time of Miss Woodhouse’s encouraging her to think of him,
+Harriet had begun to be sensible of his talking to her much more than he
+had been used to do, and of his having indeed quite a different manner
+towards her; a manner of kindness and sweetness!--Latterly she had been
+more and more aware of it. When they had been all walking together,
+he had so often come and walked by her, and talked so very
+delightfully!--He seemed to want to be acquainted with her. Emma knew it
+to have been very much the case. She had often observed the change, to
+almost the same extent.--Harriet repeated expressions of approbation
+and praise from him--and Emma felt them to be in the closest agreement
+with what she had known of his opinion of Harriet. He praised her for
+being without art or affectation, for having simple, honest, generous,
+feelings.--She knew that he saw such recommendations in Harriet; he
+had dwelt on them to her more than once.--Much that lived in Harriet’s
+memory, many little particulars of the notice she had received from
+him, a look, a speech, a removal from one chair to another, a compliment
+implied, a preference inferred, had been unnoticed, because unsuspected,
+by Emma. Circumstances that might swell to half an hour’s relation,
+and contained multiplied proofs to her who had seen them, had passed
+undiscerned by her who now heard them; but the two latest occurrences to
+be mentioned, the two of strongest promise to Harriet, were not without
+some degree of witness from Emma herself.--The first, was his walking
+with her apart from the others, in the lime-walk at Donwell, where they
+had been walking some time before Emma came, and he had taken pains (as
+she was convinced) to draw her from the rest to himself--and at first,
+he had talked to her in a more particular way than he had ever done
+before, in a very particular way indeed!--(Harriet could not recall
+it without a blush.) He seemed to be almost asking her, whether her
+affections were engaged.--But as soon as she (Miss Woodhouse) appeared
+likely to join them, he changed the subject, and began talking about
+farming:--The second, was his having sat talking with her nearly half
+an hour before Emma came back from her visit, the very last morning of
+his being at Hartfield--though, when he first came in, he had said that
+he could not stay five minutes--and his having told her, during their
+conversation, that though he must go to London, it was very much against
+his inclination that he left home at all, which was much more (as
+Emma felt) than he had acknowledged to _her_. The superior degree of
+confidence towards Harriet, which this one article marked, gave her
+severe pain.
+
+On the subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did, after a
+little reflection, venture the following question. “Might he not?--Is
+not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought, into the state of
+your affections, he might be alluding to Mr. Martin--he might have
+Mr. Martin’s interest in view? But Harriet rejected the suspicion with
+spirit.
+
+“Mr. Martin! No indeed!--There was not a hint of Mr. Martin. I hope I
+know better now, than to care for Mr. Martin, or to be suspected of it.”
+
+When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear Miss
+Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope.
+
+“I never should have presumed to think of it at first,” said she, “but
+for you. You told me to observe him carefully, and let his behaviour
+be the rule of mine--and so I have. But now I seem to feel that I may
+deserve him; and that if he does chuse me, it will not be any thing so
+very wonderful.”
+
+The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter feelings,
+made the utmost exertion necessary on Emma’s side, to enable her to say
+on reply,
+
+“Harriet, I will only venture to declare, that Mr. Knightley is the last
+man in the world, who would intentionally give any woman the idea of his
+feeling for her more than he really does.”
+
+Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for a sentence so
+satisfactory; and Emma was only saved from raptures and fondness, which
+at that moment would have been dreadful penance, by the sound of her
+father’s footsteps. He was coming through the hall. Harriet was too
+much agitated to encounter him. “She could not compose herself--
+Mr. Woodhouse would be alarmed--she had better go;”--with most ready
+encouragement from her friend, therefore, she passed off through another
+door--and the moment she was gone, this was the spontaneous burst of
+Emma’s feelings: “Oh God! that I had never seen her!”
+
+The rest of the day, the following night, were hardly enough for her
+thoughts.--She was bewildered amidst the confusion of all that had
+rushed on her within the last few hours. Every moment had brought a
+fresh surprize; and every surprize must be matter of humiliation to
+her.--How to understand it all! How to understand the deceptions she had
+been thus practising on herself, and living under!--The blunders, the
+blindness of her own head and heart!--she sat still, she walked about,
+she tried her own room, she tried the shrubbery--in every place, every
+posture, she perceived that she had acted most weakly; that she had
+been imposed on by others in a most mortifying degree; that she had
+been imposing on herself in a degree yet more mortifying; that she
+was wretched, and should probably find this day but the beginning of
+wretchedness.
+
+To understand, thoroughly understand her own heart, was the first
+endeavour. To that point went every leisure moment which her father’s
+claims on her allowed, and every moment of involuntary absence of mind.
+
+How long had Mr. Knightley been so dear to her, as every feeling
+declared him now to be? When had his influence, such influence begun?--
+When had he succeeded to that place in her affection, which Frank
+Churchill had once, for a short period, occupied?--She looked back;
+she compared the two--compared them, as they had always stood in her
+estimation, from the time of the latter’s becoming known to her--and as
+they must at any time have been compared by her, had it--oh! had it, by
+any blessed felicity, occurred to her, to institute the comparison.--She
+saw that there never had been a time when she did not consider Mr.
+Knightley as infinitely the superior, or when his regard for her had not
+been infinitely the most dear. She saw, that in persuading herself,
+in fancying, in acting to the contrary, she had been entirely under a
+delusion, totally ignorant of her own heart--and, in short, that she had
+never really cared for Frank Churchill at all!
+
+This was the conclusion of the first series of reflection. This was
+the knowledge of herself, on the first question of inquiry, which
+she reached; and without being long in reaching it.--She was most
+sorrowfully indignant; ashamed of every sensation but the one revealed
+to her--her affection for Mr. Knightley.--Every other part of her mind
+was disgusting.
+
+With insufferable vanity had she believed herself in the secret of every
+body’s feelings; with unpardonable arrogance proposed to arrange every
+body’s destiny. She was proved to have been universally mistaken; and
+she had not quite done nothing--for she had done mischief. She had
+brought evil on Harriet, on herself, and she too much feared, on Mr.
+Knightley.--Were this most unequal of all connexions to take place, on
+her must rest all the reproach of having given it a beginning; for his
+attachment, she must believe to be produced only by a consciousness of
+Harriet’s;--and even were this not the case, he would never have known
+Harriet at all but for her folly.
+
+Mr. Knightley and Harriet Smith!--It was a union to distance every
+wonder of the kind.--The attachment of Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax
+became commonplace, threadbare, stale in the comparison, exciting no
+surprize, presenting no disparity, affording nothing to be said or
+thought.--Mr. Knightley and Harriet Smith!--Such an elevation on her
+side! Such a debasement on his! It was horrible to Emma to think how it
+must sink him in the general opinion, to foresee the smiles, the sneers,
+the merriment it would prompt at his expense; the mortification and
+disdain of his brother, the thousand inconveniences to himself.--Could
+it be?--No; it was impossible. And yet it was far, very far, from
+impossible.--Was it a new circumstance for a man of first-rate abilities
+to be captivated by very inferior powers? Was it new for one, perhaps
+too busy to seek, to be the prize of a girl who would seek him?--Was
+it new for any thing in this world to be unequal, inconsistent,
+incongruous--or for chance and circumstance (as second causes) to direct
+the human fate?
+
+Oh! had she never brought Harriet forward! Had she left her where she
+ought, and where he had told her she ought!--Had she not, with a
+folly which no tongue could express, prevented her marrying the
+unexceptionable young man who would have made her happy and respectable
+in the line of life to which she ought to belong--all would have been
+safe; none of this dreadful sequel would have been.
+
+How Harriet could ever have had the presumption to raise her thoughts to
+Mr. Knightley!--How she could dare to fancy herself the chosen of such
+a man till actually assured of it!--But Harriet was less humble, had
+fewer scruples than formerly.--Her inferiority, whether of mind or
+situation, seemed little felt.--She had seemed more sensible of Mr.
+Elton’s being to stoop in marrying her, than she now seemed of Mr.
+Knightley’s.--Alas! was not that her own doing too? Who had been at
+pains to give Harriet notions of self-consequence but herself?--Who but
+herself had taught her, that she was to elevate herself if possible,
+and that her claims were great to a high worldly establishment?--If
+Harriet, from being humble, were grown vain, it was her doing too.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+Till now that she was threatened with its loss, Emma had never known
+how much of her happiness depended on being _first_ with Mr. Knightley,
+first in interest and affection.--Satisfied that it was so, and feeling
+it her due, she had enjoyed it without reflection; and only in the
+dread of being supplanted, found how inexpressibly important it had
+been.--Long, very long, she felt she had been first; for, having no
+female connexions of his own, there had been only Isabella whose claims
+could be compared with hers, and she had always known exactly how far
+he loved and esteemed Isabella. She had herself been first with him for
+many years past. She had not deserved it; she had often been negligent
+or perverse, slighting his advice, or even wilfully opposing him,
+insensible of half his merits, and quarrelling with him because he would
+not acknowledge her false and insolent estimate of her own--but still,
+from family attachment and habit, and thorough excellence of mind, he
+had loved her, and watched over her from a girl, with an endeavour to
+improve her, and an anxiety for her doing right, which no other creature
+had at all shared. In spite of all her faults, she knew she was dear
+to him; might she not say, very dear?--When the suggestions of hope,
+however, which must follow here, presented themselves, she could not
+presume to indulge them. Harriet Smith might think herself not unworthy
+of being peculiarly, exclusively, passionately loved by Mr. Knightley.
+_She_ could not. She could not flatter herself with any idea of
+blindness in his attachment to _her_. She had received a very recent
+proof of its impartiality.--How shocked had he been by her behaviour to
+Miss Bates! How directly, how strongly had he expressed himself to her
+on the subject!--Not too strongly for the offence--but far, far too
+strongly to issue from any feeling softer than upright justice and
+clear-sighted goodwill.--She had no hope, nothing to deserve the name
+of hope, that he could have that sort of affection for herself which was
+now in question; but there was a hope (at times a slight one, at
+times much stronger,) that Harriet might have deceived herself, and be
+overrating his regard for _her_.--Wish it she must, for his sake--be the
+consequence nothing to herself, but his remaining single all his life.
+Could she be secure of that, indeed, of his never marrying at all, she
+believed she should be perfectly satisfied.--Let him but continue the
+same Mr. Knightley to her and her father, the same Mr. Knightley to
+all the world; let Donwell and Hartfield lose none of their precious
+intercourse of friendship and confidence, and her peace would be
+fully secured.--Marriage, in fact, would not do for her. It would be
+incompatible with what she owed to her father, and with what she felt
+for him. Nothing should separate her from her father. She would not
+marry, even if she were asked by Mr. Knightley.
+
+It must be her ardent wish that Harriet might be disappointed; and she
+hoped, that when able to see them together again, she might at least
+be able to ascertain what the chances for it were.--She should see them
+henceforward with the closest observance; and wretchedly as she had
+hitherto misunderstood even those she was watching, she did not know how
+to admit that she could be blinded here.--He was expected back every
+day. The power of observation would be soon given--frightfully soon it
+appeared when her thoughts were in one course. In the meanwhile, she
+resolved against seeing Harriet.--It would do neither of them good,
+it would do the subject no good, to be talking of it farther.--She was
+resolved not to be convinced, as long as she could doubt, and yet had
+no authority for opposing Harriet’s confidence. To talk would be only to
+irritate.--She wrote to her, therefore, kindly, but decisively, to beg
+that she would not, at present, come to Hartfield; acknowledging it to
+be her conviction, that all farther confidential discussion of _one_
+topic had better be avoided; and hoping, that if a few days were allowed
+to pass before they met again, except in the company of others--she
+objected only to a tete-a-tete--they might be able to act as if they
+had forgotten the conversation of yesterday.--Harriet submitted, and
+approved, and was grateful.
+
+This point was just arranged, when a visitor arrived to tear Emma’s
+thoughts a little from the one subject which had engrossed them,
+sleeping or waking, the last twenty-four hours--Mrs. Weston, who had
+been calling on her daughter-in-law elect, and took Hartfield in her
+way home, almost as much in duty to Emma as in pleasure to herself, to
+relate all the particulars of so interesting an interview.
+
+Mr. Weston had accompanied her to Mrs. Bates’s, and gone through his
+share of this essential attention most handsomely; but she having then
+induced Miss Fairfax to join her in an airing, was now returned with
+much more to say, and much more to say with satisfaction, than a quarter
+of an hour spent in Mrs. Bates’s parlour, with all the encumbrance of
+awkward feelings, could have afforded.
+
+A little curiosity Emma had; and she made the most of it while her
+friend related. Mrs. Weston had set off to pay the visit in a good deal
+of agitation herself; and in the first place had wished not to go at all
+at present, to be allowed merely to write to Miss Fairfax instead, and
+to defer this ceremonious call till a little time had passed, and Mr.
+Churchill could be reconciled to the engagement’s becoming known; as,
+considering every thing, she thought such a visit could not be paid
+without leading to reports:--but Mr. Weston had thought differently; he
+was extremely anxious to shew his approbation to Miss Fairfax and her
+family, and did not conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it;
+or if it were, that it would be of any consequence; for “such things,”
+ he observed, “always got about.” Emma smiled, and felt that Mr. Weston
+had very good reason for saying so. They had gone, in short--and very
+great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady. She had
+hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action had shewn
+how deeply she was suffering from consciousness. The quiet, heart-felt
+satisfaction of the old lady, and the rapturous delight of her
+daughter--who proved even too joyous to talk as usual, had been a
+gratifying, yet almost an affecting, scene. They were both so truly
+respectable in their happiness, so disinterested in every sensation;
+thought so much of Jane; so much of every body, and so little of
+themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work for them. Miss
+Fairfax’s recent illness had offered a fair plea for Mrs. Weston to
+invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and declined at first, but,
+on being pressed had yielded; and, in the course of their drive,
+Mrs. Weston had, by gentle encouragement, overcome so much of her
+embarrassment, as to bring her to converse on the important subject.
+Apologies for her seemingly ungracious silence in their first reception,
+and the warmest expressions of the gratitude she was always feeling
+towards herself and Mr. Weston, must necessarily open the cause; but
+when these effusions were put by, they had talked a good deal of the
+present and of the future state of the engagement. Mrs. Weston was
+convinced that such conversation must be the greatest relief to her
+companion, pent up within her own mind as every thing had so long been,
+and was very much pleased with all that she had said on the subject.
+
+“On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment of so
+many months,” continued Mrs. Weston, “she was energetic. This was one
+of her expressions. ‘I will not say, that since I entered into the
+engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I can say, that I have
+never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:’--and the quivering lip,
+Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation that I felt at my heart.”
+
+“Poor girl!” said Emma. “She thinks herself wrong, then, for having
+consented to a private engagement?”
+
+“Wrong! No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed
+to blame herself. ‘The consequence,’ said she, ‘has been a state of
+perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought. But after all the punishment
+that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct. Pain is no
+expiation. I never can be blameless. I have been acting contrary to all
+my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every thing has taken,
+and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my conscience tells me
+ought not to be.’ ‘Do not imagine, madam,’ she continued, ‘that I was
+taught wrong. Do not let any reflection fall on the principles or the
+care of the friends who brought me up. The error has been all my own;
+and I do assure you that, with all the excuse that present circumstances
+may appear to give, I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel
+Campbell.’”
+
+“Poor girl!” said Emma again. “She loves him then excessively, I
+suppose. It must have been from attachment only, that she could be
+led to form the engagement. Her affection must have overpowered her
+judgment.”
+
+“Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him.”
+
+“I am afraid,” returned Emma, sighing, “that I must often have
+contributed to make her unhappy.”
+
+“On your side, my love, it was very innocently done. But she
+probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding to the
+misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before. One natural
+consequence of the evil she had involved herself in,” she said, “was
+that of making her _unreasonable_. The consciousness of having done
+amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes, and made her captious
+and irritable to a degree that must have been--that had been--hard for
+him to bear. ‘I did not make the allowances,’ said she, ‘which I ought
+to have done, for his temper and spirits--his delightful spirits, and
+that gaiety, that playfulness of disposition, which, under any other
+circumstances, would, I am sure, have been as constantly bewitching to
+me, as they were at first.’ She then began to speak of you, and of the
+great kindness you had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush
+which shewed me how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had
+an opportunity, to thank you--I could not thank you too much--for every
+wish and every endeavour to do her good. She was sensible that you had
+never received any proper acknowledgment from herself.”
+
+“If I did not know her to be happy now,” said Emma, seriously, “which,
+in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous conscience, she
+must be, I could not bear these thanks;--for, oh! Mrs. Weston, if there
+were an account drawn up of the evil and the good I have done Miss
+Fairfax!--Well (checking herself, and trying to be more lively), this
+is all to be forgotten. You are very kind to bring me these interesting
+particulars. They shew her to the greatest advantage. I am sure she is
+very good--I hope she will be very happy. It is fit that the fortune
+should be on his side, for I think the merit will be all on hers.”
+
+Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs. Weston. She thought
+well of Frank in almost every respect; and, what was more, she loved him
+very much, and her defence was, therefore, earnest. She talked with a
+great deal of reason, and at least equal affection--but she had too much
+to urge for Emma’s attention; it was soon gone to Brunswick Square or
+to Donwell; she forgot to attempt to listen; and when Mrs. Weston ended
+with, “We have not yet had the letter we are so anxious for, you know,
+but I hope it will soon come,” she was obliged to pause before she
+answered, and at last obliged to answer at random, before she could at
+all recollect what letter it was which they were so anxious for.
+
+“Are you well, my Emma?” was Mrs. Weston’s parting question.
+
+“Oh! perfectly. I am always well, you know. Be sure to give me
+intelligence of the letter as soon as possible.”
+
+Mrs. Weston’s communications furnished Emma with more food for
+unpleasant reflection, by increasing her esteem and compassion, and her
+sense of past injustice towards Miss Fairfax. She bitterly regretted
+not having sought a closer acquaintance with her, and blushed for the
+envious feelings which had certainly been, in some measure, the cause.
+Had she followed Mr. Knightley’s known wishes, in paying that attention
+to Miss Fairfax, which was every way her due; had she tried to know her
+better; had she done her part towards intimacy; had she endeavoured
+to find a friend there instead of in Harriet Smith; she must, in all
+probability, have been spared from every pain which pressed on her
+now.--Birth, abilities, and education, had been equally marking one as
+an associate for her, to be received with gratitude; and the other--what
+was she?--Supposing even that they had never become intimate friends;
+that she had never been admitted into Miss Fairfax’s confidence on this
+important matter--which was most probable--still, in knowing her as
+she ought, and as she might, she must have been preserved from the
+abominable suspicions of an improper attachment to Mr. Dixon, which she
+had not only so foolishly fashioned and harboured herself, but had so
+unpardonably imparted; an idea which she greatly feared had been made a
+subject of material distress to the delicacy of Jane’s feelings, by the
+levity or carelessness of Frank Churchill’s. Of all the sources of evil
+surrounding the former, since her coming to Highbury, she was persuaded
+that she must herself have been the worst. She must have been a
+perpetual enemy. They never could have been all three together, without
+her having stabbed Jane Fairfax’s peace in a thousand instances; and on
+Box Hill, perhaps, it had been the agony of a mind that would bear no
+more.
+
+The evening of this day was very long, and melancholy, at Hartfield.
+The weather added what it could of gloom. A cold stormy rain set in, and
+nothing of July appeared but in the trees and shrubs, which the wind was
+despoiling, and the length of the day, which only made such cruel sights
+the longer visible.
+
+The weather affected Mr. Woodhouse, and he could only be kept tolerably
+comfortable by almost ceaseless attention on his daughter’s side, and by
+exertions which had never cost her half so much before. It reminded
+her of their first forlorn tete-a-tete, on the evening of Mrs. Weston’s
+wedding-day; but Mr. Knightley had walked in then, soon after tea,
+and dissipated every melancholy fancy. Alas! such delightful proofs of
+Hartfield’s attraction, as those sort of visits conveyed, might shortly
+be over. The picture which she had then drawn of the privations of the
+approaching winter, had proved erroneous; no friends had deserted them,
+no pleasures had been lost.--But her present forebodings she feared
+would experience no similar contradiction. The prospect before her now,
+was threatening to a degree that could not be entirely dispelled--that
+might not be even partially brightened. If all took place that
+might take place among the circle of her friends, Hartfield must be
+comparatively deserted; and she left to cheer her father with the
+spirits only of ruined happiness.
+
+The child to be born at Randalls must be a tie there even dearer than
+herself; and Mrs. Weston’s heart and time would be occupied by it.
+They should lose her; and, probably, in great measure, her husband
+also.--Frank Churchill would return among them no more; and Miss
+Fairfax, it was reasonable to suppose, would soon cease to belong to
+Highbury. They would be married, and settled either at or near Enscombe.
+All that were good would be withdrawn; and if to these losses, the
+loss of Donwell were to be added, what would remain of cheerful or
+of rational society within their reach? Mr. Knightley to be no longer
+coming there for his evening comfort!--No longer walking in at all
+hours, as if ever willing to change his own home for their’s!--How was
+it to be endured? And if he were to be lost to them for Harriet’s sake;
+if he were to be thought of hereafter, as finding in Harriet’s society
+all that he wanted; if Harriet were to be the chosen, the first,
+the dearest, the friend, the wife to whom he looked for all the best
+blessings of existence; what could be increasing Emma’s wretchedness but
+the reflection never far distant from her mind, that it had been all her
+own work?
+
+When it came to such a pitch as this, she was not able to refrain from
+a start, or a heavy sigh, or even from walking about the room for a
+few seconds--and the only source whence any thing like consolation
+or composure could be drawn, was in the resolution of her own better
+conduct, and the hope that, however inferior in spirit and gaiety might
+be the following and every future winter of her life to the past, it
+would yet find her more rational, more acquainted with herself, and
+leave her less to regret when it were gone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+The weather continued much the same all the following morning; and
+the same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to reign at
+Hartfield--but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind changed into a
+softer quarter; the clouds were carried off; the sun appeared; it was
+summer again. With all the eagerness which such a transition gives, Emma
+resolved to be out of doors as soon as possible. Never had the exquisite
+sight, smell, sensation of nature, tranquil, warm, and brilliant after
+a storm, been more attractive to her. She longed for the serenity they
+might gradually introduce; and on Mr. Perry’s coming in soon after
+dinner, with a disengaged hour to give her father, she lost no time
+in hurrying into the shrubbery.--There, with spirits freshened, and
+thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns, when she saw Mr.
+Knightley passing through the garden door, and coming towards her.--It
+was the first intimation of his being returned from London. She had
+been thinking of him the moment before, as unquestionably sixteen miles
+distant.--There was time only for the quickest arrangement of mind. She
+must be collected and calm. In half a minute they were together. The
+“How d’ye do’s” were quiet and constrained on each side. She asked after
+their mutual friends; they were all well.--When had he left them?--Only
+that morning. He must have had a wet ride.--Yes.--He meant to walk with
+her, she found. “He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he was
+not wanted there, preferred being out of doors.”--She thought he neither
+looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible cause for it,
+suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been communicating his
+plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner in which they had
+been received.
+
+They walked together. He was silent. She thought he was often looking
+at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it suited her to
+give. And this belief produced another dread. Perhaps he wanted to
+speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet; he might be watching for
+encouragement to begin.--She did not, could not, feel equal to lead the
+way to any such subject. He must do it all himself. Yet she could
+not bear this silence. With him it was most unnatural. She
+considered--resolved--and, trying to smile, began--
+
+“You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather
+surprize you.”
+
+“Have I?” said he quietly, and looking at her; “of what nature?”
+
+“Oh! the best nature in the world--a wedding.”
+
+After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more, he
+replied,
+
+“If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard that
+already.”
+
+“How is it possible?” cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks towards
+him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he might have called
+at Mrs. Goddard’s in his way.
+
+“I had a few lines on parish business from Mr. Weston this morning, and
+at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened.”
+
+Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little more
+composure,
+
+“_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have
+had your suspicions.--I have not forgotten that you once tried to give
+me a caution.--I wish I had attended to it--but--(with a sinking voice
+and a heavy sigh) I seem to have been doomed to blindness.”
+
+For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious of having
+excited any particular interest, till she found her arm drawn within
+his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone
+of great sensibility, speaking low,
+
+“Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.--Your own excellent
+sense--your exertions for your father’s sake--I know you will not allow
+yourself--.” Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more
+broken and subdued accent, “The feelings of the warmest
+friendship--Indignation--Abominable scoundrel!”--And in a louder,
+steadier tone, he concluded with, “He will soon be gone. They will soon
+be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for _her_. She deserves a better fate.”
+
+Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover from the flutter
+of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied,
+
+“You are very kind--but you are mistaken--and I must set you right.--
+I am not in want of that sort of compassion. My blindness to what was
+going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always be ashamed
+of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which may
+well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I have no other reason
+to regret that I was not in the secret earlier.”
+
+“Emma!” cried he, looking eagerly at her, “are you, indeed?”--but
+checking himself--“No, no, I understand you--forgive me--I am pleased
+that you can say even so much.--He is no object of regret, indeed! and
+it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes the acknowledgment
+of more than your reason.--Fortunate that your affections were not
+farther entangled!--I could never, I confess, from your manners, assure
+myself as to the degree of what you felt--I could only be certain that
+there was a preference--and a preference which I never believed him to
+deserve.--He is a disgrace to the name of man.--And is he to be rewarded
+with that sweet young woman?--Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable
+creature.”
+
+“Mr. Knightley,” said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused--“I
+am in a very extraordinary situation. I cannot let you continue in your
+error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression, I
+have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have been
+at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might be natural
+for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse.--But I never
+have.”
+
+He listened in perfect silence. She wished him to speak, but he would
+not. She supposed she must say more before she were entitled to his
+clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower herself in
+his opinion. She went on, however.
+
+“I have very little to say for my own conduct.--I was tempted by his
+attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased.--An old story,
+probably--a common case--and no more than has happened to hundreds of my
+sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable in one who sets up
+as I do for Understanding. Many circumstances assisted the temptation.
+He was the son of Mr. Weston--he was continually here--I always found
+him very pleasant--and, in short, for (with a sigh) let me swell out the
+causes ever so ingeniously, they all centre in this at last--my vanity
+was flattered, and I allowed his attentions. Latterly, however--for some
+time, indeed--I have had no idea of their meaning any thing.--I thought
+them a habit, a trick, nothing that called for seriousness on my side.
+He has imposed on me, but he has not injured me. I have never been
+attached to him. And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour. He
+never wished to attach me. It was merely a blind to conceal his real
+situation with another.--It was his object to blind all about him; and
+no one, I am sure, could be more effectually blinded than myself--except
+that I was _not_ blinded--that it was my good fortune--that, in short, I
+was somehow or other safe from him.”
+
+She had hoped for an answer here--for a few words to say that her
+conduct was at least intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far as she
+could judge, deep in thought. At last, and tolerably in his usual tone,
+he said,
+
+“I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill.--I can suppose,
+however, that I may have underrated him. My acquaintance with him has
+been but trifling.--And even if I have not underrated him hitherto, he
+may yet turn out well.--With such a woman he has a chance.--I have no
+motive for wishing him ill--and for her sake, whose happiness will be
+involved in his good character and conduct, I shall certainly wish him
+well.”
+
+“I have no doubt of their being happy together,” said Emma; “I believe
+them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached.”
+
+“He is a most fortunate man!” returned Mr. Knightley, with energy. “So
+early in life--at three-and-twenty--a period when, if a man chuses a
+wife, he generally chuses ill. At three-and-twenty to have drawn such
+a prize! What years of felicity that man, in all human calculation,
+has before him!--Assured of the love of such a woman--the disinterested
+love, for Jane Fairfax’s character vouches for her disinterestedness;
+every thing in his favour,--equality of situation--I mean, as far as
+regards society, and all the habits and manners that are important;
+equality in every point but one--and that one, since the purity of her
+heart is not to be doubted, such as must increase his felicity, for it
+will be his to bestow the only advantages she wants.--A man would always
+wish to give a woman a better home than the one he takes her from;
+and he who can do it, where there is no doubt of _her_ regard, must,
+I think, be the happiest of mortals.--Frank Churchill is, indeed, the
+favourite of fortune. Every thing turns out for his good.--He meets
+with a young woman at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannot even
+weary her by negligent treatment--and had he and all his family sought
+round the world for a perfect wife for him, they could not have found
+her superior.--His aunt is in the way.--His aunt dies.--He has only to
+speak.--His friends are eager to promote his happiness.--He had used
+every body ill--and they are all delighted to forgive him.--He is a
+fortunate man indeed!”
+
+“You speak as if you envied him.”
+
+“And I do envy him, Emma. In one respect he is the object of my envy.”
+
+Emma could say no more. They seemed to be within half a sentence
+of Harriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject, if
+possible. She made her plan; she would speak of something totally
+different--the children in Brunswick Square; and she only waited for
+breath to begin, when Mr. Knightley startled her, by saying,
+
+“You will not ask me what is the point of envy.--You are determined, I
+see, to have no curiosity.--You are wise--but _I_ cannot be wise. Emma,
+I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the
+next moment.”
+
+“Oh! then, don’t speak it, don’t speak it,” she eagerly cried. “Take a
+little time, consider, do not commit yourself.”
+
+“Thank you,” said he, in an accent of deep mortification, and not
+another syllable followed.
+
+Emma could not bear to give him pain. He was wishing to confide in
+her--perhaps to consult her;--cost her what it would, she would listen.
+She might assist his resolution, or reconcile him to it; she might give
+just praise to Harriet, or, by representing to him his own independence,
+relieve him from that state of indecision, which must be more
+intolerable than any alternative to such a mind as his.--They had
+reached the house.
+
+“You are going in, I suppose?” said he.
+
+“No,”--replied Emma--quite confirmed by the depressed manner in which
+he still spoke--“I should like to take another turn. Mr. Perry is not
+gone.” And, after proceeding a few steps, she added--“I stopped you
+ungraciously, just now, Mr. Knightley, and, I am afraid, gave you
+pain.--But if you have any wish to speak openly to me as a friend, or
+to ask my opinion of any thing that you may have in contemplation--as
+a friend, indeed, you may command me.--I will hear whatever you like. I
+will tell you exactly what I think.”
+
+“As a friend!”--repeated Mr. Knightley.--“Emma, that I fear is a
+word--No, I have no wish--Stay, yes, why should I hesitate?--I
+have gone too far already for concealment.--Emma, I accept your
+offer--Extraordinary as it may seem, I accept it, and refer myself to
+you as a friend.--Tell me, then, have I no chance of ever succeeding?”
+
+He stopped in his earnestness to look the question, and the expression
+of his eyes overpowered her.
+
+“My dearest Emma,” said he, “for dearest you will always be, whatever
+the event of this hour’s conversation, my dearest, most beloved
+Emma--tell me at once. Say ‘No,’ if it is to be said.”--She could
+really say nothing.--“You are silent,” he cried, with great animation;
+“absolutely silent! at present I ask no more.”
+
+Emma was almost ready to sink under the agitation of this moment. The
+dread of being awakened from the happiest dream, was perhaps the most
+prominent feeling.
+
+“I cannot make speeches, Emma:” he soon resumed; and in a tone of
+such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably
+convincing.--“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it
+more. But you know what I am.--You hear nothing but truth from me.--I
+have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other
+woman in England would have borne it.--Bear with the truths I would
+tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The
+manner, perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have
+been a very indifferent lover.--But you understand me.--Yes, you see,
+you understand my feelings--and will return them if you can. At present,
+I ask only to hear, once to hear your voice.”
+
+While he spoke, Emma’s mind was most busy, and, with all the wonderful
+velocity of thought, had been able--and yet without losing a word--to
+catch and comprehend the exact truth of the whole; to see that Harriet’s
+hopes had been entirely groundless, a mistake, a delusion, as complete a
+delusion as any of her own--that Harriet was nothing; that she was every
+thing herself; that what she had been saying relative to Harriet
+had been all taken as the language of her own feelings; and that her
+agitation, her doubts, her reluctance, her discouragement, had been all
+received as discouragement from herself.--And not only was there time
+for these convictions, with all their glow of attendant happiness; there
+was time also to rejoice that Harriet’s secret had not escaped her, and
+to resolve that it need not, and should not.--It was all the service
+she could now render her poor friend; for as to any of that heroism of
+sentiment which might have prompted her to entreat him to transfer his
+affection from herself to Harriet, as infinitely the most worthy of the
+two--or even the more simple sublimity of resolving to refuse him at
+once and for ever, without vouchsafing any motive, because he could not
+marry them both, Emma had it not. She felt for Harriet, with pain and
+with contrition; but no flight of generosity run mad, opposing all that
+could be probable or reasonable, entered her brain. She had led her
+friend astray, and it would be a reproach to her for ever; but her
+judgment was as strong as her feelings, and as strong as it had ever
+been before, in reprobating any such alliance for him, as most unequal
+and degrading. Her way was clear, though not quite smooth.--She spoke
+then, on being so entreated.--What did she say?--Just what she ought,
+of course. A lady always does.--She said enough to shew there need not
+be despair--and to invite him to say more himself. He _had_ despaired at
+one period; he had received such an injunction to caution and silence,
+as for the time crushed every hope;--she had begun by refusing to hear
+him.--The change had perhaps been somewhat sudden;--her proposal of
+taking another turn, her renewing the conversation which she had
+just put an end to, might be a little extraordinary!--She felt its
+inconsistency; but Mr. Knightley was so obliging as to put up with it,
+and seek no farther explanation.
+
+Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure;
+seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a
+little mistaken; but where, as in this case, though the conduct is
+mistaken, the feelings are not, it may not be very material.--Mr.
+Knightley could not impute to Emma a more relenting heart than she
+possessed, or a heart more disposed to accept of his.
+
+He had, in fact, been wholly unsuspicious of his own influence. He had
+followed her into the shrubbery with no idea of trying it. He had come,
+in his anxiety to see how she bore Frank Churchill’s engagement, with no
+selfish view, no view at all, but of endeavouring, if she allowed him an
+opening, to soothe or to counsel her.--The rest had been the work of
+the moment, the immediate effect of what he heard, on his feelings. The
+delightful assurance of her total indifference towards Frank Churchill,
+of her having a heart completely disengaged from him, had given birth
+to the hope, that, in time, he might gain her affection himself;--but
+it had been no present hope--he had only, in the momentary conquest of
+eagerness over judgment, aspired to be told that she did not forbid his
+attempt to attach her.--The superior hopes which gradually opened were
+so much the more enchanting.--The affection, which he had been asking
+to be allowed to create, if he could, was already his!--Within half
+an hour, he had passed from a thoroughly distressed state of mind, to
+something so like perfect happiness, that it could bear no other name.
+
+_Her_ change was equal.--This one half-hour had given to each the same
+precious certainty of being beloved, had cleared from each the same
+degree of ignorance, jealousy, or distrust.--On his side, there had been
+a long-standing jealousy, old as the arrival, or even the expectation,
+of Frank Churchill.--He had been in love with Emma, and jealous of Frank
+Churchill, from about the same period, one sentiment having probably
+enlightened him as to the other. It was his jealousy of Frank Churchill
+that had taken him from the country.--The Box Hill party had decided
+him on going away. He would save himself from witnessing again
+such permitted, encouraged attentions.--He had gone to learn to be
+indifferent.--But he had gone to a wrong place. There was too much
+domestic happiness in his brother’s house; woman wore too amiable a form
+in it; Isabella was too much like Emma--differing only in those striking
+inferiorities, which always brought the other in brilliancy before
+him, for much to have been done, even had his time been longer.--He had
+stayed on, however, vigorously, day after day--till this very morning’s
+post had conveyed the history of Jane Fairfax.--Then, with the gladness
+which must be felt, nay, which he did not scruple to feel, having never
+believed Frank Churchill to be at all deserving Emma, was there so much
+fond solicitude, so much keen anxiety for her, that he could stay no
+longer. He had ridden home through the rain; and had walked up directly
+after dinner, to see how this sweetest and best of all creatures,
+faultless in spite of all her faults, bore the discovery.
+
+He had found her agitated and low.--Frank Churchill was a villain.--
+He heard her declare that she had never loved him. Frank Churchill’s
+character was not desperate.--She was his own Emma, by hand and word,
+when they returned into the house; and if he could have thought of Frank
+Churchill then, he might have deemed him a very good sort of fellow.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+What totally different feelings did Emma take back into the house from
+what she had brought out!--she had then been only daring to hope for
+a little respite of suffering;--she was now in an exquisite flutter of
+happiness, and such happiness moreover as she believed must still be
+greater when the flutter should have passed away.
+
+They sat down to tea--the same party round the same table--how often
+it had been collected!--and how often had her eyes fallen on the same
+shrubs in the lawn, and observed the same beautiful effect of the
+western sun!--But never in such a state of spirits, never in any thing
+like it; and it was with difficulty that she could summon enough of her
+usual self to be the attentive lady of the house, or even the attentive
+daughter.
+
+Poor Mr. Woodhouse little suspected what was plotting against him in the
+breast of that man whom he was so cordially welcoming, and so anxiously
+hoping might not have taken cold from his ride.--Could he have seen the
+heart, he would have cared very little for the lungs; but without the
+most distant imagination of the impending evil, without the slightest
+perception of any thing extraordinary in the looks or ways of either,
+he repeated to them very comfortably all the articles of news he had
+received from Mr. Perry, and talked on with much self-contentment,
+totally unsuspicious of what they could have told him in return.
+
+As long as Mr. Knightley remained with them, Emma’s fever continued;
+but when he was gone, she began to be a little tranquillised and
+subdued--and in the course of the sleepless night, which was the tax
+for such an evening, she found one or two such very serious points
+to consider, as made her feel, that even her happiness must have some
+alloy. Her father--and Harriet. She could not be alone without feeling
+the full weight of their separate claims; and how to guard the comfort
+of both to the utmost, was the question. With respect to her father,
+it was a question soon answered. She hardly knew yet what Mr. Knightley
+would ask; but a very short parley with her own heart produced the most
+solemn resolution of never quitting her father.--She even wept over
+the idea of it, as a sin of thought. While he lived, it must be only an
+engagement; but she flattered herself, that if divested of the danger of
+drawing her away, it might become an increase of comfort to him.--How
+to do her best by Harriet, was of more difficult decision;--how to spare
+her from any unnecessary pain; how to make her any possible atonement;
+how to appear least her enemy?--On these subjects, her perplexity
+and distress were very great--and her mind had to pass again and
+again through every bitter reproach and sorrowful regret that had ever
+surrounded it.--She could only resolve at last, that she would still
+avoid a meeting with her, and communicate all that need be told by
+letter; that it would be inexpressibly desirable to have her removed
+just now for a time from Highbury, and--indulging in one scheme
+more--nearly resolve, that it might be practicable to get an invitation
+for her to Brunswick Square.--Isabella had been pleased with Harriet;
+and a few weeks spent in London must give her some amusement.--She did
+not think it in Harriet’s nature to escape being benefited by novelty
+and variety, by the streets, the shops, and the children.--At any rate,
+it would be a proof of attention and kindness in herself, from whom
+every thing was due; a separation for the present; an averting of the
+evil day, when they must all be together again.
+
+She rose early, and wrote her letter to Harriet; an employment which
+left her so very serious, so nearly sad, that Mr. Knightley, in walking
+up to Hartfield to breakfast, did not arrive at all too soon; and half
+an hour stolen afterwards to go over the same ground again with him,
+literally and figuratively, was quite necessary to reinstate her in a
+proper share of the happiness of the evening before.
+
+He had not left her long, by no means long enough for her to have the
+slightest inclination for thinking of any body else, when a letter was
+brought her from Randalls--a very thick letter;--she guessed what it
+must contain, and deprecated the necessity of reading it.--She was now
+in perfect charity with Frank Churchill; she wanted no explanations, she
+wanted only to have her thoughts to herself--and as for understanding
+any thing he wrote, she was sure she was incapable of it.--It must be
+waded through, however. She opened the packet; it was too surely so;--a
+note from Mrs. Weston to herself, ushered in the letter from Frank to
+Mrs. Weston.
+
+“I have the greatest pleasure, my dear Emma, in forwarding to you the
+enclosed. I know what thorough justice you will do it, and have scarcely
+a doubt of its happy effect.--I think we shall never materially disagree
+about the writer again; but I will not delay you by a long preface.--We
+are quite well.--This letter has been the cure of all the little
+nervousness I have been feeling lately.--I did not quite like your looks
+on Tuesday, but it was an ungenial morning; and though you will never
+own being affected by weather, I think every body feels a north-east
+wind.--I felt for your dear father very much in the storm of Tuesday
+afternoon and yesterday morning, but had the comfort of hearing last
+night, by Mr. Perry, that it had not made him ill.
+
+ “Yours ever,
+ “A. W.”
+
+ [To Mrs. Weston.]
+
+
+ WINDSOR-JULY.
+MY DEAR MADAM,
+
+“If I made myself intelligible yesterday, this letter will be
+expected; but expected or not, I know it will be read with candour and
+indulgence.--You are all goodness, and I believe there will be need of
+even all your goodness to allow for some parts of my past conduct.--But
+I have been forgiven by one who had still more to resent. My courage
+rises while I write. It is very difficult for the prosperous to be
+humble. I have already met with such success in two applications for
+pardon, that I may be in danger of thinking myself too sure of yours,
+and of those among your friends who have had any ground of offence.--You
+must all endeavour to comprehend the exact nature of my situation when I
+first arrived at Randalls; you must consider me as having a secret which
+was to be kept at all hazards. This was the fact. My right to place
+myself in a situation requiring such concealment, is another question.
+I shall not discuss it here. For my temptation to _think_ it a right,
+I refer every caviller to a brick house, sashed windows below, and
+casements above, in Highbury. I dared not address her openly; my
+difficulties in the then state of Enscombe must be too well known to
+require definition; and I was fortunate enough to prevail, before we
+parted at Weymouth, and to induce the most upright female mind in the
+creation to stoop in charity to a secret engagement.--Had she refused, I
+should have gone mad.--But you will be ready to say, what was your
+hope in doing this?--What did you look forward to?--To any thing, every
+thing--to time, chance, circumstance, slow effects, sudden bursts,
+perseverance and weariness, health and sickness. Every possibility of
+good was before me, and the first of blessings secured, in obtaining her
+promises of faith and correspondence. If you need farther explanation,
+I have the honour, my dear madam, of being your husband’s son, and
+the advantage of inheriting a disposition to hope for good, which no
+inheritance of houses or lands can ever equal the value of.--See
+me, then, under these circumstances, arriving on my first visit to
+Randalls;--and here I am conscious of wrong, for that visit might have
+been sooner paid. You will look back and see that I did not come till
+Miss Fairfax was in Highbury; and as _you_ were the person slighted, you
+will forgive me instantly; but I must work on my father’s compassion, by
+reminding him, that so long as I absented myself from his house, so long
+I lost the blessing of knowing you. My behaviour, during the very
+happy fortnight which I spent with you, did not, I hope, lay me open to
+reprehension, excepting on one point. And now I come to the principal,
+the only important part of my conduct while belonging to you, which
+excites my own anxiety, or requires very solicitous explanation. With
+the greatest respect, and the warmest friendship, do I mention Miss
+Woodhouse; my father perhaps will think I ought to add, with the deepest
+humiliation.--A few words which dropped from him yesterday spoke his
+opinion, and some censure I acknowledge myself liable to.--My behaviour
+to Miss Woodhouse indicated, I believe, more than it ought.--In order to
+assist a concealment so essential to me, I was led on to make more than
+an allowable use of the sort of intimacy into which we were immediately
+thrown.--I cannot deny that Miss Woodhouse was my ostensible object--but
+I am sure you will believe the declaration, that had I not been
+convinced of her indifference, I would not have been induced by any
+selfish views to go on.--Amiable and delightful as Miss Woodhouse is,
+she never gave me the idea of a young woman likely to be attached; and
+that she was perfectly free from any tendency to being attached to me,
+was as much my conviction as my wish.--She received my attentions with
+an easy, friendly, goodhumoured playfulness, which exactly suited me.
+We seemed to understand each other. From our relative situation, those
+attentions were her due, and were felt to be so.--Whether Miss Woodhouse
+began really to understand me before the expiration of that fortnight,
+I cannot say;--when I called to take leave of her, I remember that I was
+within a moment of confessing the truth, and I then fancied she was not
+without suspicion; but I have no doubt of her having since detected me,
+at least in some degree.--She may not have surmised the whole, but her
+quickness must have penetrated a part. I cannot doubt it. You will find,
+whenever the subject becomes freed from its present restraints, that it
+did not take her wholly by surprize. She frequently gave me hints of it.
+I remember her telling me at the ball, that I owed Mrs. Elton gratitude
+for her attentions to Miss Fairfax.--I hope this history of my conduct
+towards her will be admitted by you and my father as great extenuation
+of what you saw amiss. While you considered me as having sinned against
+Emma Woodhouse, I could deserve nothing from either. Acquit me here, and
+procure for me, when it is allowable, the acquittal and good wishes
+of that said Emma Woodhouse, whom I regard with so much brotherly
+affection, as to long to have her as deeply and as happily in love as
+myself.--Whatever strange things I said or did during that fortnight,
+you have now a key to. My heart was in Highbury, and my business was to
+get my body thither as often as might be, and with the least suspicion.
+If you remember any queernesses, set them all to the right account.--Of
+the pianoforte so much talked of, I feel it only necessary to say, that
+its being ordered was absolutely unknown to Miss F--, who would never
+have allowed me to send it, had any choice been given her.--The
+delicacy of her mind throughout the whole engagement, my dear madam,
+is much beyond my power of doing justice to. You will soon, I earnestly
+hope, know her thoroughly yourself.--No description can describe her.
+She must tell you herself what she is--yet not by word, for never
+was there a human creature who would so designedly suppress her own
+merit.--Since I began this letter, which will be longer than I foresaw,
+I have heard from her.--She gives a good account of her own health; but
+as she never complains, I dare not depend. I want to have your opinion
+of her looks. I know you will soon call on her; she is living in dread
+of the visit. Perhaps it is paid already. Let me hear from you without
+delay; I am impatient for a thousand particulars. Remember how few
+minutes I was at Randalls, and in how bewildered, how mad a state: and
+I am not much better yet; still insane either from happiness or
+misery. When I think of the kindness and favour I have met with, of her
+excellence and patience, and my uncle’s generosity, I am mad with joy:
+but when I recollect all the uneasiness I occasioned her, and how little
+I deserve to be forgiven, I am mad with anger. If I could but see her
+again!--But I must not propose it yet. My uncle has been too good for me
+to encroach.--I must still add to this long letter. You have not heard
+all that you ought to hear. I could not give any connected detail
+yesterday; but the suddenness, and, in one light, the unseasonableness
+with which the affair burst out, needs explanation; for though the event
+of the 26th ult., as you will conclude, immediately opened to me the
+happiest prospects, I should not have presumed on such early measures,
+but from the very particular circumstances, which left me not an hour to
+lose. I should myself have shrunk from any thing so hasty, and she
+would have felt every scruple of mine with multiplied strength and
+refinement.--But I had no choice. The hasty engagement she had entered
+into with that woman--Here, my dear madam, I was obliged to leave off
+abruptly, to recollect and compose myself.--I have been walking over
+the country, and am now, I hope, rational enough to make the rest of
+my letter what it ought to be.--It is, in fact, a most mortifying
+retrospect for me. I behaved shamefully. And here I can admit, that
+my manners to Miss W., in being unpleasant to Miss F., were highly
+blameable. _She_ disapproved them, which ought to have been enough.--My
+plea of concealing the truth she did not think sufficient.--She was
+displeased; I thought unreasonably so: I thought her, on a thousand
+occasions, unnecessarily scrupulous and cautious: I thought her even
+cold. But she was always right. If I had followed her judgment, and
+subdued my spirits to the level of what she deemed proper, I should have
+escaped the greatest unhappiness I have ever known.--We quarrelled.--
+Do you remember the morning spent at Donwell?--_There_ every little
+dissatisfaction that had occurred before came to a crisis. I was late;
+I met her walking home by herself, and wanted to walk with her, but she
+would not suffer it. She absolutely refused to allow me, which I then
+thought most unreasonable. Now, however, I see nothing in it but a very
+natural and consistent degree of discretion. While I, to blind the
+world to our engagement, was behaving one hour with objectionable
+particularity to another woman, was she to be consenting the next to a
+proposal which might have made every previous caution useless?--Had we
+been met walking together between Donwell and Highbury, the truth must
+have been suspected.--I was mad enough, however, to resent.--I doubted
+her affection. I doubted it more the next day on Box Hill; when,
+provoked by such conduct on my side, such shameful, insolent neglect
+of her, and such apparent devotion to Miss W., as it would have been
+impossible for any woman of sense to endure, she spoke her resentment in
+a form of words perfectly intelligible to me.--In short, my dear
+madam, it was a quarrel blameless on her side, abominable on mine; and
+I returned the same evening to Richmond, though I might have staid with
+you till the next morning, merely because I would be as angry with
+her as possible. Even then, I was not such a fool as not to mean to
+be reconciled in time; but I was the injured person, injured by her
+coldness, and I went away determined that she should make the first
+advances.--I shall always congratulate myself that you were not of
+the Box Hill party. Had you witnessed my behaviour there, I can hardly
+suppose you would ever have thought well of me again. Its effect upon
+her appears in the immediate resolution it produced: as soon as she
+found I was really gone from Randalls, she closed with the offer of that
+officious Mrs. Elton; the whole system of whose treatment of her, by the
+bye, has ever filled me with indignation and hatred. I must not quarrel
+with a spirit of forbearance which has been so richly extended towards
+myself; but, otherwise, I should loudly protest against the share of it
+which that woman has known.--‘Jane,’ indeed!--You will observe that I
+have not yet indulged myself in calling her by that name, even to you.
+Think, then, what I must have endured in hearing it bandied between
+the Eltons with all the vulgarity of needless repetition, and all the
+insolence of imaginary superiority. Have patience with me, I shall soon
+have done.--She closed with this offer, resolving to break with me
+entirely, and wrote the next day to tell me that we never were to meet
+again.--_She_ _felt_ _the_ _engagement_ _to_ _be_ _a_ _source_ _of_
+_repentance_ _and_ _misery_ _to_ _each_: _she_ _dissolved_ _it_.--This
+letter reached me on the very morning of my poor aunt’s death. I
+answered it within an hour; but from the confusion of my mind, and the
+multiplicity of business falling on me at once, my answer, instead of
+being sent with all the many other letters of that day, was locked up in
+my writing-desk; and I, trusting that I had written enough, though but
+a few lines, to satisfy her, remained without any uneasiness.--I was
+rather disappointed that I did not hear from her again speedily; but I
+made excuses for her, and was too busy, and--may I add?--too cheerful
+in my views to be captious.--We removed to Windsor; and two
+days afterwards I received a parcel from her, my own letters all
+returned!--and a few lines at the same time by the post, stating her
+extreme surprize at not having had the smallest reply to her last; and
+adding, that as silence on such a point could not be misconstrued,
+and as it must be equally desirable to both to have every subordinate
+arrangement concluded as soon as possible, she now sent me, by a safe
+conveyance, all my letters, and requested, that if I could not directly
+command hers, so as to send them to Highbury within a week, I would
+forward them after that period to her at--: in short, the full direction
+to Mr. Smallridge’s, near Bristol, stared me in the face. I knew the
+name, the place, I knew all about it, and instantly saw what she had
+been doing. It was perfectly accordant with that resolution of character
+which I knew her to possess; and the secrecy she had maintained, as to
+any such design in her former letter, was equally descriptive of its
+anxious delicacy. For the world would not she have seemed to threaten
+me.--Imagine the shock; imagine how, till I had actually detected my
+own blunder, I raved at the blunders of the post.--What was to be
+done?--One thing only.--I must speak to my uncle. Without his sanction I
+could not hope to be listened to again.--I spoke; circumstances were
+in my favour; the late event had softened away his pride, and he was,
+earlier than I could have anticipated, wholly reconciled and complying;
+and could say at last, poor man! with a deep sigh, that he wished I
+might find as much happiness in the marriage state as he had done.--I
+felt that it would be of a different sort.--Are you disposed to pity
+me for what I must have suffered in opening the cause to him, for my
+suspense while all was at stake?--No; do not pity me till I reached
+Highbury, and saw how ill I had made her. Do not pity me till I saw her
+wan, sick looks.--I reached Highbury at the time of day when, from my
+knowledge of their late breakfast hour, I was certain of a good chance
+of finding her alone.--I was not disappointed; and at last I was not
+disappointed either in the object of my journey. A great deal of very
+reasonable, very just displeasure I had to persuade away. But it is
+done; we are reconciled, dearer, much dearer, than ever, and no moment’s
+uneasiness can ever occur between us again. Now, my dear madam, I will
+release you; but I could not conclude before. A thousand and a thousand
+thanks for all the kindness you have ever shewn me, and ten thousand for
+the attentions your heart will dictate towards her.--If you think me in
+a way to be happier than I deserve, I am quite of your opinion.--Miss
+W. calls me the child of good fortune. I hope she is right.--In one
+respect, my good fortune is undoubted, that of being able to subscribe
+myself,
+
+ Your obliged and affectionate Son,
+
+ F. C. WESTON CHURCHILL.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+This letter must make its way to Emma’s feelings. She was obliged, in
+spite of her previous determination to the contrary, to do it all the
+justice that Mrs. Weston foretold. As soon as she came to her own name,
+it was irresistible; every line relating to herself was interesting,
+and almost every line agreeable; and when this charm ceased, the subject
+could still maintain itself, by the natural return of her former regard
+for the writer, and the very strong attraction which any picture of
+love must have for her at that moment. She never stopt till she had gone
+through the whole; and though it was impossible not to feel that he had
+been wrong, yet he had been less wrong than she had supposed--and he had
+suffered, and was very sorry--and he was so grateful to Mrs. Weston, and
+so much in love with Miss Fairfax, and she was so happy herself, that
+there was no being severe; and could he have entered the room, she must
+have shaken hands with him as heartily as ever.
+
+She thought so well of the letter, that when Mr. Knightley came again,
+she desired him to read it. She was sure of Mrs. Weston’s wishing it to
+be communicated; especially to one, who, like Mr. Knightley, had seen so
+much to blame in his conduct.
+
+“I shall be very glad to look it over,” said he; “but it seems long. I
+will take it home with me at night.”
+
+But that would not do. Mr. Weston was to call in the evening, and she
+must return it by him.
+
+“I would rather be talking to you,” he replied; “but as it seems a
+matter of justice, it shall be done.”
+
+He began--stopping, however, almost directly to say, “Had I been offered
+the sight of one of this gentleman’s letters to his mother-in-law a few
+months ago, Emma, it would not have been taken with such indifference.”
+
+He proceeded a little farther, reading to himself; and then, with a
+smile, observed, “Humph! a fine complimentary opening: But it is his
+way. One man’s style must not be the rule of another’s. We will not be
+severe.”
+
+“It will be natural for me,” he added shortly afterwards, “to speak my
+opinion aloud as I read. By doing it, I shall feel that I am near you.
+It will not be so great a loss of time: but if you dislike it--”
+
+“Not at all. I should wish it.”
+
+Mr. Knightley returned to his reading with greater alacrity.
+
+“He trifles here,” said he, “as to the temptation. He knows he is wrong,
+and has nothing rational to urge.--Bad.--He ought not to have formed the
+engagement.--‘His father’s disposition:’--he is unjust, however, to his
+father. Mr. Weston’s sanguine temper was a blessing on all his upright
+and honourable exertions; but Mr. Weston earned every present comfort
+before he endeavoured to gain it.--Very true; he did not come till Miss
+Fairfax was here.”
+
+“And I have not forgotten,” said Emma, “how sure you were that he might
+have come sooner if he would. You pass it over very handsomely--but you
+were perfectly right.”
+
+“I was not quite impartial in my judgment, Emma:--but yet, I think--had
+_you_ not been in the case--I should still have distrusted him.”
+
+When he came to Miss Woodhouse, he was obliged to read the whole of it
+aloud--all that related to her, with a smile; a look; a shake of the
+head; a word or two of assent, or disapprobation; or merely of love, as
+the subject required; concluding, however, seriously, and, after steady
+reflection, thus--
+
+“Very bad--though it might have been worse.--Playing a most dangerous
+game. Too much indebted to the event for his acquittal.--No judge of
+his own manners by you.--Always deceived in fact by his own wishes, and
+regardless of little besides his own convenience.--Fancying you to have
+fathomed his secret. Natural enough!--his own mind full of intrigue,
+that he should suspect it in others.--Mystery; Finesse--how they pervert
+the understanding! My Emma, does not every thing serve to prove more
+and more the beauty of truth and sincerity in all our dealings with each
+other?”
+
+Emma agreed to it, and with a blush of sensibility on Harriet’s account,
+which she could not give any sincere explanation of.
+
+“You had better go on,” said she.
+
+He did so, but very soon stopt again to say, “the pianoforte! Ah! That
+was the act of a very, very young man, one too young to consider whether
+the inconvenience of it might not very much exceed the pleasure. A
+boyish scheme, indeed!--I cannot comprehend a man’s wishing to give a
+woman any proof of affection which he knows she would rather dispense
+with; and he did know that she would have prevented the instrument’s
+coming if she could.”
+
+After this, he made some progress without any pause. Frank Churchill’s
+confession of having behaved shamefully was the first thing to call for
+more than a word in passing.
+
+“I perfectly agree with you, sir,”--was then his remark. “You did behave
+very shamefully. You never wrote a truer line.” And having gone through
+what immediately followed of the basis of their disagreement, and his
+persisting to act in direct opposition to Jane Fairfax’s sense of right,
+he made a fuller pause to say, “This is very bad.--He had induced her
+to place herself, for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and
+uneasiness, and it should have been his first object to prevent her from
+suffering unnecessarily.--She must have had much more to contend
+with, in carrying on the correspondence, than he could. He should have
+respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers were
+all reasonable. We must look to her one fault, and remember that she
+had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement, to bear that she
+should have been in such a state of punishment.”
+
+Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party, and grew
+uncomfortable. Her own behaviour had been so very improper! She was
+deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look. It was all read,
+however, steadily, attentively, and without the smallest remark; and,
+excepting one momentary glance at her, instantly withdrawn, in the fear
+of giving pain--no remembrance of Box Hill seemed to exist.
+
+“There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends, the
+Eltons,” was his next observation.--“His feelings are natural.--What!
+actually resolve to break with him entirely!--She felt the engagement to
+be a source of repentance and misery to each--she dissolved it.--What a
+view this gives of her sense of his behaviour!--Well, he must be a most
+extraordinary--”
+
+“Nay, nay, read on.--You will find how very much he suffers.”
+
+“I hope he does,” replied Mr. Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter.
+“‘Smallridge!’--What does this mean? What is all this?”
+
+“She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs. Smallridge’s children--a
+dear friend of Mrs. Elton’s--a neighbour of Maple Grove; and, by the
+bye, I wonder how Mrs. Elton bears the disappointment?”
+
+“Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read--not even of
+Mrs. Elton. Only one page more. I shall soon have done. What a letter
+the man writes!”
+
+“I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him.”
+
+“Well, there _is_ feeling here.--He does seem to have suffered in
+finding her ill.--Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of
+her. ‘Dearer, much dearer than ever.’ I hope he may long continue to
+feel all the value of such a reconciliation.--He is a very liberal
+thanker, with his thousands and tens of thousands.--‘Happier than I
+deserve.’ Come, he knows himself there. ‘Miss Woodhouse calls me the
+child of good fortune.’--Those were Miss Woodhouse’s words, were they?--
+And a fine ending--and there is the letter. The child of good fortune!
+That was your name for him, was it?”
+
+“You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am; but still
+you must, at least I hope you must, think the better of him for it. I
+hope it does him some service with you.”
+
+“Yes, certainly it does. He has had great faults, faults of
+inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his opinion
+in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves: but still as he
+is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax, and will soon, it
+may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly with her, I am very
+ready to believe his character will improve, and acquire from hers the
+steadiness and delicacy of principle that it wants. And now, let me talk
+to you of something else. I have another person’s interest at present
+so much at heart, that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill.
+Ever since I left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work
+on one subject.”
+
+The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike
+English, such as Mr. Knightley used even to the woman he was in love
+with, how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the
+happiness of her father. Emma’s answer was ready at the first word.
+“While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible
+for her. She could never quit him.” Part only of this answer, however,
+was admitted. The impossibility of her quitting her father, Mr.
+Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility of any
+other change, he could not agree to. He had been thinking it over most
+deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce Mr. Woodhouse to
+remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe it feasible, but
+his knowledge of Mr. Woodhouse would not suffer him to deceive himself
+long; and now he confessed his persuasion, that such a transplantation
+would be a risk of her father’s comfort, perhaps even of his life, which
+must not be hazarded. Mr. Woodhouse taken from Hartfield!--No, he felt
+that it ought not to be attempted. But the plan which had arisen on the
+sacrifice of this, he trusted his dearest Emma would not find in any
+respect objectionable; it was, that he should be received at Hartfield;
+that so long as her father’s happiness--in other words, his life--required
+Hartfield to continue her home, it should be his likewise.
+
+Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own passing
+thoughts. Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it; but such
+an alternative as this had not occurred to her. She was sensible of all
+the affection it evinced. She felt that, in quitting Donwell, he must
+be sacrificing a great deal of independence of hours and habits; that
+in living constantly with her father, and in no house of his own, there
+would be much, very much, to be borne with. She promised to think of it,
+and advised him to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no
+reflection could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject. He had
+given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration; he had
+been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning, to have his
+thoughts to himself.
+
+“Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for,” cried Emma. “I am sure
+William Larkins will not like it. You must get his consent before you
+ask mine.”
+
+She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised,
+moreover, to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good
+scheme.
+
+It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view in
+which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never
+struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights as
+heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded. Think she must
+of the possible difference to the poor little boy; and yet she only
+gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it, and found amusement in
+detecting the real cause of that violent dislike of Mr. Knightley’s
+marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else, which at the time she had
+wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of the sister and the aunt.
+
+This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at
+Hartfield--the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became.
+His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase, their mutual
+good to outweigh every drawback. Such a companion for herself in the
+periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her!--Such a partner in
+all those duties and cares to which time must be giving increase of
+melancholy!
+
+She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every blessing
+of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings of her friend,
+who must now be even excluded from Hartfield. The delightful family
+party which Emma was securing for herself, poor Harriet must, in mere
+charitable caution, be kept at a distance from. She would be a loser in
+every way. Emma could not deplore her future absence as any deduction
+from her own enjoyment. In such a party, Harriet would be rather a
+dead weight than otherwise; but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a
+peculiarly cruel necessity that was to be placing her in such a state of
+unmerited punishment.
+
+In time, of course, Mr. Knightley would be forgotten, that is,
+supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early. Mr.
+Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure;--not
+like Mr. Elton. Mr. Knightley, always so kind, so feeling, so truly
+considerate for every body, would never deserve to be less worshipped
+than now; and it really was too much to hope even of Harriet, that she
+could be in love with more than _three_ men in one year.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous as
+herself to avoid a meeting. Their intercourse was painful enough by
+letter. How much worse, had they been obliged to meet!
+
+Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed, without
+reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there
+was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style,
+which increased the desirableness of their being separate.--It might be
+only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an angel only could have
+been quite without resentment under such a stroke.
+
+She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella’s invitation; and she was
+fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it, without resorting
+to invention.--There was a tooth amiss. Harriet really wished, and
+had wished some time, to consult a dentist. Mrs. John Knightley was
+delighted to be of use; any thing of ill health was a recommendation to
+her--and though not so fond of a dentist as of a Mr. Wingfield, she was
+quite eager to have Harriet under her care.--When it was thus settled
+on her sister’s side, Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her
+very persuadable.--Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a
+fortnight; she was to be conveyed in Mr. Woodhouse’s carriage.--It was
+all arranged, it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick
+Square.
+
+Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr. Knightley’s visits; now she could
+talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by that sense
+of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful, which had haunted her
+when remembering how disappointed a heart was near her, how much might
+at that moment, and at a little distance, be enduring by the feelings
+which she had led astray herself.
+
+The difference of Harriet at Mrs. Goddard’s, or in London, made perhaps
+an unreasonable difference in Emma’s sensations; but she could not think
+of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment, which must
+be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself.
+
+She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place
+in her mind which Harriet had occupied. There was a communication before
+her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make--the confession of
+her engagement to her father; but she would have nothing to do with it
+at present.--She had resolved to defer the disclosure till Mrs. Weston
+were safe and well. No additional agitation should be thrown at this
+period among those she loved--and the evil should not act on herself
+by anticipation before the appointed time.--A fortnight, at least, of
+leisure and peace of mind, to crown every warmer, but more agitating,
+delight, should be hers.
+
+She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half an
+hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax.--She ought
+to go--and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of their present
+situations increasing every other motive of goodwill. It would be a
+_secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a similarity of prospect
+would certainly add to the interest with which she should attend to any
+thing Jane might communicate.
+
+She went--she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had not
+been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor Jane had
+been in such distress as had filled her with compassion, though all the
+worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected.--The fear of being still
+unwelcome, determined her, though assured of their being at home, to
+wait in the passage, and send up her name.--She heard Patty announcing
+it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor Miss Bates had before made so
+happily intelligible.--No; she heard nothing but the instant reply of,
+“Beg her to walk up;”--and a moment afterwards she was met on the stairs
+by Jane herself, coming eagerly forward, as if no other reception of her
+were felt sufficient.--Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely,
+so engaging. There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was
+every thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted.--
+She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very
+feeling tone,
+
+“This is most kind, indeed!--Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible for me
+to express--I hope you will believe--Excuse me for being so entirely
+without words.”
+
+Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words, if the
+sound of Mrs. Elton’s voice from the sitting-room had not checked
+her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly and all her
+congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest shake of the hand.
+
+Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Elton were together. Miss Bates was out, which
+accounted for the previous tranquillity. Emma could have wished Mrs.
+Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience with every
+body; and as Mrs. Elton met her with unusual graciousness, she hoped the
+rencontre would do them no harm.
+
+She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs. Elton’s thoughts, and
+understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits; it was being in
+Miss Fairfax’s confidence, and fancying herself acquainted with what was
+still a secret to other people. Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in
+the expression of her face; and while paying her own compliments to Mrs.
+Bates, and appearing to attend to the good old lady’s replies, she saw
+her with a sort of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she
+had apparently been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into
+the purple and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods,
+
+“We can finish this some other time, you know. You and I shall not want
+opportunities. And, in fact, you have heard all the essential already. I
+only wanted to prove to you that Mrs. S. admits our apology, and is
+not offended. You see how delightfully she writes. Oh! she is a sweet
+creature! You would have doated on her, had you gone.--But not a word
+more. Let us be discreet--quite on our good behaviour.--Hush!--You
+remember those lines--I forget the poem at this moment:
+
+ “For when a lady’s in the case,
+ “You know all other things give place.”
+
+Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read----mum! a word to
+the wise.--I am in a fine flow of spirits, an’t I? But I want to set
+your heart at ease as to Mrs. S.--_My_ representation, you see, has
+quite appeased her.”
+
+And again, on Emma’s merely turning her head to look at Mrs. Bates’s
+knitting, she added, in a half whisper,
+
+“I mentioned no _names_, you will observe.--Oh! no; cautious as a
+minister of state. I managed it extremely well.”
+
+Emma could not doubt. It was a palpable display, repeated on every
+possible occasion. When they had all talked a little while in harmony of
+the weather and Mrs. Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with,
+
+“Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is
+charmingly recovered?--Do not you think her cure does Perry the highest
+credit?--(here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.) Upon my
+word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time!--Oh! if you had
+seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!”--And when Mrs. Bates
+was saying something to Emma, whispered farther, “We do not say a word
+of any _assistance_ that Perry might have; not a word of a certain young
+physician from Windsor.--Oh! no; Perry shall have all the credit.”
+
+“I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse,” she
+shortly afterwards began, “since the party to Box Hill. Very pleasant
+party. But yet I think there was something wanting. Things did not
+seem--that is, there seemed a little cloud upon the spirits of some.--So
+it appeared to me at least, but I might be mistaken. However, I think
+it answered so far as to tempt one to go again. What say you both to our
+collecting the same party, and exploring to Box Hill again, while the
+fine weather lasts?--It must be the same party, you know, quite the
+same party, not _one_ exception.”
+
+Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being
+diverted by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting,
+she supposed, from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say
+every thing.
+
+“Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness.--It is impossible
+to say--Yes, indeed, I quite understand--dearest Jane’s prospects--that
+is, I do not mean.--But she is charmingly recovered.--How is Mr.
+Woodhouse?--I am so glad.--Quite out of my power.--Such a happy little
+circle as you find us here.--Yes, indeed.--Charming young man!--that
+is--so very friendly; I mean good Mr. Perry!--such attention to
+Jane!”--And from her great, her more than commonly thankful delight
+towards Mrs. Elton for being there, Emma guessed that there had been a
+little show of resentment towards Jane, from the vicarage quarter,
+which was now graciously overcome.--After a few whispers, indeed, which
+placed it beyond a guess, Mrs. Elton, speaking louder, said,
+
+“Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long, that
+anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise; but, the truth
+is, that I am waiting for my lord and master. He promised to join me
+here, and pay his respects to you.”
+
+“What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr. Elton?--That will
+be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like morning visits, and
+Mr. Elton’s time is so engaged.”
+
+“Upon my word it is, Miss Bates.--He really is engaged from morning to
+night.--There is no end of people’s coming to him, on some pretence or
+other.--The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens, are always
+wanting his opinion. They seem not able to do any thing without
+him.--‘Upon my word, Mr. E.,’ I often say, ‘rather you than I.--I do
+not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument, if I had
+half so many applicants.’--Bad enough as it is, for I absolutely neglect
+them both to an unpardonable degree.--I believe I have not played a bar
+this fortnight.--However, he is coming, I assure you: yes, indeed, on
+purpose to wait on you all.” And putting up her hand to screen her
+words from Emma--“A congratulatory visit, you know.--Oh! yes, quite
+indispensable.”
+
+Miss Bates looked about her, so happily--!
+
+“He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself
+from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together in deep
+consultation.--Mr. E. is Knightley’s right hand.”
+
+Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, “Is Mr. Elton
+gone on foot to Donwell?--He will have a hot walk.”
+
+“Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting. Weston and
+Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only of those who
+lead.--I fancy Mr. E. and Knightley have every thing their own way.”
+
+“Have not you mistaken the day?” said Emma. “I am almost certain that
+the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow.--Mr. Knightley was at
+Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday.”
+
+“Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day,” was the abrupt answer, which
+denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs. Elton’s side.--“I do
+believe,” she continued, “this is the most troublesome parish that ever
+was. We never heard of such things at Maple Grove.”
+
+“Your parish there was small,” said Jane.
+
+“Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject
+talked of.”
+
+“But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard
+you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs. Bragge; the
+only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children.”
+
+“Ah! you clever creature, that’s very true. What a thinking brain you
+have! I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make, if we
+could be shaken together. My liveliness and your solidity would produce
+perfection.--Not that I presume to insinuate, however, that _some_
+people may not think _you_ perfection already.--But hush!--not a word,
+if you please.”
+
+It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words,
+not to Mrs. Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw.
+The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted, was very
+evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look.
+
+Mr. Elton made his appearance. His lady greeted him with some of her
+sparkling vivacity.
+
+“Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an
+encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come!--But
+you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with. You knew I should
+not stir till my lord and master appeared.--Here have I been sitting
+this hour, giving these young ladies a sample of true conjugal
+obedience--for who can say, you know, how soon it may be wanted?”
+
+Mr. Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away.
+His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent
+object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering, and the
+walk he had had for nothing.
+
+“When I got to Donwell,” said he, “Knightley could not be found. Very
+odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning, and the
+message he returned, that he should certainly be at home till one.”
+
+“Donwell!” cried his wife.--“My dear Mr. E., you have not been to
+Donwell!--You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown.”
+
+“No, no, that’s to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley
+to-day on that very account.--Such a dreadful broiling morning!--I went
+over the fields too--(speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,) which made
+it so much the worse. And then not to find him at home! I assure you
+I am not at all pleased. And no apology left, no message for me. The
+housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected.--Very
+extraordinary!--And nobody knew at all which way he was gone. Perhaps
+to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods.--Miss
+Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley!--Can you explain it?”
+
+Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary,
+indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him.
+
+“I cannot imagine,” said Mrs. Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife
+ought to do,) “I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you, of
+all people in the world! The very last person whom one should expect to
+be forgotten!--My dear Mr. E., he must have left a message for you, I am
+sure he must.--Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric;--and his
+servants forgot it. Depend upon it, that was the case: and very likely
+to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all, I have often observed,
+extremely awkward and remiss.--I am sure I would not have such a
+creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard for any consideration. And
+as for Mrs. Hodges, Wright holds her very cheap indeed.--She promised
+Wright a receipt, and never sent it.”
+
+“I met William Larkins,” continued Mr. Elton, “as I got near the house,
+and he told me I should not find his master at home, but I did not
+believe him.--William seemed rather out of humour. He did not know what
+was come to his master lately, he said, but he could hardly ever get the
+speech of him. I have nothing to do with William’s wants, but it really
+is of very great importance that _I_ should see Knightley to-day; and it
+becomes a matter, therefore, of very serious inconvenience that I should
+have had this hot walk to no purpose.”
+
+Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly. In
+all probability she was at this very time waited for there; and Mr.
+Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression towards
+Mr. Elton, if not towards William Larkins.
+
+She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined to
+attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs; it gave her
+an opportunity which she immediately made use of, to say,
+
+“It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility. Had you
+not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been tempted to
+introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more openly than might
+have been strictly correct.--I feel that I should certainly have been
+impertinent.”
+
+“Oh!” cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought
+infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her usual
+composure--“there would have been no danger. The danger would have
+been of my wearying you. You could not have gratified me more than
+by expressing an interest--. Indeed, Miss Woodhouse, (speaking more
+collectedly,) with the consciousness which I have of misconduct, very
+great misconduct, it is particularly consoling to me to know that those
+of my friends, whose good opinion is most worth preserving, are not
+disgusted to such a degree as to--I have not time for half that I could
+wish to say. I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for
+myself. I feel it so very due. But, unfortunately--in short, if your
+compassion does not stand my friend--”
+
+“Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are,” cried Emma warmly, and
+taking her hand. “You owe me no apologies; and every body to whom you
+might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied, so delighted
+even--”
+
+“You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you.--So
+cold and artificial!--I had always a part to act.--It was a life of
+deceit!--I know that I must have disgusted you.”
+
+“Pray say no more. I feel that all the apologies should be on my side.
+Let us forgive each other at once. We must do whatever is to be done
+quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there. I hope you
+have pleasant accounts from Windsor?”
+
+“Very.”
+
+“And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you--just as
+I begin to know you.”
+
+“Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet. I am here
+till claimed by Colonel and Mrs. Campbell.”
+
+“Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps,” replied Emma,
+smiling--“but, excuse me, it must be thought of.”
+
+The smile was returned as Jane answered,
+
+“You are very right; it has been thought of. And I will own to you, (I
+am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living with Mr. Churchill
+at Enscombe, it is settled. There must be three months, at least, of
+deep mourning; but when they are over, I imagine there will be nothing
+more to wait for.”
+
+“Thank you, thank you.--This is just what I wanted to be assured
+of.--Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and
+open!--Good-bye, good-bye.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Mrs. Weston’s friends were all made happy by her safety; and if the
+satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased to Emma, it was by
+knowing her to be the mother of a little girl. She had been decided in
+wishing for a Miss Weston. She would not acknowledge that it was with
+any view of making a match for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella’s
+sons; but she was convinced that a daughter would suit both father
+and mother best. It would be a great comfort to Mr. Weston, as he grew
+older--and even Mr. Weston might be growing older ten years hence--to
+have his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks
+and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs. Weston--no
+one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it would be
+quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach, should not have
+their powers in exercise again.
+
+“She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me,” she
+continued--“like La Baronne d’Almane on La Comtesse d’Ostalis, in Madame
+de Genlis’ Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see her own little
+Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan.”
+
+“That is,” replied Mr. Knightley, “she will indulge her even more than
+she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all. It will
+be the only difference.”
+
+“Poor child!” cried Emma; “at that rate, what will become of her?”
+
+“Nothing very bad.--The fate of thousands. She will be disagreeable
+in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older. I am losing all my
+bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma. I, who am owing all
+my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible ingratitude in me to be
+severe on them?”
+
+Emma laughed, and replied: “But I had the assistance of all your
+endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether
+my own sense would have corrected me without it.”
+
+“Do you?--I have no doubt. Nature gave you understanding:--Miss Taylor
+gave you principles. You must have done well. My interference was quite
+as likely to do harm as good. It was very natural for you to say, what
+right has he to lecture me?--and I am afraid very natural for you to
+feel that it was done in a disagreeable manner. I do not believe I did
+you any good. The good was all to myself, by making you an object of the
+tenderest affection to me. I could not think about you so much without
+doating on you, faults and all; and by dint of fancying so many errors,
+have been in love with you ever since you were thirteen at least.”
+
+“I am sure you were of use to me,” cried Emma. “I was very often
+influenced rightly by you--oftener than I would own at the time. I
+am very sure you did me good. And if poor little Anna Weston is to be
+spoiled, it will be the greatest humanity in you to do as much for her
+as you have done for me, except falling in love with her when she is
+thirteen.”
+
+“How often, when you were a girl, have you said to me, with one of your
+saucy looks--‘Mr. Knightley, I am going to do so-and-so; papa says I
+may, or I have Miss Taylor’s leave’--something which, you knew, I
+did not approve. In such cases my interference was giving you two bad
+feelings instead of one.”
+
+“What an amiable creature I was!--No wonder you should hold my speeches
+in such affectionate remembrance.”
+
+“‘Mr. Knightley.’--You always called me, ‘Mr. Knightley;’ and, from
+habit, it has not so very formal a sound.--And yet it is formal. I want
+you to call me something else, but I do not know what.”
+
+“I remember once calling you ‘George,’ in one of my amiable fits, about
+ten years ago. I did it because I thought it would offend you; but, as
+you made no objection, I never did it again.”
+
+“And cannot you call me ‘George’ now?”
+
+“Impossible!--I never can call you any thing but ‘Mr. Knightley.’ I
+will not promise even to equal the elegant terseness of Mrs. Elton, by
+calling you Mr. K.--But I will promise,” she added presently, laughing
+and blushing--“I will promise to call you once by your Christian name.
+I do not say when, but perhaps you may guess where;--in the building in
+which N. takes M. for better, for worse.”
+
+Emma grieved that she could not be more openly just to one important
+service which his better sense would have rendered her, to the
+advice which would have saved her from the worst of all her womanly
+follies--her wilful intimacy with Harriet Smith; but it was too tender a
+subject.--She could not enter on it.--Harriet was very seldom mentioned
+between them. This, on his side, might merely proceed from her not being
+thought of; but Emma was rather inclined to attribute it to delicacy,
+and a suspicion, from some appearances, that their friendship were
+declining. She was aware herself, that, parting under any other
+circumstances, they certainly should have corresponded more, and that
+her intelligence would not have rested, as it now almost wholly did, on
+Isabella’s letters. He might observe that it was so. The pain of being
+obliged to practise concealment towards him, was very little inferior to
+the pain of having made Harriet unhappy.
+
+Isabella sent quite as good an account of her visitor as could be
+expected; on her first arrival she had thought her out of spirits, which
+appeared perfectly natural, as there was a dentist to be consulted; but,
+since that business had been over, she did not appear to find Harriet
+different from what she had known her before.--Isabella, to be sure,
+was no very quick observer; yet if Harriet had not been equal to playing
+with the children, it would not have escaped her. Emma’s comforts and
+hopes were most agreeably carried on, by Harriet’s being to stay longer;
+her fortnight was likely to be a month at least. Mr. and Mrs. John
+Knightley were to come down in August, and she was invited to remain
+till they could bring her back.
+
+“John does not even mention your friend,” said Mr. Knightley. “Here is
+his answer, if you like to see it.”
+
+It was the answer to the communication of his intended marriage. Emma
+accepted it with a very eager hand, with an impatience all alive to know
+what he would say about it, and not at all checked by hearing that her
+friend was unmentioned.
+
+“John enters like a brother into my happiness,” continued Mr. Knightley,
+“but he is no complimenter; and though I well know him to have,
+likewise, a most brotherly affection for you, he is so far from making
+flourishes, that any other young woman might think him rather cool in
+her praise. But I am not afraid of your seeing what he writes.”
+
+“He writes like a sensible man,” replied Emma, when she had read the
+letter. “I honour his sincerity. It is very plain that he considers the
+good fortune of the engagement as all on my side, but that he is not
+without hope of my growing, in time, as worthy of your affection, as
+you think me already. Had he said any thing to bear a different
+construction, I should not have believed him.”
+
+“My Emma, he means no such thing. He only means--”
+
+“He and I should differ very little in our estimation of the two,”
+ interrupted she, with a sort of serious smile--“much less, perhaps, than
+he is aware of, if we could enter without ceremony or reserve on the
+subject.”
+
+“Emma, my dear Emma--”
+
+“Oh!” she cried with more thorough gaiety, “if you fancy your brother
+does not do me justice, only wait till my dear father is in the secret,
+and hear his opinion. Depend upon it, he will be much farther from doing
+_you_ justice. He will think all the happiness, all the advantage, on
+your side of the question; all the merit on mine. I wish I may not
+sink into ‘poor Emma’ with him at once.--His tender compassion towards
+oppressed worth can go no farther.”
+
+“Ah!” he cried, “I wish your father might be half as easily convinced as
+John will be, of our having every right that equal worth can give, to be
+happy together. I am amused by one part of John’s letter--did you notice
+it?--where he says, that my information did not take him wholly by
+surprize, that he was rather in expectation of hearing something of the
+kind.”
+
+“If I understand your brother, he only means so far as your having
+some thoughts of marrying. He had no idea of me. He seems perfectly
+unprepared for that.”
+
+“Yes, yes--but I am amused that he should have seen so far into my
+feelings. What has he been judging by?--I am not conscious of any
+difference in my spirits or conversation that could prepare him at
+this time for my marrying any more than at another.--But it was so, I
+suppose. I dare say there was a difference when I was staying with them
+the other day. I believe I did not play with the children quite so much
+as usual. I remember one evening the poor boys saying, ‘Uncle seems
+always tired now.’”
+
+The time was coming when the news must spread farther, and other
+persons’ reception of it tried. As soon as Mrs. Weston was sufficiently
+recovered to admit Mr. Woodhouse’s visits, Emma having it in view that
+her gentle reasonings should be employed in the cause, resolved first to
+announce it at home, and then at Randalls.--But how to break it to her
+father at last!--She had bound herself to do it, in such an hour of Mr.
+Knightley’s absence, or when it came to the point her heart would have
+failed her, and she must have put it off; but Mr. Knightley was to come
+at such a time, and follow up the beginning she was to make.--She was
+forced to speak, and to speak cheerfully too. She must not make it a
+more decided subject of misery to him, by a melancholy tone herself.
+She must not appear to think it a misfortune.--With all the spirits she
+could command, she prepared him first for something strange, and then,
+in a few words, said, that if his consent and approbation could be
+obtained--which, she trusted, would be attended with no difficulty,
+since it was a plan to promote the happiness of all--she and Mr.
+Knightley meant to marry; by which means Hartfield would receive the
+constant addition of that person’s company whom she knew he loved, next
+to his daughters and Mrs. Weston, best in the world.
+
+Poor man!--it was at first a considerable shock to him, and he tried
+earnestly to dissuade her from it. She was reminded, more than once, of
+having always said she would never marry, and assured that it would be
+a great deal better for her to remain single; and told of poor Isabella,
+and poor Miss Taylor.--But it would not do. Emma hung about him
+affectionately, and smiled, and said it must be so; and that he must
+not class her with Isabella and Mrs. Weston, whose marriages taking them
+from Hartfield, had, indeed, made a melancholy change: but she was not
+going from Hartfield; she should be always there; she was introducing
+no change in their numbers or their comforts but for the better; and she
+was very sure that he would be a great deal the happier for having Mr.
+Knightley always at hand, when he were once got used to the idea.--Did
+he not love Mr. Knightley very much?--He would not deny that he did,
+she was sure.--Whom did he ever want to consult on business but Mr.
+Knightley?--Who was so useful to him, who so ready to write his letters,
+who so glad to assist him?--Who so cheerful, so attentive, so attached
+to him?--Would not he like to have him always on the spot?--Yes. That
+was all very true. Mr. Knightley could not be there too often; he should
+be glad to see him every day;--but they did see him every day as it
+was.--Why could not they go on as they had done?
+
+Mr. Woodhouse could not be soon reconciled; but the worst was overcome,
+the idea was given; time and continual repetition must do the rest.--To
+Emma’s entreaties and assurances succeeded Mr. Knightley’s, whose fond
+praise of her gave the subject even a kind of welcome; and he was soon
+used to be talked to by each, on every fair occasion.--They had all
+the assistance which Isabella could give, by letters of the strongest
+approbation; and Mrs. Weston was ready, on the first meeting, to
+consider the subject in the most serviceable light--first, as a settled,
+and, secondly, as a good one--well aware of the nearly equal importance
+of the two recommendations to Mr. Woodhouse’s mind.--It was agreed
+upon, as what was to be; and every body by whom he was used to be
+guided assuring him that it would be for his happiness; and having some
+feelings himself which almost admitted it, he began to think that some
+time or other--in another year or two, perhaps--it might not be so very
+bad if the marriage did take place.
+
+Mrs. Weston was acting no part, feigning no feelings in all that she
+said to him in favour of the event.--She had been extremely surprized,
+never more so, than when Emma first opened the affair to her; but she
+saw in it only increase of happiness to all, and had no scruple in
+urging him to the utmost.--She had such a regard for Mr. Knightley, as
+to think he deserved even her dearest Emma; and it was in every respect
+so proper, suitable, and unexceptionable a connexion, and in one
+respect, one point of the highest importance, so peculiarly eligible,
+so singularly fortunate, that now it seemed as if Emma could not safely
+have attached herself to any other creature, and that she had herself
+been the stupidest of beings in not having thought of it, and wished it
+long ago.--How very few of those men in a rank of life to address Emma
+would have renounced their own home for Hartfield! And who but Mr.
+Knightley could know and bear with Mr. Woodhouse, so as to make such
+an arrangement desirable!--The difficulty of disposing of poor Mr.
+Woodhouse had been always felt in her husband’s plans and her own, for
+a marriage between Frank and Emma. How to settle the claims of Enscombe
+and Hartfield had been a continual impediment--less acknowledged by Mr.
+Weston than by herself--but even he had never been able to finish
+the subject better than by saying--“Those matters will take care of
+themselves; the young people will find a way.” But here there was
+nothing to be shifted off in a wild speculation on the future. It was
+all right, all open, all equal. No sacrifice on any side worth the name.
+It was a union of the highest promise of felicity in itself, and without
+one real, rational difficulty to oppose or delay it.
+
+Mrs. Weston, with her baby on her knee, indulging in such reflections
+as these, was one of the happiest women in the world. If any thing could
+increase her delight, it was perceiving that the baby would soon have
+outgrown its first set of caps.
+
+The news was universally a surprize wherever it spread; and Mr. Weston
+had his five minutes share of it; but five minutes were enough to
+familiarise the idea to his quickness of mind.--He saw the advantages
+of the match, and rejoiced in them with all the constancy of his wife;
+but the wonder of it was very soon nothing; and by the end of an hour he
+was not far from believing that he had always foreseen it.
+
+“It is to be a secret, I conclude,” said he. “These matters are always a
+secret, till it is found out that every body knows them. Only let me be
+told when I may speak out.--I wonder whether Jane has any suspicion.”
+
+He went to Highbury the next morning, and satisfied himself on that
+point. He told her the news. Was not she like a daughter, his eldest
+daughter?--he must tell her; and Miss Bates being present, it passed,
+of course, to Mrs. Cole, Mrs. Perry, and Mrs. Elton, immediately
+afterwards. It was no more than the principals were prepared for; they
+had calculated from the time of its being known at Randalls, how soon it
+would be over Highbury; and were thinking of themselves, as the evening
+wonder in many a family circle, with great sagacity.
+
+In general, it was a very well approved match. Some might think him, and
+others might think her, the most in luck. One set might recommend their
+all removing to Donwell, and leaving Hartfield for the John Knightleys;
+and another might predict disagreements among their servants; but yet,
+upon the whole, there was no serious objection raised, except in one
+habitation, the Vicarage.--There, the surprize was not softened by any
+satisfaction. Mr. Elton cared little about it, compared with his wife;
+he only hoped “the young lady’s pride would now be contented;” and
+supposed “she had always meant to catch Knightley if she could;” and,
+on the point of living at Hartfield, could daringly exclaim, “Rather
+he than I!”--But Mrs. Elton was very much discomposed indeed.--“Poor
+Knightley! poor fellow!--sad business for him.”--She was extremely
+concerned; for, though very eccentric, he had a thousand good
+qualities.--How could he be so taken in?--Did not think him at all in
+love--not in the least.--Poor Knightley!--There would be an end of all
+pleasant intercourse with him.--How happy he had been to come and dine
+with them whenever they asked him! But that would be all over now.--Poor
+fellow!--No more exploring parties to Donwell made for _her_. Oh!
+no; there would be a Mrs. Knightley to throw cold water on every
+thing.--Extremely disagreeable! But she was not at all sorry that
+she had abused the housekeeper the other day.--Shocking plan, living
+together. It would never do. She knew a family near Maple Grove who
+had tried it, and been obliged to separate before the end of the first
+quarter.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Time passed on. A few more to-morrows, and the party from London would
+be arriving. It was an alarming change; and Emma was thinking of it one
+morning, as what must bring a great deal to agitate and grieve her, when
+Mr. Knightley came in, and distressing thoughts were put by. After the
+first chat of pleasure he was silent; and then, in a graver tone, began
+with,
+
+“I have something to tell you, Emma; some news.”
+
+“Good or bad?” said she, quickly, looking up in his face.
+
+“I do not know which it ought to be called.”
+
+“Oh! good I am sure.--I see it in your countenance. You are trying not
+to smile.”
+
+“I am afraid,” said he, composing his features, “I am very much afraid,
+my dear Emma, that you will not smile when you hear it.”
+
+“Indeed! but why so?--I can hardly imagine that any thing which pleases
+or amuses you, should not please and amuse me too.”
+
+“There is one subject,” he replied, “I hope but one, on which we do not
+think alike.” He paused a moment, again smiling, with his eyes fixed on
+her face. “Does nothing occur to you?--Do not you recollect?--Harriet
+Smith.”
+
+Her cheeks flushed at the name, and she felt afraid of something, though
+she knew not what.
+
+“Have you heard from her yourself this morning?” cried he. “You have, I
+believe, and know the whole.”
+
+“No, I have not; I know nothing; pray tell me.”
+
+“You are prepared for the worst, I see--and very bad it is. Harriet
+Smith marries Robert Martin.”
+
+Emma gave a start, which did not seem like being prepared--and her eyes,
+in eager gaze, said, “No, this is impossible!” but her lips were closed.
+
+“It is so, indeed,” continued Mr. Knightley; “I have it from Robert
+Martin himself. He left me not half an hour ago.”
+
+She was still looking at him with the most speaking amazement.
+
+“You like it, my Emma, as little as I feared.--I wish our opinions were
+the same. But in time they will. Time, you may be sure, will make one
+or the other of us think differently; and, in the meanwhile, we need not
+talk much on the subject.”
+
+“You mistake me, you quite mistake me,” she replied, exerting herself.
+“It is not that such a circumstance would now make me unhappy, but I
+cannot believe it. It seems an impossibility!--You cannot mean to say,
+that Harriet Smith has accepted Robert Martin. You cannot mean that he
+has even proposed to her again--yet. You only mean, that he intends it.”
+
+“I mean that he has done it,” answered Mr. Knightley, with smiling but
+determined decision, “and been accepted.”
+
+“Good God!” she cried.--“Well!”--Then having recourse to her workbasket,
+in excuse for leaning down her face, and concealing all the exquisite
+feelings of delight and entertainment which she knew she must be
+expressing, she added, “Well, now tell me every thing; make this
+intelligible to me. How, where, when?--Let me know it all. I never was
+more surprized--but it does not make me unhappy, I assure you.--How--how
+has it been possible?”
+
+“It is a very simple story. He went to town on business three days ago,
+and I got him to take charge of some papers which I was wanting to send
+to John.--He delivered these papers to John, at his chambers, and was
+asked by him to join their party the same evening to Astley’s. They were
+going to take the two eldest boys to Astley’s. The party was to be our
+brother and sister, Henry, John--and Miss Smith. My friend Robert could
+not resist. They called for him in their way; were all extremely amused;
+and my brother asked him to dine with them the next day--which he
+did--and in the course of that visit (as I understand) he found an
+opportunity of speaking to Harriet; and certainly did not speak
+in vain.--She made him, by her acceptance, as happy even as he is
+deserving. He came down by yesterday’s coach, and was with me this
+morning immediately after breakfast, to report his proceedings, first
+on my affairs, and then on his own. This is all that I can relate of
+the how, where, and when. Your friend Harriet will make a much
+longer history when you see her.--She will give you all the minute
+particulars, which only woman’s language can make interesting.--In our
+communications we deal only in the great.--However, I must say, that
+Robert Martin’s heart seemed for _him_, and to _me_, very overflowing;
+and that he did mention, without its being much to the purpose, that
+on quitting their box at Astley’s, my brother took charge of Mrs. John
+Knightley and little John, and he followed with Miss Smith and Henry;
+and that at one time they were in such a crowd, as to make Miss Smith
+rather uneasy.”
+
+He stopped.--Emma dared not attempt any immediate reply. To speak, she
+was sure would be to betray a most unreasonable degree of happiness.
+She must wait a moment, or he would think her mad. Her silence disturbed
+him; and after observing her a little while, he added,
+
+“Emma, my love, you said that this circumstance would not now make you
+unhappy; but I am afraid it gives you more pain than you expected. His
+situation is an evil--but you must consider it as what satisfies your
+friend; and I will answer for your thinking better and better of him
+as you know him more. His good sense and good principles would delight
+you.--As far as the man is concerned, you could not wish your friend
+in better hands. His rank in society I would alter if I could, which is
+saying a great deal I assure you, Emma.--You laugh at me about William
+Larkins; but I could quite as ill spare Robert Martin.”
+
+He wanted her to look up and smile; and having now brought herself not
+to smile too broadly--she did--cheerfully answering,
+
+“You need not be at any pains to reconcile me to the match. I think
+Harriet is doing extremely well. _Her_ connexions may be worse than
+_his_. In respectability of character, there can be no doubt that they
+are. I have been silent from surprize merely, excessive surprize. You
+cannot imagine how suddenly it has come on me! how peculiarly unprepared
+I was!--for I had reason to believe her very lately more determined
+against him, much more, than she was before.”
+
+“You ought to know your friend best,” replied Mr. Knightley; “but I
+should say she was a good-tempered, soft-hearted girl, not likely to be
+very, very determined against any young man who told her he loved her.”
+
+Emma could not help laughing as she answered, “Upon my word, I believe
+you know her quite as well as I do.--But, Mr. Knightley, are you
+perfectly sure that she has absolutely and downright _accepted_ him.
+I could suppose she might in time--but can she already?--Did not you
+misunderstand him?--You were both talking of other things; of business,
+shows of cattle, or new drills--and might not you, in the confusion of
+so many subjects, mistake him?--It was not Harriet’s hand that he was
+certain of--it was the dimensions of some famous ox.”
+
+The contrast between the countenance and air of Mr. Knightley and Robert
+Martin was, at this moment, so strong to Emma’s feelings, and so strong
+was the recollection of all that had so recently passed on Harriet’s
+side, so fresh the sound of those words, spoken with such emphasis,
+“No, I hope I know better than to think of Robert Martin,” that she was
+really expecting the intelligence to prove, in some measure, premature.
+It could not be otherwise.
+
+“Do you dare say this?” cried Mr. Knightley. “Do you dare to suppose me
+so great a blockhead, as not to know what a man is talking of?--What do
+you deserve?”
+
+“Oh! I always deserve the best treatment, because I never put up with
+any other; and, therefore, you must give me a plain, direct answer. Are
+you quite sure that you understand the terms on which Mr. Martin and
+Harriet now are?”
+
+“I am quite sure,” he replied, speaking very distinctly, “that he
+told me she had accepted him; and that there was no obscurity, nothing
+doubtful, in the words he used; and I think I can give you a proof that
+it must be so. He asked my opinion as to what he was now to do. He knew
+of no one but Mrs. Goddard to whom he could apply for information of
+her relations or friends. Could I mention any thing more fit to be done,
+than to go to Mrs. Goddard? I assured him that I could not. Then, he
+said, he would endeavour to see her in the course of this day.”
+
+“I am perfectly satisfied,” replied Emma, with the brightest smiles,
+“and most sincerely wish them happy.”
+
+“You are materially changed since we talked on this subject before.”
+
+“I hope so--for at that time I was a fool.”
+
+“And I am changed also; for I am now very willing to grant you all
+Harriet’s good qualities. I have taken some pains for your sake, and for
+Robert Martin’s sake, (whom I have always had reason to believe as much
+in love with her as ever,) to get acquainted with her. I have often
+talked to her a good deal. You must have seen that I did. Sometimes,
+indeed, I have thought you were half suspecting me of pleading poor
+Martin’s cause, which was never the case; but, from all my observations,
+I am convinced of her being an artless, amiable girl, with very good
+notions, very seriously good principles, and placing her happiness in
+the affections and utility of domestic life.--Much of this, I have no
+doubt, she may thank you for.”
+
+“Me!” cried Emma, shaking her head.--“Ah! poor Harriet!”
+
+She checked herself, however, and submitted quietly to a little more
+praise than she deserved.
+
+Their conversation was soon afterwards closed by the entrance of her
+father. She was not sorry. She wanted to be alone. Her mind was in a
+state of flutter and wonder, which made it impossible for her to be
+collected. She was in dancing, singing, exclaiming spirits; and till she
+had moved about, and talked to herself, and laughed and reflected, she
+could be fit for nothing rational.
+
+Her father’s business was to announce James’s being gone out to put the
+horses to, preparatory to their now daily drive to Randalls; and she
+had, therefore, an immediate excuse for disappearing.
+
+The joy, the gratitude, the exquisite delight of her sensations may be
+imagined. The sole grievance and alloy thus removed in the prospect of
+Harriet’s welfare, she was really in danger of becoming too happy for
+security.--What had she to wish for? Nothing, but to grow more worthy of
+him, whose intentions and judgment had been ever so superior to her own.
+Nothing, but that the lessons of her past folly might teach her humility
+and circumspection in future.
+
+Serious she was, very serious in her thankfulness, and in her
+resolutions; and yet there was no preventing a laugh, sometimes in the
+very midst of them. She must laugh at such a close! Such an end of the
+doleful disappointment of five weeks back! Such a heart--such a Harriet!
+
+Now there would be pleasure in her returning--Every thing would be a
+pleasure. It would be a great pleasure to know Robert Martin.
+
+High in the rank of her most serious and heartfelt felicities, was the
+reflection that all necessity of concealment from Mr. Knightley would
+soon be over. The disguise, equivocation, mystery, so hateful to her to
+practise, might soon be over. She could now look forward to giving him
+that full and perfect confidence which her disposition was most ready to
+welcome as a duty.
+
+In the gayest and happiest spirits she set forward with her father; not
+always listening, but always agreeing to what he said; and, whether in
+speech or silence, conniving at the comfortable persuasion of his
+being obliged to go to Randalls every day, or poor Mrs. Weston would be
+disappointed.
+
+They arrived.--Mrs. Weston was alone in the drawing-room:--but hardly
+had they been told of the baby, and Mr. Woodhouse received the thanks
+for coming, which he asked for, when a glimpse was caught through the
+blind, of two figures passing near the window.
+
+“It is Frank and Miss Fairfax,” said Mrs. Weston. “I was just going to
+tell you of our agreeable surprize in seeing him arrive this morning. He
+stays till to-morrow, and Miss Fairfax has been persuaded to spend the
+day with us.--They are coming in, I hope.”
+
+In half a minute they were in the room. Emma was extremely glad to
+see him--but there was a degree of confusion--a number of embarrassing
+recollections on each side. They met readily and smiling, but with a
+consciousness which at first allowed little to be said; and having all
+sat down again, there was for some time such a blank in the circle, that
+Emma began to doubt whether the wish now indulged, which she had long
+felt, of seeing Frank Churchill once more, and of seeing him with Jane,
+would yield its proportion of pleasure. When Mr. Weston joined the
+party, however, and when the baby was fetched, there was no longer a
+want of subject or animation--or of courage and opportunity for Frank
+Churchill to draw near her and say,
+
+“I have to thank you, Miss Woodhouse, for a very kind forgiving message
+in one of Mrs. Weston’s letters. I hope time has not made you less
+willing to pardon. I hope you do not retract what you then said.”
+
+“No, indeed,” cried Emma, most happy to begin, “not in the least. I am
+particularly glad to see and shake hands with you--and to give you joy
+in person.”
+
+He thanked her with all his heart, and continued some time to speak with
+serious feeling of his gratitude and happiness.
+
+“Is not she looking well?” said he, turning his eyes towards Jane.
+“Better than she ever used to do?--You see how my father and Mrs. Weston
+doat upon her.”
+
+But his spirits were soon rising again, and with laughing eyes, after
+mentioning the expected return of the Campbells, he named the name of
+Dixon.--Emma blushed, and forbade its being pronounced in her hearing.
+
+“I can never think of it,” she cried, “without extreme shame.”
+
+“The shame,” he answered, “is all mine, or ought to be. But is it
+possible that you had no suspicion?--I mean of late. Early, I know, you
+had none.”
+
+“I never had the smallest, I assure you.”
+
+“That appears quite wonderful. I was once very near--and I wish I
+had--it would have been better. But though I was always doing wrong
+things, they were very bad wrong things, and such as did me no
+service.--It would have been a much better transgression had I broken
+the bond of secrecy and told you every thing.”
+
+“It is not now worth a regret,” said Emma.
+
+“I have some hope,” resumed he, “of my uncle’s being persuaded to pay a
+visit at Randalls; he wants to be introduced to her. When the Campbells
+are returned, we shall meet them in London, and continue there, I trust,
+till we may carry her northward.--But now, I am at such a distance from
+her--is not it hard, Miss Woodhouse?--Till this morning, we have not
+once met since the day of reconciliation. Do not you pity me?”
+
+Emma spoke her pity so very kindly, that with a sudden accession of gay
+thought, he cried,
+
+“Ah! by the bye,” then sinking his voice, and looking demure for the
+moment--“I hope Mr. Knightley is well?” He paused.--She coloured and
+laughed.--“I know you saw my letter, and think you may remember my wish
+in your favour. Let me return your congratulations.--I assure you that
+I have heard the news with the warmest interest and satisfaction.--He is
+a man whom I cannot presume to praise.”
+
+Emma was delighted, and only wanted him to go on in the same style; but
+his mind was the next moment in his own concerns and with his own Jane,
+and his next words were,
+
+“Did you ever see such a skin?--such smoothness! such delicacy!--and
+yet without being actually fair.--One cannot call her fair. It is a
+most uncommon complexion, with her dark eye-lashes and hair--a most
+distinguishing complexion! So peculiarly the lady in it.--Just colour
+enough for beauty.”
+
+“I have always admired her complexion,” replied Emma, archly; “but
+do not I remember the time when you found fault with her for being so
+pale?--When we first began to talk of her.--Have you quite forgotten?”
+
+“Oh! no--what an impudent dog I was!--How could I dare--”
+
+But he laughed so heartily at the recollection, that Emma could not help
+saying,
+
+“I do suspect that in the midst of your perplexities at that time, you
+had very great amusement in tricking us all.--I am sure you had.--I am
+sure it was a consolation to you.”
+
+“Oh! no, no, no--how can you suspect me of such a thing? I was the most
+miserable wretch!”
+
+“Not quite so miserable as to be insensible to mirth. I am sure it was a
+source of high entertainment to you, to feel that you were taking us
+all in.--Perhaps I am the readier to suspect, because, to tell you the
+truth, I think it might have been some amusement to myself in the same
+situation. I think there is a little likeness between us.”
+
+He bowed.
+
+“If not in our dispositions,” she presently added, with a look of true
+sensibility, “there is a likeness in our destiny; the destiny which bids
+fair to connect us with two characters so much superior to our own.”
+
+“True, true,” he answered, warmly. “No, not true on your side. You can
+have no superior, but most true on mine.--She is a complete angel. Look
+at her. Is not she an angel in every gesture? Observe the turn of her
+throat. Observe her eyes, as she is looking up at my father.--You will
+be glad to hear (inclining his head, and whispering seriously) that my
+uncle means to give her all my aunt’s jewels. They are to be new set.
+I am resolved to have some in an ornament for the head. Will not it be
+beautiful in her dark hair?”
+
+“Very beautiful, indeed,” replied Emma; and she spoke so kindly, that he
+gratefully burst out,
+
+“How delighted I am to see you again! and to see you in such excellent
+looks!--I would not have missed this meeting for the world. I should
+certainly have called at Hartfield, had you failed to come.”
+
+The others had been talking of the child, Mrs. Weston giving an account
+of a little alarm she had been under, the evening before, from the
+infant’s appearing not quite well. She believed she had been foolish,
+but it had alarmed her, and she had been within half a minute of sending
+for Mr. Perry. Perhaps she ought to be ashamed, but Mr. Weston had been
+almost as uneasy as herself.--In ten minutes, however, the child had
+been perfectly well again. This was her history; and particularly
+interesting it was to Mr. Woodhouse, who commended her very much for
+thinking of sending for Perry, and only regretted that she had not done
+it. “She should always send for Perry, if the child appeared in the
+slightest degree disordered, were it only for a moment. She could not be
+too soon alarmed, nor send for Perry too often. It was a pity, perhaps,
+that he had not come last night; for, though the child seemed well now,
+very well considering, it would probably have been better if Perry had
+seen it.”
+
+Frank Churchill caught the name.
+
+“Perry!” said he to Emma, and trying, as he spoke, to catch Miss
+Fairfax’s eye. “My friend Mr. Perry! What are they saying about Mr.
+Perry?--Has he been here this morning?--And how does he travel now?--Has
+he set up his carriage?”
+
+Emma soon recollected, and understood him; and while she joined in the
+laugh, it was evident from Jane’s countenance that she too was really
+hearing him, though trying to seem deaf.
+
+“Such an extraordinary dream of mine!” he cried. “I can never think of
+it without laughing.--She hears us, she hears us, Miss Woodhouse. I see
+it in her cheek, her smile, her vain attempt to frown. Look at her. Do
+not you see that, at this instant, the very passage of her own letter,
+which sent me the report, is passing under her eye--that the whole
+blunder is spread before her--that she can attend to nothing else,
+though pretending to listen to the others?”
+
+Jane was forced to smile completely, for a moment; and the smile partly
+remained as she turned towards him, and said in a conscious, low, yet
+steady voice,
+
+“How you can bear such recollections, is astonishing to me!--They
+_will_ sometimes obtrude--but how you can court them!”
+
+He had a great deal to say in return, and very entertainingly; but
+Emma’s feelings were chiefly with Jane, in the argument; and on leaving
+Randalls, and falling naturally into a comparison of the two men, she
+felt, that pleased as she had been to see Frank Churchill, and really
+regarding him as she did with friendship, she had never been more
+sensible of Mr. Knightley’s high superiority of character. The happiness
+of this most happy day, received its completion, in the animated
+contemplation of his worth which this comparison produced.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+If Emma had still, at intervals, an anxious feeling for Harriet, a
+momentary doubt of its being possible for her to be really cured of her
+attachment to Mr. Knightley, and really able to accept another man from
+unbiased inclination, it was not long that she had to suffer from the
+recurrence of any such uncertainty. A very few days brought the party
+from London, and she had no sooner an opportunity of being one hour
+alone with Harriet, than she became perfectly satisfied--unaccountable
+as it was!--that Robert Martin had thoroughly supplanted Mr. Knightley,
+and was now forming all her views of happiness.
+
+Harriet was a little distressed--did look a little foolish at first:
+but having once owned that she had been presumptuous and silly, and
+self-deceived, before, her pain and confusion seemed to die away with
+the words, and leave her without a care for the past, and with the
+fullest exultation in the present and future; for, as to her friend’s
+approbation, Emma had instantly removed every fear of that nature, by
+meeting her with the most unqualified congratulations.--Harriet was
+most happy to give every particular of the evening at Astley’s, and the
+dinner the next day; she could dwell on it all with the utmost delight.
+But what did such particulars explain?--The fact was, as Emma could now
+acknowledge, that Harriet had always liked Robert Martin; and that his
+continuing to love her had been irresistible.--Beyond this, it must ever
+be unintelligible to Emma.
+
+The event, however, was most joyful; and every day was giving her fresh
+reason for thinking so.--Harriet’s parentage became known. She proved
+to be the daughter of a tradesman, rich enough to afford her the
+comfortable maintenance which had ever been hers, and decent enough to
+have always wished for concealment.--Such was the blood of gentility
+which Emma had formerly been so ready to vouch for!--It was likely to
+be as untainted, perhaps, as the blood of many a gentleman: but what
+a connexion had she been preparing for Mr. Knightley--or for the
+Churchills--or even for Mr. Elton!--The stain of illegitimacy,
+unbleached by nobility or wealth, would have been a stain indeed.
+
+No objection was raised on the father’s side; the young man was treated
+liberally; it was all as it should be: and as Emma became acquainted
+with Robert Martin, who was now introduced at Hartfield, she fully
+acknowledged in him all the appearance of sense and worth which could
+bid fairest for her little friend. She had no doubt of Harriet’s
+happiness with any good-tempered man; but with him, and in the home he
+offered, there would be the hope of more, of security, stability, and
+improvement. She would be placed in the midst of those who loved her,
+and who had better sense than herself; retired enough for safety,
+and occupied enough for cheerfulness. She would be never led into
+temptation, nor left for it to find her out. She would be respectable
+and happy; and Emma admitted her to be the luckiest creature in the
+world, to have created so steady and persevering an affection in such a
+man;--or, if not quite the luckiest, to yield only to herself.
+
+Harriet, necessarily drawn away by her engagements with the Martins,
+was less and less at Hartfield; which was not to be regretted.--The
+intimacy between her and Emma must sink; their friendship must change
+into a calmer sort of goodwill; and, fortunately, what ought to be,
+and must be, seemed already beginning, and in the most gradual, natural
+manner.
+
+Before the end of September, Emma attended Harriet to church, and saw
+her hand bestowed on Robert Martin with so complete a satisfaction, as
+no remembrances, even connected with Mr. Elton as he stood before them,
+could impair.--Perhaps, indeed, at that time she scarcely saw Mr. Elton,
+but as the clergyman whose blessing at the altar might next fall on
+herself.--Robert Martin and Harriet Smith, the latest couple engaged of
+the three, were the first to be married.
+
+Jane Fairfax had already quitted Highbury, and was restored to the
+comforts of her beloved home with the Campbells.--The Mr. Churchills
+were also in town; and they were only waiting for November.
+
+The intermediate month was the one fixed on, as far as they dared, by
+Emma and Mr. Knightley.--They had determined that their marriage ought
+to be concluded while John and Isabella were still at Hartfield, to
+allow them the fortnight’s absence in a tour to the seaside, which was
+the plan.--John and Isabella, and every other friend, were agreed in
+approving it. But Mr. Woodhouse--how was Mr. Woodhouse to be induced
+to consent?--he, who had never yet alluded to their marriage but as a
+distant event.
+
+When first sounded on the subject, he was so miserable, that they were
+almost hopeless.--A second allusion, indeed, gave less pain.--He
+began to think it was to be, and that he could not prevent it--a very
+promising step of the mind on its way to resignation. Still, however, he
+was not happy. Nay, he appeared so much otherwise, that his daughter’s
+courage failed. She could not bear to see him suffering, to know
+him fancying himself neglected; and though her understanding almost
+acquiesced in the assurance of both the Mr. Knightleys, that when
+once the event were over, his distress would be soon over too, she
+hesitated--she could not proceed.
+
+In this state of suspense they were befriended, not by any sudden
+illumination of Mr. Woodhouse’s mind, or any wonderful change of his
+nervous system, but by the operation of the same system in another
+way.--Mrs. Weston’s poultry-house was robbed one night of all her
+turkeys--evidently by the ingenuity of man. Other poultry-yards in
+the neighbourhood also suffered.--Pilfering was _housebreaking_ to Mr.
+Woodhouse’s fears.--He was very uneasy; and but for the sense of his
+son-in-law’s protection, would have been under wretched alarm every
+night of his life. The strength, resolution, and presence of mind of the
+Mr. Knightleys, commanded his fullest dependence. While either of them
+protected him and his, Hartfield was safe.--But Mr. John Knightley must
+be in London again by the end of the first week in November.
+
+The result of this distress was, that, with a much more voluntary,
+cheerful consent than his daughter had ever presumed to hope for at the
+moment, she was able to fix her wedding-day--and Mr. Elton was called
+on, within a month from the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Martin, to
+join the hands of Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse.
+
+The wedding was very much like other weddings, where the parties have
+no taste for finery or parade; and Mrs. Elton, from the particulars
+detailed by her husband, thought it all extremely shabby, and very
+inferior to her own.--“Very little white satin, very few lace veils; a
+most pitiful business!--Selina would stare when she heard of it.”--But,
+in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes, the hopes, the confidence,
+the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the
+ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union.
+
+
+
+FINIS
projects / gender-roles-text-analysis.git / blobdiff