1 Emma, by Jane Austen

    2 VOLUME I

    3 CHAPTER I

    4 Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home
    5 and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings
    6 of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world
    7 with very little to distress or vex her.

    8 She was the youngest of the two daughters of a most affectionate,
    9 indulgent father; and had, in consequence of her sister's marriage,
   10 been mistress of his house from a very early period.  Her mother
   11 had died too long ago for her to have more than an indistinct
   12 remembrance of her caresses; and her place had been supplied
   13 by an excellent woman as governess, who had fallen little short
   14 of a mother in affection.

   15 Sixteen years had Miss Taylor been in Mr Woodhouse's family,
   16 less as a governess than a friend, very fond of both daughters,
   17 but particularly of Emma.  Between _them_ it was more the intimacy
   18 of sisters.  Even before Miss Taylor had ceased to hold the nominal
   19 office of governess, the mildness of her temper had hardly allowed
   20 her to impose any restraint; and the shadow of authority being
   21 now long passed away, they had been living together as friend and
   22 friend very mutually attached, and Emma doing just what she liked;
   23 highly esteeming Miss Taylor's judgment, but directed chiefly by
   24 her own.

   25 The real evils, indeed, of Emma's situation were the power of having
   26 rather too much her own way, and a disposition to think a little
   27 too well of herself; these were the disadvantages which threatened
   28 alloy to her many enjoyments.  The danger, however, was at present
   29 so unperceived, that they did not by any means rank as misfortunes
   30 with her.

   31 Sorrow came -- a gentle sorrow -- but not at all in the shape of any
   32 disagreeable consciousness. -- Miss Taylor married.  It was Miss Taylor's
   33 loss which first brought grief.  It was on the wedding-day
   34 of this beloved friend that Emma first sat in mournful thought
   35 of any continuance.  The wedding over, and the bride-people gone,
   36 her father and herself were left to dine together, with no prospect
   37 of a third to cheer a long evening.  Her father composed himself
   38 to sleep after dinner, as usual, and she had then only to sit
   39 and think of what she had lost.

   40 The event had every promise of happiness for her friend.  Mr Weston
   41 was a man of unexceptionable character, easy fortune, suitable age,
   42 and pleasant manners; and there was some satisfaction in considering
   43 with what self-denying, generous friendship she had always wished
   44 and promoted the match; but it was a black morning's work for her.
   45 The want of Miss Taylor would be felt every hour of every day.
   46 She recalled her past kindness -- the kindness, the affection of sixteen
   47 years -- how she had taught and how she had played with her from five
   48 years old -- how she had devoted all her powers to attach and amuse
   49 her in health -- and how nursed her through the various illnesses
   50 of childhood.  A large debt of gratitude was owing here; but the
   51 intercourse of the last seven years, the equal footing and perfect
   52 unreserve which had soon followed Isabella's marriage, on their
   53 being left to each other, was yet a dearer, tenderer recollection.
   54 She had been a friend and companion such as few possessed: intelligent,
   55 well-informed, useful, gentle, knowing all the ways of the family,
   56 interested in all its concerns, and peculiarly interested in herself,
   57 in every pleasure, every scheme of hers -- one to whom she could speak
   58 every thought as it arose, and who had such an affection for her
   59 as could never find fault.

   60 How was she to bear the change? -- It was true that her friend was
   61 going only half a mile from them; but Emma was aware that great must
   62 be the difference between a Mrs Weston, only half a mile from them,
   63 and a Miss Taylor in the house; and with all her advantages,
   64 natural and domestic, she was now in great danger of suffering
   65 from intellectual solitude.  She dearly loved her father, but he
   66 was no companion for her.  He could not meet her in conversation,
   67 rational or playful.

   68 The evil of the actual disparity in their ages (and Mr Woodhouse had
   69 not married early) was much increased by his constitution and habits;
   70 for having been a valetudinarian all his life, without activity
   71 of mind or body, he was a much older man in ways than in years;
   72 and though everywhere beloved for the friendliness of his heart
   73 and his amiable temper, his talents could not have recommended him
   74 at any time.

   75 Her sister, though comparatively but little removed by matrimony,
   76 being settled in London, only sixteen miles off, was much beyond
   77 her daily reach; and many a long October and November evening must
   78 be struggled through at Hartfield, before Christmas brought the next
   79 visit from Isabella and her husband, and their little children,
   80 to fill the house, and give her pleasant society again.

   81 Highbury, the large and populous village, almost amounting to a town,
   82 to which Hartfield, in spite of its separate lawn, and shrubberies,
   83 and name, did really belong, afforded her no equals.  The Woodhouses
   84 were first in consequence there.  All looked up to them.  She had
   85 many acquaintance in the place, for her father was universally civil,
   86 but not one among them who could be accepted in lieu of Miss Taylor
   87 for even half a day.  It was a melancholy change; and Emma
   88 could not but sigh over it, and wish for impossible things,
   89 till her father awoke, and made it necessary to be cheerful.
   90 His spirits required support.  He was a nervous man, easily depressed;
   91 fond of every body that he was used to, and hating to part with them;
   92 hating change of every kind.  Matrimony, as the origin of change,
   93 was always disagreeable; and he was by no means yet reconciled
   94 to his own daughter's marrying, nor could ever speak of her but
   95 with compassion, though it had been entirely a match of affection,
   96 when he was now obliged to part with Miss Taylor too; and from
   97 his habits of gentle selfishness, and of being never able to
   98 suppose that other people could feel differently from himself,
   99 he was very much disposed to think Miss Taylor had done as sad
  100 a thing for herself as for them, and would have been a great deal
  101 happier if she had spent all the rest of her life at Hartfield.
  102 Emma smiled and chatted as cheerfully as she could, to keep him
  103 from such thoughts; but when tea came, it was impossible for him
  104 not to say exactly as he had said at dinner,

  105 "Poor Miss Taylor! -- I wish she were here again.  What a pity it
  106 is that Mr Weston ever thought of her!"

  107 "I cannot agree with you, papa; you know I cannot.  Mr Weston is such
  108 a good-humoured, pleasant, excellent man, that he thoroughly deserves
  109 a good wife; -- and you would not have had Miss Taylor live with us
  110 for ever, and bear all my odd humours, when she might have a house of her own?"

  111 "A house of her own! -- But where is the advantage of a house of her own?
  112 This is three times as large. -- And you have never any odd humours,
  113 my dear."

  114 "How often we shall be going to see them, and they coming to see
  115 us! -- We shall be always meeting! _We_ must begin; we must go and pay
  116 wedding visit very soon."

  117 "My dear, how am I to get so far? Randalls is such a distance.
  118 I could not walk half so far."

  119 "No, papa, nobody thought of your walking.  We must go in the carriage,
  120 to be sure."

  121 "The carriage! But James will not like to put the horses to for
  122 such a little way; -- and where are the poor horses to be while we
  123 are paying our visit?"

  124 "They are to be put into Mr Weston's stable, papa.  You know we
  125 have settled all that already.  We talked it all over with Mr Weston
  126 last night.  And as for James, you may be very sure he will always like
  127 going to Randalls, because of his daughter's being housemaid there.
  128 I only doubt whether he will ever take us anywhere else.  That was
  129 your doing, papa.  You got Hannah that good place.  Nobody thought
  130 of Hannah till you mentioned her -- James is so obliged to you!"

  131 "I am very glad I did think of her.  It was very lucky, for I would
  132 not have had poor James think himself slighted upon any account;
  133 and I am sure she will make a very good servant: she is a civil,
  134 pretty-spoken girl; I have a great opinion of her.  Whenever I see her,
  135 she always curtseys and asks me how I do, in a very pretty manner;
  136 and when you have had her here to do needlework, I observe she
  137 always turns the lock of the door the right way and never bangs it.
  138 I am sure she will be an excellent servant; and it will be a great
  139 comfort to poor Miss Taylor to have somebody about her that she is
  140 used to see.  Whenever James goes over to see his daughter, you know,
  141 she will be hearing of us.  He will be able to tell her how we
  142 all are."

  143 Emma spared no exertions to maintain this happier flow of ideas,
  144 and hoped, by the help of backgammon, to get her father tolerably
  145 through the evening, and be attacked by no regrets but her own.
  146 The backgammon-table was placed; but a visitor immediately afterwards
  147 walked in and made it unnecessary.

  148 Mr Knightley, a sensible man about seven or eight-and-thirty, was not
  149 only a very old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly
  150 connected with it, as the elder brother of Isabella's husband.
  151 He lived about a mile from Highbury, was a frequent visitor,
  152 and always welcome, and at this time more welcome than usual,
  153 as coming directly from their mutual connexions in London.  He had
  154 returned to a late dinner, after some days' absence, and now walked
  155 up to Hartfield to say that all were well in Brunswick Square.
  156 It was a happy circumstance, and animated Mr Woodhouse for some time.
  157 Mr Knightley had a cheerful manner, which always did him good;
  158 and his many inquiries after "poor Isabella" and her children were
  159 answered most satisfactorily.  When this was over, Mr Woodhouse
  160 gratefully observed, "It is very kind of you, Mr Knightley, to come
  161 out at this late hour to call upon us.  I am afraid you must have
  162 had a shocking walk."

  163 "Not at all, sir.  It is a beautiful moonlight night; and so mild
  164 that I must draw back from your great fire."

  165 "But you must have found it very damp and dirty.  I wish you may
  166 not catch cold."

  167 "Dirty, sir! Look at my shoes.  Not a speck on them."

  168 "Well! that is quite surprising, for we have had a vast deal
  169 of rain here.  It rained dreadfully hard for half an hour
  170 while we were at breakfast.  I wanted them to put off the wedding."

  171 "By the bye -- I have not wished you joy.  Being pretty well aware
  172 of what sort of joy you must both be feeling, I have been in no hurry
  173 with my congratulations; but I hope it all went off tolerably well.
  174 How did you all behave? Who cried most?"

  175 "Ah! poor Miss Taylor! 'Tis a sad business."

  176 "Poor Mr and Miss Woodhouse, if you please; but I cannot possibly
  177 say `poor Miss Taylor.' I have a great regard for you and Emma;
  178 but when it comes to the question of dependence or independence! -- At
  179 any rate, it must be better to have only one to please than two."

  180 "Especially when _one_ of those two is such a fanciful, troublesome creature!"
  181 said Emma playfully.  "That is what you have in your head,
  182 I know -- and what you would certainly say if my father were not by."

  183 "I believe it is very true, my dear, indeed," said Mr Woodhouse,
  184 with a sigh.  "I am afraid I am sometimes very fanciful and troublesome."

  185 "My dearest papa! You do not think I could mean _you_, or suppose
  186 Mr Knightley to mean _you_.  What a horrible idea! Oh no! I meant
  187 only myself.  Mr Knightley loves to find fault with me, you know -- 
  188 in a joke -- it is all a joke.  We always say what we like to one another."

  189 Mr Knightley, in fact, was one of the few people who could see
  190 faults in Emma Woodhouse, and the only one who ever told her of them:
  191 and though this was not particularly agreeable to Emma herself,
  192 she knew it would be so much less so to her father, that she would
  193 not have him really suspect such a circumstance as her not being
  194 thought perfect by every body.

  195 "Emma knows I never flatter her," said Mr Knightley, "but I
  196 meant no reflection on any body.  Miss Taylor has been used
  197 to have two persons to please; she will now have but one.
  198 The chances are that she must be a gainer."

  199 "Well," said Emma, willing to let it pass -- "you want to hear
  200 about the wedding; and I shall be happy to tell you, for we all
  201 behaved charmingly.  Every body was punctual, every body in their
  202 best looks: not a tear, and hardly a long face to be seen.  Oh no;
  203 we all felt that we were going to be only half a mile apart,
  204 and were sure of meeting every day."

  205 "Dear Emma bears every thing so well," said her father.
  206 "But, Mr Knightley, she is really very sorry to lose poor Miss Taylor,
  207 and I am sure she _will_ miss her more than she thinks for."

  208 Emma turned away her head, divided between tears and smiles.
  209 "It is impossible that Emma should not miss such a companion,"
  210 said Mr Knightley.  "We should not like her so well as we do, sir,
  211 if we could suppose it; but she knows how much the marriage is to
  212 Miss Taylor's advantage; she knows how very acceptable it must be,
  213 at Miss Taylor's time of life, to be settled in a home of her own,
  214 and how important to her to be secure of a comfortable provision,
  215 and therefore cannot allow herself to feel so much pain as pleasure.
  216 Every friend of Miss Taylor must be glad to have her so happily
  217 married."

  218 "And you have forgotten one matter of joy to me," said Emma,
  219 "and a very considerable one -- that I made the match myself.
  220 I made the match, you know, four years ago; and to have it take place,
  221 and be proved in the right, when so many people said Mr Weston would
  222 never marry again, may comfort me for any thing."

  223 Mr Knightley shook his head at her.  Her father fondly replied,
  224 "Ah! my dear, I wish you would not make matches and foretell things,
  225 for whatever you say always comes to pass.  Pray do not make any
  226 more matches."

  227 "I promise you to make none for myself, papa; but I must, indeed,
  228 for other people.  It is the greatest amusement in the world! And
  229 after such success, you know! -- Every body said that Mr Weston would
  230 never marry again.  Oh dear, no! Mr Weston, who had been a widower
  231 so long, and who seemed so perfectly comfortable without a wife,
  232 so constantly occupied either in his business in town or among his
  233 friends here, always acceptable wherever he went, always cheerful -- 
  234 Mr Weston need not spend a single evening in the year alone if he did
  235 not like it.  Oh no! Mr Weston certainly would never marry again.
  236 Some people even talked of a promise to his wife on her deathbed,
  237 and others of the son and the uncle not letting him.  All manner
  238 of solemn nonsense was talked on the subject, but I believed none
  239 of it.

  240 "Ever since the day -- about four years ago -- that Miss Taylor and I
  241 met with him in Broadway Lane, when, because it began to drizzle,
  242 he darted away with so much gallantry, and borrowed two umbrellas
  243 for us from Farmer Mitchell's, I made up my mind on the subject.
  244 I planned the match from that hour; and when such success has blessed
  245 me in this instance, dear papa, you cannot think that I shall leave
  246 off match-making."

  247 "I do not understand what you mean by `success,'" said Mr Knightley.
  248 "Success supposes endeavour.  Your time has been properly and
  249 delicately spent, if you have been endeavouring for the last four
  250 years to bring about this marriage.  A worthy employment for a young
  251 lady's mind! But if, which I rather imagine, your making the match,
  252 as you call it, means only your planning it, your saying to yourself
  253 one idle day, `I think it would be a very good thing for Miss Taylor
  254 if Mr Weston were to marry her,' and saying it again to yourself
  255 every now and then afterwards, why do you talk of success? Where
  256 is your merit? What are you proud of? You made a lucky guess;
  257 and _that_ is all that can be said."

  258 "And have you never known the pleasure and triumph of a lucky guess? -- 
  259 I pity you. -- I thought you cleverer -- for, depend upon it a lucky
  260 guess is never merely luck.  There is always some talent in it.
  261 And as to my poor word `success,' which you quarrel with, I do not
  262 know that I am so entirely without any claim to it.  You have drawn
  263 two pretty pictures; but I think there may be a third -- a something
  264 between the do-nothing and the do-all. If I had not promoted Mr Weston's
  265 visits here, and given many little encouragements, and smoothed
  266 many little matters, it might not have come to any thing after all.
  267 I think you must know Hartfield enough to comprehend that."

  268 "A straightforward, open-hearted man like Weston, and a rational,
  269 unaffected woman like Miss Taylor, may be safely left to manage their
  270 own concerns.  You are more likely to have done harm to yourself,
  271 than good to them, by interference."

  272 "Emma never thinks of herself, if she can do good to others,"
  273 rejoined Mr Woodhouse, understanding but in part.  "But, my dear,
  274 pray do not make any more matches; they are silly things, and break up
  275 one's family circle grievously."

  276 "Only one more, papa; only for Mr Elton.  Poor Mr Elton! You
  277 like Mr Elton, papa, -- I must look about for a wife for him.
  278 There is nobody in Highbury who deserves him -- and he has been
  279 here a whole year, and has fitted up his house so comfortably,
  280 that it would be a shame to have him single any longer -- and I thought
  281 when he was joining their hands to-day, he looked so very much as if
  282 he would like to have the same kind office done for him! I think
  283 very well of Mr Elton, and this is the only way I have of doing
  284 him a service."

  285 "Mr Elton is a very pretty young man, to be sure, and a very
  286 good young man, and I have a great regard for him.  But if you
  287 want to shew him any attention, my dear, ask him to come
  288 and dine with us some day.  That will be a much better thing.
  289 I dare say Mr Knightley will be so kind as to meet him."

  290 "With a great deal of pleasure, sir, at any time," said Mr Knightley,
  291 laughing, "and I agree with you entirely, that it will be a much
  292 better thing.  Invite him to dinner, Emma, and help him to the best
  293 of the fish and the chicken, but leave him to chuse his own wife.
  294 Depend upon it, a man of six or seven-and-twenty can take care
  295 of himself."

  296 CHAPTER II

  297 Mr Weston was a native of Highbury, and born of a respectable family,
  298 which for the last two or three generations had been rising into
  299 gentility and property.  He had received a good education, but,
  300 on succeeding early in life to a small independence, had become
  301 indisposed for any of the more homely pursuits in which his brothers
  302 were engaged, and had satisfied an active, cheerful mind and social
  303 temper by entering into the militia of his county, then embodied.

  304 Captain Weston was a general favourite; and when the chances
  305 of his military life had introduced him to Miss Churchill,
  306 of a great Yorkshire family, and Miss Churchill fell in love
  307 with him, nobody was surprized, except her brother and his wife,
  308 who had never seen him, and who were full of pride and importance,
  309 which the connexion would offend.

  310 Miss Churchill, however, being of age, and with the full command
  311 of her fortune -- though her fortune bore no proportion to the
  312 family-estate -- was not to be dissuaded from the marriage, and it
  313 took place, to the infinite mortification of Mr and Mrs Churchill,
  314 who threw her off with due decorum.  It was an unsuitable connexion,
  315 and did not produce much happiness.  Mrs Weston ought to have found
  316 more in it, for she had a husband whose warm heart and sweet temper
  317 made him think every thing due to her in return for the great goodness
  318 of being in love with him; but though she had one sort of spirit,
  319 she had not the best.  She had resolution enough to pursue
  320 her own will in spite of her brother, but not enough to refrain
  321 from unreasonable regrets at that brother's unreasonable anger,
  322 nor from missing the luxuries of her former home.  They lived beyond
  323 their income, but still it was nothing in comparison of Enscombe:
  324 she did not cease to love her husband, but she wanted at once
  325 to be the wife of Captain Weston, and Miss Churchill of Enscombe.

  326 Captain Weston, who had been considered, especially by the Churchills,
  327 as making such an amazing match, was proved to have much the worst
  328 of the bargain; for when his wife died, after a three years' marriage,
  329 he was rather a poorer man than at first, and with a child to maintain.
  330 From the expense of the child, however, he was soon relieved.
  331 The boy had, with the additional softening claim of a lingering
  332 illness of his mother's, been the means of a sort of reconciliation;
  333 and Mr and Mrs Churchill, having no children of their own,
  334 nor any other young creature of equal kindred to care for, offered to
  335 take the whole charge of the little Frank soon after her decease.
  336 Some scruples and some reluctance the widower-father may be supposed
  337 to have felt; but as they were overcome by other considerations,
  338 the child was given up to the care and the wealth of the Churchills,
  339 and he had only his own comfort to seek, and his own situation to
  340 improve as he could.

  341 A complete change of life became desirable.  He quitted the militia
  342 and engaged in trade, having brothers already established in a
  343 good way in London, which afforded him a favourable opening.
  344 It was a concern which brought just employment enough.  He had still
  345 a small house in Highbury, where most of his leisure days were spent;
  346 and between useful occupation and the pleasures of society,
  347 the next eighteen or twenty years of his life passed cheerfully away.
  348 He had, by that time, realised an easy competence -- enough to secure
  349 the purchase of a little estate adjoining Highbury, which he had
  350 always longed for -- enough to marry a woman as portionless even
  351 as Miss Taylor, and to live according to the wishes of his own
  352 friendly and social disposition.

  353 It was now some time since Miss Taylor had begun to influence
  354 his schemes; but as it was not the tyrannic influence of youth
  355 on youth, it had not shaken his determination of never settling
  356 till he could purchase Randalls, and the sale of Randalls was long
  357 looked forward to; but he had gone steadily on, with these objects
  358 in view, till they were accomplished.  He had made his fortune,
  359 bought his house, and obtained his wife; and was beginning a new
  360 period of existence, with every probability of greater happiness
  361 than in any yet passed through.  He had never been an unhappy man;
  362 his own temper had secured him from that, even in his first marriage;
  363 but his second must shew him how delightful a well-judging and truly
  364 amiable woman could be, and must give him the pleasantest proof
  365 of its being a great deal better to choose than to be chosen,
  366 to excite gratitude than to feel it.

  367 He had only himself to please in his choice: his fortune was
  368 his own; for as to Frank, it was more than being tacitly brought
  369 up as his uncle's heir, it had become so avowed an adoption
  370 as to have him assume the name of Churchill on coming of age.
  371 It was most unlikely, therefore, that he should ever want his
  372 father's assistance.  His father had no apprehension of it.
  373 The aunt was a capricious woman, and governed her husband entirely;
  374 but it was not in Mr Weston's nature to imagine that any caprice
  375 could be strong enough to affect one so dear, and, as he believed,
  376 so deservedly dear.  He saw his son every year in London,
  377 and was proud of him; and his fond report of him as a very fine
  378 young man had made Highbury feel a sort of pride in him too.
  379 He was looked on as sufficiently belonging to the place to make his
  380 merits and prospects a kind of common concern.

  381 Mr Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a lively
  382 curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so little
  383 returned that he had never been there in his life.  His coming
  384 to visit his father had been often talked of but never achieved.

  385 Now, upon his father's marriage, it was very generally proposed,
  386 as a most proper attention, that the visit should take place.
  387 There was not a dissentient voice on the subject, either when
  388 Mrs Perry drank tea with Mrs and Miss Bates, or when Mrs and Miss Bates
  389 returned the visit.  Now was the time for Mr Frank Churchill
  390 to come among them; and the hope strengthened when it was
  391 understood that he had written to his new mother on the occasion.
  392 For a few days, every morning visit in Highbury included some mention
  393 of the handsome letter Mrs Weston had received.  "I suppose you
  394 have heard of the handsome letter Mr Frank Churchill has written
  395 to Mrs Weston? I understand it was a very handsome letter, indeed.
  396 Mr Woodhouse told me of it.  Mr Woodhouse saw the letter, and he
  397 says he never saw such a handsome letter in his life."

  398 It was, indeed, a highly prized letter.  Mrs Weston had, of course,
  399 formed a very favourable idea of the young man; and such a pleasing
  400 attention was an irresistible proof of his great good sense,
  401 and a most welcome addition to every source and every expression
  402 of congratulation which her marriage had already secured.  She felt
  403 herself a most fortunate woman; and she had lived long enough
  404 to know how fortunate she might well be thought, where the only
  405 regret was for a partial separation from friends whose friendship
  406 for her had never cooled, and who could ill bear to part with her.

  407 She knew that at times she must be missed; and could not think,
  408 without pain, of Emma's losing a single pleasure, or suffering
  409 an hour's ennui, from the want of her companionableness: but dear
  410 Emma was of no feeble character; she was more equal to her situation
  411 than most girls would have been, and had sense, and energy,
  412 and spirits that might be hoped would bear her well and happily
  413 through its little difficulties and privations.  And then there was
  414 such comfort in the very easy distance of Randalls from Hartfield,
  415 so convenient for even solitary female walking, and in Mr Weston's
  416 disposition and circumstances, which would make the approaching
  417 season no hindrance to their spending half the evenings in the
  418 week together.

  419 Her situation was altogether the subject of hours of gratitude
  420 to Mrs Weston, and of moments only of regret; and her
  421 satisfaction -- her more than satisfaction -- her cheerful enjoyment,
  422 was so just and so apparent, that Emma, well as she knew her father,
  423 was sometimes taken by surprize at his being still able to pity
  424 `poor Miss Taylor,' when they left her at Randalls in the centre
  425 of every domestic comfort, or saw her go away in the evening
  426 attended by her pleasant husband to a carriage of her own.
  427 But never did she go without Mr Woodhouse's giving a gentle sigh,
  428 and saying, "Ah, poor Miss Taylor! She would be very glad to stay."

  429 There was no recovering Miss Taylor -- nor much likelihood of
  430 ceasing to pity her; but a few weeks brought some alleviation
  431 to Mr Woodhouse.  The compliments of his neighbours were over;
  432 he was no longer teased by being wished joy of so sorrowful an event;
  433 and the wedding-cake, which had been a great distress to him,
  434 was all eat up.  His own stomach could bear nothing rich, and he
  435 could never believe other people to be different from himself.
  436 What was unwholesome to him he regarded as unfit for any body;
  437 and he had, therefore, earnestly tried to dissuade them from having
  438 any wedding-cake at all, and when that proved vain, as earnestly
  439 tried to prevent any body's eating it.  He had been at the pains
  440 of consulting Mr Perry, the apothecary, on the subject.  Mr Perry
  441 was an intelligent, gentlemanlike man, whose frequent visits were one
  442 of the comforts of Mr Woodhouse's life; and upon being applied to,
  443 he could not but acknowledge (though it seemed rather against the
  444 bias of inclination) that wedding-cake might certainly disagree
  445 with many -- perhaps with most people, unless taken moderately.
  446 With such an opinion, in confirmation of his own, Mr Woodhouse hoped
  447 to influence every visitor of the newly married pair; but still the
  448 cake was eaten; and there was no rest for his benevolent nerves till
  449 it was all gone.

  450 There was a strange rumour in Highbury of all the little Perrys
  451 being seen with a slice of Mrs Weston's wedding-cake in their
  452 hands: but Mr Woodhouse would never believe it.

  453 CHAPTER III

  454 Mr Woodhouse was fond of society in his own way.  He liked very much
  455 to have his friends come and see him; and from various united causes,
  456 from his long residence at Hartfield, and his good nature,
  457 from his fortune, his house, and his daughter, he could command the
  458 visits of his own little circle, in a great measure, as he liked.
  459 He had not much intercourse with any families beyond that circle;
  460 his horror of late hours, and large dinner-parties, made him unfit
  461 for any acquaintance but such as would visit him on his own terms.
  462 Fortunately for him, Highbury, including Randalls in the same parish,
  463 and Donwell Abbey in the parish adjoining, the seat of Mr Knightley,
  464 comprehended many such.  Not unfrequently, through Emma's persuasion,
  465 he had some of the chosen and the best to dine with him: but evening
  466 parties were what he preferred; and, unless he fancied himself at any
  467 time unequal to company, there was scarcely an evening in the week
  468 in which Emma could not make up a card-table for him.

  469 Real, long-standing regard brought the Westons and Mr Knightley;
  470 and by Mr Elton, a young man living alone without liking it,
  471 the privilege of exchanging any vacant evening of his own blank solitude
  472 for the elegancies and society of Mr Woodhouse's drawing-room,
  473 and the smiles of his lovely daughter, was in no danger of being
  474 thrown away.

  475 After these came a second set; among the most come-at-able
  476 of whom were Mrs and Miss Bates, and Mrs Goddard, three ladies
  477 almost always at the service of an invitation from Hartfield,
  478 and who were fetched and carried home so often, that Mr Woodhouse
  479 thought it no hardship for either James or the horses.  Had it
  480 taken place only once a year, it would have been a grievance.

  481 Mrs Bates, the widow of a former vicar of Highbury, was a
  482 very old lady, almost past every thing but tea and quadrille.
  483 She lived with her single daughter in a very small way, and was
  484 considered with all the regard and respect which a harmless old lady,
  485 under such untoward circumstances, can excite.  Her daughter enjoyed
  486 a most uncommon degree of popularity for a woman neither young,
  487 handsome, rich, nor married.  Miss Bates stood in the very worst
  488 predicament in the world for having much of the public favour;
  489 and she had no intellectual superiority to make atonement to herself,
  490 or frighten those who might hate her into outward respect.
  491 She had never boasted either beauty or cleverness.  Her youth
  492 had passed without distinction, and her middle of life was devoted
  493 to the care of a failing mother, and the endeavour to make a small
  494 income go as far as possible.  And yet she was a happy woman,
  495 and a woman whom no one named without good-will.  It was her own
  496 universal good-will and contented temper which worked such wonders.
  497 She loved every body, was interested in every body's happiness,
  498 quicksighted to every body's merits; thought herself a most fortunate
  499 creature, and surrounded with blessings in such an excellent mother,
  500 and so many good neighbours and friends, and a home that wanted
  501 for nothing.  The simplicity and cheerfulness of her nature,
  502 her contented and grateful spirit, were a recommendation to every body,
  503 and a mine of felicity to herself.  She was a great talker upon
  504 little matters, which exactly suited Mr Woodhouse, full of trivial
  505 communications and harmless gossip.

  506 Mrs Goddard was the mistress of a School -- not of a seminary,
  507 or an establishment, or any thing which professed, in long sentences of
  508 refined nonsense, to combine liberal acquirements with elegant morality,
  509 upon new principles and new systems -- and where young ladies for
  510 enormous pay might be screwed out of health and into vanity -- but
  511 a real, honest, old-fashioned Boarding-school, where a reasonable
  512 quantity of accomplishments were sold at a reasonable price,
  513 and where girls might be sent to be out of the way, and scramble
  514 themselves into a little education, without any danger of coming
  515 back prodigies.  Mrs Goddard's school was in high repute -- and
  516 very deservedly; for Highbury was reckoned a particularly healthy
  517 spot: she had an ample house and garden, gave the children plenty
  518 of wholesome food, let them run about a great deal in the summer,
  519 and in winter dressed their chilblains with her own hands.
  520 It was no wonder that a train of twenty young couple now walked
  521 after her to church.  She was a plain, motherly kind of woman,
  522 who had worked hard in her youth, and now thought herself entitled
  523 to the occasional holiday of a tea-visit; and having formerly
  524 owed much to Mr Woodhouse's kindness, felt his particular claim
  525 on her to leave her neat parlour, hung round with fancy-work,
  526 whenever she could, and win or lose a few sixpences by his fireside.

  527 These were the ladies whom Emma found herself very frequently
  528 able to collect; and happy was she, for her father's sake,
  529 in the power; though, as far as she was herself concerned,
  530 it was no remedy for the absence of Mrs Weston.  She was delighted
  531 to see her father look comfortable, and very much pleased with
  532 herself for contriving things so well; but the quiet prosings
  533 of three such women made her feel that every evening so spent
  534 was indeed one of the long evenings she had fearfully anticipated.

  535 As she sat one morning, looking forward to exactly such a close
  536 of the present day, a note was brought from Mrs Goddard, requesting,
  537 in most respectful terms, to be allowed to bring Miss Smith with her;
  538 a most welcome request: for Miss Smith was a girl of seventeen,
  539 whom Emma knew very well by sight, and had long felt an interest in,
  540 on account of her beauty.  A very gracious invitation was returned,
  541 and the evening no longer dreaded by the fair mistress of the mansion.

  542 Harriet Smith was the natural daughter of somebody.  Somebody had
  543 placed her, several years back, at Mrs Goddard's school,
  544 and somebody had lately raised her from the condition of scholar
  545 to that of parlour-boarder. This was all that was generally known
  546 of her history.  She had no visible friends but what had been
  547 acquired at Highbury, and was now just returned from a long visit
  548 in the country to some young ladies who had been at school there with her.

  549 She was a very pretty girl, and her beauty happened to be of a sort
  550 which Emma particularly admired.  She was short, plump, and fair,
  551 with a fine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features,
  552 and a look of great sweetness, and, before the end of the evening,
  553 Emma was as much pleased with her manners as her person, and quite
  554 determined to continue the acquaintance.

  555 She was not struck by any thing remarkably clever in Miss Smith's
  556 conversation, but she found her altogether very engaging -- not
  557 inconveniently shy, not unwilling to talk -- and yet so far from pushing,
  558 shewing so proper and becoming a deference, seeming so pleasantly
  559 grateful for being admitted to Hartfield, and so artlessly
  560 impressed by the appearance of every thing in so superior a style
  561 to what she had been used to, that she must have good sense,
  562 and deserve encouragement.  Encouragement should be given.
  563 Those soft blue eyes, and all those natural graces, should not be
  564 wasted on the inferior society of Highbury and its connexions.
  565 The acquaintance she had already formed were unworthy of her.
  566 The friends from whom she had just parted, though very good sort
  567 of people, must be doing her harm.  They were a family of the name
  568 of Martin, whom Emma well knew by character, as renting a large farm
  569 of Mr Knightley, and residing in the parish of Donwell -- very creditably,
  570 she believed -- she knew Mr Knightley thought highly of them -- but they
  571 must be coarse and unpolished, and very unfit to be the intimates
  572 of a girl who wanted only a little more knowledge and elegance
  573 to be quite perfect.  _She_ would notice her; she would improve her;
  574 she would detach her from her bad acquaintance, and introduce her
  575 into good society; she would form her opinions and her manners.
  576 It would be an interesting, and certainly a very kind undertaking;
  577 highly becoming her own situation in life, her leisure, and powers.

  578 She was so busy in admiring those soft blue eyes, in talking
  579 and listening, and forming all these schemes in the in-betweens, that
  580 the evening flew away at a very unusual rate; and the supper-table,
  581 which always closed such parties, and for which she had been
  582 used to sit and watch the due time, was all set out and ready,
  583 and moved forwards to the fire, before she was aware.  With an
  584 alacrity beyond the common impulse of a spirit which yet was never
  585 indifferent to the credit of doing every thing well and attentively,
  586 with the real good-will of a mind delighted with its own ideas,
  587 did she then do all the honours of the meal, and help and recommend
  588 the minced chicken and scalloped oysters, with an urgency which she
  589 knew would be acceptable to the early hours and civil scruples of their guests.

  590 Upon such occasions poor Mr Woodhouses feelings were in sad warfare.
  591 He loved to have the cloth laid, because it had been the fashion
  592 of his youth, but his conviction of suppers being very unwholesome
  593 made him rather sorry to see any thing put on it; and while his
  594 hospitality would have welcomed his visitors to every thing,
  595 his care for their health made him grieve that they would eat.

  596 Such another small basin of thin gruel as his own was all that
  597 he could, with thorough self-approbation, recommend; though he
  598 might constrain himself, while the ladies were comfortably clearing
  599 the nicer things, to say:

  600 "Mrs Bates, let me propose your venturing on one of these eggs.
  601 An egg boiled very soft is not unwholesome.  Serle understands boiling
  602 an egg better than any body.  I would not recommend an egg boiled
  603 by any body else; but you need not be afraid, they are very small,
  604 you see -- one of our small eggs will not hurt you.  Miss Bates,
  605 let Emma help you to a _little_ bit of tart -- a _very_ little bit.
  606 Ours are all apple-tarts. You need not be afraid of unwholesome
  607 preserves here.  I do not advise the custard.  Mrs Goddard, what say
  608 you to _half_ a glass of wine? A _small_ half-glass, put into a tumbler
  609 of water? I do not think it could disagree with you."

  610 Emma allowed her father to talk -- but supplied her visitors in
  611 a much more satisfactory style, and on the present evening had
  612 particular pleasure in sending them away happy.  The happiness
  613 of Miss Smith was quite equal to her intentions.  Miss Woodhouse
  614 was so great a personage in Highbury, that the prospect of the
  615 introduction had given as much panic as pleasure; but the humble,
  616 grateful little girl went off with highly gratified feelings,
  617 delighted with the affability with which Miss Woodhouse had treated
  618 her all the evening, and actually shaken hands with her at last!

  619 CHAPTER IV

  620 Harriet Smith's intimacy at Hartfield was soon a settled thing.
  621 Quick and decided in her ways, Emma lost no time in inviting, encouraging,
  622 and telling her to come very often; and as their acquaintance increased,
  623 so did their satisfaction in each other.  As a walking companion,
  624 Emma had very early foreseen how useful she might find her.
  625 In that respect Mrs Weston's loss had been important.  Her father
  626 never went beyond the shrubbery, where two divisions of the ground
  627 sufficed him for his long walk, or his short, as the year varied;
  628 and since Mrs Weston's marriage her exercise had been too much confined.
  629 She had ventured once alone to Randalls, but it was not pleasant;
  630 and a Harriet Smith, therefore, one whom she could summon at any
  631 time to a walk, would be a valuable addition to her privileges.
  632 But in every respect, as she saw more of her, she approved her,
  633 and was confirmed in all her kind designs.

  634 Harriet certainly was not clever, but she had a sweet, docile,
  635 grateful disposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring
  636 to be guided by any one she looked up to.  Her early attachment
  637 to herself was very amiable; and her inclination for good company,
  638 and power of appreciating what was elegant and clever, shewed that
  639 there was no want of taste, though strength of understanding must
  640 not be expected.  Altogether she was quite convinced of Harriet Smith's
  641 being exactly the young friend she wanted -- exactly the
  642 something which her home required.  Such a friend as Mrs Weston
  643 was out of the question.  Two such could never be granted.
  644 Two such she did not want.  It was quite a different sort of thing,
  645 a sentiment distinct and independent.  Mrs Weston was the object
  646 of a regard which had its basis in gratitude and esteem.
  647 Harriet would be loved as one to whom she could be useful.
  648 For Mrs Weston there was nothing to be done; for Harriet every thing.

  649 Her first attempts at usefulness were in an endeavour to find out who
  650 were the parents, but Harriet could not tell.  She was ready to tell
  651 every thing in her power, but on this subject questions were vain.
  652 Emma was obliged to fancy what she liked -- but she could never
  653 believe that in the same situation _she_ should not have discovered
  654 the truth.  Harriet had no penetration.  She had been satisfied
  655 to hear and believe just what Mrs Goddard chose to tell her;
  656 and looked no farther.

  657 Mrs Goddard, and the teachers, and the girls and the affairs of the
  658 school in general, formed naturally a great part of the conversation -- and
  659 but for her acquaintance with the Martins of Abbey-Mill Farm,
  660 it must have been the whole.  But the Martins occupied her thoughts
  661 a good deal; she had spent two very happy months with them,
  662 and now loved to talk of the pleasures of her visit, and describe
  663 the many comforts and wonders of the place.  Emma encouraged her
  664 talkativeness -- amused by such a picture of another set of beings,
  665 and enjoying the youthful simplicity which could speak with so much
  666 exultation of Mrs Martin's having "_two_ parlours, two very good parlours,
  667 indeed; one of them quite as large as Mrs Goddard's drawing-room;
  668 and of her having an upper maid who had lived five-and-twenty years
  669 with her; and of their having eight cows, two of them Alderneys,
  670 and one a little Welch cow, a very pretty little Welch cow indeed;
  671 and of Mrs Martin's saying as she was so fond of it, it should be
  672 called _her_ cow; and of their having a very handsome summer-house
  673 in their garden, where some day next year they were all to drink
  674 tea: -- a very handsome summer-house, large enough to hold a dozen people."

  675 For some time she was amused, without thinking beyond the immediate cause;
  676 but as she came to understand the family better, other feelings arose.
  677 She had taken up a wrong idea, fancying it was a mother and daughter,
  678 a son and son's wife, who all lived together; but when it appeared
  679 that the Mr Martin, who bore a part in the narrative, and was always
  680 mentioned with approbation for his great good-nature in doing something
  681 or other, was a single man; that there was no young Mrs Martin,
  682 no wife in the case; she did suspect danger to her poor little
  683 friend from all this hospitality and kindness, and that, if she
  684 were not taken care of, she might be required to sink herself forever.

  685 With this inspiriting notion, her questions increased in number
  686 and meaning; and she particularly led Harriet to talk more of Mr Martin,
  687 and there was evidently no dislike to it.  Harriet was very ready
  688 to speak of the share he had had in their moonlight walks and merry
  689 evening games; and dwelt a good deal upon his being so very good-humoured
  690 and obliging.  He had gone three miles round one day in order to bring
  691 her some walnuts, because she had said how fond she was of them,
  692 and in every thing else he was so very obliging.  He had his
  693 shepherd's son into the parlour one night on purpose to sing to her.
  694 She was very fond of singing.  He could sing a little himself.
  695 She believed he was very clever, and understood every thing.
  696 He had a very fine flock, and, while she was with them,
  697 he had been bid more for his wool than any body in the country.
  698 She believed every body spoke well of him.  His mother and sisters
  699 were very fond of him.  Mrs Martin had told her one day (and there
  700 was a blush as she said it,) that it was impossible for any body
  701 to be a better son, and therefore she was sure, whenever he married,
  702 he would make a good husband.  Not that she _wanted_ him to marry.
  703 She was in no hurry at all.

  704 "Well done, Mrs Martin!" thought Emma.  "You know what you are about."

  705 "And when she had come away, Mrs Martin was so very kind as to send
  706 Mrs Goddard a beautiful goose -- the finest goose Mrs Goddard had
  707 ever seen.  Mrs Goddard had dressed it on a Sunday, and asked all
  708 the three teachers, Miss Nash, and Miss Prince, and Miss Richardson,
  709 to sup with her."

  710 "Mr Martin, I suppose, is not a man of information beyond the line
  711 of his own business? He does not read?"

  712 "Oh yes! -- that is, no -- I do not know -- but I believe he has
  713 read a good deal -- but not what you would think any thing of.
  714 He reads the Agricultural Reports, and some other books that lay
  715 in one of the window seats -- but he reads all _them_ to himself.
  716 But sometimes of an evening, before we went to cards, he would read
  717 something aloud out of the Elegant Extracts, very entertaining.
  718 And I know he has read the Vicar of Wakefield.  He never read the
  719 Romance of the Forest, nor The Children of the Abbey.  He had never
  720 heard of such books before I mentioned them, but he is determined
  721 to get them now as soon as ever he can."

  722 The next question was -- 

  723 "What sort of looking man is Mr Martin?"

  724 "Oh! not handsome -- not at all handsome.  I thought him very plain
  725 at first, but I do not think him so plain now.  One does not, you know,
  726 after a time.  But did you never see him? He is in Highbury every
  727 now and then, and he is sure to ride through every week in his way
  728 to Kingston.  He has passed you very often."

  729 "That may be, and I may have seen him fifty times, but without
  730 having any idea of his name.  A young farmer, whether on horseback
  731 or on foot, is the very last sort of person to raise my curiosity.
  732 The yeomanry are precisely the order of people with whom I feel I
  733 can have nothing to do.  A degree or two lower, and a creditable
  734 appearance might interest me; I might hope to be useful to their
  735 families in some way or other.  But a farmer can need none of my help,
  736 and is, therefore, in one sense, as much above my notice as in every
  737 other he is below it."

  738 "To be sure.  Oh yes! It is not likely you should ever have
  739 observed him; but he knows you very well indeed -- I mean by sight."

  740 "I have no doubt of his being a very respectable young man.
  741 I know, indeed, that he is so, and, as such, wish him well.
  742 What do you imagine his age to be?"

  743 "He was four-and-twenty the 8th of last June, and my birthday is
  744 the 23rd just a fortnight and a day's difference -- which is very odd."

  745 "Only four-and-twenty. That is too young to settle.  His mother is
  746 perfectly right not to be in a hurry.  They seem very comfortable
  747 as they are, and if she were to take any pains to marry him,
  748 she would probably repent it.  Six years hence, if he could meet
  749 with a good sort of young woman in the same rank as his own,
  750 with a little money, it might be very desirable."

  751 "Six years hence! Dear Miss Woodhouse, he would be thirty years old!"

  752 "Well, and that is as early as most men can afford to marry,
  753 who are not born to an independence.  Mr Martin, I imagine,
  754 has his fortune entirely to make -- cannot be at all beforehand with
  755 the world.  Whatever money he might come into when his father died,
  756 whatever his share of the family property, it is, I dare say,
  757 all afloat, all employed in his stock, and so forth; and though,
  758 with diligence and good luck, he may be rich in time, it is next to
  759 impossible that he should have realised any thing yet."

  760 "To be sure, so it is.  But they live very comfortably.
  761 They have no indoors man, else they do not want for any thing;
  762 and Mrs Martin talks of taking a boy another year."

  763 "I wish you may not get into a scrape, Harriet, whenever he does
  764 marry; -- I mean, as to being acquainted with his wife -- for though
  765 his sisters, from a superior education, are not to be altogether
  766 objected to, it does not follow that he might marry any body at all fit
  767 for you to notice.  The misfortune of your birth ought to make you
  768 particularly careful as to your associates.  There can be no doubt
  769 of your being a gentleman's daughter, and you must support your
  770 claim to that station by every thing within your own power, or there
  771 will be plenty of people who would take pleasure in degrading you."

  772 "Yes, to be sure, I suppose there are.  But while I visit
  773 at Hartfield, and you are so kind to me, Miss Woodhouse,
  774 I am not afraid of what any body can do."

  775 "You understand the force of influence pretty well, Harriet; but I
  776 would have you so firmly established in good society, as to be
  777 independent even of Hartfield and Miss Woodhouse.  I want to see you
  778 permanently well connected, and to that end it will be advisable
  779 to have as few odd acquaintance as may be; and, therefore, I say
  780 that if you should still be in this country when Mr Martin marries,
  781 I wish you may not be drawn in by your intimacy with the sisters,
  782 to be acquainted with the wife, who will probably be some mere
  783 farmer's daughter, without education."

  784 "To be sure.  Yes.  Not that I think Mr Martin would ever marry any body
  785 but what had had some education -- and been very well brought up.
  786 However, I do not mean to set up my opinion against your's -- and I
  787 am sure I shall not wish for the acquaintance of his wife.  I shall
  788 always have a great regard for the Miss Martins, especially Elizabeth,
  789 and should be very sorry to give them up, for they are quite as well
  790 educated as me.  But if he marries a very ignorant, vulgar woman,
  791 certainly I had better not visit her, if I can help it."

  792 Emma watched her through the fluctuations of this speech,
  793 and saw no alarming symptoms of love.  The young man had been
  794 the first admirer, but she trusted there was no other hold,
  795 and that there would be no serious difficulty, on Harriet's side,
  796 to oppose any friendly arrangement of her own.

  797 They met Mr Martin the very next day, as they were walking on the
  798 Donwell road.  He was on foot, and after looking very respectfully
  799 at her, looked with most unfeigned satisfaction at her companion.
  800 Emma was not sorry to have such an opportunity of survey;
  801 and walking a few yards forward, while they talked together, soon made
  802 her quick eye sufficiently acquainted with Mr Robert Martin.
  803 His appearance was very neat, and he looked like a sensible young man,
  804 but his person had no other advantage; and when he came to be
  805 contrasted with gentlemen, she thought he must lose all the ground
  806 he had gained in Harriet's inclination.  Harriet was not insensible
  807 of manner; she had voluntarily noticed her father's gentleness
  808 with admiration as well as wonder.  Mr Martin looked as if he
  809 did not know what manner was.

  810 They remained but a few minutes together, as Miss Woodhouse must
  811 not be kept waiting; and Harriet then came running to her with a
  812 smiling face, and in a flutter of spirits, which Miss Woodhouse
  813 hoped very soon to compose.

  814 "Only think of our happening to meet him! -- How very odd! It was
  815 quite a chance, he said, that he had not gone round by Randalls.
  816 He did not think we ever walked this road.  He thought we walked
  817 towards Randalls most days.  He has not been able to get the
  818 Romance of the Forest yet.  He was so busy the last time he was
  819 at Kingston that he quite forgot it, but he goes again to-morrow.
  820 So very odd we should happen to meet! Well, Miss Woodhouse, is he
  821 like what you expected? What do you think of him? Do you think him
  822 so very plain?"

  823 "He is very plain, undoubtedly -- remarkably plain: -- but that is
  824 nothing compared with his entire want of gentility.  I had no
  825 right to expect much, and I did not expect much; but I had no
  826 idea that he could be so very clownish, so totally without air.
  827 I had imagined him, I confess, a degree or two nearer gentility."

  828 "To be sure," said Harriet, in a mortified voice, "he is not
  829 so genteel as real gentlemen."

  830 "I think, Harriet, since your acquaintance with us, you have been
  831 repeatedly in the company of some such very real gentlemen,
  832 that you must yourself be struck with the difference in Mr Martin.
  833 At Hartfield, you have had very good specimens of well educated,
  834 well bred men.  I should be surprized if, after seeing them,
  835 you could be in company with Mr Martin again without perceiving
  836 him to be a very inferior creature -- and rather wondering at
  837 yourself for having ever thought him at all agreeable before.
  838 Do not you begin to feel that now? Were not you struck? I am sure
  839 you must have been struck by his awkward look and abrupt manner,
  840 and the uncouthness of a voice which I heard to be wholly unmodulated
  841 as I stood here."

  842 "Certainly, he is not like Mr Knightley.  He has not such a fine
  843 air and way of walking as Mr Knightley.  I see the difference
  844 plain enough.  But Mr Knightley is so very fine a man!"

  845 "Mr Knightley's air is so remarkably good that it is not fair
  846 to compare Mr Martin with _him_.  You might not see one in a hundred
  847 with _gentleman_ so plainly written as in Mr Knightley.  But he is
  848 not the only gentleman you have been lately used to.  What say you
  849 to Mr Weston and Mr Elton? Compare Mr Martin with either of _them_.
  850 Compare their manner of carrying themselves; of walking; of speaking;
  851 of being silent.  You must see the difference."

  852 "Oh yes! -- there is a great difference.  But Mr Weston is almost
  853 an old man.  Mr Weston must be between forty and fifty."

  854 "Which makes his good manners the more valuable.  The older a
  855 person grows, Harriet, the more important it is that their manners
  856 should not be bad; the more glaring and disgusting any loudness,
  857 or coarseness, or awkwardness becomes.  What is passable in youth
  858 is detestable in later age.  Mr Martin is now awkward and abrupt;
  859 what will he be at Mr Weston's time of life?"

  860 "There is no saying, indeed," replied Harriet rather solemnly.

  861 "But there may be pretty good guessing.  He will be a completely gross,
  862 vulgar farmer, totally inattentive to appearances, and thinking
  863 of nothing but profit and loss."

  864 "Will he, indeed? That will be very bad."

  865 "How much his business engrosses him already is very plain from the
  866 circumstance of his forgetting to inquire for the book you recommended.
  867 He was a great deal too full of the market to think of any thing
  868 else -- which is just as it should be, for a thriving man.  What has
  869 he to do with books? And I have no doubt that he _will_ thrive,
  870 and be a very rich man in time -- and his being illiterate and coarse
  871 need not disturb _us_."

  872 "I wonder he did not remember the book" -- was all Harriet's answer,
  873 and spoken with a degree of grave displeasure which Emma thought might
  874 be safely left to itself.  She, therefore, said no more for some time.
  875 Her next beginning was,

  876 "In one respect, perhaps, Mr Elton's manners are superior
  877 to Mr Knightley's or Mr Weston's. They have more gentleness.
  878 They might be more safely held up as a pattern.  There is an openness,
  879 a quickness, almost a bluntness in Mr Weston, which every body
  880 likes in _him_, because there is so much good-humour with it -- but
  881 that would not do to be copied.  Neither would Mr Knightley's
  882 downright, decided, commanding sort of manner, though it suits
  883 _him_ very well; his figure, and look, and situation in life seem
  884 to allow it; but if any young man were to set about copying him,
  885 he would not be sufferable.  On the contrary, I think a young man
  886 might be very safely recommended to take Mr Elton as a model.
  887 Mr Elton is good-humoured, cheerful, obliging, and gentle.
  888 He seems to me to be grown particularly gentle of late.  I do not
  889 know whether he has any design of ingratiating himself with either
  890 of us, Harriet, by additional softness, but it strikes me that his
  891 manners are softer than they used to be.  If he means any thing,
  892 it must be to please you.  Did not I tell you what he said of you
  893 the other day?"

  894 She then repeated some warm personal praise which she had drawn
  895 from Mr Elton, and now did full justice to; and Harriet blushed
  896 and smiled, and said she had always thought Mr Elton very agreeable.

  897 Mr Elton was the very person fixed on by Emma for driving
  898 the young farmer out of Harriet's head.  She thought it would
  899 be an excellent match; and only too palpably desirable, natural,
  900 and probable, for her to have much merit in planning it.
  901 She feared it was what every body else must think of and predict.
  902 It was not likely, however, that any body should have equalled
  903 her in the date of the plan, as it had entered her brain during
  904 the very first evening of Harriet's coming to Hartfield.  The longer
  905 she considered it, the greater was her sense of its expediency.
  906 Mr Elton's situation was most suitable, quite the gentleman himself,
  907 and without low connexions; at the same time, not of any family
  908 that could fairly object to the doubtful birth of Harriet.  He had a
  909 comfortable home for her, and Emma imagined a very sufficient income;
  910 for though the vicarage of Highbury was not large, he was known
  911 to have some independent property; and she thought very highly
  912 of him as a good-humoured, well-meaning, respectable young man,
  913 without any deficiency of useful understanding or knowledge of the world.

  914 She had already satisfied herself that he thought Harriet a beautiful
  915 girl, which she trusted, with such frequent meetings at Hartfield,
  916 was foundation enough on his side; and on Harriet's there could be
  917 little doubt that the idea of being preferred by him would have all
  918 the usual weight and efficacy.  And he was really a very pleasing
  919 young man, a young man whom any woman not fastidious might like.
  920 He was reckoned very handsome; his person much admired in general,
  921 though not by her, there being a want of elegance of feature which
  922 she could not dispense with: -- but the girl who could be gratified
  923 by a Robert Martin's riding about the country to get walnuts
  924 for her might very well be conquered by Mr Elton's admiration.

  925 CHAPTER V

  926 "I do not know what your opinion may be, Mrs Weston," said
  927 Mr Knightley, "of this great intimacy between Emma and Harriet Smith,
  928 but I think it a bad thing."

  929 "A bad thing! Do you really think it a bad thing? -- why so?"

  930 "I think they will neither of them do the other any good."

  931 "You surprize me! Emma must do Harriet good: and by supplying her
  932 with a new object of interest, Harriet may be said to do Emma good.
  933 I have been seeing their intimacy with the greatest pleasure.
  934 How very differently we feel! -- Not think they will do each other any
  935 good! This will certainly be the beginning of one of our quarrels
  936 about Emma, Mr Knightley."

  937 "Perhaps you think I am come on purpose to quarrel with you,
  938 knowing Weston to be out, and that you must still fight your own battle."

  939 "Mr Weston would undoubtedly support me, if he were here,
  940 for he thinks exactly as I do on the subject.  We were speaking
  941 of it only yesterday, and agreeing how fortunate it was for Emma,
  942 that there should be such a girl in Highbury for her to associate with.
  943 Mr Knightley, I shall not allow you to be a fair judge in this case.
  944 You are so much used to live alone, that you do not know the value
  945 of a companion; and, perhaps no man can be a good judge of the comfort
  946 a woman feels in the society of one of her own sex, after being used
  947 to it all her life.  I can imagine your objection to Harriet Smith.
  948 She is not the superior young woman which Emma's friend ought to be.
  949 But on the other hand, as Emma wants to see her better informed,
  950 it will be an inducement to her to read more herself.  They will
  951 read together.  She means it, I know."

  952 "Emma has been meaning to read more ever since she was twelve
  953 years old.  I have seen a great many lists of her drawing-up at
  954 various times of books that she meant to read regularly through -- and
  955 very good lists they were -- very well chosen, and very neatly
  956 arranged -- sometimes alphabetically, and sometimes by some other rule.
  957 The list she drew up when only fourteen -- I remember thinking it
  958 did her judgment so much credit, that I preserved it some time;
  959 and I dare say she may have made out a very good list now.  But I
  960 have done with expecting any course of steady reading from Emma.
  961 She will never submit to any thing requiring industry and patience,
  962 and a subjection of the fancy to the understanding.  Where Miss Taylor
  963 failed to stimulate, I may safely affirm that Harriet Smith will do
  964 nothing. -- You never could persuade her to read half so much as you
  965 wished. -- You know you could not."

  966 "I dare say," replied Mrs Weston, smiling, "that I thought
  967 so _then_; -- but since we have parted, I can never remember Emma's
  968 omitting to do any thing I wished."

  969 "There is hardly any desiring to refresh such a memory as _that_," -- said
  970 Mr Knightley, feelingly; and for a moment or two he had done.  "But I,"
  971 he soon added, "who have had no such charm thrown over my senses,
  972 must still see, hear, and remember.  Emma is spoiled by being the
  973 cleverest of her family.  At ten years old, she had the misfortune of
  974 being able to answer questions which puzzled her sister at seventeen.
  975 She was always quick and assured: Isabella slow and diffident.
  976 And ever since she was twelve, Emma has been mistress of the house
  977 and of you all.  In her mother she lost the only person able to cope
  978 with her.  She inherits her mother's talents, and must have been
  979 under subjection to her."

  980 "I should have been sorry, Mr Knightley, to be dependent on
  981 _your_ recommendation, had I quitted Mr Woodhouse's family and wanted
  982 another situation; I do not think you would have spoken a good word for
  983 me to any body.  I am sure you always thought me unfit for the office I held."

  984 "Yes," said he, smiling.  "You are better placed _here_; very fit
  985 for a wife, but not at all for a governess.  But you were preparing
  986 yourself to be an excellent wife all the time you were at Hartfield.
  987 You might not give Emma such a complete education as your powers would
  988 seem to promise; but you were receiving a very good education from _her_,
  989 on the very material matrimonial point of submitting your own will,
  990 and doing as you were bid; and if Weston had asked me to recommend
  991 him a wife, I should certainly have named Miss Taylor."

  992 "Thank you.  There will be very little merit in making a good wife
  993 to such a man as Mr Weston."

  994 "Why, to own the truth, I am afraid you are rather thrown away,
  995 and that with every disposition to bear, there will be nothing
  996 to be borne.  We will not despair, however.  Weston may grow cross
  997 from the wantonness of comfort, or his son may plague him."

  998 "I hope not _that_. -- It is not likely.  No, Mr Knightley, do not
  999 foretell vexation from that quarter."

 1000 "Not I, indeed.  I only name possibilities.  I do not pretend to Emma's
 1001 genius for foretelling and guessing.  I hope, with all my heart,
 1002 the young man may be a Weston in merit, and a Churchill in fortune. -- But
 1003 Harriet Smith -- I have not half done about Harriet Smith.  I think
 1004 her the very worst sort of companion that Emma could possibly have.
 1005 She knows nothing herself, and looks upon Emma as knowing every thing.
 1006 She is a flatterer in all her ways; and so much the worse,
 1007 because undesigned.  Her ignorance is hourly flattery.  How can
 1008 Emma imagine she has any thing to learn herself, while Harriet
 1009 is presenting such a delightful inferiority? And as for Harriet,
 1010 I will venture to say that _she_ cannot gain by the acquaintance.
 1011 Hartfield will only put her out of conceit with all the other places
 1012 she belongs to.  She will grow just refined enough to be uncomfortable
 1013 with those among whom birth and circumstances have placed her home.
 1014 I am much mistaken if Emma's doctrines give any strength of mind,
 1015 or tend at all to make a girl adapt herself rationally to the varieties
 1016 of her situation in life. -- They only give a little polish."

 1017 "I either depend more upon Emma's good sense than you do, or am more
 1018 anxious for her present comfort; for I cannot lament the acquaintance.
 1019 How well she looked last night!"

 1020 "Oh! you would rather talk of her person than her mind, would you?
 1021 Very well; I shall not attempt to deny Emma's being pretty."

 1022 "Pretty! say beautiful rather.  Can you imagine any thing nearer
 1023 perfect beauty than Emma altogether -- face and figure?"

 1024 "I do not know what I could imagine, but I confess that I have
 1025 seldom seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers.
 1026 But I am a partial old friend."

 1027 "Such an eye! -- the true hazle eye -- and so brilliant! regular features,
 1028 open countenance, with a complexion! oh! what a bloom of full health,
 1029 and such a pretty height and size; such a firm and upright figure!
 1030 There is health, not merely in her bloom, but in her air, her head,
 1031 her glance.  One hears sometimes of a child being `the picture
 1032 of health;' now, Emma always gives me the idea of being the complete
 1033 picture of grown-up health.  She is loveliness itself.  Mr Knightley,
 1034 is not she?"

 1035 "I have not a fault to find with her person," he replied.
 1036 "I think her all you describe.  I love to look at her; and I
 1037 will add this praise, that I do not think her personally vain.
 1038 Considering how very handsome she is, she appears to be little
 1039 occupied with it; her vanity lies another way.  Mrs Weston, I am
 1040 not to be talked out of my dislike of Harriet Smith, or my dread
 1041 of its doing them both harm."

 1042 "And I, Mr Knightley, am equally stout in my confidence of its
 1043 not doing them any harm.  With all dear Emma's little faults,
 1044 she is an excellent creature.  Where shall we see a better daughter,
 1045 or a kinder sister, or a truer friend? No, no; she has qualities
 1046 which may be trusted; she will never lead any one really wrong;
 1047 she will make no lasting blunder; where Emma errs once, she is in the
 1048 right a hundred times."

 1049 "Very well; I will not plague you any more.  Emma shall be an angel,
 1050 and I will keep my spleen to myself till Christmas brings John
 1051 and Isabella.  John loves Emma with a reasonable and therefore
 1052 not a blind affection, and Isabella always thinks as he does;
 1053 except when he is not quite frightened enough about the children.
 1054 I am sure of having their opinions with me."

 1055 "I know that you all love her really too well to be unjust or unkind;
 1056 but excuse me, Mr Knightley, if I take the liberty (I consider myself,
 1057 you know, as having somewhat of the privilege of speech that Emma's
 1058 mother might have had) the liberty of hinting that I do not think
 1059 any possible good can arise from Harriet Smith's intimacy being made
 1060 a matter of much discussion among you.  Pray excuse me; but supposing
 1061 any little inconvenience may be apprehended from the intimacy,
 1062 it cannot be expected that Emma, accountable to nobody but her father,
 1063 who perfectly approves the acquaintance, should put an end to it,
 1064 so long as it is a source of pleasure to herself.  It has been so
 1065 many years my province to give advice, that you cannot be surprized,
 1066 Mr Knightley, at this little remains of office."

 1067 "Not at all," cried he; "I am much obliged to you for it.
 1068 It is very good advice, and it shall have a better fate than your
 1069 advice has often found; for it shall be attended to."

 1070 "Mrs John Knightley is easily alarmed, and might be made unhappy
 1071 about her sister."

 1072 "Be satisfied," said he, "I will not raise any outcry.  I will keep
 1073 my ill-humour to myself.  I have a very sincere interest in Emma.
 1074 Isabella does not seem more my sister; has never excited a
 1075 greater interest; perhaps hardly so great.  There is an anxiety,
 1076 a curiosity in what one feels for Emma.  I wonder what will become
 1077 of her!"

 1078 "So do I," said Mrs Weston gently, "very much."

 1079 "She always declares she will never marry, which, of course,
 1080 means just nothing at all.  But I have no idea that she has yet
 1081 ever seen a man she cared for.  It would not be a bad thing for her
 1082 to be very much in love with a proper object.  I should like to see
 1083 Emma in love, and in some doubt of a return; it would do her good.
 1084 But there is nobody hereabouts to attach her; and she goes so seldom
 1085 from home."

 1086 "There does, indeed, seem as little to tempt her to break
 1087 her resolution at present," said Mrs Weston, "as can well be;
 1088 and while she is so happy at Hartfield, I cannot wish her to be
 1089 forming any attachment which would be creating such difficulties
 1090 on poor Mr Woodhouse's account.  I do not recommend matrimony
 1091 at present to Emma, though I mean no slight to the state, I assure you."

 1092 Part of her meaning was to conceal some favourite thoughts of
 1093 her own and Mr Weston's on the subject, as much as possible.
 1094 There were wishes at Randalls respecting Emma's destiny, but it
 1095 was not desirable to have them suspected; and the quiet transition
 1096 which Mr Knightley soon afterwards made to "What does Weston
 1097 think of the weather; shall we have rain?" convinced her that he
 1098 had nothing more to say or surmise about Hartfield.



 1099 CHAPTER VI


 1100 Emma could not feel a doubt of having given Harriet's fancy
 1101 a proper direction and raised the gratitude of her young vanity
 1102 to a very good purpose, for she found her decidedly more sensible
 1103 than before of Mr Elton's being a remarkably handsome man, with most
 1104 agreeable manners; and as she had no hesitation in following up
 1105 the assurance of his admiration by agreeable hints, she was soon
 1106 pretty confident of creating as much liking on Harriet's side,
 1107 as there could be any occasion for.  She was quite convinced
 1108 of Mr Elton's being in the fairest way of falling in love,
 1109 if not in love already.  She had no scruple with regard to him.
 1110 He talked of Harriet, and praised her so warmly, that she could
 1111 not suppose any thing wanting which a little time would not add.
 1112 His perception of the striking improvement of Harriet's manner,
 1113 since her introduction at Hartfield, was not one of the least
 1114 agreeable proofs of his growing attachment.

 1115 "You have given Miss Smith all that she required," said he;
 1116 "you have made her graceful and easy.  She was a beautiful creature
 1117 when she came to you, but, in my opinion, the attractions you have
 1118 added are infinitely superior to what she received from nature."

 1119 "I am glad you think I have been useful to her; but Harriet
 1120 only wanted drawing out, and receiving a few, very few hints.
 1121 She had all the natural grace of sweetness of temper and artlessness
 1122 in herself.  I have done very little."

 1123 "If it were admissible to contradict a lady," said the gallant
 1124 Mr Elton -- 

 1125 "I have perhaps given her a little more decision of character,
 1126 have taught her to think on points which had not fallen in her
 1127 way before."

 1128 "Exactly so; that is what principally strikes me.  So much superadded
 1129 decision of character! Skilful has been the hand!"

 1130 "Great has been the pleasure, I am sure.  I never met with
 1131 a disposition more truly amiable."

 1132 "I have no doubt of it." And it was spoken with a sort
 1133 of sighing animation, which had a vast deal of the lover.
 1134 She was not less pleased another day with the manner
 1135 in which he seconded a sudden wish of hers, to have Harriet's picture.

 1136 "Did you ever have your likeness taken, Harriet?" said she: "did
 1137 you ever sit for your picture?"

 1138 Harriet was on the point of leaving the room, and only stopt to say,
 1139 with a very interesting naivete,

 1140 "Oh! dear, no, never."

 1141 No sooner was she out of sight, than Emma exclaimed,

 1142 "What an exquisite possession a good picture of her would be! I would
 1143 give any money for it.  I almost long to attempt her likeness myself.
 1144 You do not know it I dare say, but two or three years ago I had
 1145 a great passion for taking likenesses, and attempted several of
 1146 my friends, and was thought to have a tolerable eye in general.
 1147 But from one cause or another, I gave it up in disgust.
 1148 But really, I could almost venture, if Harriet would sit to me.
 1149 It would be such a delight to have her picture!"

 1150 "Let me entreat you," cried Mr Elton; "it would indeed be a delight!
 1151 Let me entreat you, Miss Woodhouse, to exercise so charming a
 1152 talent in favour of your friend.  I know what your drawings are.
 1153 How could you suppose me ignorant? Is not this room rich in
 1154 specimens of your landscapes and flowers; and has not Mrs Weston
 1155 some inimitable figure-pieces in her drawing-room, at Randalls?"

 1156 Yes, good man! -- thought Emma -- but what has all that to do with taking
 1157 likenesses? You know nothing of drawing.  Don't pretend to be
 1158 in raptures about mine.  Keep your raptures for Harriet's face.
 1159 "Well, if you give me such kind encouragement, Mr Elton, I believe
 1160 I shall try what I can do.  Harriet's features are very delicate,
 1161 which makes a likeness difficult; and yet there is a peculiarity
 1162 in the shape of the eye and the lines about the mouth which one ought
 1163 to catch."

 1164 "Exactly so -- The shape of the eye and the lines about the mouth -- I
 1165 have not a doubt of your success.  Pray, pray attempt it.
 1166 As you will do it, it will indeed, to use your own words,
 1167 be an exquisite possession."

 1168 "But I am afraid, Mr Elton, Harriet will not like to sit.
 1169 She thinks so little of her own beauty.  Did not you observe her
 1170 manner of answering me? How completely it meant, `why should my
 1171 picture be drawn?'"

 1172 "Oh! yes, I observed it, I assure you.  It was not lost on me.
 1173 But still I cannot imagine she would not be persuaded."

 1174 Harriet was soon back again, and the proposal almost immediately made;
 1175 and she had no scruples which could stand many minutes against the earnest
 1176 pressing of both the others.  Emma wished to go to work directly,
 1177 and therefore produced the portfolio containing her various attempts
 1178 at portraits, for not one of them had ever been finished, that they
 1179 might decide together on the best size for Harriet.  Her many
 1180 beginnings were displayed.  Miniatures, half-lengths, whole-lengths,
 1181 pencil, crayon, and water-colours had been all tried in turn.
 1182 She had always wanted to do every thing, and had made more progress
 1183 both in drawing and music than many might have done with so little
 1184 labour as she would ever submit to.  She played and sang; -- and drew
 1185 in almost every style; but steadiness had always been wanting;
 1186 and in nothing had she approached the degree of excellence which she
 1187 would have been glad to command, and ought not to have failed of.
 1188 She was not much deceived as to her own skill either as an artist
 1189 or a musician, but she was not unwilling to have others deceived,
 1190 or sorry to know her reputation for accomplishment often higher
 1191 than it deserved.

 1192 There was merit in every drawing -- in the least finished, perhaps the most;
 1193 her style was spirited; but had there been much less, or had there
 1194 been ten times more, the delight and admiration of her two companions
 1195 would have been the same.  They were both in ecstasies.  A likeness
 1196 pleases every body; and Miss Woodhouse's performances must be capital.

 1197 "No great variety of faces for you," said Emma.  "I had only my
 1198 own family to study from.  There is my father -- another of my
 1199 father -- but the idea of sitting for his picture made him so nervous,
 1200 that I could only take him by stealth; neither of them very
 1201 like therefore.  Mrs Weston again, and again, and again, you see.
 1202 Dear Mrs Weston! always my kindest friend on every occasion.
 1203 She would sit whenever I asked her.  There is my sister; and really
 1204 quite her own little elegant figure! -- and the face not unlike.
 1205 I should have made a good likeness of her, if she would have
 1206 sat longer, but she was in such a hurry to have me draw her four
 1207 children that she would not be quiet.  Then, here come all my
 1208 attempts at three of those four children; -- there they are,
 1209 Henry and John and Bella, from one end of the sheet to the other,
 1210 and any one of them might do for any one of the rest.  She was so
 1211 eager to have them drawn that I could not refuse; but there is no
 1212 making children of three or four years old stand still you know;
 1213 nor can it be very easy to take any likeness of them, beyond the
 1214 air and complexion, unless they are coarser featured than any
 1215 of mama's children ever were.  Here is my sketch of the fourth,
 1216 who was a baby.  I took him as he was sleeping on the sofa, and it
 1217 is as strong a likeness of his cockade as you would wish to see.
 1218 He had nestled down his head most conveniently.  That's very like.
 1219 I am rather proud of little George.  The corner of the sofa is very good.
 1220 Then here is my last," -- unclosing a pretty sketch of a gentleman
 1221 in small size, whole-length -- "my last and my best -- my brother,
 1222 Mr John Knightley. -- This did not want much of being finished, when I
 1223 put it away in a pet, and vowed I would never take another likeness.
 1224 I could not help being provoked; for after all my pains, and when I
 1225 had really made a very good likeness of it -- (Mrs Weston and I
 1226 were quite agreed in thinking it _very_ like) -- only too handsome -- too
 1227 flattering -- but that was a fault on the right side -- after
 1228 all this, came poor dear Isabella's cold approbation of -- "Yes,
 1229 it was a little like -- but to be sure it did not do him justice."
 1230 We had had a great deal of trouble in persuading him to sit at all.
 1231 It was made a great favour of; and altogether it was more than I
 1232 could bear; and so I never would finish it, to have it apologised
 1233 over as an unfavourable likeness, to every morning visitor in
 1234 Brunswick Square; -- and, as I said, I did then forswear ever drawing
 1235 any body again.  But for Harriet's sake, or rather for my own,
 1236 and as there are no husbands and wives in the case _at_ _present_,
 1237 I will break my resolution now."

 1238 Mr Elton seemed very properly struck and delighted by the idea,
 1239 and was repeating, "No husbands and wives in the case at present
 1240 indeed, as you observe.  Exactly so.  No husbands and wives,"
 1241 with so interesting a consciousness, that Emma began to consider
 1242 whether she had not better leave them together at once.  But as she
 1243 wanted to be drawing, the declaration must wait a little longer.

 1244 She had soon fixed on the size and sort of portrait.
 1245 It was to be a whole-length in water-colours, like Mr John Knightley's,
 1246 and was destined, if she could please herself,
 1247 to hold a very honourable station over the mantelpiece.

 1248 The sitting began; and Harriet, smiling and blushing, and afraid
 1249 of not keeping her attitude and countenance, presented a very sweet
 1250 mixture of youthful expression to the steady eyes of the artist.
 1251 But there was no doing any thing, with Mr Elton fidgeting behind
 1252 her and watching every touch.  She gave him credit for stationing
 1253 himself where he might gaze and gaze again without offence;
 1254 but was really obliged to put an end to it, and request him to
 1255 place himself elsewhere.  It then occurred to her to employ him
 1256 in reading.

 1257 "If he would be so good as to read to them, it would be a kindness
 1258 indeed! It would amuse away the difficulties of her part, and lessen
 1259 the irksomeness of Miss Smith's."

 1260 Mr Elton was only too happy.  Harriet listened, and Emma drew
 1261 in peace.  She must allow him to be still frequently coming to look;
 1262 any thing less would certainly have been too little in a lover;
 1263 and he was ready at the smallest intermission of the pencil,
 1264 to jump up and see the progress, and be charmed. -- There was no
 1265 being displeased with such an encourager, for his admiration
 1266 made him discern a likeness almost before it was possible.
 1267 She could not respect his eye, but his love and his complaisance
 1268 were unexceptionable.

 1269 The sitting was altogether very satisfactory; she was quite
 1270 enough pleased with the first day's sketch to wish to go on.
 1271 There was no want of likeness, she had been fortunate in the attitude,
 1272 and as she meant to throw in a little improvement to the figure,
 1273 to give a little more height, and considerably more elegance, she had
 1274 great confidence of its being in every way a pretty drawing at last,
 1275 and of its filling its destined place with credit to them both -- a
 1276 standing memorial of the beauty of one, the skill of the other,
 1277 and the friendship of both; with as many other agreeable associations
 1278 as Mr Elton's very promising attachment was likely to add.

 1279 Harriet was to sit again the next day; and Mr Elton, just as he ought,
 1280 entreated for the permission of attending and reading to them again.

 1281 "By all means.  We shall be most happy to consider you as one
 1282 of the party."

 1283 The same civilities and courtesies, the same success and satisfaction,
 1284 took place on the morrow, and accompanied the whole progress
 1285 of the picture, which was rapid and happy.  Every body who saw it
 1286 was pleased, but Mr Elton was in continual raptures, and defended
 1287 it through every criticism.

 1288 "Miss Woodhouse has given her friend the only beauty she
 1289 wanted," -- observed Mrs Weston to him -- not in the least suspecting
 1290 that she was addressing a lover. -- "The expression of the eye is
 1291 most correct, but Miss Smith has not those eyebrows and eyelashes.
 1292 It is the fault of her face that she has them not."

 1293 "Do you think so?" replied he.  "I cannot agree with you.
 1294 It appears to me a most perfect resemblance in every feature.
 1295 I never saw such a likeness in my life.  We must allow for the effect
 1296 of shade, you know."

 1297 "You have made her too tall, Emma," said Mr Knightley.

 1298 Emma knew that she had, but would not own it; and Mr Elton warmly added,

 1299 "Oh no! certainly not too tall; not in the least too tall.  Consider,
 1300 she is sitting down -- which naturally presents a different -- which
 1301 in short gives exactly the idea -- and the proportions must
 1302 be preserved, you know.  Proportions, fore-shortening. -- Oh no! it
 1303 gives one exactly the idea of such a height as Miss Smith's. Exactly so indeed!"

 1304 "It is very pretty," said Mr Woodhouse.  "So prettily done! Just
 1305 as your drawings always are, my dear.  I do not know any body who draws
 1306 so well as you do.  The only thing I do not thoroughly like is,
 1307 that she seems to be sitting out of doors, with only a little shawl
 1308 over her shoulders -- and it makes one think she must catch cold."

 1309 "But, my dear papa, it is supposed to be summer; a warm day in summer.
 1310 Look at the tree."

 1311 "But it is never safe to sit out of doors, my dear."

 1312 "You, sir, may say any thing," cried Mr Elton, "but I must confess
 1313 that I regard it as a most happy thought, the placing of Miss
 1314 Smith out of doors; and the tree is touched with such inimitable
 1315 spirit! Any other situation would have been much less in character.
 1316 The naivete of Miss Smith's manners -- and altogether -- Oh, it is
 1317 most admirable! I cannot keep my eyes from it.  I never saw such
 1318 a likeness."

 1319 The next thing wanted was to get the picture framed; and here were a
 1320 few difficulties.  It must be done directly; it must be done in London;
 1321 the order must go through the hands of some intelligent person whose taste
 1322 could be depended on; and Isabella, the usual doer of all commissions,
 1323 must not be applied to, because it was December, and Mr Woodhouse
 1324 could not bear the idea of her stirring out of her house in the fogs
 1325 of December.  But no sooner was the distress known to Mr Elton,
 1326 than it was removed.  His gallantry was always on the alert.
 1327 "Might he be trusted with the commission, what infinite pleasure
 1328 should he have in executing it! he could ride to London at any time.
 1329 It was impossible to say how much he should be gratified by being
 1330 employed on such an errand."

 1331 "He was too good! -- she could not endure the thought! -- she would
 1332 not give him such a troublesome office for the world," -- brought
 1333 on the desired repetition of entreaties and assurances, -- and
 1334 a very few minutes settled the business.

 1335 Mr Elton was to take the drawing to London, chuse the frame,
 1336 and give the directions; and Emma thought she could so pack it
 1337 as to ensure its safety without much incommoding him, while he
 1338 seemed mostly fearful of not being incommoded enough.

 1339 "What a precious deposit!" said he with a tender sigh, as he
 1340 received it.

 1341 "This man is almost too gallant to be in love," thought Emma.
 1342 "I should say so, but that I suppose there may be a hundred different
 1343 ways of being in love.  He is an excellent young man, and will suit
 1344 Harriet exactly; it will be an `Exactly so,' as he says himself;
 1345 but he does sigh and languish, and study for compliments rather more
 1346 than I could endure as a principal.  I come in for a pretty good
 1347 share as a second.  But it is his gratitude on Harriet's account."



 1348 CHAPTER VII


 1349 The very day of Mr Elton's going to London produced a fresh occasion
 1350 for Emma's services towards her friend.  Harriet had been at Hartfield,
 1351 as usual, soon after breakfast; and, after a time, had gone home
 1352 to return again to dinner: she returned, and sooner than had been
 1353 talked of, and with an agitated, hurried look, announcing something
 1354 extraordinary to have happened which she was longing to tell.
 1355 Half a minute brought it all out.  She had heard, as soon as she got
 1356 back to Mrs Goddard's, that Mr Martin had been there an hour before,
 1357 and finding she was not at home, nor particularly expected, had left
 1358 a little parcel for her from one of his sisters, and gone away;
 1359 and on opening this parcel, she had actually found, besides the two
 1360 songs which she had lent Elizabeth to copy, a letter to herself;
 1361 and this letter was from him, from Mr Martin, and contained a direct
 1362 proposal of marriage.  "Who could have thought it? She was so surprized
 1363 she did not know what to do.  Yes, quite a proposal of marriage;
 1364 and a very good letter, at least she thought so.  And he wrote
 1365 as if he really loved her very much -- but she did not know -- and so,
 1366 she was come as fast as she could to ask Miss Woodhouse what she
 1367 should do. -- " Emma was half-ashamed of her friend for seeming so
 1368 pleased and so doubtful.

 1369 "Upon my word," she cried, "the young man is determined not to lose
 1370 any thing for want of asking.  He will connect himself well if he can."

 1371 "Will you read the letter?" cried Harriet.  "Pray do.  I'd rather
 1372 you would."

 1373 Emma was not sorry to be pressed.  She read, and was surprized.
 1374 The style of the letter was much above her expectation.
 1375 There were not merely no grammatical errors, but as a composition it
 1376 would not have disgraced a gentleman; the language, though plain,
 1377 was strong and unaffected, and the sentiments it conveyed very much
 1378 to the credit of the writer.  It was short, but expressed good sense,
 1379 warm attachment, liberality, propriety, even delicacy of feeling.
 1380 She paused over it, while Harriet stood anxiously watching for
 1381 her opinion, with a "Well, well," and was at last forced to add,
 1382 "Is it a good letter? or is it too short?"

 1383 "Yes, indeed, a very good letter," replied Emma rather slowly -- "so
 1384 good a letter, Harriet, that every thing considered, I think one of
 1385 his sisters must have helped him.  I can hardly imagine the young
 1386 man whom I saw talking with you the other day could express himself
 1387 so well, if left quite to his own powers, and yet it is not the
 1388 style of a woman; no, certainly, it is too strong and concise;
 1389 not diffuse enough for a woman.  No doubt he is a sensible man,
 1390 and I suppose may have a natural talent for -- thinks strongly and
 1391 clearly -- and when he takes a pen in hand, his thoughts naturally find
 1392 proper words.  It is so with some men.  Yes, I understand the sort
 1393 of mind.  Vigorous, decided, with sentiments to a certain point,
 1394 not coarse.  A better written letter, Harriet (returning it,)
 1395 than I had expected."

 1396 "Well," said the still waiting Harriet; -- "well -- and -- and what
 1397 shall I do?"

 1398 "What shall you do! In what respect? Do you mean with regard
 1399 to this letter?"

 1400 "Yes."

 1401 "But what are you in doubt of? You must answer it of course -- and speedily."

 1402 "Yes. But what shall I say? Dear Miss Woodhouse, do advise me."

 1403 "Oh no, no! the letter had much better be all your own.  You will
 1404 express yourself very properly, I am sure.  There is no danger of your
 1405 not being intelligible, which is the first thing.  Your meaning must
 1406 be unequivocal; no doubts or demurs: and such expressions of gratitude
 1407 and concern for the pain you are inflicting as propriety requires,
 1408 will present themselves unbidden to _your_ mind, I am persuaded.
 1409 You need not be prompted to write with the appearance of sorrow
 1410 for his disappointment."

 1411 "You think I ought to refuse him then," said Harriet, looking down.

 1412 "Ought to refuse him! My dear Harriet, what do you mean? Are you
 1413 in any doubt as to that? I thought -- but I beg your pardon, perhaps I
 1414 have been under a mistake.  I certainly have been misunderstanding
 1415 you, if you feel in doubt as to the _purport_ of your answer.
 1416 I had imagined you were consulting me only as to the wording of it."

 1417 Harriet was silent.  With a little reserve of manner, Emma continued:

 1418 "You mean to return a favourable answer, I collect."

 1419 "No, I do not; that is, I do not mean -- What shall I do? What would
 1420 you advise me to do? Pray, dear Miss Woodhouse, tell me what I
 1421 ought to do."

 1422 "I shall not give you any advice, Harriet.  I will have nothing to
 1423 do with it.  This is a point which you must settle with your feelings."

 1424 "I had no notion that he liked me so very much," said Harriet,
 1425 contemplating the letter.  For a little while Emma persevered
 1426 in her silence; but beginning to apprehend the bewitching flattery
 1427 of that letter might be too powerful, she thought it best to say,

 1428 "I lay it down as a general rule, Harriet, that if a woman _doubts_
 1429 as to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought
 1430 to refuse him.  If she can hesitate as to `Yes,' she ought to say
 1431 `No' directly.  It is not a state to be safely entered into
 1432 with doubtful feelings, with half a heart.  I thought it my duty
 1433 as a friend, and older than yourself, to say thus much to you.
 1434 But do not imagine that I want to influence you."

 1435 "Oh! no, I am sure you are a great deal too kind to -- but if you
 1436 would just advise me what I had best do -- No, no, I do not mean
 1437 that -- As you say, one's mind ought to be quite made up -- One should
 1438 not be hesitating -- It is a very serious thing. -- It will be safer
 1439 to say `No,' perhaps. -- Do you think I had better say `No?'"

 1440 "Not for the world," said Emma, smiling graciously, "would I advise
 1441 you either way.  You must be the best judge of your own happiness.
 1442 If you prefer Mr Martin to every other person; if you think him
 1443 the most agreeable man you have ever been in company with, why should
 1444 you hesitate? You blush, Harriet. -- Does any body else occur to you
 1445 at this moment under such a definition? Harriet, Harriet, do not
 1446 deceive yourself; do not be run away with by gratitude and compassion.
 1447 At this moment whom are you thinking of?"

 1448 The symptoms were favourable. -- Instead of answering, Harriet turned
 1449 away confused, and stood thoughtfully by the fire; and though
 1450 the letter was still in her hand, it was now mechanically twisted
 1451 about without regard.  Emma waited the result with impatience,
 1452 but not without strong hopes.  At last, with some hesitation,
 1453 Harriet said -- 

 1454 "Miss Woodhouse, as you will not give me your opinion, I must
 1455 do as well as I can by myself; and I have now quite determined,
 1456 and really almost made up my mind -- to refuse Mr Martin.  Do you
 1457 think I am right?"

 1458 "Perfectly, perfectly right, my dearest Harriet; you are doing just
 1459 what you ought.  While you were at all in suspense I kept my feelings
 1460 to myself, but now that you are so completely decided I have no
 1461 hesitation in approving.  Dear Harriet, I give myself joy of this.
 1462 It would have grieved me to lose your acquaintance, which must have
 1463 been the consequence of your marrying Mr Martin.  While you were in
 1464 the smallest degree wavering, I said nothing about it, because I would
 1465 not influence; but it would have been the loss of a friend to me.
 1466 I could not have visited Mrs Robert Martin, of Abbey-Mill Farm.
 1467 Now I am secure of you for ever."

 1468 Harriet had not surmised her own danger, but the idea of it struck
 1469 her forcibly.

 1470 "You could not have visited me!" she cried, looking aghast.
 1471 "No, to be sure you could not; but I never thought of that before.
 1472 That would have been too dreadful! -- What an escape! -- Dear Miss Woodhouse,
 1473 I would not give up the pleasure and honour of being intimate with you
 1474 for any thing in the world."

 1475 "Indeed, Harriet, it would have been a severe pang to lose you;
 1476 but it must have been.  You would have thrown yourself out of all
 1477 good society.  I must have given you up."

 1478 "Dear me! -- How should I ever have borne it! It would have killed
 1479 me never to come to Hartfield any more!"

 1480 "Dear affectionate creature! -- _You_ banished to Abbey-Mill Farm! -- _You_
 1481 confined to the society of the illiterate and vulgar all your life!
 1482 I wonder how the young man could have the assurance to ask it.
 1483 He must have a pretty good opinion of himself."

 1484 "I do not think he is conceited either, in general," said Harriet,
 1485 her conscience opposing such censure; "at least, he is very good natured,
 1486 and I shall always feel much obliged to him, and have a great regard
 1487 for -- but that is quite a different thing from -- and you know,
 1488 though he may like me, it does not follow that I should -- and
 1489 certainly I must confess that since my visiting here I have seen
 1490 people -- and if one comes to compare them, person and manners,
 1491 there is no comparison at all, _one_ is so very handsome and agreeable.
 1492 However, I do really think Mr Martin a very amiable young man,
 1493 and have a great opinion of him; and his being so much attached
 1494 to me -- and his writing such a letter -- but as to leaving you,
 1495 it is what I would not do upon any consideration."

 1496 "Thank you, thank you, my own sweet little friend.  We will not
 1497 be parted.  A woman is not to marry a man merely because she is asked,
 1498 or because he is attached to her, and can write a tolerable letter."

 1499 "Oh no; -- and it is but a short letter too."

 1500 Emma felt the bad taste of her friend, but let it pass with a
 1501 "very true; and it would be a small consolation to her, for the
 1502 clownish manner which might be offending her every hour of the day,
 1503 to know that her husband could write a good letter."

 1504 "Oh! yes, very.  Nobody cares for a letter; the thing is, to be always
 1505 happy with pleasant companions.  I am quite determined to refuse him.
 1506 But how shall I do? What shall I say?"

 1507 Emma assured her there would be no difficulty in the answer,
 1508 and advised its being written directly, which was agreed to,
 1509 in the hope of her assistance; and though Emma continued to protest
 1510 against any assistance being wanted, it was in fact given in the
 1511 formation of every sentence.  The looking over his letter again,
 1512 in replying to it, had such a softening tendency, that it was
 1513 particularly necessary to brace her up with a few decisive expressions;
 1514 and she was so very much concerned at the idea of making him unhappy,
 1515 and thought so much of what his mother and sisters would think and say,
 1516 and was so anxious that they should not fancy her ungrateful,
 1517 that Emma believed if the young man had come in her way at that moment,
 1518 he would have been accepted after all.

 1519 This letter, however, was written, and sealed, and sent.
 1520 The business was finished, and Harriet safe.  She was rather low
 1521 all the evening, but Emma could allow for her amiable regrets,
 1522 and sometimes relieved them by speaking of her own affection,
 1523 sometimes by bringing forward the idea of Mr Elton.

 1524 "I shall never be invited to Abbey-Mill again," was said in rather
 1525 a sorrowful tone.

 1526 "Nor, if you were, could I ever bear to part with you, my Harriet.
 1527 You are a great deal too necessary at Hartfield to be spared
 1528 to Abbey-Mill."

 1529 "And I am sure I should never want to go there; for I am never happy
 1530 but at Hartfield."

 1531 Some time afterwards it was, "I think Mrs Goddard would be very
 1532 much surprized if she knew what had happened.  I am sure Miss Nash
 1533 would -- for Miss Nash thinks her own sister very well married,
 1534 and it is only a linen-draper."

 1535 "One should be sorry to see greater pride or refinement in the
 1536 teacher of a school, Harriet.  I dare say Miss Nash would envy you
 1537 such an opportunity as this of being married.  Even this conquest
 1538 would appear valuable in her eyes.  As to any thing superior for you,
 1539 I suppose she is quite in the dark.  The attentions of a certain
 1540 person can hardly be among the tittle-tattle of Highbury yet.
 1541 Hitherto I fancy you and I are the only people to whom his looks
 1542 and manners have explained themselves."

 1543 Harriet blushed and smiled, and said something about wondering
 1544 that people should like her so much.  The idea of Mr Elton was
 1545 certainly cheering; but still, after a time, she was tender-hearted
 1546 again towards the rejected Mr Martin.

 1547 "Now he has got my letter," said she softly.  "I wonder what they
 1548 are all doing -- whether his sisters know -- if he is unhappy,
 1549 they will be unhappy too.  I hope he will not mind it so very much."

 1550 "Let us think of those among our absent friends who are more
 1551 cheerfully employed," cried Emma.  "At this moment, perhaps, Mr Elton
 1552 is shewing your picture to his mother and sisters, telling how much
 1553 more beautiful is the original, and after being asked for it five
 1554 or six times, allowing them to hear your name, your own dear name."

 1555 "My picture! -- But he has left my picture in Bond-street."

 1556 "Has he so! -- Then I know nothing of Mr Elton.  No, my dear
 1557 little modest Harriet, depend upon it the picture will not be
 1558 in Bond-street till just before he mounts his horse to-morrow.
 1559 It is his companion all this evening, his solace, his delight.
 1560 It opens his designs to his family, it introduces you among them,
 1561 it diffuses through the party those pleasantest feelings of our nature,
 1562 eager curiosity and warm prepossession.  How cheerful, how animated,
 1563 how suspicious, how busy their imaginations all are!"

 1564 Harriet smiled again, and her smiles grew stronger.



 1565 CHAPTER VIII


 1566 Harriet slept at Hartfield that night.  For some weeks past she
 1567 had been spending more than half her time there, and gradually
 1568 getting to have a bed-room appropriated to herself; and Emma
 1569 judged it best in every respect, safest and kindest, to keep her
 1570 with them as much as possible just at present.  She was obliged
 1571 to go the next morning for an hour or two to Mrs Goddard's,
 1572 but it was then to be settled that she should return to Hartfield,
 1573 to make a regular visit of some days.

 1574 While she was gone, Mr Knightley called, and sat some time with
 1575 Mr Woodhouse and Emma, till Mr Woodhouse, who had previously made up
 1576 his mind to walk out, was persuaded by his daughter not to defer it,
 1577 and was induced by the entreaties of both, though against the scruples
 1578 of his own civility, to leave Mr Knightley for that purpose.
 1579 Mr Knightley, who had nothing of ceremony about him, was offering
 1580 by his short, decided answers, an amusing contrast to the protracted
 1581 apologies and civil hesitations of the other.

 1582 "Well, I believe, if you will excuse me, Mr Knightley, if you
 1583 will not consider me as doing a very rude thing, I shall take
 1584 Emma's advice and go out for a quarter of an hour.  As the sun
 1585 is out, I believe I had better take my three turns while I can.
 1586 I treat you without ceremony, Mr Knightley.  We invalids think we
 1587 are privileged people."

 1588 "My dear sir, do not make a stranger of me."

 1589 "I leave an excellent substitute in my daughter.  Emma will be happy
 1590 to entertain you.  And therefore I think I will beg your excuse
 1591 and take my three turns -- my winter walk."

 1592 "You cannot do better, sir."

 1593 "I would ask for the pleasure of your company, Mr Knightley,
 1594 but I am a very slow walker, and my pace would be tedious to you;
 1595 and, besides, you have another long walk before you, to Donwell Abbey."

 1596 "Thank you, sir, thank you; I am going this moment myself; and I
 1597 think the sooner _you_ go the better.  I will fetch your greatcoat
 1598 and open the garden door for you."

 1599 Mr Woodhouse at last was off; but Mr Knightley, instead of being
 1600 immediately off likewise, sat down again, seemingly inclined
 1601 for more chat.  He began speaking of Harriet, and speaking
 1602 of her with more voluntary praise than Emma had ever heard before.

 1603 "I cannot rate her beauty as you do," said he; "but she is a
 1604 pretty little creature, and I am inclined to think very well of
 1605 her disposition.  Her character depends upon those she is with;
 1606 but in good hands she will turn out a valuable woman."

 1607 "I am glad you think so; and the good hands, I hope, may not be wanting."

 1608 "Come," said he, "you are anxious for a compliment, so I will
 1609 tell you that you have improved her.  You have cured her of her
 1610 school-girl's giggle; she really does you credit."

 1611 "Thank you.  I should be mortified indeed if I did not believe I
 1612 had been of some use; but it is not every body who will bestow
 1613 praise where they may.  _You_ do not often overpower me with it."

 1614 "You are expecting her again, you say, this morning?"

 1615 "Almost every moment.  She has been gone longer already than
 1616 she intended."

 1617 "Something has happened to delay her; some visitors perhaps."

 1618 "Highbury gossips! -- Tiresome wretches!"

 1619 "Harriet may not consider every body tiresome that you would."

 1620 Emma knew this was too true for contradiction, and therefore
 1621 said nothing.  He presently added, with a smile,

 1622 "I do not pretend to fix on times or places, but I must tell you
 1623 that I have good reason to believe your little friend will soon
 1624 hear of something to her advantage."

 1625 "Indeed! how so? of what sort?"

 1626 "A very serious sort, I assure you;" still smiling.

 1627 "Very serious! I can think of but one thing -- Who is in love
 1628 with her? Who makes you their confidant?"

 1629 Emma was more than half in hopes of Mr Elton's having dropt a hint.
 1630 Mr Knightley was a sort of general friend and adviser, and she knew
 1631 Mr Elton looked up to him.

 1632 "I have reason to think," he replied, "that Harriet Smith will
 1633 soon have an offer of marriage, and from a most unexceptionable
 1634 quarter: -- Robert Martin is the man.  Her visit to Abbey-Mill,
 1635 this summer, seems to have done his business.  He is desperately
 1636 in love and means to marry her."

 1637 "He is very obliging," said Emma; "but is he sure that Harriet
 1638 means to marry him?"

 1639 "Well, well, means to make her an offer then.  Will that do? He came
 1640 to the Abbey two evenings ago, on purpose to consult me about it.
 1641 He knows I have a thorough regard for him and all his family, and,
 1642 I believe, considers me as one of his best friends.  He came to ask
 1643 me whether I thought it would be imprudent in him to settle so early;
 1644 whether I thought her too young: in short, whether I approved his
 1645 choice altogether; having some apprehension perhaps of her being
 1646 considered (especially since _your_ making so much of her) as in a line
 1647 of society above him.  I was very much pleased with all that he said.
 1648 I never hear better sense from any one than Robert Martin.
 1649 He always speaks to the purpose; open, straightforward, and very
 1650 well judging.  He told me every thing; his circumstances and plans,
 1651 and what they all proposed doing in the event of his marriage.  He is
 1652 an excellent young man, both as son and brother.  I had no hesitation
 1653 in advising him to marry.  He proved to me that he could afford it;
 1654 and that being the case, I was convinced he could not do better.
 1655 I praised the fair lady too, and altogether sent him away very happy.
 1656 If he had never esteemed my opinion before, he would have thought
 1657 highly of me then; and, I dare say, left the house thinking me the
 1658 best friend and counsellor man ever had.  This happened the night
 1659 before last.  Now, as we may fairly suppose, he would not allow
 1660 much time to pass before he spoke to the lady, and as he does not
 1661 appear to have spoken yesterday, it is not unlikely that he should
 1662 be at Mrs Goddard's to-day; and she may be detained by a visitor,
 1663 without thinking him at all a tiresome wretch."

 1664 "Pray, Mr Knightley," said Emma, who had been smiling to herself
 1665 through a great part of this speech, "how do you know that Mr Martin
 1666 did not speak yesterday?"

 1667 "Certainly," replied he, surprized, "I do not absolutely know it;
 1668 but it may be inferred.  Was not she the whole day with you?"

 1669 "Come," said she, "I will tell you something, in return for what
 1670 you have told me.  He did speak yesterday -- that is, he wrote,
 1671 and was refused."

 1672 This was obliged to be repeated before it could be believed;
 1673 and Mr Knightley actually looked red with surprize and displeasure,
 1674 as he stood up, in tall indignation, and said,

 1675 "Then she is a greater simpleton than I ever believed her.
 1676 What is the foolish girl about?"

 1677 "Oh! to be sure," cried Emma, "it is always incomprehensible
 1678 to a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage.
 1679 A man always imagines a woman to be ready for any body who asks her."

 1680 "Nonsense! a man does not imagine any such thing.  But what is
 1681 the meaning of this? Harriet Smith refuse Robert Martin? madness,
 1682 if it is so; but I hope you are mistaken."

 1683 "I saw her answer! -- nothing could be clearer."

 1684 "You saw her answer! -- you wrote her answer too.  Emma, this is
 1685 your doing.  You persuaded her to refuse him."

 1686 "And if I did, (which, however, I am far from allowing) I should
 1687 not feel that I had done wrong.  Mr Martin is a very respectable
 1688 young man, but I cannot admit him to be Harriet's equal; and am
 1689 rather surprized indeed that he should have ventured to address her.
 1690 By your account, he does seem to have had some scruples.  It is
 1691 a pity that they were ever got over."

 1692 "Not Harriet's equal!" exclaimed Mr Knightley loudly and warmly;
 1693 and with calmer asperity, added, a few moments afterwards, "No, he
 1694 is not her equal indeed, for he is as much her superior in sense
 1695 as in situation.  Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you.
 1696 What are Harriet Smith's claims, either of birth, nature or education,
 1697 to any connexion higher than Robert Martin? She is the natural
 1698 daughter of nobody knows whom, with probably no settled provision
 1699 at all, and certainly no respectable relations.  She is known only
 1700 as parlour-boarder at a common school.  She is not a sensible girl,
 1701 nor a girl of any information.  She has been taught nothing useful,
 1702 and is too young and too simple to have acquired any thing herself.
 1703 At her age she can have no experience, and with her little wit,
 1704 is not very likely ever to have any that can avail her.
 1705 She is pretty, and she is good tempered, and that is all.
 1706 My only scruple in advising the match was on his account, as being
 1707 beneath his deserts, and a bad connexion for him.  I felt that,
 1708 as to fortune, in all probability he might do much better; and that as
 1709 to a rational companion or useful helpmate, he could not do worse.
 1710 But I could not reason so to a man in love, and was willing
 1711 to trust to there being no harm in her, to her having that sort
 1712 of disposition, which, in good hands, like his, might be easily led
 1713 aright and turn out very well.  The advantage of the match I felt
 1714 to be all on her side; and had not the smallest doubt (nor have I now)
 1715 that there would be a general cry-out upon her extreme good luck.
 1716 Even _your_ satisfaction I made sure of.  It crossed my mind immediately
 1717 that you would not regret your friend's leaving Highbury, for the
 1718 sake of her being settled so well.  I remember saying to myself,
 1719 `Even Emma, with all her partiality for Harriet, will think this a
 1720 good match.'"

 1721 "I cannot help wondering at your knowing so little of Emma as to say
 1722 any such thing.  What! think a farmer, (and with all his sense and all
 1723 his merit Mr Martin is nothing more,) a good match for my intimate
 1724 friend! Not regret her leaving Highbury for the sake of marrying
 1725 a man whom I could never admit as an acquaintance of my own! I
 1726 wonder you should think it possible for me to have such feelings.
 1727 I assure you mine are very different.  I must think your statement
 1728 by no means fair.  You are not just to Harriet's claims.
 1729 They would be estimated very differently by others as well as myself;
 1730 Mr Martin may be the richest of the two, but he is undoubtedly
 1731 her inferior as to rank in society. -- The sphere in which she moves
 1732 is much above his. -- It would be a degradation."

 1733 "A degradation to illegitimacy and ignorance, to be married
 1734 to a respectable, intelligent gentleman-farmer!"

 1735 "As to the circumstances of her birth, though in a legal sense
 1736 she may be called Nobody, it will not hold in common sense.
 1737 She is not to pay for the offence of others, by being held below
 1738 the level of those with whom she is brought up. -- There can scarcely
 1739 be a doubt that her father is a gentleman -- and a gentleman of
 1740 fortune. -- Her allowance is very liberal; nothing has ever been grudged
 1741 for her improvement or comfort. -- That she is a gentleman's daughter,
 1742 is indubitable to me; that she associates with gentlemen's daughters,
 1743 no one, I apprehend, will deny. -- She is superior to Mr Robert Martin."

 1744 "Whoever might be her parents," said Mr Knightley, "whoever may
 1745 have had the charge of her, it does not appear to have been any part
 1746 of their plan to introduce her into what you would call good society.
 1747 After receiving a very indifferent education she is left in
 1748 Mrs Goddard's hands to shift as she can; -- to move, in short,
 1749 in Mrs Goddard's line, to have Mrs Goddard's acquaintance.
 1750 Her friends evidently thought this good enough for her; and it _was_
 1751 good enough.  She desired nothing better herself.  Till you chose
 1752 to turn her into a friend, her mind had no distaste for her own set,
 1753 nor any ambition beyond it.  She was as happy as possible with the
 1754 Martins in the summer.  She had no sense of superiority then.
 1755 If she has it now, you have given it.  You have been no friend to
 1756 Harriet Smith, Emma.  Robert Martin would never have proceeded so far,
 1757 if he had not felt persuaded of her not being disinclined to him.
 1758 I know him well.  He has too much real feeling to address any
 1759 woman on the haphazard of selfish passion.  And as to conceit,
 1760 he is the farthest from it of any man I know.  Depend upon it he
 1761 had encouragement."

 1762 It was most convenient to Emma not to make a direct reply to this
 1763 assertion; she chose rather to take up her own line of the subject again.

 1764 "You are a very warm friend to Mr Martin; but, as I said before,
 1765 are unjust to Harriet.  Harriet's claims to marry well are not
 1766 so contemptible as you represent them.  She is not a clever girl,
 1767 but she has better sense than you are aware of, and does not
 1768 deserve to have her understanding spoken of so slightingly.
 1769 Waiving that point, however, and supposing her to be, as you
 1770 describe her, only pretty and good-natured, let me tell you, that in
 1771 the degree she possesses them, they are not trivial recommendations
 1772 to the world in general, for she is, in fact, a beautiful girl,
 1773 and must be thought so by ninety-nine people out of an hundred;
 1774 and till it appears that men are much more philosophic on the subject
 1775 of beauty than they are generally supposed; till they do fall
 1776 in love with well-informed minds instead of handsome faces, a girl,
 1777 with such loveliness as Harriet, has a certainty of being admired
 1778 and sought after, of having the power of chusing from among many,
 1779 consequently a claim to be nice.  Her good-nature, too, is not so very
 1780 slight a claim, comprehending, as it does, real, thorough sweetness
 1781 of temper and manner, a very humble opinion of herself, and a great
 1782 readiness to be pleased with other people.  I am very much mistaken
 1783 if your sex in general would not think such beauty, and such temper,
 1784 the highest claims a woman could possess."

 1785 "Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have,
 1786 is almost enough to make me think so too.  Better be without sense,
 1787 than misapply it as you do."

 1788 "To be sure!" cried she playfully.  "I know _that_ is the feeling
 1789 of you all.  I know that such a girl as Harriet is exactly
 1790 what every man delights in -- what at once bewitches his senses
 1791 and satisfies his judgment.  Oh! Harriet may pick and chuse.
 1792 Were you, yourself, ever to marry, she is the very woman for you.
 1793 And is she, at seventeen, just entering into life, just beginning
 1794 to be known, to be wondered at because she does not accept the first
 1795 offer she receives? No -- pray let her have time to look about her."

 1796 "I have always thought it a very foolish intimacy," said Mr Knightley
 1797 presently, "though I have kept my thoughts to myself; but I now
 1798 perceive that it will be a very unfortunate one for Harriet.
 1799 You will puff her up with such ideas of her own beauty, and of what
 1800 she has a claim to, that, in a little while, nobody within her
 1801 reach will be good enough for her.  Vanity working on a weak head,
 1802 produces every sort of mischief.  Nothing so easy as for a young lady
 1803 to raise her expectations too high.  Miss Harriet Smith may not find
 1804 offers of marriage flow in so fast, though she is a very pretty girl.
 1805 Men of sense, whatever you may chuse to say, do not want silly wives.
 1806 Men of family would not be very fond of connecting themselves
 1807 with a girl of such obscurity -- and most prudent men would be
 1808 afraid of the inconvenience and disgrace they might be involved in,
 1809 when the mystery of her parentage came to be revealed.  Let her marry
 1810 Robert Martin, and she is safe, respectable, and happy for ever;
 1811 but if you encourage her to expect to marry greatly, and teach
 1812 her to be satisfied with nothing less than a man of consequence
 1813 and large fortune, she may be a parlour-boarder at Mrs Goddard's
 1814 all the rest of her life -- or, at least, (for Harriet Smith is a
 1815 girl who will marry somebody or other,) till she grow desperate,
 1816 and is glad to catch at the old writing-master's son."

 1817 "We think so very differently on this point, Mr Knightley,
 1818 that there can be no use in canvassing it.  We shall only be making
 1819 each other more angry.  But as to my _letting_ her marry Robert Martin,
 1820 it is impossible; she has refused him, and so decidedly, I think,
 1821 as must prevent any second application.  She must abide by the evil
 1822 of having refused him, whatever it may be; and as to the refusal itself,
 1823 I will not pretend to say that I might not influence her a little;
 1824 but I assure you there was very little for me or for any body to do.
 1825 His appearance is so much against him, and his manner so bad,
 1826 that if she ever were disposed to favour him, she is not now.
 1827 I can imagine, that before she had seen any body superior,
 1828 she might tolerate him.  He was the brother of her friends,
 1829 and he took pains to please her; and altogether, having seen
 1830 nobody better (that must have been his great assistant)
 1831 she might not, while she was at Abbey-Mill, find him disagreeable.
 1832 But the case is altered now.  She knows now what gentlemen are;
 1833 and nothing but a gentleman in education and manner has any chance
 1834 with Harriet."

 1835 "Nonsense, errant nonsense, as ever was talked!" cried Mr Knightley. -- "Robert
 1836 Martin's manners have sense, sincerity, and good-humour to recommend
 1837 them; and his mind has more true gentility than Harriet Smith could understand."

 1838 Emma made no answer, and tried to look cheerfully unconcerned, but was
 1839 really feeling uncomfortable and wanting him very much to be gone.
 1840 She did not repent what she had done; she still thought herself
 1841 a better judge of such a point of female right and refinement than he
 1842 could be; but yet she had a sort of habitual respect for his judgment
 1843 in general, which made her dislike having it so loudly against her;
 1844 and to have him sitting just opposite to her in angry state,
 1845 was very disagreeable.  Some minutes passed in this unpleasant silence,
 1846 with only one attempt on Emma's side to talk of the weather,
 1847 but he made no answer.  He was thinking.  The result of his thoughts
 1848 appeared at last in these words.

 1849 "Robert Martin has no great loss -- if he can but think so; and I
 1850 hope it will not be long before he does.  Your views for Harriet
 1851 are best known to yourself; but as you make no secret of your love
 1852 of match-making, it is fair to suppose that views, and plans,
 1853 and projects you have; -- and as a friend I shall just hint to you
 1854 that if Elton is the man, I think it will be all labour in vain."

 1855 Emma laughed and disclaimed.  He continued,

 1856 "Depend upon it, Elton will not do.  Elton is a very good sort of man,
 1857 and a very respectable vicar of Highbury, but not at all likely
 1858 to make an imprudent match.  He knows the value of a good income
 1859 as well as any body.  Elton may talk sentimentally, but he will
 1860 act rationally.  He is as well acquainted with his own claims, as you
 1861 can be with Harriet's. He knows that he is a very handsome young man,
 1862 and a great favourite wherever he goes; and from his general way
 1863 of talking in unreserved moments, when there are only men present,
 1864 I am convinced that he does not mean to throw himself away.
 1865 I have heard him speak with great animation of a large family
 1866 of young ladies that his sisters are intimate with, who have all
 1867 twenty thousand pounds apiece."

 1868 "I am very much obliged to you," said Emma, laughing again.
 1869 "If I had set my heart on Mr Elton's marrying Harriet, it would
 1870 have been very kind to open my eyes; but at present I only want
 1871 to keep Harriet to myself.  I have done with match-making indeed.
 1872 I could never hope to equal my own doings at Randalls.  I shall leave
 1873 off while I am well."

 1874 "Good morning to you," -- said he, rising and walking off abruptly.
 1875 He was very much vexed.  He felt the disappointment of the young man,
 1876 and was mortified to have been the means of promoting it, by the
 1877 sanction he had given; and the part which he was persuaded Emma had
 1878 taken in the affair, was provoking him exceedingly.

 1879 Emma remained in a state of vexation too; but there was more
 1880 indistinctness in the causes of her's, than in his.  She did not always
 1881 feel so absolutely satisfied with herself, so entirely convinced that
 1882 her opinions were right and her adversary's wrong, as Mr Knightley.
 1883 He walked off in more complete self-approbation than he left for her.
 1884 She was not so materially cast down, however, but that a little
 1885 time and the return of Harriet were very adequate restoratives.
 1886 Harriet's staying away so long was beginning to make her uneasy.
 1887 The possibility of the young man's coming to Mrs Goddard's
 1888 that morning, and meeting with Harriet and pleading his own cause,
 1889 gave alarming ideas.  The dread of such a failure after all became the
 1890 prominent uneasiness; and when Harriet appeared, and in very good spirits,
 1891 and without having any such reason to give for her long absence,
 1892 she felt a satisfaction which settled her with her own mind,
 1893 and convinced her, that let Mr Knightley think or say what he would,
 1894 she had done nothing which woman's friendship and woman's feelings
 1895 would not justify.

 1896 He had frightened her a little about Mr Elton; but when she considered
 1897 that Mr Knightley could not have observed him as she had done,
 1898 neither with the interest, nor (she must be allowed to tell herself,
 1899 in spite of Mr Knightley's pretensions) with the skill of such
 1900 an observer on such a question as herself, that he had spoken it
 1901 hastily and in anger, she was able to believe, that he had rather
 1902 said what he wished resentfully to be true, than what he knew
 1903 any thing about.  He certainly might have heard Mr Elton speak
 1904 with more unreserve than she had ever done, and Mr Elton might not
 1905 be of an imprudent, inconsiderate disposition as to money matters;
 1906 he might naturally be rather attentive than otherwise to them;
 1907 but then, Mr Knightley did not make due allowance for the influence
 1908 of a strong passion at war with all interested motives.  Mr Knightley
 1909 saw no such passion, and of course thought nothing of its effects;
 1910 but she saw too much of it to feel a doubt of its overcoming any
 1911 hesitations that a reasonable prudence might originally suggest;
 1912 and more than a reasonable, becoming degree of prudence, she was very
 1913 sure did not belong to Mr Elton.

 1914 Harriet's cheerful look and manner established hers: she came back,
 1915 not to think of Mr Martin, but to talk of Mr Elton.  Miss Nash
 1916 had been telling her something, which she repeated immediately
 1917 with great delight.  Mr Perry had been to Mrs Goddard's to attend
 1918 a sick child, and Miss Nash had seen him, and he had told Miss Nash,
 1919 that as he was coming back yesterday from Clayton Park, he had met
 1920 Mr Elton, and found to his great surprize, that Mr Elton was
 1921 actually on his road to London, and not meaning to return till
 1922 the morrow, though it was the whist-club night, which he had been
 1923 never known to miss before; and Mr Perry had remonstrated with him
 1924 about it, and told him how shabby it was in him, their best player,
 1925 to absent himself, and tried very much to persuade him to put off
 1926 his journey only one day; but it would not do; Mr Elton had been
 1927 determined to go on, and had said in a _very_ _particular_ way indeed,
 1928 that he was going on business which he would not put off for any
 1929 inducement in the world; and something about a very enviable commission,
 1930 and being the bearer of something exceedingly precious.  Mr Perry
 1931 could not quite understand him, but he was very sure there must
 1932 be a _lady_ in the case, and he told him so; and Mr Elton only
 1933 looked very conscious and smiling, and rode off in great spirits.
 1934 Miss Nash had told her all this, and had talked a great deal more
 1935 about Mr Elton; and said, looking so very significantly at her,
 1936 "that she did not pretend to understand what his business might be,
 1937 but she only knew that any woman whom Mr Elton could prefer,
 1938 she should think the luckiest woman in the world; for, beyond a doubt,
 1939 Mr Elton had not his equal for beauty or agreeableness."



 1940 CHAPTER IX


 1941 Mr Knightley might quarrel with her, but Emma could not quarrel
 1942 with herself.  He was so much displeased, that it was longer than
 1943 usual before he came to Hartfield again; and when they did meet,
 1944 his grave looks shewed that she was not forgiven.  She was sorry,
 1945 but could not repent.  On the contrary, her plans and proceedings
 1946 were more and more justified and endeared to her by the general
 1947 appearances of the next few days.

 1948 The Picture, elegantly framed, came safely to hand soon after
 1949 Mr Elton's return, and being hung over the mantelpiece of the common
 1950 sitting-room, he got up to look at it, and sighed out his half sentences
 1951 of admiration just as he ought; and as for Harriet's feelings, they were
 1952 visibly forming themselves into as strong and steady an attachment
 1953 as her youth and sort of mind admitted.  Emma was soon perfectly
 1954 satisfied of Mr Martin's being no otherwise remembered, than as
 1955 he furnished a contrast with Mr Elton, of the utmost advantage to the latter.

 1956 Her views of improving her little friend's mind, by a great deal
 1957 of useful reading and conversation, had never yet led to more than
 1958 a few first chapters, and the intention of going on to-morrow.
 1959 It was much easier to chat than to study; much pleasanter to let
 1960 her imagination range and work at Harriet's fortune, than to be
 1961 labouring to enlarge her comprehension or exercise it on sober facts;
 1962 and the only literary pursuit which engaged Harriet at present,
 1963 the only mental provision she was making for the evening of life,
 1964 was the collecting and transcribing all the riddles of every sort
 1965 that she could meet with, into a thin quarto of hot-pressed paper,
 1966 made up by her friend, and ornamented with ciphers and trophies.

 1967 In this age of literature, such collections on a very grand scale
 1968 are not uncommon.  Miss Nash, head-teacher at Mrs Goddard's,
 1969 had written out at least three hundred; and Harriet, who had taken
 1970 the first hint of it from her, hoped, with Miss Woodhouse's help,
 1971 to get a great many more.  Emma assisted with her invention,
 1972 memory and taste; and as Harriet wrote a very pretty hand,
 1973 it was likely to be an arrangement of the first order, in form
 1974 as well as quantity.

 1975 Mr Woodhouse was almost as much interested in the business as the girls,
 1976 and tried very often to recollect something worth their putting in.
 1977 "So many clever riddles as there used to be when he was young -- he
 1978 wondered he could not remember them! but he hoped he should in time."
 1979 And it always ended in "Kitty, a fair but frozen maid."

 1980 His good friend Perry, too, whom he had spoken to on the subject,
 1981 did not at present recollect any thing of the riddle kind;
 1982 but he had desired Perry to be upon the watch, and as he went about
 1983 so much, something, he thought, might come from that quarter.

 1984 It was by no means his daughter's wish that the intellects of
 1985 Highbury in general should be put under requisition.  Mr Elton
 1986 was the only one whose assistance she asked.  He was invited
 1987 to contribute any really good enigmas, charades, or conundrums
 1988 that he might recollect; and she had the pleasure of seeing him
 1989 most intently at work with his recollections; and at the same time,
 1990 as she could perceive, most earnestly careful that nothing ungallant,
 1991 nothing that did not breathe a compliment to the sex should pass
 1992 his lips.  They owed to him their two or three politest puzzles;
 1993 and the joy and exultation with which at last he recalled,
 1994 and rather sentimentally recited, that well-known charade,

 1995     My first doth affliction denote,
 1996       Which my second is destin'd to feel
 1997     And my whole is the best antidote
 1998       That affliction to soften and heal. -- 

 1999 made her quite sorry to acknowledge that they had transcribed it
 2000 some pages ago already.

 2001 "Why will not you write one yourself for us, Mr Elton?" said she;
 2002 "that is the only security for its freshness; and nothing could be
 2003 easier to you."

 2004 "Oh no! he had never written, hardly ever, any thing of the kind
 2005 in his life.  The stupidest fellow! He was afraid not even Miss
 2006 Woodhouse" -- he stopt a moment -- "or Miss Smith could inspire him."

 2007 The very next day however produced some proof of inspiration.
 2008 He called for a few moments, just to leave a piece of paper on the
 2009 table containing, as he said, a charade, which a friend of his had
 2010 addressed to a young lady, the object of his admiration, but which,
 2011 from his manner, Emma was immediately convinced must be his own.

 2012 "I do not offer it for Miss Smith's collection," said he.
 2013 "Being my friend's, I have no right to expose it in any degree
 2014 to the public eye, but perhaps you may not dislike looking at it."

 2015 The speech was more to Emma than to Harriet, which Emma
 2016 could understand.  There was deep consciousness about him,
 2017 and he found it easier to meet her eye than her friend's.
 2018 He was gone the next moment: -- after another moment's pause,

 2019 "Take it," said Emma, smiling, and pushing the paper towards
 2020 Harriet -- "it is for you.  Take your own."

 2021 But Harriet was in a tremor, and could not touch it; and Emma,
 2022 never loth to be first, was obliged to examine it herself.

 2023         To Miss -- 

 2024           CHARADE.

 2025     My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,
 2026       Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease.
 2027     Another view of man, my second brings,
 2028       Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!

 2029     But ah! united, what reverse we have!
 2030       Man's boasted power and freedom, all are flown;
 2031     Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave,
 2032       And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.

 2033       Thy ready wit the word will soon supply,
 2034       May its approval beam in that soft eye!

 2035 She cast her eye over it, pondered, caught the meaning, read it through
 2036 again to be quite certain, and quite mistress of the lines, and then
 2037 passing it to Harriet, sat happily smiling, and saying to herself,
 2038 while Harriet was puzzling over the paper in all the confusion
 2039 of hope and dulness, "Very well, Mr Elton, very well indeed.
 2040 I have read worse charades.  _Courtship_ -- a very good hint.  I give
 2041 you credit for it.  This is feeling your way.  This is saying very
 2042 plainly -- `Pray, Miss Smith, give me leave to pay my addresses to you.
 2043 Approve my charade and my intentions in the same glance.'

 2044       May its approval beam in that soft eye!

 2045 Harriet exactly.  Soft is the very word for her eye -- of all epithets,
 2046 the justest that could be given.

 2047       Thy ready wit the word will soon supply.

 2048 Humph -- Harriet's ready wit! All the better.  A man must be very much
 2049 in love, indeed, to describe her so.  Ah! Mr Knightley, I wish
 2050 you had the benefit of this; I think this would convince you.
 2051 For once in your life you would be obliged to own yourself mistaken.
 2052 An excellent charade indeed! and very much to the purpose.
 2053 Things must come to a crisis soon now.

 2054 She was obliged to break off from these very pleasant observations,
 2055 which were otherwise of a sort to run into great length, by the
 2056 eagerness of Harriet's wondering questions.

 2057 "What can it be, Miss Woodhouse? -- what can it be? I have not an idea -- I
 2058 cannot guess it in the least.  What can it possibly be? Do try
 2059 to find it out, Miss Woodhouse.  Do help me.  I never saw any thing
 2060 so hard.  Is it kingdom? I wonder who the friend was -- and who could
 2061 be the young lady.  Do you think it is a good one? Can it be woman?

 2062       And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.

 2063 Can it be Neptune?

 2064       Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!

 2065 Or a trident? or a mermaid? or a shark? Oh, no! shark is only
 2066 one syllable.  It must be very clever, or he would not have brought it.
 2067 Oh! Miss Woodhouse, do you think we shall ever find it out?"

 2068 "Mermaids and sharks! Nonsense! My dear Harriet, what are you
 2069 thinking of? Where would be the use of his bringing us a charade made
 2070 by a friend upon a mermaid or a shark? Give me the paper and listen.

 2071 For Miss  --  --  --  --  -- , read Miss Smith.

 2072     My first displays the wealth and pomp of kings,
 2073       Lords of the earth! their luxury and ease.

 2074 That is _court_.

 2075     Another view of man, my second brings;
 2076       Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!

 2077 That is _ship_; -- plain as it can be. -- Now for the cream.

 2078     But ah! united, (_courtship_, you know,) what reverse we have!
 2079       Man's boasted power and freedom, all are flown.
 2080     Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave,
 2081       And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.

 2082 A very proper compliment! -- and then follows the application,
 2083 which I think, my dear Harriet, you cannot find much difficulty
 2084 in comprehending.  Read it in comfort to yourself.  There can
 2085 be no doubt of its being written for you and to you."

 2086 Harriet could not long resist so delightful a persuasion.
 2087 She read the concluding lines, and was all flutter and happiness.
 2088 She could not speak.  But she was not wanted to speak.  It was enough
 2089 for her to feel.  Emma spoke for her.

 2090 "There is so pointed, and so particular a meaning in this compliment,"
 2091 said she, "that I cannot have a doubt as to Mr Elton's intentions.
 2092 You are his object -- and you will soon receive the completest proof
 2093 of it.  I thought it must be so.  I thought I could not be so deceived;
 2094 but now, it is clear; the state of his mind is as clear and decided,
 2095 as my wishes on the subject have been ever since I knew you.
 2096 Yes, Harriet, just so long have I been wanting the very circumstance
 2097 to happen what has happened.  I could never tell whether an attachment
 2098 between you and Mr Elton were most desirable or most natural.
 2099 Its probability and its eligibility have really so equalled each
 2100 other! I am very happy.  I congratulate you, my dear Harriet, with all
 2101 my heart.  This is an attachment which a woman may well feel pride
 2102 in creating.  This is a connexion which offers nothing but good.
 2103 It will give you every thing that you want -- consideration, independence,
 2104 a proper home -- it will fix you in the centre of all your real friends,
 2105 close to Hartfield and to me, and confirm our intimacy for ever.
 2106 This, Harriet, is an alliance which can never raise a blush in either
 2107 of us."

 2108 "Dear Miss Woodhouse!" -- and "Dear Miss Woodhouse," was all that Harriet,
 2109 with many tender embraces could articulate at first; but when they
 2110 did arrive at something more like conversation, it was sufficiently
 2111 clear to her friend that she saw, felt, anticipated, and remembered
 2112 just as she ought.  Mr Elton's superiority had very ample acknowledgment.

 2113 "Whatever you say is always right," cried Harriet, "and therefore
 2114 I suppose, and believe, and hope it must be so; but otherwise I could
 2115 not have imagined it.  It is so much beyond any thing I deserve.
 2116 Mr Elton, who might marry any body! There cannot be two opinions
 2117 about _him_.  He is so very superior.  Only think of those sweet
 2118 verses -- `To Miss  --  --  --  -- .' Dear me, how clever! -- Could it really
 2119 be meant for me?"

 2120 "I cannot make a question, or listen to a question about that.
 2121 It is a certainty.  Receive it on my judgment.  It is a sort
 2122 of prologue to the play, a motto to the chapter; and will be soon
 2123 followed by matter-of-fact prose."

 2124 "It is a sort of thing which nobody could have expected.  I am sure,
 2125 a month ago, I had no more idea myself! -- The strangest things do
 2126 take place!"

 2127 "When Miss Smiths and Mr Eltons get acquainted -- they do indeed -- and
 2128 really it is strange; it is out of the common course that what is
 2129 so evidently, so palpably desirable -- what courts the pre-arrangement
 2130 of other people, should so immediately shape itself into the proper form.
 2131 You and Mr Elton are by situation called together; you belong
 2132 to one another by every circumstance of your respective homes.
 2133 Your marrying will be equal to the match at Randalls.  There does
 2134 seem to be a something in the air of Hartfield which gives love
 2135 exactly the right direction, and sends it into the very channel
 2136 where it ought to flow.

 2137       The course of true love never did run smooth -- 

 2138 A Hartfield edition of Shakespeare would have a long note on that passage."

 2139 "That Mr Elton should really be in love with me, -- me, of all people,
 2140 who did not know him, to speak to him, at Michaelmas! And he,
 2141 the very handsomest man that ever was, and a man that every body
 2142 looks up to, quite like Mr Knightley! His company so sought after,
 2143 that every body says he need not eat a single meal by himself if he
 2144 does not chuse it; that he has more invitations than there are days
 2145 in the week.  And so excellent in the Church! Miss Nash has put down
 2146 all the texts he has ever preached from since he came to Highbury.
 2147 Dear me! When I look back to the first time I saw him! How little
 2148 did I think! -- The two Abbots and I ran into the front room and
 2149 peeped through the blind when we heard he was going by, and Miss
 2150 Nash came and scolded us away, and staid to look through herself;
 2151 however, she called me back presently, and let me look too,
 2152 which was very good-natured. And how beautiful we thought he looked!
 2153 He was arm-in-arm with Mr Cole."

 2154 "This is an alliance which, whoever -- whatever your friends may be,
 2155 must be agreeable to them, provided at least they have common sense;
 2156 and we are not to be addressing our conduct to fools.  If they
 2157 are anxious to see you _happily_ married, here is a man whose amiable
 2158 character gives every assurance of it; -- if they wish to have you
 2159 settled in the same country and circle which they have chosen
 2160 to place you in, here it will be accomplished; and if their only
 2161 object is that you should, in the common phrase, be _well_ married,
 2162 here is the comfortable fortune, the respectable establishment,
 2163 the rise in the world which must satisfy them."

 2164 "Yes, very true.  How nicely you talk; I love to hear you.
 2165 You understand every thing.  You and Mr Elton are one as clever
 2166 as the other.  This charade! -- If I had studied a twelvemonth,
 2167 I could never have made any thing like it."

 2168 "I thought he meant to try his skill, by his manner of declining
 2169 it yesterday."

 2170 "I do think it is, without exception, the best charade I ever read."

 2171 "I never read one more to the purpose, certainly."

 2172 "It is as long again as almost all we have had before."

 2173 "I do not consider its length as particularly in its favour.
 2174 Such things in general cannot be too short."

 2175 Harriet was too intent on the lines to hear.  The most satisfactory
 2176 comparisons were rising in her mind.

 2177 "It is one thing," said she, presently -- her cheeks in a glow -- "to
 2178 have very good sense in a common way, like every body else,
 2179 and if there is any thing to say, to sit down and write a letter,
 2180 and say just what you must, in a short way; and another, to write
 2181 verses and charades like this."

 2182 Emma could not have desired a more spirited rejection of Mr Martin's prose.

 2183 "Such sweet lines!" continued Harriet -- "these two last! -- But
 2184 how shall I ever be able to return the paper, or say I have found
 2185 it out? -- Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what can we do about that?"

 2186 "Leave it to me.  You do nothing.  He will be here this evening,
 2187 I dare say, and then I will give it him back, and some nonsense
 2188 or other will pass between us, and you shall not be committed. -- Your
 2189 soft eyes shall chuse their own time for beaming.  Trust to me."

 2190 "Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what a pity that I must not write this beautiful
 2191 charade into my book! I am sure I have not got one half so good."

 2192 "Leave out the two last lines, and there is no reason why you
 2193 should not write it into your book."

 2194 "Oh! but those two lines are" -- 

 2195  -- "The best of all.  Granted; -- for private enjoyment; and for private
 2196 enjoyment keep them.  They are not at all the less written you know,
 2197 because you divide them.  The couplet does not cease to be, nor does
 2198 its meaning change.  But take it away, and all _appropriation_ ceases,
 2199 and a very pretty gallant charade remains, fit for any collection.
 2200 Depend upon it, he would not like to have his charade slighted,
 2201 much better than his passion.  A poet in love must be encouraged in
 2202 both capacities, or neither.  Give me the book, I will write it down,
 2203 and then there can be no possible reflection on you."

 2204 Harriet submitted, though her mind could hardly separate the parts,
 2205 so as to feel quite sure that her friend were not writing down
 2206 a declaration of love.  It seemed too precious an offering for any
 2207 degree of publicity.

 2208 "I shall never let that book go out of my own hands," said she.

 2209 "Very well," replied Emma; "a most natural feeling; and the longer
 2210 it lasts, the better I shall be pleased.  But here is my father
 2211 coming: you will not object to my reading the charade to him.
 2212 It will be giving him so much pleasure! He loves any thing of
 2213 the sort, and especially any thing that pays woman a compliment.
 2214 He has the tenderest spirit of gallantry towards us all! -- You must
 2215 let me read it to him."

 2216 Harriet looked grave.

 2217 "My dear Harriet, you must not refine too much upon this
 2218 charade. -- You will betray your feelings improperly, if you are
 2219 too conscious and too quick, and appear to affix more meaning,
 2220 or even quite all the meaning which may be affixed to it.
 2221 Do not be overpowered by such a little tribute of admiration.
 2222 If he had been anxious for secrecy, he would not have left the paper
 2223 while I was by; but he rather pushed it towards me than towards you.
 2224 Do not let us be too solemn on the business.  He has encouragement
 2225 enough to proceed, without our sighing out our souls over this charade."

 2226 "Oh! no -- I hope I shall not be ridiculous about it.  Do as you please."

 2227 Mr Woodhouse came in, and very soon led to the subject again,
 2228 by the recurrence of his very frequent inquiry of "Well, my dears,
 2229 how does your book go on? -- Have you got any thing fresh?"

 2230 "Yes, papa; we have something to read you, something quite fresh.
 2231 A piece of paper was found on the table this morning -- (dropt,
 2232 we suppose, by a fairy) -- containing a very pretty charade, and we
 2233 have just copied it in."

 2234 She read it to him, just as he liked to have any thing read,
 2235 slowly and distinctly, and two or three times over, with explanations
 2236 of every part as she proceeded -- and he was very much pleased, and,
 2237 as she had foreseen, especially struck with the complimentary conclusion.

 2238 "Aye, that's very just, indeed, that's very properly said.
 2239 Very true.  `Woman, lovely woman.' It is such a pretty charade,
 2240 my dear, that I can easily guess what fairy brought it. -- Nobody
 2241 could have written so prettily, but you, Emma."

 2242 Emma only nodded, and smiled. -- After a little thinking,
 2243 and a very tender sigh, he added,

 2244 "Ah! it is no difficulty to see who you take after! Your dear mother
 2245 was so clever at all those things! If I had but her memory! But I
 2246 can remember nothing; -- not even that particular riddle which you
 2247 have heard me mention; I can only recollect the first stanza;
 2248 and there are several.

 2249     Kitty, a fair but frozen maid,
 2250       Kindled a flame I yet deplore,
 2251     The hood-wink'd boy I called to aid,
 2252     Though of his near approach afraid,
 2253       So fatal to my suit before.

 2254 And that is all that I can recollect of it -- but it is very clever
 2255 all the way through.  But I think, my dear, you said you had got it."

 2256 "Yes, papa, it is written out in our second page.  We copied it
 2257 from the Elegant Extracts.  It was Garrick's, you know."

 2258 "Aye, very true. -- I wish I could recollect more of it.

 2259     Kitty, a fair but frozen maid.

 2260 The name makes me think of poor Isabella; for she was very near
 2261 being christened Catherine after her grandmama.  I hope we shall
 2262 have her here next week.  Have you thought, my dear, where you
 2263 shall put her -- and what room there will be for the children?"

 2264 "Oh! yes -- she will have her own room, of course; the room she always
 2265 has; -- and there is the nursery for the children, -- just as usual,
 2266 you know.  Why should there be any change?"

 2267 "I do not know, my dear -- but it is so long since she was here! -- not
 2268 since last Easter, and then only for a few days. -- Mr John Knightley's
 2269 being a lawyer is very inconvenient. -- Poor Isabella! -- she is sadly
 2270 taken away from us all! -- and how sorry she will be when she comes,
 2271 not to see Miss Taylor here!"

 2272 "She will not be surprized, papa, at least."

 2273 "I do not know, my dear.  I am sure I was very much surprized
 2274 when I first heard she was going to be married."

 2275 "We must ask Mr and Mrs Weston to dine with us, while Isabella
 2276 is here."

 2277 "Yes, my dear, if there is time. -- But -- (in a very depressed tone) -- she
 2278 is coming for only one week.  There will not be time for any thing."

 2279 "It is unfortunate that they cannot stay longer -- but it seems a case
 2280 of necessity.  Mr John Knightley must be in town again on the 28th,
 2281 and we ought to be thankful, papa, that we are to have the whole
 2282 of the time they can give to the country, that two or three days
 2283 are not to be taken out for the Abbey.  Mr Knightley promises
 2284 to give up his claim this Christmas -- though you know it is longer
 2285 since they were with him, than with us."

 2286 "It would be very hard, indeed, my dear, if poor Isabella were
 2287 to be anywhere but at Hartfield."

 2288 Mr Woodhouse could never allow for Mr Knightley's claims on
 2289 his brother, or any body's claims on Isabella, except his own.
 2290 He sat musing a little while, and then said,

 2291 "But I do not see why poor Isabella should be obliged to go back
 2292 so soon, though he does.  I think, Emma, I shall try and persuade
 2293 her to stay longer with us.  She and the children might stay very well."

 2294 "Ah! papa -- that is what you never have been able to accomplish,
 2295 and I do not think you ever will.  Isabella cannot bear to stay
 2296 behind her husband."

 2297 This was too true for contradiction.  Unwelcome as it was, Mr Woodhouse
 2298 could only give a submissive sigh; and as Emma saw his spirits
 2299 affected by the idea of his daughter's attachment to her husband,
 2300 she immediately led to such a branch of the subject as must raise them.

 2301 "Harriet must give us as much of her company as she can while
 2302 my brother and sister are here.  I am sure she will be pleased
 2303 with the children.  We are very proud of the children, are not we,
 2304 papa? I wonder which she will think the handsomest, Henry or John?"

 2305 "Aye, I wonder which she will.  Poor little dears, how glad they
 2306 will be to come.  They are very fond of being at Hartfield, Harriet."

 2307 "I dare say they are, sir.  I am sure I do not know who is not."

 2308 "Henry is a fine boy, but John is very like his mama.  Henry is the eldest,
 2309 he was named after me, not after his father.  John, the second,
 2310 is named after his father.  Some people are surprized, I believe,
 2311 that the eldest was not, but Isabella would have him called Henry,
 2312 which I thought very pretty of her.  And he is a very clever boy,
 2313 indeed.  They are all remarkably clever; and they have so many
 2314 pretty ways.  They will come and stand by my chair, and say,
 2315 `Grandpapa, can you give me a bit of string?' and once Henry asked me
 2316 for a knife, but I told him knives were only made for grandpapas.
 2317 I think their father is too rough with them very often."

 2318 "He appears rough to you," said Emma, "because you are so very
 2319 gentle yourself; but if you could compare him with other papas,
 2320 you would not think him rough.  He wishes his boys to be active and hardy;
 2321 and if they misbehave, can give them a sharp word now and then;
 2322 but he is an affectionate father -- certainly Mr John Knightley
 2323 is an affectionate father.  The children are all fond of him."

 2324 "And then their uncle comes in, and tosses them up to the ceiling
 2325 in a very frightful way!"

 2326 "But they like it, papa; there is nothing they like so much.
 2327 It is such enjoyment to them, that if their uncle did not lay down
 2328 the rule of their taking turns, whichever began would never give way
 2329 to the other."

 2330 "Well, I cannot understand it."

 2331 "That is the case with us all, papa.  One half of the world cannot
 2332 understand the pleasures of the other."

 2333 Later in the morning, and just as the girls were going to separate
 2334 in preparation for the regular four o'clock dinner, the hero
 2335 of this inimitable charade walked in again.  Harriet turned away;
 2336 but Emma could receive him with the usual smile, and her quick eye
 2337 soon discerned in his the consciousness of having made a push -- of
 2338 having thrown a die; and she imagined he was come to see how it
 2339 might turn up.  His ostensible reason, however, was to ask whether
 2340 Mr Woodhouse's party could be made up in the evening without him,
 2341 or whether he should be in the smallest degree necessary at Hartfield.
 2342 If he were, every thing else must give way; but otherwise his friend
 2343 Cole had been saying so much about his dining with him -- had made
 2344 such a point of it, that he had promised him conditionally to come.

 2345 Emma thanked him, but could not allow of his disappointing his
 2346 friend on their account; her father was sure of his rubber.
 2347 He re-urged -- she re-declined; and he seemed then about to make
 2348 his bow, when taking the paper from the table, she returned it -- 

 2349 "Oh! here is the charade you were so obliging as to leave with us;
 2350 thank you for the sight of it.  We admired it so much, that I have
 2351 ventured to write it into Miss Smith's collection.  Your friend
 2352 will not take it amiss I hope.  Of course I have not transcribed
 2353 beyond the first eight lines."

 2354 Mr Elton certainly did not very well know what to say.
 2355 He looked rather doubtingly -- rather confused; said something about
 2356 "honour," -- glanced at Emma and at Harriet, and then seeing the book
 2357 open on the table, took it up, and examined it very attentively.
 2358 With the view of passing off an awkward moment, Emma smilingly said,

 2359 "You must make my apologies to your friend; but so good a charade
 2360 must not be confined to one or two.  He may be sure of every woman's
 2361 approbation while he writes with such gallantry."

 2362 "I have no hesitation in saying," replied Mr Elton, though hesitating
 2363 a good deal while he spoke; "I have no hesitation in saying -- at
 2364 least if my friend feels at all as _I_ do -- I have not the smallest
 2365 doubt that, could he see his little effusion honoured as _I_ see it,
 2366 (looking at the book again, and replacing it on the table), he
 2367 would consider it as the proudest moment of his life."

 2368 After this speech he was gone as soon as possible.  Emma could not
 2369 think it too soon; for with all his good and agreeable qualities,
 2370 there was a sort of parade in his speeches which was very apt
 2371 to incline her to laugh.  She ran away to indulge the inclination,
 2372 leaving the tender and the sublime of pleasure to Harriet's share.



 2373 CHAPTER X


 2374 Though now the middle of December, there had yet been no weather
 2375 to prevent the young ladies from tolerably regular exercise;
 2376 and on the morrow, Emma had a charitable visit to pay to a poor
 2377 sick family, who lived a little way out of Highbury.

 2378 Their road to this detached cottage was down Vicarage Lane, a lane
 2379 leading at right angles from the broad, though irregular, main street
 2380 of the place; and, as may be inferred, containing the blessed abode
 2381 of Mr Elton.  A few inferior dwellings were first to be passed,
 2382 and then, about a quarter of a mile down the lane rose the Vicarage,
 2383 an old and not very good house, almost as close to the road as it
 2384 could be.  It had no advantage of situation; but had been very much
 2385 smartened up by the present proprietor; and, such as it was,
 2386 there could be no possibility of the two friends passing it without
 2387 a slackened pace and observing eyes. -- Emma's remark was -- 

 2388 "There it is.  There go you and your riddle-book one of these days." -- 
 2389 Harriet's was -- 

 2390 "Oh, what a sweet house! -- How very beautiful! -- There are the yellow
 2391 curtains that Miss Nash admires so much."

 2392 "I do not often walk this way _now_," said Emma, as they proceeded,
 2393 "but _then_ there will be an inducement, and I shall gradually get
 2394 intimately acquainted with all the hedges, gates, pools and pollards
 2395 of this part of Highbury."

 2396 Harriet, she found, had never in her life been within side the Vicarage,
 2397 and her curiosity to see it was so extreme, that, considering exteriors
 2398 and probabilities, Emma could only class it, as a proof of love,
 2399 with Mr Elton's seeing ready wit in her.

 2400 "I wish we could contrive it," said she; "but I cannot think
 2401 of any tolerable pretence for going in; -- no servant that I want
 2402 to inquire about of his housekeeper -- no message from my father."

 2403 She pondered, but could think of nothing.  After a mutual silence
 2404 of some minutes, Harriet thus began again -- 

 2405 "I do so wonder, Miss Woodhouse, that you should not be married,
 2406 or going to be married! so charming as you are!" -- 

 2407 Emma laughed, and replied,

 2408 "My being charming, Harriet, is not quite enough to induce me to marry;
 2409 I must find other people charming -- one other person at least.
 2410 And I am not only, not going to be married, at present, but have
 2411 very little intention of ever marrying at all."

 2412 "Ah! -- so you say; but I cannot believe it."

 2413 "I must see somebody very superior to any one I have seen yet,
 2414 to be tempted; Mr Elton, you know, (recollecting herself,)
 2415 is out of the question:  and I do _not_ wish to see any such person.
 2416 I would rather not be tempted.  I cannot really change for the better.
 2417 If I were to marry, I must expect to repent it."

 2418 "Dear me! -- it is so odd to hear a woman talk so!" -- 

 2419 "I have none of the usual inducements of women to marry.
 2420 Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing!
 2421 but I never have been in love; it is not my way, or my nature;
 2422 and I do not think I ever shall.  And, without love, I am sure I
 2423 should be a fool to change such a situation as mine.  Fortune I
 2424 do not want; employment I do not want; consequence I do not want:
 2425 I believe few married women are half as much mistress of their
 2426 husband's house as I am of Hartfield; and never, never could I expect
 2427 to be so truly beloved and important; so always first and always
 2428 right in any man's eyes as I am in my father's."

 2429 "But then, to be an old maid at last, like Miss Bates!"

 2430 "That is as formidable an image as you could present, Harriet; and if I
 2431 thought I should ever be like Miss Bates! so silly -- so satisfied -- 
 2432 so smiling -- so prosing -- so undistinguishing and unfastidious -- 
 2433 and so apt to tell every thing relative to every body about me,
 2434 I would marry to-morrow. But between _us_, I am convinced there never
 2435 can be any likeness, except in being unmarried."

 2436 "But still, you will be an old maid! and that's so dreadful!"

 2437 "Never mind, Harriet, I shall not be a poor old maid; and it is
 2438 poverty only which makes celibacy contemptible to a generous public!
 2439 A single woman, with a very narrow income, must be a ridiculous,
 2440 disagreeable old maid! the proper sport of boys and girls,
 2441 but a single woman, of good fortune, is always respectable,
 2442 and may be as sensible and pleasant as any body else.  And the
 2443 distinction is not quite so much against the candour and common
 2444 sense of the world as appears at first; for a very narrow income
 2445 has a tendency to contract the mind, and sour the temper.
 2446 Those who can barely live, and who live perforce in a very small,
 2447 and generally very inferior, society, may well be illiberal and cross.
 2448 This does not apply, however, to Miss Bates; she is only too good
 2449 natured and too silly to suit me; but, in general, she is very
 2450 much to the taste of every body, though single and though poor.
 2451 Poverty certainly has not contracted her mind:  I really believe,
 2452 if she had only a shilling in the world, she would be very likely
 2453 to give away sixpence of it; and nobody is afraid of her:  that is a
 2454 great charm."

 2455 "Dear me! but what shall you do? how shall you employ yourself
 2456 when you grow old?"

 2457 "If I know myself, Harriet, mine is an active, busy mind, with a great
 2458 many independent resources; and I do not perceive why I should be
 2459 more in want of employment at forty or fifty than one-and-twenty.
 2460 Woman's usual occupations of hand and mind will be as open to me then
 2461 as they are now; or with no important variation.  If I draw less,
 2462 I shall read more; if I give up music, I shall take to carpet-work.
 2463 And as for objects of interest, objects for the affections,
 2464 which is in truth the great point of inferiority, the want of which
 2465 is really the great evil to be avoided in _not_ marrying, I shall
 2466 be very well off, with all the children of a sister I love so much,
 2467 to care about.  There will be enough of them, in all probability,
 2468 to supply every sort of sensation that declining life can need.
 2469 There will be enough for every hope and every fear; and though my
 2470 attachment to none can equal that of a parent, it suits my ideas
 2471 of comfort better than what is warmer and blinder.  My nephews
 2472 and nieces! -- I shall often have a niece with me."

 2473 "Do you know Miss Bates's niece?  That is, I know you must have
 2474 seen her a hundred times -- but are you acquainted?"

 2475 "Oh! yes; we are always forced to be acquainted whenever she comes
 2476 to Highbury.  By the bye, _that_ is almost enough to put one out
 2477 of conceit with a niece.  Heaven forbid! at least, that I should
 2478 ever bore people half so much about all the Knightleys together,
 2479 as she does about Jane Fairfax.  One is sick of the very name
 2480 of Jane Fairfax.  Every letter from her is read forty times over;
 2481 her compliments to all friends go round and round again; and if she
 2482 does but send her aunt the pattern of a stomacher, or knit a pair
 2483 of garters for her grandmother, one hears of nothing else for a month.
 2484 I wish Jane Fairfax very well; but she tires me to death."

 2485 They were now approaching the cottage, and all idle topics
 2486 were superseded.  Emma was very compassionate; and the distresses
 2487 of the poor were as sure of relief from her personal attention
 2488 and kindness, her counsel and her patience, as from her purse.
 2489 She understood their ways, could allow for their ignorance and
 2490 their temptations, had no romantic expectations of extraordinary
 2491 virtue from those for whom education had done so little; entered into
 2492 their troubles with ready sympathy, and always gave her assistance
 2493 with as much intelligence as good-will.  In the present instance,
 2494 it was sickness and poverty together which she came to visit;
 2495 and after remaining there as long as she could give comfort or advice,
 2496 she quitted the cottage with such an impression of the scene
 2497 as made her say to Harriet, as they walked away,

 2498 "These are the sights, Harriet, to do one good.  How trifling they
 2499 make every thing else appear! -- I feel now as if I could think of
 2500 nothing but these poor creatures all the rest of the day; and yet,
 2501 who can say how soon it may all vanish from my mind?"

 2502 "Very true," said Harriet.  "Poor creatures! one can think
 2503 of nothing else."

 2504 "And really, I do not think the impression will soon be over,"
 2505 said Emma, as she crossed the low hedge, and tottering footstep
 2506 which ended the narrow, slippery path through the cottage garden,
 2507 and brought them into the lane again.  "I do not think it will,"
 2508 stopping to look once more at all the outward wretchedness of the place,
 2509 and recall the still greater within.

 2510 "Oh! dear, no," said her companion.

 2511 They walked on.  The lane made a slight bend; and when that bend
 2512 was passed, Mr Elton was immediately in sight; and so near
 2513 as to give Emma time only to say farther,

 2514 "Ah!  Harriet, here comes a very sudden trial of our stability
 2515 in good thoughts.  Well, (smiling,) I hope it may be allowed that
 2516 if compassion has produced exertion and relief to the sufferers,
 2517 it has done all that is truly important.  If we feel for the wretched,
 2518 enough to do all we can for them, the rest is empty sympathy,
 2519 only distressing to ourselves."

 2520 Harriet could just answer, "Oh! dear, yes," before the gentleman
 2521 joined them.  The wants and sufferings of the poor family, however,
 2522 were the first subject on meeting.  He had been going to call
 2523 on them.  His visit he would now defer; but they had a very
 2524 interesting parley about what could be done and should be done.
 2525 Mr Elton then turned back to accompany them.

 2526 "To fall in with each other on such an errand as this," thought Emma;
 2527 "to meet in a charitable scheme; this will bring a great increase
 2528 of love on each side.  I should not wonder if it were to bring
 2529 on the declaration.  It must, if I were not here.  I wish I were
 2530 anywhere else."

 2531 Anxious to separate herself from them as far as she could, she soon
 2532 afterwards took possession of a narrow footpath, a little raised
 2533 on one side of the lane, leaving them together in the main road.
 2534 But she had not been there two minutes when she found that Harriet's
 2535 habits of dependence and imitation were bringing her up too, and that,
 2536 in short, they would both be soon after her.  This would not do;
 2537 she immediately stopped, under pretence of having some alteration
 2538 to make in the lacing of her half-boot, and stooping down in complete
 2539 occupation of the footpath, begged them to have the goodness to walk on,
 2540 and she would follow in half a minute.  They did as they were desired;
 2541 and by the time she judged it reasonable to have done with her boot,
 2542 she had the comfort of farther delay in her power, being overtaken
 2543 by a child from the cottage, setting out, according to orders,
 2544 with her pitcher, to fetch broth from Hartfield.  To walk by the side
 2545 of this child, and talk to and question her, was the most natural
 2546 thing in the world, or would have been the most natural, had she been
 2547 acting just then without design; and by this means the others were
 2548 still able to keep ahead, without any obligation of waiting for her.
 2549 She gained on them, however, involuntarily:  the child's pace was quick,
 2550 and theirs rather slow; and she was the more concerned at it,
 2551 from their being evidently in a conversation which interested them.
 2552 Mr Elton was speaking with animation, Harriet listening with a very
 2553 pleased attention; and Emma, having sent the child on, was beginning
 2554 to think how she might draw back a little more, when they both
 2555 looked around, and she was obliged to join them.

 2556 Mr Elton was still talking, still engaged in some interesting detail;
 2557 and Emma experienced some disappointment when she found that he
 2558 was only giving his fair companion an account of the yesterday's
 2559 party at his friend Cole's, and that she was come in herself for
 2560 the Stilton cheese, the north Wiltshire, the butter, the cellery,
 2561 the beet-root, and all the dessert.

 2562 "This would soon have led to something better, of course," was her
 2563 consoling reflection; "any thing interests between those who love;
 2564 and any thing will serve as introduction to what is near the heart.
 2565 If I could but have kept longer away!"

 2566 They now walked on together quietly, till within view of the vicarage
 2567 pales, when a sudden resolution, of at least getting Harriet into
 2568 the house, made her again find something very much amiss about her boot,
 2569 and fall behind to arrange it once more.  She then broke the lace
 2570 off short, and dexterously throwing it into a ditch, was presently
 2571 obliged to entreat them to stop, and acknowledged her inability to
 2572 put herself to rights so as to be able to walk home in tolerable comfort.

 2573 "Part of my lace is gone," said she, "and I do not know how I am
 2574 to contrive.  I really am a most troublesome companion to you both,
 2575 but I hope I am not often so ill-equipped. Mr Elton, I must beg
 2576 leave to stop at your house, and ask your housekeeper for a bit
 2577 of ribband or string, or any thing just to keep my boot on."

 2578 Mr Elton looked all happiness at this proposition; and nothing
 2579 could exceed his alertness and attention in conducting them into
 2580 his house and endeavouring to make every thing appear to advantage.
 2581 The room they were taken into was the one he chiefly occupied,
 2582 and looking forwards; behind it was another with which it immediately
 2583 communicated; the door between them was open, and Emma passed
 2584 into it with the housekeeper to receive her assistance in the most
 2585 comfortable manner.  She was obliged to leave the door ajar as she
 2586 found it; but she fully intended that Mr Elton should close it.
 2587 It was not closed, however, it still remained ajar; but by engaging
 2588 the housekeeper in incessant conversation, she hoped to make it
 2589 practicable for him to chuse his own subject in the adjoining room.
 2590 For ten minutes she could hear nothing but herself.  It could
 2591 be protracted no longer.  She was then obliged to be finished,
 2592 and make her appearance.

 2593 The lovers were standing together at one of the windows.  It had a
 2594 most favourable aspect; and, for half a minute, Emma felt the glory
 2595 of having schemed successfully.  But it would not do; he had not
 2596 come to the point.  He had been most agreeable, most delightful;
 2597 he had told Harriet that he had seen them go by, and had purposely
 2598 followed them; other little gallantries and allusions had been dropt,
 2599 but nothing serious.

 2600 "Cautious, very cautious," thought Emma; "he advances inch by inch,
 2601 and will hazard nothing till he believes himself secure."

 2602 Still, however, though every thing had not been accomplished
 2603 by her ingenious device, she could not but flatter herself
 2604 that it had been the occasion of much present enjoyment to both,
 2605 and must be leading them forward to the great event.



 2606 CHAPTER XI


 2607 Mr Elton must now be left to himself.  It was no longer in Emma's
 2608 power to superintend his happiness or quicken his measures.
 2609 The coming of her sister's family was so very near at hand,
 2610 that first in anticipation, and then in reality, it became henceforth
 2611 her prime object of interest; and during the ten days of their stay
 2612 at Hartfield it was not to be expected -- she did not herself expect -- 
 2613 that any thing beyond occasional, fortuitous assistance could
 2614 be afforded by her to the lovers.  They might advance rapidly
 2615 if they would, however; they must advance somehow or other whether
 2616 they would or no.  She hardly wished to have more leisure for them.
 2617 There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they will
 2618 do for themselves.

 2619 Mr and Mrs John Knightley, from having been longer than usual
 2620 absent from Surry, were exciting of course rather more than the
 2621 usual interest.  Till this year, every long vacation since their
 2622 marriage had been divided between Hartfield and Donwell Abbey;
 2623 but all the holidays of this autumn had been given to sea-bathing
 2624 for the children, and it was therefore many months since they had
 2625 been seen in a regular way by their Surry connexions, or seen at all
 2626 by Mr Woodhouse, who could not be induced to get so far as London,
 2627 even for poor Isabella's sake; and who consequently was now most
 2628 nervously and apprehensively happy in forestalling this too short visit.

 2629 He thought much of the evils of the journey for her, and not a
 2630 little of the fatigues of his own horses and coachman who were to
 2631 bring some of the party the last half of the way; but his alarms
 2632 were needless; the sixteen miles being happily accomplished,
 2633 and Mr and Mrs John Knightley, their five children, and a competent
 2634 number of nursery-maids, all reaching Hartfield in safety.
 2635 The bustle and joy of such an arrival, the many to be talked to,
 2636 welcomed, encouraged, and variously dispersed and disposed of,
 2637 produced a noise and confusion which his nerves could not have borne
 2638 under any other cause, nor have endured much longer even for this;
 2639 but the ways of Hartfield and the feelings of her father were
 2640 so respected by Mrs John Knightley, that in spite of maternal
 2641 solicitude for the immediate enjoyment of her little ones,
 2642 and for their having instantly all the liberty and attendance,
 2643 all the eating and drinking, and sleeping and playing,
 2644 which they could possibly wish for, without the smallest delay,
 2645 the children were never allowed to be long a disturbance to him,
 2646 either in themselves or in any restless attendance on them.

 2647 Mrs John Knightley was a pretty, elegant little woman, of gentle,
 2648 quiet manners, and a disposition remarkably amiable and affectionate;
 2649 wrapt up in her family; a devoted wife, a doating mother,
 2650 and so tenderly attached to her father and sister that, but for
 2651 these higher ties, a warmer love might have seemed impossible.
 2652 She could never see a fault in any of them.  She was not a woman
 2653 of strong understanding or any quickness; and with this resemblance
 2654 of her father, she inherited also much of his constitution;
 2655 was delicate in her own health, over-careful of that of her children,
 2656 had many fears and many nerves, and was as fond of her own Mr Wingfield
 2657 in town as her father could be of Mr Perry.  They were alike too,
 2658 in a general benevolence of temper, and a strong habit of regard
 2659 for every old acquaintance.

 2660 Mr John Knightley was a tall, gentleman-like, and very clever man;
 2661 rising in his profession, domestic, and respectable in his
 2662 private character; but with reserved manners which prevented his being
 2663 generally pleasing; and capable of being sometimes out of humour.
 2664 He was not an ill-tempered man, not so often unreasonably cross
 2665 as to deserve such a reproach; but his temper was not his
 2666 great perfection; and, indeed, with such a worshipping wife,
 2667 it was hardly possible that any natural defects in it should not
 2668 be increased.  The extreme sweetness of her temper must hurt his.
 2669 He had all the clearness and quickness of mind which she wanted,
 2670 and he could sometimes act an ungracious, or say a severe thing.

 2671 He was not a great favourite with his fair sister-in-law. Nothing
 2672 wrong in him escaped her.  She was quick in feeling the little
 2673 injuries to Isabella, which Isabella never felt herself.
 2674 Perhaps she might have passed over more had his manners been
 2675 flattering to Isabella's sister, but they were only those of a calmly
 2676 kind brother and friend, without praise and without blindness;
 2677 but hardly any degree of personal compliment could have made her
 2678 regardless of that greatest fault of all in her eyes which he sometimes
 2679 fell into, the want of respectful forbearance towards her father.
 2680 There he had not always the patience that could have been wished.
 2681 Mr Woodhouse's peculiarities and fidgetiness were sometimes provoking
 2682 him to a rational remonstrance or sharp retort equally ill-bestowed.
 2683 It did not often happen; for Mr John Knightley had really a great
 2684 regard for his father-in-law, and generally a strong sense of what was
 2685 due to him; but it was too often for Emma's charity, especially as
 2686 there was all the pain of apprehension frequently to be endured,
 2687 though the offence came not.  The beginning, however, of every visit
 2688 displayed none but the properest feelings, and this being of necessity
 2689 so short might be hoped to pass away in unsullied cordiality.
 2690 They had not been long seated and composed when Mr Woodhouse,
 2691 with a melancholy shake of the head and a sigh, called his daughter's
 2692 attention to the sad change at Hartfield since she had been there last.

 2693 "Ah, my dear," said he, "poor Miss Taylor -- It is a grievous business."

 2694 "Oh yes, sir," cried she with ready sympathy, "how you must
 2695 miss her!  And dear Emma, too! -- What a dreadful loss to you both! -- 
 2696 I have been so grieved for you. -- I could not imagine how you could
 2697 possibly do without her. -- It is a sad change indeed. -- But I hope
 2698 she is pretty well, sir."

 2699 "Pretty well, my dear -- I hope -- pretty well. -- I do not know
 2700 but that the place agrees with her tolerably."

 2701 Mr John Knightley here asked Emma quietly whether there were any
 2702 doubts of the air of Randalls.

 2703 "Oh! no -- none in the least.  I never saw Mrs Weston better in my life -- 
 2704 never looking so well.  Papa is only speaking his own regret."

 2705 "Very much to the honour of both," was the handsome reply.

 2706 "And do you see her, sir, tolerably often?" asked Isabella
 2707 in the plaintive tone which just suited her father.

 2708 Mr Woodhouse hesitated. -- "Not near so often, my dear, as I could wish."

 2709 "Oh! papa, we have missed seeing them but one entire day since
 2710 they married.  Either in the morning or evening of every day,
 2711 excepting one, have we seen either Mr Weston or Mrs Weston,
 2712 and generally both, either at Randalls or here -- and as you
 2713 may suppose, Isabella, most frequently here.  They are very,
 2714 very kind in their visits.  Mr Weston is really as kind as herself.
 2715 Papa, if you speak in that melancholy way, you will be giving
 2716 Isabella a false idea of us all.  Every body must be aware that Miss
 2717 Taylor must be missed, but every body ought also to be assured
 2718 that Mr and Mrs Weston do really prevent our missing her by any
 2719 means to the extent we ourselves anticipated -- which is the exact truth."

 2720 "Just as it should be," said Mr John Knightley, "and just as I hoped
 2721 it was from your letters.  Her wish of shewing you attention could
 2722 not be doubted, and his being a disengaged and social man makes it
 2723 all easy.  I have been always telling you, my love, that I had no idea
 2724 of the change being so very material to Hartfield as you apprehended;
 2725 and now you have Emma's account, I hope you will be satisfied."

 2726 "Why, to be sure," said Mr Woodhouse -- "yes, certainly -- I cannot deny
 2727 that Mrs Weston, poor Mrs Weston, does come and see us pretty often -- 
 2728 but then -- she is always obliged to go away again."

 2729 "It would be very hard upon Mr Weston if she did not, papa. -- 
 2730 You quite forget poor Mr Weston."

 2731 "I think, indeed," said John Knightley pleasantly, "that Mr Weston
 2732 has some little claim.  You and I, Emma, will venture to take the part
 2733 of the poor husband.  I, being a husband, and you not being a wife,
 2734 the claims of the man may very likely strike us with equal force.
 2735 As for Isabella, she has been married long enough to see the convenience
 2736 of putting all the Mr Westons aside as much as she can."

 2737 "Me, my love," cried his wife, hearing and understanding only in part. -- 
 2738 "Are you talking about me? -- I am sure nobody ought to be, or can be,
 2739 a greater advocate for matrimony than I am; and if it had not been
 2740 for the misery of her leaving Hartfield, I should never have thought
 2741 of Miss Taylor but as the most fortunate woman in the world;
 2742 and as to slighting Mr Weston, that excellent Mr Weston, I think
 2743 there is nothing he does not deserve.  I believe he is one of the
 2744 very best-tempered men that ever existed.  Excepting yourself
 2745 and your brother, I do not know his equal for temper.  I shall
 2746 never forget his flying Henry's kite for him that very windy day
 2747 last Easter -- and ever since his particular kindness last September
 2748 twelvemonth in writing that note, at twelve o'clock at night,
 2749 on purpose to assure me that there was no scarlet fever at Cobham,
 2750 I have been convinced there could not be a more feeling heart nor
 2751 a better man in existence. -- If any body can deserve him, it must be
 2752 Miss Taylor."

 2753 "Where is the young man?" said John Knightley.  "Has he been here
 2754 on this occasion -- or has he not?"

 2755 "He has not been here yet," replied Emma.  "There was a strong
 2756 expectation of his coming soon after the marriage, but it ended
 2757 in nothing; and I have not heard him mentioned lately."

 2758 "But you should tell them of the letter, my dear," said her father.
 2759 "He wrote a letter to poor Mrs Weston, to congratulate her,
 2760 and a very proper, handsome letter it was.  She shewed it to me.
 2761 I thought it very well done of him indeed.  Whether it was his own idea
 2762 you know, one cannot tell.  He is but young, and his uncle, perhaps -- "

 2763 "My dear papa, he is three-and-twenty. You forget how time passes."

 2764 "Three-and-twenty! -- is he indeed? -- Well, I could not have thought it -- 
 2765 and he was but two years old when he lost his poor mother!  Well,
 2766 time does fly indeed! -- and my memory is very bad.  However, it was
 2767 an exceeding good, pretty letter, and gave Mr and Mrs Weston
 2768 a great deal of pleasure.  I remember it was written from Weymouth,
 2769 and dated Sept. 28th -- and began, `My dear Madam,' but I forget
 2770 how it went on; and it was signed `F. C. Weston Churchill.' -- 
 2771 I remember that perfectly."

 2772 "How very pleasing and proper of him!" cried the good-hearted
 2773 Mrs John Knightley.  "I have no doubt of his being a most amiable young man.
 2774 But how sad it is that he should not live at home with his father!
 2775 There is something so shocking in a child's being taken away from his
 2776 parents and natural home!  I never could comprehend how Mr Weston
 2777 could part with him.  To give up one's child!  I really never
 2778 could think well of any body who proposed such a thing to any body else."

 2779 "Nobody ever did think well of the Churchills, I fancy,"
 2780 observed Mr John Knightley coolly.  "But you need not imagine
 2781 Mr Weston to have felt what you would feel in giving up Henry
 2782 or John.  Mr Weston is rather an easy, cheerful-tempered man,
 2783 than a man of strong feelings; he takes things as he finds them,
 2784 and makes enjoyment of them somehow or other, depending, I suspect,
 2785 much more upon what is called society for his comforts, that is,
 2786 upon the power of eating and drinking, and playing whist with his
 2787 neighbours five times a week, than upon family affection, or any
 2788 thing that home affords."

 2789 Emma could not like what bordered on a reflection on Mr Weston,
 2790 and had half a mind to take it up; but she struggled, and let
 2791 it pass.  She would keep the peace if possible; and there was
 2792 something honourable and valuable in the strong domestic habits,
 2793 the all-sufficiency of home to himself, whence resulted her brother's
 2794 disposition to look down on the common rate of social intercourse,
 2795 and those to whom it was important. -- It had a high claim to forbearance.



 2796 CHAPTER XII


 2797 Mr Knightley was to dine with them -- rather against the inclination
 2798 of Mr Woodhouse, who did not like that any one should share with him
 2799 in Isabella's first day.  Emma's sense of right however had decided it;
 2800 and besides the consideration of what was due to each brother,
 2801 she had particular pleasure, from the circumstance of the late
 2802 disagreement between Mr Knightley and herself, in procuring him
 2803 the proper invitation.

 2804 She hoped they might now become friends again.  She thought it
 2805 was time to make up.  Making-up indeed would not do.  _She_ certainly
 2806 had not been in the wrong, and _he_ would never own that he had.
 2807 Concession must be out of the question; but it was time to appear
 2808 to forget that they had ever quarrelled; and she hoped it might rather
 2809 assist the restoration of friendship, that when he came into the room
 2810 she had one of the children with her -- the youngest, a nice little girl
 2811 about eight months old, who was now making her first visit to Hartfield,
 2812 and very happy to be danced about in her aunt's arms.  It did assist;
 2813 for though he began with grave looks and short questions, he was soon
 2814 led on to talk of them all in the usual way, and to take the child
 2815 out of her arms with all the unceremoniousness of perfect amity.
 2816 Emma felt they were friends again; and the conviction giving
 2817 her at first great satisfaction, and then a little sauciness,
 2818 she could not help saying, as he was admiring the baby,

 2819 "What a comfort it is, that we think alike about our nephews and nieces.
 2820 As to men and women, our opinions are sometimes very different;
 2821 but with regard to these children, I observe we never disagree."

 2822 "If you were as much guided by nature in your estimate of men
 2823 and women, and as little under the power of fancy and whim in your
 2824 dealings with them, as you are where these children are concerned,
 2825 we might always think alike."

 2826 "To be sure -- our discordancies must always arise from my being
 2827 in the wrong."

 2828 "Yes," said he, smiling -- "and reason good.  I was sixteen years
 2829 old when you were born."

 2830 "A material difference then," she replied -- "and no doubt you were
 2831 much my superior in judgment at that period of our lives; but does
 2832 not the lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings
 2833 a good deal nearer?"

 2834 "Yes -- a good deal _nearer_."

 2835 "But still, not near enough to give me a chance of being right,
 2836 if we think differently."

 2837 "I have still the advantage of you by sixteen years' experience, and by
 2838 not being a pretty young woman and a spoiled child.  Come, my dear Emma,
 2839 let us be friends, and say no more about it.  Tell your aunt, little Emma,
 2840 that she ought to set you a better example than to be renewing
 2841 old grievances, and that if she were not wrong before, she is now."

 2842 "That's true," she cried -- "very true.  Little Emma, grow up
 2843 a better woman than your aunt.  Be infinitely cleverer and not
 2844 half so conceited.  Now, Mr Knightley, a word or two more, and I
 2845 have done.  As far as good intentions went, we were _both_ right,
 2846 and I must say that no effects on my side of the argument have yet
 2847 proved wrong.  I only want to know that Mr Martin is not very,
 2848 very bitterly disappointed."

 2849 "A man cannot be more so," was his short, full answer.

 2850 "Ah! -- Indeed I am very sorry. -- Come, shake hands with me."

 2851 This had just taken place and with great cordiality, when John
 2852 Knightley made his appearance, and "How d'ye do, George?" and "John,
 2853 how are you?" succeeded in the true English style, burying under
 2854 a calmness that seemed all but indifference, the real attachment
 2855 which would have led either of them, if requisite, to do every thing
 2856 for the good of the other.

 2857 The evening was quiet and conversable, as Mr Woodhouse declined
 2858 cards entirely for the sake of comfortable talk with his
 2859 dear Isabella, and the little party made two natural divisions;
 2860 on one side he and his daughter; on the other the two Mr Knightleys;
 2861 their subjects totally distinct, or very rarely mixing -- and Emma
 2862 only occasionally joining in one or the other.

 2863 The brothers talked of their own concerns and pursuits, but principally
 2864 of those of the elder, whose temper was by much the most communicative,
 2865 and who was always the greater talker.  As a magistrate, he had
 2866 generally some point of law to consult John about, or, at least,
 2867 some curious anecdote to give; and as a farmer, as keeping in hand
 2868 the home-farm at Donwell, he had to tell what every field was to bear
 2869 next year, and to give all such local information as could not fail
 2870 of being interesting to a brother whose home it had equally been
 2871 the longest part of his life, and whose attachments were strong.
 2872 The plan of a drain, the change of a fence, the felling of a tree,
 2873 and the destination of every acre for wheat, turnips, or spring corn,
 2874 was entered into with as much equality of interest by John, as his
 2875 cooler manners rendered possible; and if his willing brother ever
 2876 left him any thing to inquire about, his inquiries even approached
 2877 a tone of eagerness.

 2878 While they were thus comfortably occupied, Mr Woodhouse was enjoying
 2879 a full flow of happy regrets and fearful affection with his daughter.

 2880 "My poor dear Isabella," said he, fondly taking her hand,
 2881 and interrupting, for a few moments, her busy labours for some one
 2882 of her five children -- "How long it is, how terribly long since you
 2883 were here!  And how tired you must be after your journey!  You must
 2884 go to bed early, my dear -- and I recommend a little gruel to you
 2885 before you go. -- You and I will have a nice basin of gruel together.
 2886 My dear Emma, suppose we all have a little gruel."

 2887 Emma could not suppose any such thing, knowing as she did,
 2888 that both the Mr Knightleys were as unpersuadable on that article
 2889 as herself; -- and two basins only were ordered.  After a little
 2890 more discourse in praise of gruel, with some wondering at its
 2891 not being taken every evening by every body, he proceeded to say,
 2892 with an air of grave reflection,

 2893 "It was an awkward business, my dear, your spending the autumn
 2894 at South End instead of coming here.  I never had much opinion
 2895 of the sea air."

 2896 "Mr Wingfield most strenuously recommended it, sir -- or we
 2897 should not have gone.  He recommended it for all the children,
 2898 but particularly for the weakness in little Bella's throat, -- 
 2899 both sea air and bathing."

 2900 "Ah! my dear, but Perry had many doubts about the sea doing her
 2901 any good; and as to myself, I have been long perfectly convinced,
 2902 though perhaps I never told you so before, that the sea is very
 2903 rarely of use to any body.  I am sure it almost killed me once."

 2904 "Come, come," cried Emma, feeling this to be an unsafe subject, "I must
 2905 beg you not to talk of the sea.  It makes me envious and miserable; -- 
 2906 I who have never seen it!  South End is prohibited, if you please.
 2907 My dear Isabella, I have not heard you make one inquiry about
 2908 Mr Perry yet; and he never forgets you."

 2909 "Oh! good Mr Perry -- how is he, sir?"

 2910 "Why, pretty well; but not quite well.  Poor Perry is bilious,
 2911 and he has not time to take care of himself -- he tells me he has
 2912 not time to take care of himself -- which is very sad -- but he is
 2913 always wanted all round the country.  I suppose there is not a man
 2914 in such practice anywhere.  But then there is not so clever a man
 2915 any where."

 2916 "And Mrs Perry and the children, how are they? do the children grow?
 2917 I have a great regard for Mr Perry.  I hope he will be calling soon.
 2918 He will be so pleased to see my little ones."

 2919 "I hope he will be here to-morrow, for I have a question or two to ask
 2920 him about myself of some consequence.  And, my dear, whenever he comes,
 2921 you had better let him look at little Bella's throat."

 2922 "Oh! my dear sir, her throat is so much better that I have hardly
 2923 any uneasiness about it.  Either bathing has been of the greatest
 2924 service to her, or else it is to be attributed to an excellent
 2925 embrocation of Mr Wingfield's, which we have been applying
 2926 at times ever since August."

 2927 "It is not very likely, my dear, that bathing should have been
 2928 of use to her -- and if I had known you were wanting an embrocation,
 2929 I would have spoken to -- 

 2930 "You seem to me to have forgotten Mrs and Miss Bates," said Emma,
 2931 "I have not heard one inquiry after them."

 2932 "Oh! the good Bateses -- I am quite ashamed of myself -- but you
 2933 mention them in most of your letters.  I hope they are quite well.
 2934 Good old Mrs Bates -- I will call upon her to-morrow, and take
 2935 my children. -- They are always so pleased to see my children. -- 
 2936 And that excellent Miss Bates! -- such thorough worthy people! -- 
 2937 How are they, sir?"

 2938 "Why, pretty well, my dear, upon the whole.  But poor Mrs Bates
 2939 had a bad cold about a month ago."

 2940 "How sorry I am!  But colds were never so prevalent as they have been
 2941 this autumn.  Mr Wingfield told me that he has never known them
 2942 more general or heavy -- except when it has been quite an influenza."

 2943 "That has been a good deal the case, my dear; but not to the degree
 2944 you mention.  Perry says that colds have been very general,
 2945 but not so heavy as he has very often known them in November.
 2946 Perry does not call it altogether a sickly season."

 2947 "No, I do not know that Mr Wingfield considers it _very_ sickly except -- 

 2948 "Ah! my poor dear child, the truth is, that in London it is always
 2949 a sickly season.  Nobody is healthy in London, nobody can be.
 2950 It is a dreadful thing to have you forced to live there! so far off! -- 
 2951 and the air so bad!"

 2952 "No, indeed -- _we_ are not at all in a bad air.  Our part of London is
 2953 very superior to most others! -- You must not confound us with London
 2954 in general, my dear sir.  The neighbourhood of Brunswick Square
 2955 is very different from almost all the rest.  We are so very airy!
 2956 I should be unwilling, I own, to live in any other part of the town; -- 
 2957 there is hardly any other that I could be satisfied to have my
 2958 children in:  but _we_ are so remarkably airy! -- Mr Wingfield thinks
 2959 the vicinity of Brunswick Square decidedly the most favourable as
 2960 to air."

 2961 "Ah! my dear, it is not like Hartfield.  You make the best of it -- 
 2962 but after you have been a week at Hartfield, you are all of you
 2963 different creatures; you do not look like the same.  Now I cannot say,
 2964 that I think you are any of you looking well at present."

 2965 "I am sorry to hear you say so, sir; but I assure you, excepting those
 2966 little nervous head-aches and palpitations which I am never entirely
 2967 free from anywhere, I am quite well myself; and if the children were
 2968 rather pale before they went to bed, it was only because they were
 2969 a little more tired than usual, from their journey and the happiness
 2970 of coming.  I hope you will think better of their looks to-morrow;
 2971 for I assure you Mr Wingfield told me, that he did not believe
 2972 he had ever sent us off altogether, in such good case.  I trust,
 2973 at least, that you do not think Mr Knightley looking ill,"
 2974 turning her eyes with affectionate anxiety towards her husband.

 2975 "Middling, my dear; I cannot compliment you.  I think
 2976 Mr John Knightley very far from looking well."

 2977 "What is the matter, sir? -- Did you speak to me?" cried
 2978 Mr John Knightley, hearing his own name.

 2979 "I am sorry to find, my love, that my father does not think you
 2980 looking well -- but I hope it is only from being a little fatigued.
 2981 I could have wished, however, as you know, that you had seen
 2982 Mr Wingfield before you left home."

 2983 "My dear Isabella," -- exclaimed he hastily -- "pray do not concern
 2984 yourself about my looks.  Be satisfied with doctoring and coddling
 2985 yourself and the children, and let me look as I chuse."

 2986 "I did not thoroughly understand what you were telling your brother,"
 2987 cried Emma, "about your friend Mr Graham's intending to have a bailiff
 2988 from Scotland, to look after his new estate.  What will it answer?
 2989 Will not the old prejudice be too strong?"

 2990 And she talked in this way so long and successfully that, when forced
 2991 to give her attention again to her father and sister, she had nothing
 2992 worse to hear than Isabella's kind inquiry after Jane Fairfax;
 2993 and Jane Fairfax, though no great favourite with her in general,
 2994 she was at that moment very happy to assist in praising.

 2995 "That sweet, amiable Jane Fairfax!" said Mrs John Knightley. -- 
 2996 "It is so long since I have seen her, except now and then for a moment
 2997 accidentally in town!  What happiness it must be to her good old
 2998 grandmother and excellent aunt, when she comes to visit them!
 2999 I always regret excessively on dear Emma's account that she cannot
 3000 be more at Highbury; but now their daughter is married, I suppose
 3001 Colonel and Mrs Campbell will not be able to part with her at all.
 3002 She would be such a delightful companion for Emma."

 3003 Mr Woodhouse agreed to it all, but added,

 3004 "Our little friend Harriet Smith, however, is just such another
 3005 pretty kind of young person.  You will like Harriet.  Emma could
 3006 not have a better companion than Harriet."

 3007 "I am most happy to hear it -- but only Jane Fairfax one knows to be
 3008 so very accomplished and superior! -- and exactly Emma's age."

 3009 This topic was discussed very happily, and others succeeded of
 3010 similar moment, and passed away with similar harmony; but the evening
 3011 did not close without a little return of agitation.  The gruel came
 3012 and supplied a great deal to be said -- much praise and many comments -- 
 3013 undoubting decision of its wholesomeness for every constitution,
 3014 and pretty severe Philippics upon the many houses where it was
 3015 never met with tolerable; -- but, unfortunately, among the failures
 3016 which the daughter had to instance, the most recent, and therefore
 3017 most prominent, was in her own cook at South End, a young woman
 3018 hired for the time, who never had been able to understand what she
 3019 meant by a basin of nice smooth gruel, thin, but not too thin.
 3020 Often as she had wished for and ordered it, she had never been able
 3021 to get any thing tolerable.  Here was a dangerous opening.

 3022 "Ah!" said Mr Woodhouse, shaking his head and fixing his eyes on
 3023 her with tender concern. -- The ejaculation in Emma's ear expressed,
 3024 "Ah! there is no end of the sad consequences of your going to
 3025 South End.  It does not bear talking of."  And for a little while
 3026 she hoped he would not talk of it, and that a silent rumination
 3027 might suffice to restore him to the relish of his own smooth gruel.
 3028 After an interval of some minutes, however, he began with,

 3029 "I shall always be very sorry that you went to the sea this autumn,
 3030 instead of coming here."

 3031 "But why should you be sorry, sir? -- I assure you, it did the children
 3032 a great deal of good."

 3033 "And, moreover, if you must go to the sea, it had better not
 3034 have been to South End.  South End is an unhealthy place.
 3035 Perry was surprized to hear you had fixed upon South End."

 3036 "I know there is such an idea with many people, but indeed it is
 3037 quite a mistake, sir. -- We all had our health perfectly well there,
 3038 never found the least inconvenience from the mud; and Mr Wingfield
 3039 says it is entirely a mistake to suppose the place unhealthy;
 3040 and I am sure he may be depended on, for he thoroughly understands
 3041 the nature of the air, and his own brother and family have been
 3042 there repeatedly."

 3043 "You should have gone to Cromer, my dear, if you went anywhere. -- 
 3044 Perry was a week at Cromer once, and he holds it to be the best
 3045 of all the sea-bathing places.  A fine open sea, he says, and very
 3046 pure air.  And, by what I understand, you might have had lodgings there
 3047 quite away from the sea -- a quarter of a mile off -- very comfortable.
 3048 You should have consulted Perry."

 3049 "But, my dear sir, the difference of the journey; -- only consider how
 3050 great it would have been. -- An hundred miles, perhaps, instead of forty."

 3051 "Ah! my dear, as Perry says, where health is at stake, nothing else
 3052 should be considered; and if one is to travel, there is not much
 3053 to chuse between forty miles and an hundred. -- Better not move at all,
 3054 better stay in London altogether than travel forty miles to get
 3055 into a worse air.  This is just what Perry said.  It seemed to him
 3056 a very ill-judged measure."

 3057 Emma's attempts to stop her father had been vain; and when he
 3058 had reached such a point as this, she could not wonder at her
 3059 brother-in-law's breaking out.

 3060 "Mr Perry," said he, in a voice of very strong displeasure,
 3061 "would do as well to keep his opinion till it is asked for.
 3062 Why does he make it any business of his, to wonder at what I do? -- 
 3063 at my taking my family to one part of the coast or another? -- I may
 3064 be allowed, I hope, the use of my judgment as well as Mr Perry. -- 
 3065 I want his directions no more than his drugs."  He paused -- 
 3066 and growing cooler in a moment, added, with only sarcastic dryness,
 3067 "If Mr Perry can tell me how to convey a wife and five children
 3068 a distance of an hundred and thirty miles with no greater expense
 3069 or inconvenience than a distance of forty, I should be as willing to
 3070 prefer Cromer to South End as he could himself."

 3071 "True, true," cried Mr Knightley, with most ready interposition -- 
 3072 "very true.  That's a consideration indeed. -- But John, as to what I
 3073 was telling you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning
 3074 it more to the right that it may not cut through the home meadows,
 3075 I cannot conceive any difficulty.  I should not attempt it,
 3076 if it were to be the means of inconvenience to the Highbury people,
 3077 but if you call to mind exactly the present line of the path. . . .
 3078 The only way of proving it, however, will be to turn to our maps.
 3079 I shall see you at the Abbey to-morrow morning I hope, and then we
 3080 will look them over, and you shall give me your opinion."

 3081 Mr Woodhouse was rather agitated by such harsh reflections on
 3082 his friend Perry, to whom he had, in fact, though unconsciously,
 3083 been attributing many of his own feelings and expressions; -- 
 3084 but the soothing attentions of his daughters gradually removed
 3085 the present evil, and the immediate alertness of one brother,
 3086 and better recollections of the other, prevented any renewal of it.



 3087 CHAPTER XIII


 3088 There could hardly be a happier creature in the world than Mrs John Knightley,
 3089 in this short visit to Hartfield, going about every morning
 3090 among her old acquaintance with her five children, and talking
 3091 over what she had done every evening with her father and sister.
 3092 She had nothing to wish otherwise, but that the days did not pass
 3093 so swiftly.  It was a delightful visit; -- perfect, in being much too short.

 3094 In general their evenings were less engaged with friends than
 3095 their mornings; but one complete dinner engagement, and out
 3096 of the house too, there was no avoiding, though at Christmas.
 3097 Mr Weston would take no denial; they must all dine at Randalls
 3098 one day; -- even Mr Woodhouse was persuaded to think it a possible
 3099 thing in preference to a division of the party.

 3100 How they were all to be conveyed, he would have made a difficulty
 3101 if he could, but as his son and daughter's carriage and horses
 3102 were actually at Hartfield, he was not able to make more than
 3103 a simple question on that head; it hardly amounted to a doubt;
 3104 nor did it occupy Emma long to convince him that they might in one
 3105 of the carriages find room for Harriet also.

 3106 Harriet, Mr Elton, and Mr Knightley, their own especial set,
 3107 were the only persons invited to meet them; -- the hours were to be early,
 3108 as well as the numbers few; Mr Woodhouse's habits and inclination
 3109 being consulted in every thing.

 3110 The evening before this great event (for it was a very great event
 3111 that Mr Woodhouse should dine out, on the 24th of December) had been
 3112 spent by Harriet at Hartfield, and she had gone home so much indisposed
 3113 with a cold, that, but for her own earnest wish of being nursed
 3114 by Mrs Goddard, Emma could not have allowed her to leave the house.
 3115 Emma called on her the next day, and found her doom already signed
 3116 with regard to Randalls.  She was very feverish and had a bad
 3117 sore throat:  Mrs Goddard was full of care and affection, Mr Perry
 3118 was talked of, and Harriet herself was too ill and low to resist
 3119 the authority which excluded her from this delightful engagement,
 3120 though she could not speak of her loss without many tears.

 3121 Emma sat with her as long as she could, to attend her in Mrs Goddard's
 3122 unavoidable absences, and raise her spirits by representing how much
 3123 Mr Elton's would be depressed when he knew her state; and left her
 3124 at last tolerably comfortable, in the sweet dependence of his having
 3125 a most comfortless visit, and of their all missing her very much.
 3126 She had not advanced many yards from Mrs Goddard's door, when she
 3127 was met by Mr Elton himself, evidently coming towards it, and as
 3128 they walked on slowly together in conversation about the invalid -- 
 3129 of whom he, on the rumour of considerable illness, had been going
 3130 to inquire, that he might carry some report of her to Hartfield -- 
 3131 they were overtaken by Mr John Knightley returning from the
 3132 daily visit to Donwell, with his two eldest boys, whose healthy,
 3133 glowing faces shewed all the benefit of a country run, and seemed
 3134 to ensure a quick despatch of the roast mutton and rice pudding they
 3135 were hastening home for.  They joined company and proceeded together.
 3136 Emma was just describing the nature of her friend's complaint; -- 
 3137 "a throat very much inflamed, with a great deal of heat about her,
 3138 a quick, low pulse, &c.  and she was sorry to find from Mrs Goddard
 3139 that Harriet was liable to very bad sore-throats, and had often
 3140 alarmed her with them."  Mr Elton looked all alarm on the occasion,
 3141 as he exclaimed,

 3142 "A sore-throat! -- I hope not infectious.  I hope not of a putrid
 3143 infectious sort.  Has Perry seen her?  Indeed you should take care
 3144 of yourself as well as of your friend.  Let me entreat you to run
 3145 no risks.  Why does not Perry see her?"

 3146 Emma, who was not really at all frightened herself, tranquillised this
 3147 excess of apprehension by assurances of Mrs Goddard's experience
 3148 and care; but as there must still remain a degree of uneasiness
 3149 which she could not wish to reason away, which she would rather
 3150 feed and assist than not, she added soon afterwards -- as if quite
 3151 another subject,

 3152 "It is so cold, so very cold -- and looks and feels so very much
 3153 like snow, that if it were to any other place or with any other party,
 3154 I should really try not to go out to-day -- and dissuade my father
 3155 from venturing; but as he has made up his mind, and does not seem
 3156 to feel the cold himself, I do not like to interfere, as I know it
 3157 would be so great a disappointment to Mr and Mrs Weston.  But, upon
 3158 my word, Mr Elton, in your case, I should certainly excuse myself.
 3159 You appear to me a little hoarse already, and when you consider
 3160 what demand of voice and what fatigues to-morrow will bring,
 3161 I think it would be no more than common prudence to stay at home
 3162 and take care of yourself to-night."

 3163 Mr Elton looked as if he did not very well know what answer to make;
 3164 which was exactly the case; for though very much gratified by the kind
 3165 care of such a fair lady, and not liking to resist any advice of
 3166 her's, he had not really the least inclination to give up the visit; -- 
 3167 but Emma, too eager and busy in her own previous conceptions
 3168 and views to hear him impartially, or see him with clear vision,
 3169 was very well satisfied with his muttering acknowledgment of its
 3170 being "very cold, certainly very cold," and walked on, rejoicing in
 3171 having extricated him from Randalls, and secured him the power
 3172 of sending to inquire after Harriet every hour of the evening.

 3173 "You do quite right," said she; -- "we will make your apologies
 3174 to Mr and Mrs Weston."

 3175 But hardly had she so spoken, when she found her brother was civilly
 3176 offering a seat in his carriage, if the weather were Mr Elton's
 3177 only objection, and Mr Elton actually accepting the offer with much
 3178 prompt satisfaction.  It was a done thing; Mr Elton was to go,
 3179 and never had his broad handsome face expressed more pleasure than
 3180 at this moment; never had his smile been stronger, nor his eyes
 3181 more exulting than when he next looked at her.

 3182 "Well," said she to herself, "this is most strange! -- After I
 3183 had got him off so well, to chuse to go into company, and leave
 3184 Harriet ill behind! -- Most strange indeed! -- But there is, I believe,
 3185 in many men, especially single men, such an inclination -- 
 3186 such a passion for dining out -- a dinner engagement is so high in
 3187 the class of their pleasures, their employments, their dignities,
 3188 almost their duties, that any thing gives way to it -- and this must
 3189 be the case with Mr Elton; a most valuable, amiable, pleasing young
 3190 man undoubtedly, and very much in love with Harriet; but still,
 3191 he cannot refuse an invitation, he must dine out wherever he is asked.
 3192 What a strange thing love is! he can see ready wit in Harriet,
 3193 but will not dine alone for her."

 3194 Soon afterwards Mr Elton quitted them, and she could not but do him
 3195 the justice of feeling that there was a great deal of sentiment
 3196 in his manner of naming Harriet at parting; in the tone of his
 3197 voice while assuring her that he should call at Mrs Goddard's
 3198 for news of her fair friend, the last thing before he prepared
 3199 for the happiness of meeting her again, when he hoped to be
 3200 able to give a better report; and he sighed and smiled himself
 3201 off in a way that left the balance of approbation much in his favour.

 3202 After a few minutes of entire silence between them, John Knightley
 3203 began with -- 

 3204 "I never in my life saw a man more intent on being agreeable than
 3205 Mr Elton.  It is downright labour to him where ladies are concerned.
 3206 With men he can be rational and unaffected, but when he has ladies
 3207 to please, every feature works."

 3208 "Mr Elton's manners are not perfect," replied Emma; "but where there
 3209 is a wish to please, one ought to overlook, and one does overlook
 3210 a great deal.  Where a man does his best with only moderate powers,
 3211 he will have the advantage over negligent superiority.  There is
 3212 such perfect good-temper and good-will in Mr Elton as one cannot
 3213 but value."

 3214 "Yes," said Mr John Knightley presently, with some slyness,
 3215 "he seems to have a great deal of good-will towards you."

 3216 "Me!" she replied with a smile of astonishment, "are you imagining
 3217 me to be Mr Elton's object?"

 3218 "Such an imagination has crossed me, I own, Emma; and if it never
 3219 occurred to you before, you may as well take it into consideration now."

 3220 "Mr Elton in love with me! -- What an idea!"

 3221 "I do not say it is so; but you will do well to consider whether
 3222 it is so or not, and to regulate your behaviour accordingly.
 3223 I think your manners to him encouraging.  I speak as a friend,
 3224 Emma.  You had better look about you, and ascertain what you do,
 3225 and what you mean to do."

 3226 "I thank you; but I assure you you are quite mistaken.  Mr Elton
 3227 and I are very good friends, and nothing more;" and she walked on,
 3228 amusing herself in the consideration of the blunders which often
 3229 arise from a partial knowledge of circumstances, of the mistakes
 3230 which people of high pretensions to judgment are for ever falling into;
 3231 and not very well pleased with her brother for imagining her blind
 3232 and ignorant, and in want of counsel.  He said no more.

 3233 Mr Woodhouse had so completely made up his mind to the visit,
 3234 that in spite of the increasing coldness, he seemed to have no idea
 3235 of shrinking from it, and set forward at last most punctually
 3236 with his eldest daughter in his own carriage, with less apparent
 3237 consciousness of the weather than either of the others; too full
 3238 of the wonder of his own going, and the pleasure it was to afford at
 3239 Randalls to see that it was cold, and too well wrapt up to feel it.
 3240 The cold, however, was severe; and by the time the second carriage
 3241 was in motion, a few flakes of snow were finding their way down,
 3242 and the sky had the appearance of being so overcharged as to want only
 3243 a milder air to produce a very white world in a very short time.

 3244 Emma soon saw that her companion was not in the happiest humour.
 3245 The preparing and the going abroad in such weather, with the sacrifice
 3246 of his children after dinner, were evils, were disagreeables at least,
 3247 which Mr John Knightley did not by any means like; he anticipated
 3248 nothing in the visit that could be at all worth the purchase;
 3249 and the whole of their drive to the vicarage was spent by him in
 3250 expressing his discontent.

 3251 "A man," said he, "must have a very good opinion of himself when
 3252 he asks people to leave their own fireside, and encounter such
 3253 a day as this, for the sake of coming to see him.  He must think
 3254 himself a most agreeable fellow; I could not do such a thing.
 3255 It is the greatest absurdity -- Actually snowing at this moment! -- 
 3256 The folly of not allowing people to be comfortable at home -- and the
 3257 folly of people's not staying comfortably at home when they can!
 3258 If we were obliged to go out such an evening as this, by any call of
 3259 duty or business, what a hardship we should deem it; -- and here are we,
 3260 probably with rather thinner clothing than usual, setting forward
 3261 voluntarily, without excuse, in defiance of the voice of nature,
 3262 which tells man, in every thing given to his view or his feelings,
 3263 to stay at home himself, and keep all under shelter that he can; -- 
 3264 here are we setting forward to spend five dull hours in another
 3265 man's house, with nothing to say or to hear that was not said
 3266 and heard yesterday, and may not be said and heard again to-morrow.
 3267 Going in dismal weather, to return probably in worse; -- four horses
 3268 and four servants taken out for nothing but to convey five idle,
 3269 shivering creatures into colder rooms and worse company than they
 3270 might have had at home."

 3271 Emma did not find herself equal to give the pleased assent, which no doubt
 3272 he was in the habit of receiving, to emulate the "Very true, my love,"
 3273 which must have been usually administered by his travelling companion;
 3274 but she had resolution enough to refrain from making any answer
 3275 at all.  She could not be complying, she dreaded being quarrelsome;
 3276 her heroism reached only to silence.  She allowed him to talk,
 3277 and arranged the glasses, and wrapped herself up, without opening
 3278 her lips.

 3279 They arrived, the carriage turned, the step was let down,
 3280 and Mr Elton, spruce, black, and smiling, was with them instantly.
 3281 Emma thought with pleasure of some change of subject.  Mr Elton
 3282 was all obligation and cheerfulness; he was so very cheerful
 3283 in his civilities indeed, that she began to think he must have
 3284 received a different account of Harriet from what had reached her.
 3285 She had sent while dressing, and the answer had been, "Much the same -- 
 3286 not better."

 3287 "_My_ report from Mrs Goddard's," said she presently, "was not
 3288 so pleasant as I had hoped -- `Not better' was _my_ answer."

 3289 His face lengthened immediately; and his voice was the voice
 3290 of sentiment as he answered.

 3291 "Oh! no -- I am grieved to find -- I was on the point of telling you that
 3292 when I called at Mrs Goddard's door, which I did the very last thing
 3293 before I returned to dress, I was told that Miss Smith was not better,
 3294 by no means better, rather worse.  Very much grieved and concerned -- 
 3295 I had flattered myself that she must be better after such a cordial
 3296 as I knew had been given her in the morning."

 3297 Emma smiled and answered -- "My visit was of use to the nervous part
 3298 of her complaint, I hope; but not even I can charm away a sore throat;
 3299 it is a most severe cold indeed.  Mr Perry has been with her,
 3300 as you probably heard."

 3301 "Yes -- I imagined -- that is -- I did not -- "

 3302 "He has been used to her in these complaints, and I hope to-morrow
 3303 morning will bring us both a more comfortable report.  But it is
 3304 impossible not to feel uneasiness.  Such a sad loss to our party to-day!"

 3305 "Dreadful! -- Exactly so, indeed. -- She will be missed every moment."

 3306 This was very proper; the sigh which accompanied it was really estimable;
 3307 but it should have lasted longer.  Emma was rather in dismay when
 3308 only half a minute afterwards he began to speak of other things,
 3309 and in a voice of the greatest alacrity and enjoyment.

 3310 "What an excellent device," said he, "the use of a sheepskin
 3311 for carriages.  How very comfortable they make it; -- impossible to
 3312 feel cold with such precautions.  The contrivances of modern days
 3313 indeed have rendered a gentleman's carriage perfectly complete.
 3314 One is so fenced and guarded from the weather, that not a breath
 3315 of air can find its way unpermitted.  Weather becomes absolutely
 3316 of no consequence.  It is a very cold afternoon -- but in this carriage
 3317 we know nothing of the matter. -- Ha! snows a little I see."

 3318 "Yes," said John Knightley, "and I think we shall have a good deal
 3319 of it."

 3320 "Christmas weather," observed Mr Elton.  "Quite seasonable;
 3321 and extremely fortunate we may think ourselves that it did not
 3322 begin yesterday, and prevent this day's party, which it might very
 3323 possibly have done, for Mr Woodhouse would hardly have ventured had
 3324 there been much snow on the ground; but now it is of no consequence.
 3325 This is quite the season indeed for friendly meetings.  At Christmas
 3326 every body invites their friends about them, and people think little
 3327 of even the worst weather.  I was snowed up at a friend's house once
 3328 for a week.  Nothing could be pleasanter.  I went for only one night,
 3329 and could not get away till that very day se'nnight."

 3330 Mr John Knightley looked as if he did not comprehend the pleasure,
 3331 but said only, coolly,

 3332 "I cannot wish to be snowed up a week at Randalls."

 3333 At another time Emma might have been amused, but she was too
 3334 much astonished now at Mr Elton's spirits for other feelings.
 3335 Harriet seemed quite forgotten in the expectation of a pleasant party.

 3336 "We are sure of excellent fires," continued he, "and every thing
 3337 in the greatest comfort.  Charming people, Mr and Mrs Weston; -- 
 3338 Mrs Weston indeed is much beyond praise, and he is exactly
 3339 what one values, so hospitable, and so fond of society; -- 
 3340 it will be a small party, but where small parties are select,
 3341 they are perhaps the most agreeable of any.  Mr Weston's dining-room
 3342 does not accommodate more than ten comfortably; and for my part,
 3343 I would rather, under such circumstances, fall short by two than
 3344 exceed by two.  I think you will agree with me, (turning with a soft
 3345 air to Emma,) I think I shall certainly have your approbation,
 3346 though Mr Knightley perhaps, from being used to the large parties
 3347 of London, may not quite enter into our feelings."

 3348 "I know nothing of the large parties of London, sir -- I never dine
 3349 with any body."

 3350 "Indeed! (in a tone of wonder and pity,) I had no idea that the
 3351 law had been so great a slavery.  Well, sir, the time must come
 3352 when you will be paid for all this, when you will have little
 3353 labour and great enjoyment."

 3354 "My first enjoyment," replied John Knightley, as they passed through
 3355 the sweep-gate, "will be to find myself safe at Hartfield again."



 3356 CHAPTER XIV


 3357 Some change of countenance was necessary for each gentleman
 3358 as they walked into Mrs Weston's drawing-room; -- Mr Elton must
 3359 compose his joyous looks, and Mr John Knightley disperse his
 3360 ill-humour. Mr Elton must smile less, and Mr John Knightley more,
 3361 to fit them for the place. -- Emma only might be as nature prompted,
 3362 and shew herself just as happy as she was.  To her it was real
 3363 enjoyment to be with the Westons.  Mr Weston was a great favourite,
 3364 and there was not a creature in the world to whom she spoke with
 3365 such unreserve, as to his wife; not any one, to whom she related
 3366 with such conviction of being listened to and understood, of being
 3367 always interesting and always intelligible, the little affairs,
 3368 arrangements, perplexities, and pleasures of her father and herself.
 3369 She could tell nothing of Hartfield, in which Mrs Weston had not
 3370 a lively concern; and half an hour's uninterrupted communication
 3371 of all those little matters on which the daily happiness of private
 3372 life depends, was one of the first gratifications of each.

 3373 This was a pleasure which perhaps the whole day's visit might
 3374 not afford, which certainly did not belong to the present half-hour;
 3375 but the very sight of Mrs Weston, her smile, her touch, her voice
 3376 was grateful to Emma, and she determined to think as little as
 3377 possible of Mr Elton's oddities, or of any thing else unpleasant,
 3378 and enjoy all that was enjoyable to the utmost.

 3379 The misfortune of Harriet's cold had been pretty well gone through
 3380 before her arrival.  Mr Woodhouse had been safely seated long
 3381 enough to give the history of it, besides all the history of his own
 3382 and Isabella's coming, and of Emma's being to follow, and had indeed
 3383 just got to the end of his satisfaction that James should come
 3384 and see his daughter, when the others appeared, and Mrs Weston,
 3385 who had been almost wholly engrossed by her attentions to him,
 3386 was able to turn away and welcome her dear Emma.

 3387 Emma's project of forgetting Mr Elton for a while made her rather
 3388 sorry to find, when they had all taken their places, that he was
 3389 close to her.  The difficulty was great of driving his strange
 3390 insensibility towards Harriet, from her mind, while he not only sat
 3391 at her elbow, but was continually obtruding his happy countenance
 3392 on her notice, and solicitously addressing her upon every occasion.
 3393 Instead of forgetting him, his behaviour was such that she could
 3394 not avoid the internal suggestion of "Can it really be as my brother
 3395 imagined? can it be possible for this man to be beginning to transfer
 3396 his affections from Harriet to me? -- Absurd and insufferable!" -- 
 3397 Yet he would be so anxious for her being perfectly warm, would be
 3398 so interested about her father, and so delighted with Mrs Weston;
 3399 and at last would begin admiring her drawings with so much zeal
 3400 and so little knowledge as seemed terribly like a would-be lover,
 3401 and made it some effort with her to preserve her good manners.
 3402 For her own sake she could not be rude; and for Harriet's, in the hope
 3403 that all would yet turn out right, she was even positively civil;
 3404 but it was an effort; especially as something was going on amongst
 3405 the others, in the most overpowering period of Mr Elton's nonsense,
 3406 which she particularly wished to listen to.  She heard enough
 3407 to know that Mr Weston was giving some information about his son;
 3408 she heard the words "my son," and "Frank," and "my son,"
 3409 repeated several times over; and, from a few other half-syllables
 3410 very much suspected that he was announcing an early visit from
 3411 his son; but before she could quiet Mr Elton, the subject was
 3412 so completely past that any reviving question from her would have
 3413 been awkward.

 3414 Now, it so happened that in spite of Emma's resolution of never marrying,
 3415 there was something in the name, in the idea of Mr Frank Churchill,
 3416 which always interested her.  She had frequently thought -- especially since
 3417 his father's marriage with Miss Taylor -- that if she _were_ to marry,
 3418 he was the very person to suit her in age, character and condition.
 3419 He seemed by this connexion between the families, quite to belong to her.
 3420 She could not but suppose it to be a match that every body who knew
 3421 them must think of.  That Mr and Mrs Weston did think of it, she was
 3422 very strongly persuaded; and though not meaning to be induced by him,
 3423 or by any body else, to give up a situation which she believed more
 3424 replete with good than any she could change it for, she had a great
 3425 curiosity to see him, a decided intention of finding him pleasant,
 3426 of being liked by him to a certain degree, and a sort of pleasure
 3427 in the idea of their being coupled in their friends' imaginations.

 3428 With such sensations, Mr Elton's civilities were dreadfully ill-timed;
 3429 but she had the comfort of appearing very polite, while feeling
 3430 very cross -- and of thinking that the rest of the visit could not
 3431 possibly pass without bringing forward the same information again,
 3432 or the substance of it, from the open-hearted Mr Weston. -- So it proved; -- 
 3433 for when happily released from Mr Elton, and seated by Mr Weston,
 3434 at dinner, he made use of the very first interval in the cares
 3435 of hospitality, the very first leisure from the saddle of mutton,
 3436 to say to her,

 3437 "We want only two more to be just the right number.  I should
 3438 like to see two more here, -- your pretty little friend, Miss Smith,
 3439 and my son -- and then I should say we were quite complete.
 3440 I believe you did not hear me telling the others in the drawing-room
 3441 that we are expecting Frank.  I had a letter from him this morning,
 3442 and he will be with us within a fortnight."

 3443 Emma spoke with a very proper degree of pleasure; and fully assented
 3444 to his proposition of Mr Frank Churchill and Miss Smith making
 3445 their party quite complete.

 3446 "He has been wanting to come to us," continued Mr Weston,
 3447 "ever since September:  every letter has been full of it;
 3448 but he cannot command his own time.  He has those to please
 3449 who must be pleased, and who (between ourselves) are sometimes
 3450 to be pleased only by a good many sacrifices.  But now
 3451 I have no doubt of seeing him here about the second week in January."

 3452 "What a very great pleasure it will be to you! and Mrs Weston
 3453 is so anxious to be acquainted with him, that she must be almost
 3454 as happy as yourself."

 3455 "Yes, she would be, but that she thinks there will be another
 3456 put-off. She does not depend upon his coming so much as I do:
 3457 but she does not know the parties so well as I do.  The case,
 3458 you see, is -- (but this is quite between ourselves:  I did not mention
 3459 a syllable of it in the other room.  There are secrets in all families,
 3460 you know) -- The case is, that a party of friends are invited to pay
 3461 a visit at Enscombe in January; and that Frank's coming depends upon
 3462 their being put off.  If they are not put off, he cannot stir.
 3463 But I know they will, because it is a family that a certain lady,
 3464 of some consequence, at Enscombe, has a particular dislike to:
 3465 and though it is thought necessary to invite them once in two or
 3466 three years, they always are put off when it comes to the point.
 3467 I have not the smallest doubt of the issue.  I am as confident
 3468 of seeing Frank here before the middle of January, as I am
 3469 of being here myself:  but your good friend there (nodding
 3470 towards the upper end of the table) has so few vagaries herself,
 3471 and has been so little used to them at Hartfield, that she cannot
 3472 calculate on their effects, as I have been long in the practice
 3473 of doing."

 3474 "I am sorry there should be any thing like doubt in the case,"
 3475 replied Emma; "but am disposed to side with you, Mr Weston.  If you
 3476 think he will come, I shall think so too; for you know Enscombe."

 3477 "Yes -- I have some right to that knowledge; though I have never been
 3478 at the place in my life. -- She is an odd woman! -- But I never allow
 3479 myself to speak ill of her, on Frank's account; for I do believe
 3480 her to be very fond of him.  I used to think she was not capable
 3481 of being fond of any body, except herself:  but she has always been
 3482 kind to him (in her way -- allowing for little whims and caprices,
 3483 and expecting every thing to be as she likes). And it is no small credit,
 3484 in my opinion, to him, that he should excite such an affection;
 3485 for, though I would not say it to any body else, she has no more
 3486 heart than a stone to people in general; and the devil of a temper."

 3487 Emma liked the subject so well, that she began upon it, to Mrs Weston,
 3488 very soon after their moving into the drawing-room: wishing her joy -- 
 3489 yet observing, that she knew the first meeting must be rather alarming. -- 
 3490 Mrs Weston agreed to it; but added, that she should be very
 3491 glad to be secure of undergoing the anxiety of a first meeting
 3492 at the time talked of:  "for I cannot depend upon his coming.
 3493 I cannot be so sanguine as Mr Weston.  I am very much afraid
 3494 that it will all end in nothing.  Mr Weston, I dare say, has been
 3495 telling you exactly how the matter stands?"

 3496 "Yes -- it seems to depend upon nothing but the ill-humour
 3497 of Mrs Churchill, which I imagine to be the most certain
 3498 thing in the world."

 3499 "My Emma!" replied Mrs Weston, smiling, "what is the certainty
 3500 of caprice?"  Then turning to Isabella, who had not been
 3501 attending before -- "You must know, my dear Mrs Knightley,
 3502 that we are by no means so sure of seeing Mr Frank Churchill,
 3503 in my opinion, as his father thinks.  It depends entirely upon
 3504 his aunt's spirits and pleasure; in short, upon her temper.
 3505 To you -- to my two daughters -- I may venture on the truth.
 3506 Mrs Churchill rules at Enscombe, and is a very odd-tempered woman;
 3507 and his coming now, depends upon her being willing to spare him."

 3508 "Oh, Mrs Churchill; every body knows Mrs Churchill,"
 3509 replied Isabella:  "and I am sure I never think of that poor young
 3510 man without the greatest compassion.  To be constantly living
 3511 with an ill-tempered person, must be dreadful.  It is what we
 3512 happily have never known any thing of; but it must be a life
 3513 of misery.  What a blessing, that she never had any children!
 3514 Poor little creatures, how unhappy she would have made them!"

 3515 Emma wished she had been alone with Mrs Weston.  She should then have
 3516 heard more:  Mrs Weston would speak to her, with a degree of unreserve
 3517 which she would not hazard with Isabella; and, she really believed,
 3518 would scarcely try to conceal any thing relative to the Churchills
 3519 from her, excepting those views on the young man, of which her own
 3520 imagination had already given her such instinctive knowledge.
 3521 But at present there was nothing more to be said.  Mr Woodhouse
 3522 very soon followed them into the drawing-room. To be sitting
 3523 long after dinner, was a confinement that he could not endure.
 3524 Neither wine nor conversation was any thing to him; and gladly did
 3525 he move to those with whom he was always comfortable.

 3526 While he talked to Isabella, however, Emma found an opportunity
 3527 of saying,

 3528 "And so you do not consider this visit from your son as by any
 3529 means certain.  I am sorry for it.  The introduction must be unpleasant,
 3530 whenever it takes place; and the sooner it could be over, the better."

 3531 "Yes; and every delay makes one more apprehensive of other delays.
 3532 Even if this family, the Braithwaites, are put off, I am still
 3533 afraid that some excuse may be found for disappointing us.
 3534 I cannot bear to imagine any reluctance on his side; but I am sure
 3535 there is a great wish on the Churchills' to keep him to themselves.
 3536 There is jealousy.  They are jealous even of his regard for his father.
 3537 In short, I can feel no dependence on his coming, and I wish Mr Weston
 3538 were less sanguine."

 3539 "He ought to come," said Emma.  "If he could stay only a couple
 3540 of days, he ought to come; and one can hardly conceive a young man's
 3541 not having it in his power to do as much as that.  A young _woman_,
 3542 if she fall into bad hands, may be teazed, and kept at a distance
 3543 from those she wants to be with; but one cannot comprehend a young
 3544 _man_'s being under such restraint, as not to be able to spend a week
 3545 with his father, if he likes it."

 3546 "One ought to be at Enscombe, and know the ways of the family,
 3547 before one decides upon what he can do," replied Mrs Weston.
 3548 "One ought to use the same caution, perhaps, in judging of the
 3549 conduct of any one individual of any one family; but Enscombe,
 3550 I believe, certainly must not be judged by general rules:
 3551 _she_ is so very unreasonable; and every thing gives way to her."

 3552 "But she is so fond of the nephew:  he is so very great a favourite.
 3553 Now, according to my idea of Mrs Churchill, it would be most natural,
 3554 that while she makes no sacrifice for the comfort of the husband,
 3555 to whom she owes every thing, while she exercises incessant caprice
 3556 towards _him_, she should frequently be governed by the nephew,
 3557 to whom she owes nothing at all."

 3558 "My dearest Emma, do not pretend, with your sweet temper,
 3559 to understand a bad one, or to lay down rules for it:  you must
 3560 let it go its own way.  I have no doubt of his having, at times,
 3561 considerable influence; but it may be perfectly impossible for him
 3562 to know beforehand _when_ it will be."

 3563 Emma listened, and then coolly said, "I shall not be satisfied,
 3564 unless he comes."

 3565 "He may have a great deal of influence on some points,"
 3566 continued Mrs Weston, "and on others, very little:  and among those,
 3567 on which she is beyond his reach, it is but too likely, may be
 3568 this very circumstance of his coming away from them to visit us."



 3569 CHAPTER XV


 3570 Mr Woodhouse was soon ready for his tea; and when he had drank his
 3571 tea he was quite ready to go home; and it was as much as his three
 3572 companions could do, to entertain away his notice of the lateness
 3573 of the hour, before the other gentlemen appeared.  Mr Weston was
 3574 chatty and convivial, and no friend to early separations of any sort;
 3575 but at last the drawing-room party did receive an augmentation.
 3576 Mr Elton, in very good spirits, was one of the first to walk in.
 3577 Mrs Weston and Emma were sitting together on a sofa.  He joined
 3578 them immediately, and, with scarcely an invitation, seated himself
 3579 between them.

 3580 Emma, in good spirits too, from the amusement afforded her mind
 3581 by the expectation of Mr Frank Churchill, was willing to forget
 3582 his late improprieties, and be as well satisfied with him as before,
 3583 and on his making Harriet his very first subject, was ready to listen
 3584 with most friendly smiles.

 3585 He professed himself extremely anxious about her fair friend -- 
 3586 her fair, lovely, amiable friend.  "Did she know? -- had she
 3587 heard any thing about her, since their being at Randalls? -- 
 3588 he felt much anxiety -- he must confess that the nature of her
 3589 complaint alarmed him considerably."  And in this style he talked
 3590 on for some time very properly, not much attending to any answer,
 3591 but altogether sufficiently awake to the terror of a bad sore throat;
 3592 and Emma was quite in charity with him.

 3593 But at last there seemed a perverse turn; it seemed all at once as if
 3594 he were more afraid of its being a bad sore throat on her account,
 3595 than on Harriet's -- more anxious that she should escape the infection,
 3596 than that there should be no infection in the complaint.  He began
 3597 with great earnestness to entreat her to refrain from visiting
 3598 the sick-chamber again, for the present -- to entreat her to _promise_
 3599 _him_ not to venture into such hazard till he had seen Mr Perry
 3600 and learnt his opinion; and though she tried to laugh it off
 3601 and bring the subject back into its proper course, there was no
 3602 putting an end to his extreme solicitude about her.  She was vexed.
 3603 It did appear -- there was no concealing it -- exactly like the pretence
 3604 of being in love with her, instead of Harriet; an inconstancy,
 3605 if real, the most contemptible and abominable! and she had difficulty
 3606 in behaving with temper.  He turned to Mrs Weston to implore
 3607 her assistance, "Would not she give him her support? -- would not she
 3608 add her persuasions to his, to induce Miss Woodhouse not to go
 3609 to Mrs Goddard's till it were certain that Miss Smith's disorder
 3610 had no infection?  He could not be satisfied without a promise -- 
 3611 would not she give him her influence in procuring it?"

 3612 "So scrupulous for others," he continued, "and yet so careless
 3613 for herself!  She wanted me to nurse my cold by staying at home to-day,
 3614 and yet will not promise to avoid the danger of catching an ulcerated
 3615 sore throat herself.  Is this fair, Mrs Weston? -- Judge between us.
 3616 Have not I some right to complain?  I am sure of your kind support
 3617 and aid."

 3618 Emma saw Mrs Weston's surprize, and felt that it must be great,
 3619 at an address which, in words and manner, was assuming to himself
 3620 the right of first interest in her; and as for herself, she was
 3621 too much provoked and offended to have the power of directly
 3622 saying any thing to the purpose.  She could only give him a look;
 3623 but it was such a look as she thought must restore him to his senses,
 3624 and then left the sofa, removing to a seat by her sister, and giving
 3625 her all her attention.

 3626 She had not time to know how Mr Elton took the reproof, so rapidly
 3627 did another subject succeed; for Mr John Knightley now came
 3628 into the room from examining the weather, and opened on them
 3629 all with the information of the ground being covered with snow,
 3630 and of its still snowing fast, with a strong drifting wind;
 3631 concluding with these words to Mr Woodhouse:

 3632 "This will prove a spirited beginning of your winter engagements,
 3633 sir.  Something new for your coachman and horses to be making
 3634 their way through a storm of snow."

 3635 Poor Mr Woodhouse was silent from consternation; but every body else
 3636 had something to say; every body was either surprized or not surprized,
 3637 and had some question to ask, or some comfort to offer.  Mrs Weston
 3638 and Emma tried earnestly to cheer him and turn his attention
 3639 from his son-in-law, who was pursuing his triumph rather unfeelingly.

 3640 "I admired your resolution very much, sir," said he, "in venturing
 3641 out in such weather, for of course you saw there would be snow
 3642 very soon.  Every body must have seen the snow coming on.
 3643 I admired your spirit; and I dare say we shall get home very well.
 3644 Another hour or two's snow can hardly make the road impassable;
 3645 and we are two carriages; if one is blown over in the bleak part
 3646 of the common field there will be the other at hand.  I dare say we
 3647 shall be all safe at Hartfield before midnight."

 3648 Mr Weston, with triumph of a different sort, was confessing that he
 3649 had known it to be snowing some time, but had not said a word,
 3650 lest it should make Mr Woodhouse uncomfortable, and be an excuse
 3651 for his hurrying away.  As to there being any quantity of snow fallen
 3652 or likely to fall to impede their return, that was a mere joke;
 3653 he was afraid they would find no difficulty.  He wished the road might
 3654 be impassable, that he might be able to keep them all at Randalls;
 3655 and with the utmost good-will was sure that accommodation might
 3656 be found for every body, calling on his wife to agree with him,
 3657 that with a little contrivance, every body might be lodged,
 3658 which she hardly knew how to do, from the consciousness of there
 3659 being but two spare rooms in the house.

 3660 "What is to be done, my dear Emma? -- what is to be done?"
 3661 was Mr Woodhouse's first exclamation, and all that he could say
 3662 for some time.  To her he looked for comfort; and her assurances
 3663 of safety, her representation of the excellence of the horses,
 3664 and of James, and of their having so many friends about them,
 3665 revived him a little.

 3666 His eldest daughter's alarm was equal to his own.  The horror of
 3667 being blocked up at Randalls, while her children were at Hartfield,
 3668 was full in her imagination; and fancying the road to be now just
 3669 passable for adventurous people, but in a state that admitted no delay,
 3670 she was eager to have it settled, that her father and Emma should remain
 3671 at Randalls, while she and her husband set forward instantly through
 3672 all the possible accumulations of drifted snow that might impede them.

 3673 "You had better order the carriage directly, my love," said she;
 3674 "I dare say we shall be able to get along, if we set off directly;
 3675 and if we do come to any thing very bad, I can get out and walk.
 3676 I am not at all afraid.  I should not mind walking half the way.
 3677 I could change my shoes, you know, the moment I got home; and it is not
 3678 the sort of thing that gives me cold."

 3679 "Indeed!" replied he.  "Then, my dear Isabella, it is the most
 3680 extraordinary sort of thing in the world, for in general every
 3681 thing does give you cold.  Walk home! -- you are prettily shod
 3682 for walking home, I dare say.  It will be bad enough for the horses."

 3683 Isabella turned to Mrs Weston for her approbation of the plan.
 3684 Mrs Weston could only approve.  Isabella then went to Emma;
 3685 but Emma could not so entirely give up the hope of their being
 3686 all able to get away; and they were still discussing the point,
 3687 when Mr Knightley, who had left the room immediately after his
 3688 brother's first report of the snow, came back again, and told them
 3689 that he had been out of doors to examine, and could answer for there
 3690 not being the smallest difficulty in their getting home, whenever they
 3691 liked it, either now or an hour hence.  He had gone beyond the sweep -- 
 3692 some way along the Highbury road -- the snow was nowhere above half
 3693 an inch deep -- in many places hardly enough to whiten the ground;
 3694 a very few flakes were falling at present, but the clouds were parting,
 3695 and there was every appearance of its being soon over.  He had seen
 3696 the coachmen, and they both agreed with him in there being nothing
 3697 to apprehend.

 3698 To Isabella, the relief of such tidings was very great, and they
 3699 were scarcely less acceptable to Emma on her father's account,
 3700 who was immediately set as much at ease on the subject as his nervous
 3701 constitution allowed; but the alarm that had been raised could not
 3702 be appeased so as to admit of any comfort for him while he continued
 3703 at Randalls.  He was satisfied of there being no present danger in
 3704 returning home, but no assurances could convince him that it was safe
 3705 to stay; and while the others were variously urging and recommending,
 3706 Mr Knightley and Emma settled it in a few brief sentences:  thus -- 

 3707 "Your father will not be easy; why do not you go?"

 3708 "I am ready, if the others are."

 3709 "Shall I ring the bell?"

 3710 "Yes, do."

 3711 And the bell was rung, and the carriages spoken for.  A few
 3712 minutes more, and Emma hoped to see one troublesome companion
 3713 deposited in his own house, to get sober and cool, and the other
 3714 recover his temper and happiness when this visit of hardship were over.

 3715 The carriage came:  and Mr Woodhouse, always the first object on
 3716 such occasions, was carefully attended to his own by Mr Knightley
 3717 and Mr Weston; but not all that either could say could prevent some
 3718 renewal of alarm at the sight of the snow which had actually fallen,
 3719 and the discovery of a much darker night than he had been prepared for.
 3720 "He was afraid they should have a very bad drive.  He was afraid
 3721 poor Isabella would not like it.  And there would be poor Emma
 3722 in the carriage behind.  He did not know what they had best do.
 3723 They must keep as much together as they could;" and James was talked to,
 3724 and given a charge to go very slow and wait for the other carriage.

 3725 Isabella stept in after her father; John Knightley, forgetting that he
 3726 did not belong to their party, stept in after his wife very naturally;
 3727 so that Emma found, on being escorted and followed into the second
 3728 carriage by Mr Elton, that the door was to be lawfully shut on them,
 3729 and that they were to have a tete-a-tete drive.  It would not have been
 3730 the awkwardness of a moment, it would have been rather a pleasure,
 3731 previous to the suspicions of this very day; she could have talked
 3732 to him of Harriet, and the three-quarters of a mile would have
 3733 seemed but one.  But now, she would rather it had not happened.
 3734 She believed he had been drinking too much of Mr Weston's good wine,
 3735 and felt sure that he would want to be talking nonsense.

 3736 To restrain him as much as might be, by her own manners, she was
 3737 immediately preparing to speak with exquisite calmness and gravity
 3738 of the weather and the night; but scarcely had she begun, scarcely had
 3739 they passed the sweep-gate and joined the other carriage, than she
 3740 found her subject cut up -- her hand seized -- her attention demanded,
 3741 and Mr Elton actually making violent love to her:  availing himself
 3742 of the precious opportunity, declaring sentiments which must be already
 3743 well known, hoping -- fearing -- adoring -- ready to die if she refused him;
 3744 but flattering himself that his ardent attachment and unequalled
 3745 love and unexampled passion could not fail of having some effect,
 3746 and in short, very much resolved on being seriously accepted as soon
 3747 as possible.  It really was so.  Without scruple -- without apology -- 
 3748 without much apparent diffidence, Mr Elton, the lover of Harriet,
 3749 was professing himself _her_ lover.  She tried to stop him; but vainly;
 3750 he would go on, and say it all.  Angry as she was, the thought of
 3751 the moment made her resolve to restrain herself when she did speak.
 3752 She felt that half this folly must be drunkenness, and therefore
 3753 could hope that it might belong only to the passing hour.
 3754 Accordingly, with a mixture of the serious and the playful, which she
 3755 hoped would best suit his half and half state, she replied,

 3756 "I am very much astonished, Mr Elton.  This to _me_! you forget yourself -- 
 3757 you take me for my friend -- any message to Miss Smith I shall
 3758 be happy to deliver; but no more of this to _me_, if you please."

 3759 "Miss Smith! -- message to Miss Smith! -- What could she possibly mean!" -- 
 3760 And he repeated her words with such assurance of accent, such boastful
 3761 pretence of amazement, that she could not help replying with quickness,

 3762 "Mr Elton, this is the most extraordinary conduct! and I can account
 3763 for it only in one way; you are not yourself, or you could not speak
 3764 either to me, or of Harriet, in such a manner.  Command yourself
 3765 enough to say no more, and I will endeavour to forget it."

 3766 But Mr Elton had only drunk wine enough to elevate his spirits,
 3767 not at all to confuse his intellects.  He perfectly knew his own meaning;
 3768 and having warmly protested against her suspicion as most injurious,
 3769 and slightly touched upon his respect for Miss Smith as her friend, -- 
 3770 but acknowledging his wonder that Miss Smith should be mentioned
 3771 at all, -- he resumed the subject of his own passion, and was very
 3772 urgent for a favourable answer.

 3773 As she thought less of his inebriety, she thought more of his inconstancy
 3774 and presumption; and with fewer struggles for politeness, replied,

 3775 "It is impossible for me to doubt any longer.  You have made
 3776 yourself too clear.  Mr Elton, my astonishment is much beyond
 3777 any thing I can express.  After such behaviour, as I have witnessed
 3778 during the last month, to Miss Smith -- such attentions as I
 3779 have been in the daily habit of observing -- to be addressing me
 3780 in this manner -- this is an unsteadiness of character, indeed,
 3781 which I had not supposed possible!  Believe me, sir, I am far,
 3782 very far, from gratified in being the object of such professions."

 3783 "Good Heaven!" cried Mr Elton, "what can be the meaning of this? -- 
 3784 Miss Smith! -- I never thought of Miss Smith in the whole course
 3785 of my existence -- never paid her any attentions, but as your friend:
 3786 never cared whether she were dead or alive, but as your friend.
 3787 If she has fancied otherwise, her own wishes have misled her,
 3788 and I am very sorry -- extremely sorry -- But, Miss Smith, indeed! -- Oh!
 3789 Miss Woodhouse! who can think of Miss Smith, when Miss Woodhouse
 3790 is near!  No, upon my honour, there is no unsteadiness of character.
 3791 I have thought only of you.  I protest against having paid the smallest
 3792 attention to any one else.  Every thing that I have said or done,
 3793 for many weeks past, has been with the sole view of marking my
 3794 adoration of yourself.  You cannot really, seriously, doubt it.
 3795 No! -- (in an accent meant to be insinuating) -- I am sure you have seen
 3796 and understood me."

 3797 It would be impossible to say what Emma felt, on hearing this -- 
 3798 which of all her unpleasant sensations was uppermost.  She was
 3799 too completely overpowered to be immediately able to reply:
 3800 and two moments of silence being ample encouragement for Mr Elton's
 3801 sanguine state of mind, he tried to take her hand again, as he
 3802 joyously exclaimed -- 

 3803 "Charming Miss Woodhouse! allow me to interpret this interesting silence.
 3804 It confesses that you have long understood me."

 3805 "No, sir," cried Emma, "it confesses no such thing.  So far from
 3806 having long understood you, I have been in a most complete error
 3807 with respect to your views, till this moment.  As to myself, I am
 3808 very sorry that you should have been giving way to any feelings -- 
 3809 Nothing could be farther from my wishes -- your attachment to my
 3810 friend Harriet -- your pursuit of her, (pursuit, it appeared,) gave me
 3811 great pleasure, and I have been very earnestly wishing you success:
 3812 but had I supposed that she were not your attraction to Hartfield,
 3813 I should certainly have thought you judged ill in making your visits
 3814 so frequent.  Am I to believe that you have never sought to recommend
 3815 yourself particularly to Miss Smith? -- that you have never thought
 3816 seriously of her?"

 3817 "Never, madam," cried he, affronted in his turn:  "never, I assure you.
 3818 _I_ think seriously of Miss Smith! -- Miss Smith is a very good sort
 3819 of girl; and I should be happy to see her respectably settled.
 3820 I wish her extremely well:  and, no doubt, there are men who might not
 3821 object to -- Every body has their level:  but as for myself, I am not,
 3822 I think, quite so much at a loss.  I need not so totally despair
 3823 of an equal alliance, as to be addressing myself to Miss Smith! -- 
 3824 No, madam, my visits to Hartfield have been for yourself only;
 3825 and the encouragement I received -- "

 3826 "Encouragement! -- I give you encouragement! -- Sir, you have been entirely
 3827 mistaken in supposing it.  I have seen you only as the admirer
 3828 of my friend.  In no other light could you have been more to me than
 3829 a common acquaintance.  I am exceedingly sorry:  but it is well that
 3830 the mistake ends where it does.  Had the same behaviour continued,
 3831 Miss Smith might have been led into a misconception of your views;
 3832 not being aware, probably, any more than myself, of the very
 3833 great inequality which you are so sensible of.  But, as it is,
 3834 the disappointment is single, and, I trust, will not be lasting.
 3835 I have no thoughts of matrimony at present."

 3836 He was too angry to say another word; her manner too decided
 3837 to invite supplication; and in this state of swelling resentment,
 3838 and mutually deep mortification, they had to continue together a few
 3839 minutes longer, for the fears of Mr Woodhouse had confined them
 3840 to a foot-pace. If there had not been so much anger, there would have
 3841 been desperate awkwardness; but their straightforward emotions left
 3842 no room for the little zigzags of embarrassment.  Without knowing
 3843 when the carriage turned into Vicarage Lane, or when it stopped,
 3844 they found themselves, all at once, at the door of his house;
 3845 and he was out before another syllable passed. -- Emma then felt it
 3846 indispensable to wish him a good night.  The compliment was just returned,
 3847 coldly and proudly; and, under indescribable irritation of spirits,
 3848 she was then conveyed to Hartfield.

 3849 There she was welcomed, with the utmost delight, by her father,
 3850 who had been trembling for the dangers of a solitary drive from
 3851 Vicarage Lane -- turning a corner which he could never bear to think of -- 
 3852 and in strange hands -- a mere common coachman -- no James; and there it
 3853 seemed as if her return only were wanted to make every thing go well:
 3854 for Mr John Knightley, ashamed of his ill-humour, was now all
 3855 kindness and attention; and so particularly solicitous for the comfort
 3856 of her father, as to seem -- if not quite ready to join him in a basin
 3857 of gruel -- perfectly sensible of its being exceedingly wholesome;
 3858 and the day was concluding in peace and comfort to all their little party,
 3859 except herself. -- But her mind had never been in such perturbation;
 3860 and it needed a very strong effort to appear attentive and cheerful till
 3861 the usual hour of separating allowed her the relief of quiet reflection.



 3862 CHAPTER XVI


 3863 The hair was curled, and the maid sent away, and Emma sat down to think
 3864 and be miserable. -- It was a wretched business indeed! -- Such an overthrow
 3865 of every thing she had been wishing for! -- Such a development of every
 3866 thing most unwelcome! -- Such a blow for Harriet! -- that was the worst
 3867 of all.  Every part of it brought pain and humiliation, of some sort
 3868 or other; but, compared with the evil to Harriet, all was light;
 3869 and she would gladly have submitted to feel yet more mistaken -- 
 3870 more in error -- more disgraced by mis-judgment, than she actually was,
 3871 could the effects of her blunders have been confined to herself.

 3872 "If I had not persuaded Harriet into liking the man, I could have
 3873 borne any thing.  He might have doubled his presumption to me -- 
 3874 but poor Harriet!"

 3875 How she could have been so deceived! -- He protested that he
 3876 had never thought seriously of Harriet -- never!  She looked back
 3877 as well as she could; but it was all confusion.  She had taken
 3878 up the idea, she supposed, and made every thing bend to it.
 3879 His manners, however, must have been unmarked, wavering, dubious,
 3880 or she could not have been so misled.

 3881 The picture! -- How eager he had been about the picture! -- 
 3882 and the charade! -- and an hundred other circumstances; -- 
 3883 how clearly they had seemed to point at Harriet.  To be sure,
 3884 the charade, with its "ready wit" -- but then the "soft eyes" -- 
 3885 in fact it suited neither; it was a jumble without taste or truth.
 3886 Who could have seen through such thick-headed nonsense?

 3887 Certainly she had often, especially of late, thought his manners
 3888 to herself unnecessarily gallant; but it had passed as his way,
 3889 as a mere error of judgment, of knowledge, of taste, as one proof
 3890 among others that he had not always lived in the best society,
 3891 that with all the gentleness of his address, true elegance
 3892 was sometimes wanting; but, till this very day, she had never,
 3893 for an instant, suspected it to mean any thing but grateful respect
 3894 to her as Harriet's friend.

 3895 To Mr John Knightley was she indebted for her first idea on
 3896 the subject, for the first start of its possibility.  There was
 3897 no denying that those brothers had penetration.  She remembered
 3898 what Mr Knightley had once said to her about Mr Elton, the caution
 3899 he had given, the conviction he had professed that Mr Elton would
 3900 never marry indiscreetly; and blushed to think how much truer
 3901 a knowledge of his character had been there shewn than any she
 3902 had reached herself.  It was dreadfully mortifying; but Mr Elton
 3903 was proving himself, in many respects, the very reverse of what she
 3904 had meant and believed him; proud, assuming, conceited; very full
 3905 of his own claims, and little concerned about the feelings of others.

 3906 Contrary to the usual course of things, Mr Elton's wanting
 3907 to pay his addresses to her had sunk him in her opinion.
 3908 His professions and his proposals did him no service.  She thought
 3909 nothing of his attachment, and was insulted by his hopes.
 3910 He wanted to marry well, and having the arrogance to raise his
 3911 eyes to her, pretended to be in love; but she was perfectly easy
 3912 as to his not suffering any disappointment that need be cared for.
 3913 There had been no real affection either in his language or manners.
 3914 Sighs and fine words had been given in abundance; but she could
 3915 hardly devise any set of expressions, or fancy any tone of voice,
 3916 less allied with real love.  She need not trouble herself to pity him.
 3917 He only wanted to aggrandise and enrich himself; and if Miss Woodhouse
 3918 of Hartfield, the heiress of thirty thousand pounds, were not quite
 3919 so easily obtained as he had fancied, he would soon try for Miss
 3920 Somebody else with twenty, or with ten.

 3921 But -- that he should talk of encouragement, should consider her as
 3922 aware of his views, accepting his attentions, meaning (in short),
 3923 to marry him! -- should suppose himself her equal in connexion
 3924 or mind! -- look down upon her friend, so well understanding the
 3925 gradations of rank below him, and be so blind to what rose above,
 3926 as to fancy himself shewing no presumption in addressing her! -- 
 3927 It was most provoking.

 3928 Perhaps it was not fair to expect him to feel how very much he
 3929 was her inferior in talent, and all the elegancies of mind.
 3930 The very want of such equality might prevent his perception of it;
 3931 but he must know that in fortune and consequence she was greatly
 3932 his superior.  He must know that the Woodhouses had been settled
 3933 for several generations at Hartfield, the younger branch
 3934 of a very ancient family -- and that the Eltons were nobody.
 3935 The landed property of Hartfield certainly was inconsiderable,
 3936 being but a sort of notch in the Donwell Abbey estate, to which all
 3937 the rest of Highbury belonged; but their fortune, from other sources,
 3938 was such as to make them scarcely secondary to Donwell Abbey itself,
 3939 in every other kind of consequence; and the Woodhouses had long
 3940 held a high place in the consideration of the neighbourhood which
 3941 Mr Elton had first entered not two years ago, to make his way
 3942 as he could, without any alliances but in trade, or any thing
 3943 to recommend him to notice but his situation and his civility. -- 
 3944 But he had fancied her in love with him; that evidently must
 3945 have been his dependence; and after raving a little about the
 3946 seeming incongruity of gentle manners and a conceited head,
 3947 Emma was obliged in common honesty to stop and admit that her own
 3948 behaviour to him had been so complaisant and obliging, so full of
 3949 courtesy and attention, as (supposing her real motive unperceived)
 3950 might warrant a man of ordinary observation and delicacy,
 3951 like Mr Elton, in fancying himself a very decided favourite.  If _she_
 3952 had so misinterpreted his feelings, she had little right to wonder
 3953 that _he_, with self-interest to blind him, should have mistaken hers.

 3954 The first error and the worst lay at her door.  It was foolish,
 3955 it was wrong, to take so active a part in bringing any two
 3956 people together.  It was adventuring too far, assuming too much,
 3957 making light of what ought to be serious, a trick of what ought
 3958 to be simple.  She was quite concerned and ashamed, and resolved
 3959 to do such things no more.

 3960 "Here have I," said she, "actually talked poor Harriet into being
 3961 very much attached to this man.  She might never have thought of him
 3962 but for me; and certainly never would have thought of him with hope,
 3963 if I had not assured her of his attachment, for she is as modest
 3964 and humble as I used to think him.  Oh! that I had been satisfied with
 3965 persuading her not to accept young Martin.  There I was quite right.
 3966 That was well done of me; but there I should have stopped, and left
 3967 the rest to time and chance.  I was introducing her into good company,
 3968 and giving her the opportunity of pleasing some one worth having;
 3969 I ought not to have attempted more.  But now, poor girl, her peace
 3970 is cut up for some time.  I have been but half a friend to her;
 3971 and if she were _not_ to feel this disappointment so very much, I am
 3972 sure I have not an idea of any body else who would be at all desirable
 3973 for her; -- William Coxe -- Oh! no, I could not endure William Coxe -- 
 3974 a pert young lawyer."

 3975 She stopt to blush and laugh at her own relapse, and then resumed
 3976 a more serious, more dispiriting cogitation upon what had been,
 3977 and might be, and must be.  The distressing explanation she had
 3978 to make to Harriet, and all that poor Harriet would be suffering,
 3979 with the awkwardness of future meetings, the difficulties of
 3980 continuing or discontinuing the acquaintance, of subduing feelings,
 3981 concealing resentment, and avoiding eclat, were enough to occupy
 3982 her in most unmirthful reflections some time longer, and she went
 3983 to bed at last with nothing settled but the conviction of her having
 3984 blundered most dreadfully.

 3985 To youth and natural cheerfulness like Emma's, though under
 3986 temporary gloom at night, the return of day will hardly fail
 3987 to bring return of spirits.  The youth and cheerfulness of morning
 3988 are in happy analogy, and of powerful operation; and if the
 3989 distress be not poignant enough to keep the eyes unclosed, they
 3990 will be sure to open to sensations of softened pain and brighter hope.

 3991 Emma got up on the morrow more disposed for comfort than she had
 3992 gone to bed, more ready to see alleviations of the evil before her,
 3993 and to depend on getting tolerably out of it.

 3994 It was a great consolation that Mr Elton should not be really
 3995 in love with her, or so particularly amiable as to make it shocking
 3996 to disappoint him -- that Harriet's nature should not be of that
 3997 superior sort in which the feelings are most acute and retentive -- 
 3998 and that there could be no necessity for any body's knowing
 3999 what had passed except the three principals, and especially
 4000 for her father's being given a moment's uneasiness about it.

 4001 These were very cheering thoughts; and the sight of a great deal
 4002 of snow on the ground did her further service, for any thing was
 4003 welcome that might justify their all three being quite asunder
 4004 at present.

 4005 The weather was most favourable for her; though Christmas Day,
 4006 she could not go to church.  Mr Woodhouse would have been miserable
 4007 had his daughter attempted it, and she was therefore safe from
 4008 either exciting or receiving unpleasant and most unsuitable ideas.
 4009 The ground covered with snow, and the atmosphere in that unsettled
 4010 state between frost and thaw, which is of all others the most
 4011 unfriendly for exercise, every morning beginning in rain or snow,
 4012 and every evening setting in to freeze, she was for many days a most
 4013 honourable prisoner.  No intercourse with Harriet possible but by note;
 4014 no church for her on Sunday any more than on Christmas Day; and no
 4015 need to find excuses for Mr Elton's absenting himself.

 4016 It was weather which might fairly confine every body at home;
 4017 and though she hoped and believed him to be really taking comfort
 4018 in some society or other, it was very pleasant to have her father
 4019 so well satisfied with his being all alone in his own house,
 4020 too wise to stir out; and to hear him say to Mr Knightley, whom no
 4021 weather could keep entirely from them, -- 

 4022 "Ah!  Mr Knightley, why do not you stay at home like poor Mr Elton?"

 4023 These days of confinement would have been, but for her private
 4024 perplexities, remarkably comfortable, as such seclusion exactly
 4025 suited her brother, whose feelings must always be of great importance
 4026 to his companions; and he had, besides, so thoroughly cleared off
 4027 his ill-humour at Randalls, that his amiableness never failed him
 4028 during the rest of his stay at Hartfield.  He was always agreeable
 4029 and obliging, and speaking pleasantly of every body.  But with all
 4030 the hopes of cheerfulness, and all the present comfort of delay,
 4031 there was still such an evil hanging over her in the hour of explanation
 4032 with Harriet, as made it impossible for Emma to be ever perfectly at ease.



 4033 CHAPTER XVII


 4034 Mr and Mrs John Knightley were not detained long at Hartfield.
 4035 The weather soon improved enough for those to move who must move;
 4036 and Mr Woodhouse having, as usual, tried to persuade his daughter
 4037 to stay behind with all her children, was obliged to see the whole
 4038 party set off, and return to his lamentations over the destiny
 4039 of poor Isabella; -- which poor Isabella, passing her life with
 4040 those she doated on, full of their merits, blind to their faults,
 4041 and always innocently busy, might have been a model of right
 4042 feminine happiness.

 4043 The evening of the very day on which they went brought a note
 4044 from Mr Elton to Mr Woodhouse, a long, civil, ceremonious note,
 4045 to say, with Mr Elton's best compliments, "that he was proposing
 4046 to leave Highbury the following morning in his way to Bath;
 4047 where, in compliance with the pressing entreaties of some friends,
 4048 he had engaged to spend a few weeks, and very much regretted
 4049 the impossibility he was under, from various circumstances of
 4050 weather and business, of taking a personal leave of Mr Woodhouse,
 4051 of whose friendly civilities he should ever retain a grateful sense -- 
 4052 and had Mr Woodhouse any commands, should be happy to attend to them."

 4053 Emma was most agreeably surprized. -- Mr Elton's absence just
 4054 at this time was the very thing to be desired.  She admired
 4055 him for contriving it, though not able to give him much credit
 4056 for the manner in which it was announced.  Resentment could not
 4057 have been more plainly spoken than in a civility to her father,
 4058 from which she was so pointedly excluded.  She had not even a
 4059 share in his opening compliments. -- Her name was not mentioned; -- 
 4060 and there was so striking a change in all this, and such an
 4061 ill-judged solemnity of leave-taking in his graceful acknowledgments,
 4062 as she thought, at first, could not escape her father's suspicion.

 4063 It did, however. -- Her father was quite taken up with the surprize
 4064 of so sudden a journey, and his fears that Mr Elton might never get
 4065 safely to the end of it, and saw nothing extraordinary in his language.
 4066 It was a very useful note, for it supplied them with fresh matter
 4067 for thought and conversation during the rest of their lonely evening.
 4068 Mr Woodhouse talked over his alarms, and Emma was in spirits
 4069 to persuade them away with all her usual promptitude.

 4070 She now resolved to keep Harriet no longer in the dark.  She had
 4071 reason to believe her nearly recovered from her cold, and it was
 4072 desirable that she should have as much time as possible for getting
 4073 the better of her other complaint before the gentleman's return.
 4074 She went to Mrs Goddard's accordingly the very next day, to undergo
 4075 the necessary penance of communication; and a severe one it was. -- 
 4076 She had to destroy all the hopes which she had been so industriously
 4077 feeding -- to appear in the ungracious character of the one preferred -- 
 4078 and acknowledge herself grossly mistaken and mis-judging in all her
 4079 ideas on one subject, all her observations, all her convictions,
 4080 all her prophecies for the last six weeks.

 4081 The confession completely renewed her first shame -- and the sight
 4082 of Harriet's tears made her think that she should never be in charity
 4083 with herself again.

 4084 Harriet bore the intelligence very well -- blaming nobody -- 
 4085 and in every thing testifying such an ingenuousness of disposition
 4086 and lowly opinion of herself, as must appear with particular
 4087 advantage at that moment to her friend.

 4088 Emma was in the humour to value simplicity and modesty to the utmost;
 4089 and all that was amiable, all that ought to be attaching,
 4090 seemed on Harriet's side, not her own.  Harriet did not consider
 4091 herself as having any thing to complain of.  The affection of such
 4092 a man as Mr Elton would have been too great a distinction. -- 
 4093 She never could have deserved him -- and nobody but so partial
 4094 and kind a friend as Miss Woodhouse would have thought it possible.

 4095 Her tears fell abundantly -- but her grief was so truly artless,
 4096 that no dignity could have made it more respectable in Emma's eyes -- 
 4097 and she listened to her and tried to console her with all her heart
 4098 and understanding -- really for the time convinced that Harriet was
 4099 the superior creature of the two -- and that to resemble her would
 4100 be more for her own welfare and happiness than all that genius or
 4101 intelligence could do.

 4102 It was rather too late in the day to set about being simple-minded
 4103 and ignorant; but she left her with every previous resolution
 4104 confirmed of being humble and discreet, and repressing imagination
 4105 all the rest of her life.  Her second duty now, inferior only to her
 4106 father's claims, was to promote Harriet's comfort, and endeavour
 4107 to prove her own affection in some better method than by match-making.
 4108 She got her to Hartfield, and shewed her the most unvarying kindness,
 4109 striving to occupy and amuse her, and by books and conversation,
 4110 to drive Mr Elton from her thoughts.

 4111 Time, she knew, must be allowed for this being thoroughly done; and she
 4112 could suppose herself but an indifferent judge of such matters in general,
 4113 and very inadequate to sympathise in an attachment to Mr Elton
 4114 in particular; but it seemed to her reasonable that at Harriet's age,
 4115 and with the entire extinction of all hope, such a progress might be
 4116 made towards a state of composure by the time of Mr Elton's return,
 4117 as to allow them all to meet again in the common routine of acquaintance,
 4118 without any danger of betraying sentiments or increasing them.

 4119 Harriet did think him all perfection, and maintained the non-existence
 4120 of any body equal to him in person or goodness -- and did, in truth,
 4121 prove herself more resolutely in love than Emma had foreseen;
 4122 but yet it appeared to her so natural, so inevitable to strive
 4123 against an inclination of that sort _unrequited_, that she could not
 4124 comprehend its continuing very long in equal force.

 4125 If Mr Elton, on his return, made his own indifference as evident
 4126 and indubitable as she could not doubt he would anxiously do,
 4127 she could not imagine Harriet's persisting to place her happiness
 4128 in the sight or the recollection of him.

 4129 Their being fixed, so absolutely fixed, in the same place, was bad
 4130 for each, for all three.  Not one of them had the power of removal,
 4131 or of effecting any material change of society.  They must encounter
 4132 each other, and make the best of it.

 4133 Harriet was farther unfortunate in the tone of her companions at
 4134 Mrs Goddard's; Mr Elton being the adoration of all the teachers
 4135 and great girls in the school; and it must be at Hartfield only
 4136 that she could have any chance of hearing him spoken of with cooling
 4137 moderation or repellent truth.  Where the wound had been given,
 4138 there must the cure be found if anywhere; and Emma felt that,
 4139 till she saw her in the way of cure, there could be no true peace
 4140 for herself.



 4141 CHAPTER XVIII


 4142 Mr Frank Churchill did not come.  When the time proposed
 4143 drew near, Mrs Weston's fears were justified in the arrival
 4144 of a letter of excuse.  For the present, he could not be spared,
 4145 to his "very great mortification and regret; but still he looked
 4146 forward with the hope of coming to Randalls at no distant period."

 4147 Mrs Weston was exceedingly disappointed -- much more disappointed,
 4148 in fact, than her husband, though her dependence on seeing the
 4149 young man had been so much more sober:  but a sanguine temper,
 4150 though for ever expecting more good than occurs, does not
 4151 always pay for its hopes by any proportionate depression.
 4152 It soon flies over the present failure, and begins to hope again.
 4153 For half an hour Mr Weston was surprized and sorry; but then he
 4154 began to perceive that Frank's coming two or three months later
 4155 would be a much better plan; better time of year; better weather;
 4156 and that he would be able, without any doubt, to stay considerably
 4157 longer with them than if he had come sooner.

 4158 These feelings rapidly restored his comfort, while Mrs Weston,
 4159 of a more apprehensive disposition, foresaw nothing but a repetition
 4160 of excuses and delays; and after all her concern for what her husband
 4161 was to suffer, suffered a great deal more herself.

 4162 Emma was not at this time in a state of spirits to care really
 4163 about Mr Frank Churchill's not coming, except as a disappointment
 4164 at Randalls.  The acquaintance at present had no charm for her.
 4165 She wanted, rather, to be quiet, and out of temptation; but still, as it
 4166 was desirable that she should appear, in general, like her usual self,
 4167 she took care to express as much interest in the circumstance,
 4168 and enter as warmly into Mr and Mrs Weston's disappointment,
 4169 as might naturally belong to their friendship.

 4170 She was the first to announce it to Mr Knightley; and exclaimed
 4171 quite as much as was necessary, (or, being acting a part, perhaps
 4172 rather more,) at the conduct of the Churchills, in keeping him away.
 4173 She then proceeded to say a good deal more than she felt, of the
 4174 advantage of such an addition to their confined society in Surry;
 4175 the pleasure of looking at somebody new; the gala-day to Highbury entire,
 4176 which the sight of him would have made; and ending with reflections
 4177 on the Churchills again, found herself directly involved in a
 4178 disagreement with Mr Knightley; and, to her great amusement,
 4179 perceived that she was taking the other side of the question from her
 4180 real opinion, and making use of Mrs Weston's arguments against herself.

 4181 "The Churchills are very likely in fault," said Mr Knightley,
 4182 coolly; "but I dare say he might come if he would."

 4183 "I do not know why you should say so.  He wishes exceedingly to come;
 4184 but his uncle and aunt will not spare him."

 4185 "I cannot believe that he has not the power of coming, if he made
 4186 a point of it.  It is too unlikely, for me to believe it without proof."

 4187 "How odd you are!  What has Mr Frank Churchill done, to make you
 4188 suppose him such an unnatural creature?"

 4189 "I am not supposing him at all an unnatural creature, in suspecting
 4190 that he may have learnt to be above his connexions, and to care
 4191 very little for any thing but his own pleasure, from living with
 4192 those who have always set him the example of it.  It is a great deal
 4193 more natural than one could wish, that a young man, brought up
 4194 by those who are proud, luxurious, and selfish, should be proud,
 4195 luxurious, and selfish too.  If Frank Churchill had wanted to see
 4196 his father, he would have contrived it between September and January.
 4197 A man at his age -- what is he? -- three or four-and-twenty -- cannot be
 4198 without the means of doing as much as that.  It is impossible."

 4199 "That's easily said, and easily felt by you, who have always
 4200 been your own master.  You are the worst judge in the world,
 4201 Mr Knightley, of the difficulties of dependence.  You do not know
 4202 what it is to have tempers to manage."

 4203 "It is not to be conceived that a man of three or four-and-twenty
 4204 should not have liberty of mind or limb to that amount.  He cannot
 4205 want money -- he cannot want leisure.  We know, on the contrary,
 4206 that he has so much of both, that he is glad to get rid of them at
 4207 the idlest haunts in the kingdom.  We hear of him for ever at some
 4208 watering-place or other.  A little while ago, he was at Weymouth.
 4209 This proves that he can leave the Churchills."

 4210 "Yes, sometimes he can."

 4211 "And those times are whenever he thinks it worth his while;
 4212 whenever there is any temptation of pleasure."

 4213 "It is very unfair to judge of any body's conduct, without an
 4214 intimate knowledge of their situation.  Nobody, who has not been
 4215 in the interior of a family, can say what the difficulties
 4216 of any individual of that family may be.  We ought to be
 4217 acquainted with Enscombe, and with Mrs Churchill's temper,
 4218 before we pretend to decide upon what her nephew can do.
 4219 He may, at times, be able to do a great deal more than he can at others."

 4220 "There is one thing, Emma, which a man can always do, if he chuses,
 4221 and that is, his duty; not by manoeuvring and finessing, but by vigour
 4222 and resolution.  It is Frank Churchill's duty to pay this attention
 4223 to his father.  He knows it to be so, by his promises and messages;
 4224 but if he wished to do it, it might be done.  A man who felt rightly
 4225 would say at once, simply and resolutely, to Mrs Churchill -- 
 4226 `Every sacrifice of mere pleasure you will always find me ready to make
 4227 to your convenience; but I must go and see my father immediately.
 4228 I know he would be hurt by my failing in such a mark of respect to him
 4229 on the present occasion.  I shall, therefore, set off to-morrow.' -- 
 4230 If he would say so to her at once, in the tone of decision becoming
 4231 a man, there would be no opposition made to his going."

 4232 "No," said Emma, laughing; "but perhaps there might be some made to his
 4233 coming back again.  Such language for a young man entirely dependent,
 4234 to use! -- Nobody but you, Mr Knightley, would imagine it possible.
 4235 But you have not an idea of what is requisite in situations directly
 4236 opposite to your own.  Mr Frank Churchill to be making such
 4237 a speech as that to the uncle and aunt, who have brought him up,
 4238 and are to provide for him! -- Standing up in the middle of the room,
 4239 I suppose, and speaking as loud as he could! -- How can you imagine
 4240 such conduct practicable?"

 4241 "Depend upon it, Emma, a sensible man would find no difficulty in it.
 4242 He would feel himself in the right; and the declaration -- made,
 4243 of course, as a man of sense would make it, in a proper manner -- 
 4244 would do him more good, raise him higher, fix his interest stronger
 4245 with the people he depended on, than all that a line of shifts
 4246 and expedients can ever do.  Respect would be added to affection.
 4247 They would feel that they could trust him; that the nephew who had
 4248 done rightly by his father, would do rightly by them; for they know,
 4249 as well as he does, as well as all the world must know, that he
 4250 ought to pay this visit to his father; and while meanly exerting
 4251 their power to delay it, are in their hearts not thinking the better
 4252 of him for submitting to their whims.  Respect for right conduct
 4253 is felt by every body.  If he would act in this sort of manner,
 4254 on principle, consistently, regularly, their little minds would bend
 4255 to his."

 4256 "I rather doubt that.  You are very fond of bending little minds;
 4257 but where little minds belong to rich people in authority,
 4258 I think they have a knack of swelling out, till they are quite as
 4259 unmanageable as great ones.  I can imagine, that if you, as you are,
 4260 Mr Knightley, were to be transported and placed all at once in
 4261 Mr Frank Churchill's situation, you would be able to say and do
 4262 just what you have been recommending for him; and it might have
 4263 a very good effect.  The Churchills might not have a word to say
 4264 in return; but then, you would have no habits of early obedience
 4265 and long observance to break through.  To him who has, it might
 4266 not be so easy to burst forth at once into perfect independence,
 4267 and set all their claims on his gratitude and regard at nought.
 4268 He may have as strong a sense of what would be right, as you can have,
 4269 without being so equal, under particular circumstances, to act up
 4270 to it."

 4271 "Then it would not be so strong a sense.  If it failed to produce
 4272 equal exertion, it could not be an equal conviction."

 4273 "Oh, the difference of situation and habit!  I wish you would try
 4274 to understand what an amiable young man may be likely to feel
 4275 in directly opposing those, whom as child and boy he has been
 4276 looking up to all his life."

 4277 "Our amiable young man is a very weak young man, if this be the first
 4278 occasion of his carrying through a resolution to do right against
 4279 the will of others.  It ought to have been a habit with him by
 4280 this time, of following his duty, instead of consulting expediency.
 4281 I can allow for the fears of the child, but not of the man.
 4282 As he became rational, he ought to have roused himself and shaken off
 4283 all that was unworthy in their authority.  He ought to have opposed
 4284 the first attempt on their side to make him slight his father.
 4285 Had he begun as he ought, there would have been no difficulty now."

 4286 "We shall never agree about him," cried Emma; "but that is
 4287 nothing extraordinary.  I have not the least idea of his being
 4288 a weak young man:  I feel sure that he is not.  Mr Weston would
 4289 not be blind to folly, though in his own son; but he is very likely
 4290 to have a more yielding, complying, mild disposition than would suit
 4291 your notions of man's perfection.  I dare say he has; and though
 4292 it may cut him off from some advantages, it will secure him many others."

 4293 "Yes; all the advantages of sitting still when he ought to move,
 4294 and of leading a life of mere idle pleasure, and fancying himself
 4295 extremely expert in finding excuses for it.  He can sit down and
 4296 write a fine flourishing letter, full of professions and falsehoods,
 4297 and persuade himself that he has hit upon the very best method
 4298 in the world of preserving peace at home and preventing his father's
 4299 having any right to complain.  His letters disgust me."

 4300 "Your feelings are singular.  They seem to satisfy every body else."

 4301 "I suspect they do not satisfy Mrs Weston.  They hardly can
 4302 satisfy a woman of her good sense and quick feelings:  standing in
 4303 a mother's place, but without a mother's affection to blind her.
 4304 It is on her account that attention to Randalls is doubly due,
 4305 and she must doubly feel the omission.  Had she been a person
 4306 of consequence herself, he would have come I dare say; and it would
 4307 not have signified whether he did or no.  Can you think your friend
 4308 behindhand in these sort of considerations?  Do you suppose she
 4309 does not often say all this to herself?  No, Emma, your amiable
 4310 young man can be amiable only in French, not in English.  He may be
 4311 very `aimable,' have very good manners, and be very agreeable; but he
 4312 can have no English delicacy towards the feelings of other people:
 4313 nothing really amiable about him."

 4314 "You seem determined to think ill of him."

 4315 "Me! -- not at all," replied Mr Knightley, rather displeased; "I do
 4316 not want to think ill of him.  I should be as ready to acknowledge
 4317 his merits as any other man; but I hear of none, except what are
 4318 merely personal; that he is well-grown and good-looking, with smooth,
 4319 plausible manners."

 4320 "Well, if he have nothing else to recommend him, he will be a
 4321 treasure at Highbury.  We do not often look upon fine young men,
 4322 well-bred and agreeable.  We must not be nice and ask for all
 4323 the virtues into the bargain.  Cannot you imagine, Mr Knightley,
 4324 what a _sensation_ his coming will produce?  There will be but one subject
 4325 throughout the parishes of Donwell and Highbury; but one interest -- 
 4326 one object of curiosity; it will be all Mr Frank Churchill;
 4327 we shall think and speak of nobody else."

 4328 "You will excuse my being so much over-powered. If I find him
 4329 conversable, I shall be glad of his acquaintance; but if he is only
 4330 a chattering coxcomb, he will not occupy much of my time or thoughts."

 4331 "My idea of him is, that he can adapt his conversation to the taste
 4332 of every body, and has the power as well as the wish of being
 4333 universally agreeable.  To you, he will talk of farming; to me,
 4334 of drawing or music; and so on to every body, having that general
 4335 information on all subjects which will enable him to follow the lead,
 4336 or take the lead, just as propriety may require, and to speak
 4337 extremely well on each; that is my idea of him."

 4338 "And mine," said Mr Knightley warmly, "is, that if he turn out any
 4339 thing like it, he will be the most insufferable fellow breathing!
 4340 What! at three-and-twenty to be the king of his company -- the great man -- 
 4341 the practised politician, who is to read every body's character,
 4342 and make every body's talents conduce to the display of his
 4343 own superiority; to be dispensing his flatteries around, that he
 4344 may make all appear like fools compared with himself!  My dear Emma,
 4345 your own good sense could not endure such a puppy when it came
 4346 to the point."

 4347 "I will say no more about him," cried Emma, "you turn every
 4348 thing to evil.  We are both prejudiced; you against, I for him;
 4349 and we have no chance of agreeing till he is really here."

 4350 "Prejudiced!  I am not prejudiced."

 4351 "But I am very much, and without being at all ashamed of it.
 4352 My love for Mr and Mrs Weston gives me a decided prejudice in
 4353 his favour."

 4354 "He is a person I never think of from one month's end to another,"
 4355 said Mr Knightley, with a degree of vexation, which made Emma
 4356 immediately talk of something else, though she could not comprehend
 4357 why he should be angry.

 4358 To take a dislike to a young man, only because he appeared to be
 4359 of a different disposition from himself, was unworthy the real
 4360 liberality of mind which she was always used to acknowledge in him;
 4361 for with all the high opinion of himself, which she had often laid
 4362 to his charge, she had never before for a moment supposed it could
 4363 make him unjust to the merit of another.




 4364 VOLUME II



 4365 CHAPTER I


 4366 Emma and Harriet had been walking together one morning, and,
 4367 in Emma's opinion, had been talking enough of Mr Elton for that day.
 4368 She could not think that Harriet's solace or her own sins required more;
 4369 and she was therefore industriously getting rid of the subject
 4370 as they returned; -- but it burst out again when she thought she
 4371 had succeeded, and after speaking some time of what the poor must
 4372 suffer in winter, and receiving no other answer than a very plaintive -- 
 4373 "Mr Elton is so good to the poor!" she found something else must be done.

 4374 They were just approaching the house where lived Mrs and Miss Bates.
 4375 She determined to call upon them and seek safety in numbers.
 4376 There was always sufficient reason for such an attention;
 4377 Mrs and Miss Bates loved to be called on, and she knew she was considered
 4378 by the very few who presumed ever to see imperfection in her,
 4379 as rather negligent in that respect, and as not contributing what she
 4380 ought to the stock of their scanty comforts.

 4381 She had had many a hint from Mr Knightley and some from her own heart,
 4382 as to her deficiency -- but none were equal to counteract the persuasion
 4383 of its being very disagreeable, -- a waste of time -- tiresome women -- 
 4384 and all the horror of being in danger of falling in with the second-rate
 4385 and third-rate of Highbury, who were calling on them for ever,
 4386 and therefore she seldom went near them.  But now she made the sudden
 4387 resolution of not passing their door without going in -- observing,
 4388 as she proposed it to Harriet, that, as well as she could calculate,
 4389 they were just now quite safe from any letter from Jane Fairfax.

 4390 The house belonged to people in business.  Mrs and Miss Bates occupied
 4391 the drawing-room floor; and there, in the very moderate-sized apartment,
 4392 which was every thing to them, the visitors were most cordially
 4393 and even gratefully welcomed; the quiet neat old lady, who with her
 4394 knitting was seated in the warmest corner, wanting even to give up
 4395 her place to Miss Woodhouse, and her more active, talking daughter,
 4396 almost ready to overpower them with care and kindness, thanks for
 4397 their visit, solicitude for their shoes, anxious inquiries after
 4398 Mr Woodhouse's health, cheerful communications about her mother's,
 4399 and sweet-cake from the beaufet -- "Mrs Cole had just been there,
 4400 just called in for ten minutes, and had been so good as to sit an
 4401 hour with them, and _she_ had taken a piece of cake and been so kind
 4402 as to say she liked it very much; and, therefore, she hoped Miss
 4403 Woodhouse and Miss Smith would do them the favour to eat a piece too."

 4404 The mention of the Coles was sure to be followed by that of Mr Elton.
 4405 There was intimacy between them, and Mr Cole had heard from
 4406 Mr Elton since his going away.  Emma knew what was coming; they must
 4407 have the letter over again, and settle how long he had been gone,
 4408 and how much he was engaged in company, and what a favourite he
 4409 was wherever he went, and how full the Master of the Ceremonies'
 4410 ball had been; and she went through it very well, with all the
 4411 interest and all the commendation that could be requisite, and always
 4412 putting forward to prevent Harriet's being obliged to say a word.

 4413 This she had been prepared for when she entered the house;
 4414 but meant, having once talked him handsomely over, to be no farther
 4415 incommoded by any troublesome topic, and to wander at large amongst
 4416 all the Mistresses and Misses of Highbury, and their card-parties.
 4417 She had not been prepared to have Jane Fairfax succeed Mr Elton;
 4418 but he was actually hurried off by Miss Bates, she jumped away
 4419 from him at last abruptly to the Coles, to usher in a letter from
 4420 her niece.

 4421 "Oh! yes -- Mr Elton, I understand -- certainly as to dancing -- 
 4422 Mrs Cole was telling me that dancing at the rooms at Bath was -- 
 4423 Mrs Cole was so kind as to sit some time with us, talking of Jane;
 4424 for as soon as she came in, she began inquiring after her,
 4425 Jane is so very great a favourite there.  Whenever she is with us,
 4426 Mrs Cole does not know how to shew her kindness enough;
 4427 and I must say that Jane deserves it as much as any body can.
 4428 And so she began inquiring after her directly, saying, `I know you
 4429 cannot have heard from Jane lately, because it is not her time
 4430 for writing;' and when I immediately said, `But indeed we have,
 4431 we had a letter this very morning,' I do not know that I ever saw
 4432 any body more surprized.  `Have you, upon your honour?' said she;
 4433 `well, that is quite unexpected.  Do let me hear what she says.'"

 4434 Emma's politeness was at hand directly, to say, with smiling interest -- 

 4435 "Have you heard from Miss Fairfax so lately?  I am extremely happy.
 4436 I hope she is well?"

 4437 "Thank you.  You are so kind!" replied the happily deceived aunt,
 4438 while eagerly hunting for the letter. -- "Oh! here it is.  I was sure
 4439 it could not be far off; but I had put my huswife upon it, you see,
 4440 without being aware, and so it was quite hid, but I had it in my hand
 4441 so very lately that I was almost sure it must be on the table.
 4442 I was reading it to Mrs Cole, and since she went away, I was
 4443 reading it again to my mother, for it is such a pleasure to her -- 
 4444 a letter from Jane -- that she can never hear it often enough;
 4445 so I knew it could not be far off, and here it is, only just under
 4446 my huswife -- and since you are so kind as to wish to hear what
 4447 she says; -- but, first of all, I really must, in justice to Jane,
 4448 apologise for her writing so short a letter -- only two pages you see -- 
 4449 hardly two -- and in general she fills the whole paper and crosses half.
 4450 My mother often wonders that I can make it out so well.
 4451 She often says, when the letter is first opened, `Well, Hetty,
 4452 now I think you will be put to it to make out all that checker-work' -- 
 4453 don't you, ma'am? -- And then I tell her, I am sure she would contrive
 4454 to make it out herself, if she had nobody to do it for her -- 
 4455 every word of it -- I am sure she would pore over it till she had
 4456 made out every word.  And, indeed, though my mother's eyes are not
 4457 so good as they were, she can see amazingly well still, thank God!
 4458 with the help of spectacles.  It is such a blessing!  My mother's
 4459 are really very good indeed.  Jane often says, when she is here,
 4460 `I am sure, grandmama, you must have had very strong eyes to see
 4461 as you do -- and so much fine work as you have done too! -- I only wish
 4462 my eyes may last me as well.'"

 4463 All this spoken extremely fast obliged Miss Bates to stop for breath;
 4464 and Emma said something very civil about the excellence of Miss
 4465 Fairfax's handwriting.

 4466 "You are extremely kind," replied Miss Bates, highly gratified;
 4467 "you who are such a judge, and write so beautifully yourself.
 4468 I am sure there is nobody's praise that could give us so much pleasure
 4469 as Miss Woodhouse's. My mother does not hear; she is a little deaf
 4470 you know.  Ma'am," addressing her, "do you hear what Miss Woodhouse
 4471 is so obliging to say about Jane's handwriting?"

 4472 And Emma had the advantage of hearing her own silly compliment
 4473 repeated twice over before the good old lady could comprehend it.
 4474 She was pondering, in the meanwhile, upon the possibility, without seeming
 4475 very rude, of making her escape from Jane Fairfax's letter, and had
 4476 almost resolved on hurrying away directly under some slight excuse,
 4477 when Miss Bates turned to her again and seized her attention.

 4478 "My mother's deafness is very trifling you see -- just nothing at all.
 4479 By only raising my voice, and saying any thing two or three times over,
 4480 she is sure to hear; but then she is used to my voice.  But it is very
 4481 remarkable that she should always hear Jane better than she does me.
 4482 Jane speaks so distinct!  However, she will not find her grandmama
 4483 at all deafer than she was two years ago; which is saying a great
 4484 deal at my mother's time of life -- and it really is full two years,
 4485 you know, since she was here.  We never were so long without seeing
 4486 her before, and as I was telling Mrs Cole, we shall hardly know
 4487 how to make enough of her now."

 4488 "Are you expecting Miss Fairfax here soon?"

 4489 "Oh yes; next week."

 4490 "Indeed! -- that must be a very great pleasure."

 4491 "Thank you.  You are very kind.  Yes, next week.  Every body is
 4492 so surprized; and every body says the same obliging things.  I am
 4493 sure she will be as happy to see her friends at Highbury, as they
 4494 can be to see her.  Yes, Friday or Saturday; she cannot say which,
 4495 because Colonel Campbell will be wanting the carriage himself one
 4496 of those days.  So very good of them to send her the whole way!
 4497 But they always do, you know.  Oh yes, Friday or Saturday next.
 4498 That is what she writes about.  That is the reason of her writing out
 4499 of rule, as we call it; for, in the common course, we should not have
 4500 heard from her before next Tuesday or Wednesday."

 4501 "Yes, so I imagined.  I was afraid there could be little chance
 4502 of my hearing any thing of Miss Fairfax to-day."

 4503 "So obliging of you!  No, we should not have heard, if it had not
 4504 been for this particular circumstance, of her being to come here
 4505 so soon.  My mother is so delighted! -- for she is to be three months
 4506 with us at least.  Three months, she says so, positively, as I
 4507 am going to have the pleasure of reading to you.  The case is,
 4508 you see, that the Campbells are going to Ireland.  Mrs Dixon has
 4509 persuaded her father and mother to come over and see her directly.
 4510 They had not intended to go over till the summer, but she is so
 4511 impatient to see them again -- for till she married, last October,
 4512 she was never away from them so much as a week, which must make
 4513 it very strange to be in different kingdoms, I was going to say,
 4514 but however different countries, and so she wrote a very urgent letter
 4515 to her mother -- or her father, I declare I do not know which it was,
 4516 but we shall see presently in Jane's letter -- wrote in Mr Dixon's
 4517 name as well as her own, to press their coming over directly,
 4518 and they would give them the meeting in Dublin, and take them back
 4519 to their country seat, Baly-craig, a beautiful place, I fancy.
 4520 Jane has heard a great deal of its beauty; from Mr Dixon, I mean -- 
 4521 I do not know that she ever heard about it from any body else;
 4522 but it was very natural, you know, that he should like to speak
 4523 of his own place while he was paying his addresses -- and as Jane used
 4524 to be very often walking out with them -- for Colonel and Mrs Campbell
 4525 were very particular about their daughter's not walking out
 4526 often with only Mr Dixon, for which I do not at all blame them;
 4527 of course she heard every thing he might be telling Miss Campbell
 4528 about his own home in Ireland; and I think she wrote us word
 4529 that he had shewn them some drawings of the place, views that he
 4530 had taken himself.  He is a most amiable, charming young man,
 4531 I believe.  Jane was quite longing to go to Ireland, from his account
 4532 of things."

 4533 At this moment, an ingenious and animating suspicion entering
 4534 Emma's brain with regard to Jane Fairfax, this charming Mr Dixon,
 4535 and the not going to Ireland, she said, with the insidious design
 4536 of farther discovery,

 4537 "You must feel it very fortunate that Miss Fairfax should be allowed
 4538 to come to you at such a time.  Considering the very particular
 4539 friendship between her and Mrs Dixon, you could hardly have expected
 4540 her to be excused from accompanying Colonel and Mrs Campbell."

 4541 "Very true, very true, indeed.  The very thing that we have always
 4542 been rather afraid of; for we should not have liked to have her
 4543 at such a distance from us, for months together -- not able to come
 4544 if any thing was to happen.  But you see, every thing turns out
 4545 for the best.  They want her (Mr and Mrs Dixon) excessively to
 4546 come over with Colonel and Mrs Campbell; quite depend upon it;
 4547 nothing can be more kind or pressing than their _joint_ invitation,
 4548 Jane says, as you will hear presently; Mr Dixon does not seem in the
 4549 least backward in any attention.  He is a most charming young man.
 4550 Ever since the service he rendered Jane at Weymouth, when they were
 4551 out in that party on the water, and she, by the sudden whirling
 4552 round of something or other among the sails, would have been dashed
 4553 into the sea at once, and actually was all but gone, if he had not,
 4554 with the greatest presence of mind, caught hold of her habit -- 
 4555 (I can never think of it without trembling!) -- But ever since we
 4556 had the history of that day, I have been so fond of Mr Dixon!"

 4557 "But, in spite of all her friends' urgency, and her own wish
 4558 of seeing Ireland, Miss Fairfax prefers devoting the time to you
 4559 and Mrs Bates?"

 4560 "Yes -- entirely her own doing, entirely her own choice; and Colonel
 4561 and Mrs Campbell think she does quite right, just what they
 4562 should recommend; and indeed they particularly _wish_ her to try
 4563 her native air, as she has not been quite so well as usual lately."

 4564 "I am concerned to hear of it.  I think they judge wisely.
 4565 But Mrs Dixon must be very much disappointed.  Mrs Dixon,
 4566 I understand, has no remarkable degree of personal beauty; is not,
 4567 by any means, to be compared with Miss Fairfax."

 4568 "Oh! no.  You are very obliging to say such things -- but certainly not.
 4569 There is no comparison between them.  Miss Campbell always was
 4570 absolutely plain -- but extremely elegant and amiable."

 4571 "Yes, that of course."

 4572 "Jane caught a bad cold, poor thing! so long ago as the 7th
 4573 of November, (as I am going to read to you,) and has never been
 4574 well since.  A long time, is not it, for a cold to hang upon her?
 4575 She never mentioned it before, because she would not alarm us.
 4576 Just like her! so considerate! -- But however, she is so far from well,
 4577 that her kind friends the Campbells think she had better come home,
 4578 and try an air that always agrees with her; and they have no doubt
 4579 that three or four months at Highbury will entirely cure her -- 
 4580 and it is certainly a great deal better that she should come here,
 4581 than go to Ireland, if she is unwell. Nobody could nurse her, as we
 4582 should do."

 4583 "It appears to me the most desirable arrangement in the world."

 4584 "And so she is to come to us next Friday or Saturday, and the
 4585 Campbells leave town in their way to Holyhead the Monday following -- 
 4586 as you will find from Jane's letter.  So sudden! -- You may guess,
 4587 dear Miss Woodhouse, what a flurry it has thrown me in!
 4588 If it was not for the drawback of her illness -- but I am afraid
 4589 we must expect to see her grown thin, and looking very poorly.
 4590 I must tell you what an unlucky thing happened to me, as to that.
 4591 I always make a point of reading Jane's letters through to myself first,
 4592 before I read them aloud to my mother, you know, for fear of there
 4593 being any thing in them to distress her.  Jane desired me to do it,
 4594 so I always do:  and so I began to-day with my usual caution;
 4595 but no sooner did I come to the mention of her being unwell, than I
 4596 burst out, quite frightened, with `Bless me! poor Jane is ill!' -- 
 4597 which my mother, being on the watch, heard distinctly, and was sadly
 4598 alarmed at.  However, when I read on, I found it was not near so bad
 4599 as I had fancied at first; and I make so light of it now to her,
 4600 that she does not think much about it.  But I cannot imagine
 4601 how I could be so off my guard.  If Jane does not get well soon,
 4602 we will call in Mr Perry.  The expense shall not be thought of;
 4603 and though he is so liberal, and so fond of Jane that I dare say
 4604 he would not mean to charge any thing for attendance, we could not
 4605 suffer it to be so, you know.  He has a wife and family to maintain,
 4606 and is not to be giving away his time.  Well, now I have just given you
 4607 a hint of what Jane writes about, we will turn to her letter, and I am
 4608 sure she tells her own story a great deal better than I can tell it
 4609 for her."

 4610 "I am afraid we must be running away," said Emma, glancing at Harriet,
 4611 and beginning to rise -- "My father will be expecting us.
 4612 I had no intention, I thought I had no power of staying more than
 4613 five minutes, when I first entered the house.  I merely called,
 4614 because I would not pass the door without inquiring after Mrs Bates;
 4615 but I have been so pleasantly detained!  Now, however, we must wish
 4616 you and Mrs Bates good morning."

 4617 And not all that could be urged to detain her succeeded.
 4618 She regained the street -- happy in this, that though much had been
 4619 forced on her against her will, though she had in fact heard
 4620 the whole substance of Jane Fairfax's letter, she had been able
 4621 to escape the letter itself.



 4622 CHAPTER II


 4623 Jane Fairfax was an orphan, the only child of Mrs Bates's
 4624 youngest daughter.

 4625 The marriage of Lieut. Fairfax of the _______ regiment of infantry,
 4626 and Miss Jane Bates, had had its day of fame and pleasure,
 4627 hope and interest; but nothing now remained of it, save the melancholy
 4628 remembrance of him dying in action abroad -- of his widow sinking
 4629 under consumption and grief soon afterwards -- and this girl.

 4630 By birth she belonged to Highbury:  and when at three years old,
 4631 on losing her mother, she became the property, the charge,
 4632 the consolation, the fondling of her grandmother and aunt, there had
 4633 seemed every probability of her being permanently fixed there;
 4634 of her being taught only what very limited means could command,
 4635 and growing up with no advantages of connexion or improvement,
 4636 to be engrafted on what nature had given her in a pleasing person,
 4637 good understanding, and warm-hearted, well-meaning relations.

 4638 But the compassionate feelings of a friend of her father gave
 4639 a change to her destiny.  This was Colonel Campbell, who had
 4640 very highly regarded Fairfax, as an excellent officer and most
 4641 deserving young man; and farther, had been indebted to him for
 4642 such attentions, during a severe camp-fever, as he believed had saved
 4643 his life.  These were claims which he did not learn to overlook,
 4644 though some years passed away from the death of poor Fairfax,
 4645 before his own return to England put any thing in his power.
 4646 When he did return, he sought out the child and took notice of her.
 4647 He was a married man, with only one living child, a girl,
 4648 about Jane's age:  and Jane became their guest, paying them long visits
 4649 and growing a favourite with all; and before she was nine years old,
 4650 his daughter's great fondness for her, and his own wish of being
 4651 a real friend, united to produce an offer from Colonel Campbell
 4652 of undertaking the whole charge of her education.  It was accepted;
 4653 and from that period Jane had belonged to Colonel Campbell's family,
 4654 and had lived with them entirely, only visiting her grandmother
 4655 from time to time.

 4656 The plan was that she should be brought up for educating others;
 4657 the very few hundred pounds which she inherited from her father
 4658 making independence impossible.  To provide for her otherwise
 4659 was out of Colonel Campbell's power; for though his income, by pay
 4660 and appointments, was handsome, his fortune was moderate and must
 4661 be all his daughter's; but, by giving her an education, he hoped
 4662 to be supplying the means of respectable subsistence hereafter.

 4663 Such was Jane Fairfax's history.  She had fallen into good hands,
 4664 known nothing but kindness from the Campbells, and been given
 4665 an excellent education.  Living constantly with right-minded
 4666 and well-informed people, her heart and understanding had received
 4667 every advantage of discipline and culture; and Colonel Campbell's
 4668 residence being in London, every lighter talent had been done
 4669 full justice to, by the attendance of first-rate masters.
 4670 Her disposition and abilities were equally worthy of all that
 4671 friendship could do; and at eighteen or nineteen she was, as far
 4672 as such an early age can be qualified for the care of children,
 4673 fully competent to the office of instruction herself; but she
 4674 was too much beloved to be parted with.  Neither father nor mother
 4675 could promote, and the daughter could not endure it.  The evil day
 4676 was put off.  It was easy to decide that she was still too young;
 4677 and Jane remained with them, sharing, as another daughter, in all
 4678 the rational pleasures of an elegant society, and a judicious
 4679 mixture of home and amusement, with only the drawback of the future,
 4680 the sobering suggestions of her own good understanding to remind
 4681 her that all this might soon be over.

 4682 The affection of the whole family, the warm attachment of Miss
 4683 Campbell in particular, was the more honourable to each party
 4684 from the circumstance of Jane's decided superiority both in beauty
 4685 and acquirements.  That nature had given it in feature could not
 4686 be unseen by the young woman, nor could her higher powers of mind
 4687 be unfelt by the parents.  They continued together with unabated
 4688 regard however, till the marriage of Miss Campbell, who by that chance,
 4689 that luck which so often defies anticipation in matrimonial affairs,
 4690 giving attraction to what is moderate rather than to what is superior,
 4691 engaged the affections of Mr Dixon, a young man, rich and agreeable,
 4692 almost as soon as they were acquainted; and was eligibly
 4693 and happily settled, while Jane Fairfax had yet her bread to earn.

 4694 This event had very lately taken place; too lately for any thing to be
 4695 yet attempted by her less fortunate friend towards entering on her path
 4696 of duty; though she had now reached the age which her own judgment
 4697 had fixed on for beginning.  She had long resolved that one-and-twenty
 4698 should be the period.  With the fortitude of a devoted novitiate,
 4699 she had resolved at one-and-twenty to complete the sacrifice,
 4700 and retire from all the pleasures of life, of rational intercourse,
 4701 equal society, peace and hope, to penance and mortification for ever.

 4702 The good sense of Colonel and Mrs Campbell could not oppose such
 4703 a resolution, though their feelings did.  As long as they lived,
 4704 no exertions would be necessary, their home might be hers for ever;
 4705 and for their own comfort they would have retained her wholly;
 4706 but this would be selfishness: -- what must be at last, had better
 4707 be soon.  Perhaps they began to feel it might have been kinder
 4708 and wiser to have resisted the temptation of any delay, and spared
 4709 her from a taste of such enjoyments of ease and leisure as must
 4710 now be relinquished.  Still, however, affection was glad to catch
 4711 at any reasonable excuse for not hurrying on the wretched moment.
 4712 She had never been quite well since the time of their daughter's marriage;
 4713 and till she should have completely recovered her usual strength,
 4714 they must forbid her engaging in duties, which, so far from being
 4715 compatible with a weakened frame and varying spirits, seemed,
 4716 under the most favourable circumstances, to require something
 4717 more than human perfection of body and mind to be discharged with
 4718 tolerable comfort.

 4719 With regard to her not accompanying them to Ireland, her account
 4720 to her aunt contained nothing but truth, though there might be some
 4721 truths not told.  It was her own choice to give the time of their
 4722 absence to Highbury; to spend, perhaps, her last months of perfect
 4723 liberty with those kind relations to whom she was so very dear:
 4724 and the Campbells, whatever might be their motive or motives,
 4725 whether single, or double, or treble, gave the arrangement
 4726 their ready sanction, and said, that they depended more on a few
 4727 months spent in her native air, for the recovery of her health,
 4728 than on any thing else.  Certain it was that she was to come;
 4729 and that Highbury, instead of welcoming that perfect novelty which
 4730 had been so long promised it -- Mr Frank Churchill -- must put up for
 4731 the present with Jane Fairfax, who could bring only the freshness
 4732 of a two years' absence.

 4733 Emma was sorry; -- to have to pay civilities to a person she did
 4734 not like through three long months! -- to be always doing more than
 4735 she wished, and less than she ought!  Why she did not like Jane
 4736 Fairfax might be a difficult question to answer; Mr Knightley
 4737 had once told her it was because she saw in her the really
 4738 accomplished young woman, which she wanted to be thought herself;
 4739 and though the accusation had been eagerly refuted at the time,
 4740 there were moments of self-examination in which her conscience could
 4741 not quite acquit her.  But "she could never get acquainted with her:
 4742 she did not know how it was, but there was such coldness and reserve -- 
 4743 such apparent indifference whether she pleased or not -- and then,
 4744 her aunt was such an eternal talker! -- and she was made such a fuss
 4745 with by every body! -- and it had been always imagined that they were
 4746 to be so intimate -- because their ages were the same, every body had
 4747 supposed they must be so fond of each other."  These were her reasons -- 
 4748 she had no better.

 4749 It was a dislike so little just -- every imputed fault was so magnified
 4750 by fancy, that she never saw Jane Fairfax the first time after any
 4751 considerable absence, without feeling that she had injured her;
 4752 and now, when the due visit was paid, on her arrival, after a two years'
 4753 interval, she was particularly struck with the very appearance
 4754 and manners, which for those two whole years she had been depreciating.
 4755 Jane Fairfax was very elegant, remarkably elegant; and she had
 4756 herself the highest value for elegance.  Her height was pretty,
 4757 just such as almost every body would think tall, and nobody could
 4758 think very tall; her figure particularly graceful; her size a most
 4759 becoming medium, between fat and thin, though a slight appearance
 4760 of ill-health seemed to point out the likeliest evil of the two.
 4761 Emma could not but feel all this; and then, her face -- her features -- 
 4762 there was more beauty in them altogether than she had remembered;
 4763 it was not regular, but it was very pleasing beauty.  Her eyes,
 4764 a deep grey, with dark eye-lashes and eyebrows, had never been denied
 4765 their praise; but the skin, which she had been used to cavil at,
 4766 as wanting colour, had a clearness and delicacy which really needed
 4767 no fuller bloom.  It was a style of beauty, of which elegance
 4768 was the reigning character, and as such, she must, in honour,
 4769 by all her principles, admire it: -- elegance, which, whether of person
 4770 or of mind, she saw so little in Highbury.  There, not to be vulgar,
 4771 was distinction, and merit.

 4772 In short, she sat, during the first visit, looking at Jane Fairfax
 4773 with twofold complacency; the sense of pleasure and the sense
 4774 of rendering justice, and was determining that she would dislike
 4775 her no longer.  When she took in her history, indeed, her situation,
 4776 as well as her beauty; when she considered what all this elegance
 4777 was destined to, what she was going to sink from, how she was going
 4778 to live, it seemed impossible to feel any thing but compassion
 4779 and respect; especially, if to every well-known particular entitling
 4780 her to interest, were added the highly probable circumstance
 4781 of an attachment to Mr Dixon, which she had so naturally started
 4782 to herself.  In that case, nothing could be more pitiable
 4783 or more honourable than the sacrifices she had resolved on.
 4784 Emma was very willing now to acquit her of having seduced
 4785 Mr Dixon's actions from his wife, or of any thing mischievous
 4786 which her imagination had suggested at first.  If it were love,
 4787 it might be simple, single, successless love on her side alone.
 4788 She might have been unconsciously sucking in the sad poison,
 4789 while a sharer of his conversation with her friend; and from the best,
 4790 the purest of motives, might now be denying herself this visit
 4791 to Ireland, and resolving to divide herself effectually from
 4792 him and his connexions by soon beginning her career of laborious duty.

 4793 Upon the whole, Emma left her with such softened, charitable feelings,
 4794 as made her look around in walking home, and lament that Highbury
 4795 afforded no young man worthy of giving her independence;
 4796 nobody that she could wish to scheme about for her.

 4797 These were charming feelings -- but not lasting.  Before she had
 4798 committed herself by any public profession of eternal friendship for
 4799 Jane Fairfax, or done more towards a recantation of past prejudices
 4800 and errors, than saying to Mr Knightley, "She certainly is handsome;
 4801 she is better than handsome!"  Jane had spent an evening at Hartfield
 4802 with her grandmother and aunt, and every thing was relapsing much
 4803 into its usual state.  Former provocations reappeared.  The aunt
 4804 was as tiresome as ever; more tiresome, because anxiety for her
 4805 health was now added to admiration of her powers; and they had to
 4806 listen to the description of exactly how little bread and butter
 4807 she ate for breakfast, and how small a slice of mutton for dinner,
 4808 as well as to see exhibitions of new caps and new workbags for her
 4809 mother and herself; and Jane's offences rose again.  They had music;
 4810 Emma was obliged to play; and the thanks and praise which necessarily
 4811 followed appeared to her an affectation of candour, an air
 4812 of greatness, meaning only to shew off in higher style her own very
 4813 superior performance.  She was, besides, which was the worst of all,
 4814 so cold, so cautious!  There was no getting at her real opinion.
 4815 Wrapt up in a cloak of politeness, she seemed determined
 4816 to hazard nothing.  She was disgustingly, was suspiciously reserved.

 4817 If any thing could be more, where all was most, she was more
 4818 reserved on the subject of Weymouth and the Dixons than any thing.
 4819 She seemed bent on giving no real insight into Mr Dixon's character,
 4820 or her own value for his company, or opinion of the suitableness
 4821 of the match.  It was all general approbation and smoothness;
 4822 nothing delineated or distinguished.  It did her no service however.
 4823 Her caution was thrown away.  Emma saw its artifice, and returned
 4824 to her first surmises.  There probably _was_ something more to conceal
 4825 than her own preference; Mr Dixon, perhaps, had been very near
 4826 changing one friend for the other, or been fixed only to Miss Campbell,
 4827 for the sake of the future twelve thousand pounds.

 4828 The like reserve prevailed on other topics.  She and Mr Frank Churchill
 4829 had been at Weymouth at the same time.  It was known that they were
 4830 a little acquainted; but not a syllable of real information could Emma
 4831 procure as to what he truly was.  "Was he handsome?" -- "She believed
 4832 he was reckoned a very fine young man."  "Was he agreeable?" -- 
 4833 "He was generally thought so."  "Did he appear a sensible young man;
 4834 a young man of information?" -- "At a watering-place, or in a common
 4835 London acquaintance, it was difficult to decide on such points.
 4836 Manners were all that could be safely judged of, under a much longer
 4837 knowledge than they had yet had of Mr Churchill.  She believed
 4838 every body found his manners pleasing."  Emma could not forgive her.



 4839 CHAPTER III


 4840 Emma could not forgive her; -- but as neither provocation nor resentment
 4841 were discerned by Mr Knightley, who had been of the party, and had
 4842 seen only proper attention and pleasing behaviour on each side,
 4843 he was expressing the next morning, being at Hartfield again on
 4844 business with Mr Woodhouse, his approbation of the whole; not so
 4845 openly as he might have done had her father been out of the room,
 4846 but speaking plain enough to be very intelligible to Emma.
 4847 He had been used to think her unjust to Jane, and had now great
 4848 pleasure in marking an improvement.

 4849 "A very pleasant evening," he began, as soon as Mr Woodhouse
 4850 had been talked into what was necessary, told that he understood,
 4851 and the papers swept away; -- "particularly pleasant.  You and Miss
 4852 Fairfax gave us some very good music.  I do not know a more
 4853 luxurious state, sir, than sitting at one's ease to be entertained
 4854 a whole evening by two such young women; sometimes with music
 4855 and sometimes with conversation.  I am sure Miss Fairfax must
 4856 have found the evening pleasant, Emma.  You left nothing undone.
 4857 I was glad you made her play so much, for having no instrument
 4858 at her grandmother's, it must have been a real indulgence."

 4859 "I am happy you approved," said Emma, smiling; "but I hope I am
 4860 not often deficient in what is due to guests at Hartfield."

 4861 "No, my dear," said her father instantly; "_that_ I am sure you
 4862 are not.  There is nobody half so attentive and civil as you are.
 4863 If any thing, you are too attentive.  The muffin last night -- if it
 4864 had been handed round once, I think it would have been enough."

 4865 "No," said Mr Knightley, nearly at the same time; "you are not
 4866 often deficient; not often deficient either in manner or comprehension.
 4867 I think you understand me, therefore."

 4868 An arch look expressed -- "I understand you well enough;" but she
 4869 said only, "Miss Fairfax is reserved."

 4870 "I always told you she was -- a little; but you will soon overcome
 4871 all that part of her reserve which ought to be overcome, all that
 4872 has its foundation in diffidence.  What arises from discretion
 4873 must be honoured."

 4874 "You think her diffident.  I do not see it."

 4875 "My dear Emma," said he, moving from his chair into one close
 4876 by her, "you are not going to tell me, I hope, that you
 4877 had not a pleasant evening."

 4878 "Oh! no; I was pleased with my own perseverance in asking questions;
 4879 and amused to think how little information I obtained."

 4880 "I am disappointed," was his only answer.

 4881 "I hope every body had a pleasant evening," said Mr Woodhouse,
 4882 in his quiet way.  "I had.  Once, I felt the fire rather too much;
 4883 but then I moved back my chair a little, a very little, and it did
 4884 not disturb me.  Miss Bates was very chatty and good-humoured,
 4885 as she always is, though she speaks rather too quick.  However,
 4886 she is very agreeable, and Mrs Bates too, in a different way.
 4887 I like old friends; and Miss Jane Fairfax is a very pretty sort of
 4888 young lady, a very pretty and a very well-behaved young lady indeed.
 4889 She must have found the evening agreeable, Mr Knightley, because she
 4890 had Emma."

 4891 "True, sir; and Emma, because she had Miss Fairfax."

 4892 Emma saw his anxiety, and wishing to appease it, at least for
 4893 the present, said, and with a sincerity which no one could question -- 

 4894 "She is a sort of elegant creature that one cannot keep one's eyes from.
 4895 I am always watching her to admire; and I do pity her from my heart."

 4896 Mr Knightley looked as if he were more gratified than he cared
 4897 to express; and before he could make any reply, Mr Woodhouse,
 4898 whose thoughts were on the Bates's, said -- 

 4899 "It is a great pity that their circumstances should be so confined!
 4900 a great pity indeed! and I have often wished -- but it is so little one
 4901 can venture to do -- small, trifling presents, of any thing uncommon -- 
 4902 Now we have killed a porker, and Emma thinks of sending them
 4903 a loin or a leg; it is very small and delicate -- Hartfield pork is
 4904 not like any other pork -- but still it is pork -- and, my dear Emma,
 4905 unless one could be sure of their making it into steaks, nicely fried,
 4906 as ours are fried, without the smallest grease, and not roast it,
 4907 for no stomach can bear roast pork -- I think we had better send the leg -- 
 4908 do not you think so, my dear?"

 4909 "My dear papa, I sent the whole hind-quarter. I knew you would wish it.
 4910 There will be the leg to be salted, you know, which is so very nice,
 4911 and the loin to be dressed directly in any manner they like."

 4912 "That's right, my dear, very right.  I had not thought of it before,
 4913 but that is the best way.  They must not over-salt the leg; and then,
 4914 if it is not over-salted, and if it is very thoroughly boiled,
 4915 just as Serle boils ours, and eaten very moderately of, with a
 4916 boiled turnip, and a little carrot or parsnip, I do not consider
 4917 it unwholesome."

 4918 "Emma," said Mr Knightley presently, "I have a piece of news for you.
 4919 You like news -- and I heard an article in my way hither that I think
 4920 will interest you."

 4921 "News!  Oh! yes, I always like news.  What is it? -- why do you
 4922 smile so? -- where did you hear it? -- at Randalls?"

 4923 He had time only to say,

 4924 "No, not at Randalls; I have not been near Randalls," when the door
 4925 was thrown open, and Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax walked into the room.
 4926 Full of thanks, and full of news, Miss Bates knew not which to
 4927 give quickest.  Mr Knightley soon saw that he had lost his moment,
 4928 and that not another syllable of communication could rest with him.

 4929 "Oh! my dear sir, how are you this morning?  My dear Miss Woodhouse -- 
 4930 I come quite over-powered. Such a beautiful hind-quarter of pork!
 4931 You are too bountiful!  Have you heard the news?  Mr Elton is going
 4932 to be married."

 4933 Emma had not had time even to think of Mr Elton, and she was
 4934 so completely surprized that she could not avoid a little start,
 4935 and a little blush, at the sound.

 4936 "There is my news: -- I thought it would interest you,"
 4937 said Mr Knightley, with a smile which implied a conviction
 4938 of some part of what had passed between them.

 4939 "But where could _you_ hear it?" cried Miss Bates.  "Where could
 4940 you possibly hear it, Mr Knightley?  For it is not five minutes
 4941 since I received Mrs Cole's note -- no, it cannot be more than five -- 
 4942 or at least ten -- for I had got my bonnet and spencer on, just ready
 4943 to come out -- I was only gone down to speak to Patty again about
 4944 the pork -- Jane was standing in the passage -- were not you, Jane? -- 
 4945 for my mother was so afraid that we had not any salting-pan
 4946 large enough.  So I said I would go down and see, and Jane said,
 4947 `Shall I go down instead? for I think you have a little cold,
 4948 and Patty has been washing the kitchen.' -- `Oh! my dear,'
 4949 said I -- well, and just then came the note.  A Miss Hawkins -- 
 4950 that's all I know.  A Miss Hawkins of Bath.  But, Mr Knightley,
 4951 how could you possibly have heard it? for the very moment Mr Cole
 4952 told Mrs Cole of it, she sat down and wrote to me.  A Miss Hawkins -- "

 4953 "I was with Mr Cole on business an hour and a half ago.
 4954 He had just read Elton's letter as I was shewn in, and handed it
 4955 to me directly."

 4956 "Well! that is quite -- I suppose there never was a piece of news more
 4957 generally interesting.  My dear sir, you really are too bountiful.
 4958 My mother desires her very best compliments and regards, and a
 4959 thousand thanks, and says you really quite oppress her."

 4960 "We consider our Hartfield pork," replied Mr Woodhouse -- "indeed it
 4961 certainly is, so very superior to all other pork, that Emma and I
 4962 cannot have a greater pleasure than -- "

 4963 "Oh! my dear sir, as my mother says, our friends are only too good
 4964 to us.  If ever there were people who, without having great wealth
 4965 themselves, had every thing they could wish for, I am sure it is us.
 4966 We may well say that `our lot is cast in a goodly heritage.'
 4967 Well, Mr Knightley, and so you actually saw the letter; well -- "

 4968 "It was short -- merely to announce -- but cheerful, exulting, of course." -- 
 4969 Here was a sly glance at Emma.  "He had been so fortunate as to -- 
 4970 I forget the precise words -- one has no business to remember them.
 4971 The information was, as you state, that he was going to be married
 4972 to a Miss Hawkins.  By his style, I should imagine it just settled."

 4973 "Mr Elton going to be married!" said Emma, as soon as she could speak.
 4974 "He will have every body's wishes for his happiness."

 4975 "He is very young to settle," was Mr Woodhouse's observation.
 4976 "He had better not be in a hurry.  He seemed to me very well off
 4977 as he was.  We were always glad to see him at Hartfield."

 4978 "A new neighbour for us all, Miss Woodhouse!" said Miss Bates,
 4979 joyfully; "my mother is so pleased! -- she says she cannot
 4980 bear to have the poor old Vicarage without a mistress.
 4981 This is great news, indeed.  Jane, you have never seen
 4982 Mr Elton! -- no wonder that you have such a curiosity to see him."

 4983 Jane's curiosity did not appear of that absorbing nature as wholly
 4984 to occupy her.

 4985 "No -- I have never seen Mr Elton," she replied, starting on this appeal;
 4986 "is he -- is he a tall man?"

 4987 "Who shall answer that question?" cried Emma.  "My father would
 4988 say `yes,' Mr Knightley `no;' and Miss Bates and I that he is
 4989 just the happy medium.  When you have been here a little longer,
 4990 Miss Fairfax, you will understand that Mr Elton is the standard
 4991 of perfection in Highbury, both in person and mind."

 4992 "Very true, Miss Woodhouse, so she will.  He is the very best
 4993 young man -- But, my dear Jane, if you remember, I told you yesterday
 4994 he was precisely the height of Mr Perry.  Miss Hawkins, -- I dare say,
 4995 an excellent young woman.  His extreme attention to my mother -- 
 4996 wanting her to sit in the vicarage pew, that she might hear the better,
 4997 for my mother is a little deaf, you know -- it is not much, but she
 4998 does not hear quite quick.  Jane says that Colonel Campbell is a
 4999 little deaf.  He fancied bathing might be good for it -- the warm bath -- 
 5000 but she says it did him no lasting benefit.  Colonel Campbell,
 5001 you know, is quite our angel.  And Mr Dixon seems a very charming
 5002 young man, quite worthy of him.  It is such a happiness when good
 5003 people get together -- and they always do.  Now, here will be Mr Elton
 5004 and Miss Hawkins; and there are the Coles, such very good people;
 5005 and the Perrys -- I suppose there never was a happier or a better couple
 5006 than Mr and Mrs Perry.  I say, sir," turning to Mr Woodhouse,
 5007 "I think there are few places with such society as Highbury.
 5008 I always say, we are quite blessed in our neighbours. -- My dear sir,
 5009 if there is one thing my mother loves better than another, it is pork -- 
 5010 a roast loin of pork -- "

 5011 "As to who, or what Miss Hawkins is, or how long he has been
 5012 acquainted with her," said Emma, "nothing I suppose can be known.
 5013 One feels that it cannot be a very long acquaintance.  He has been
 5014 gone only four weeks."

 5015 Nobody had any information to give; and, after a few more wonderings,
 5016 Emma said,

 5017 "You are silent, Miss Fairfax -- but I hope you mean to take
 5018 an interest in this news.  You, who have been hearing and seeing
 5019 so much of late on these subjects, who must have been so deep
 5020 in the business on Miss Campbell's account -- we shall not excuse
 5021 your being indifferent about Mr Elton and Miss Hawkins."

 5022 "When I have seen Mr Elton," replied Jane, "I dare say I
 5023 shall be interested -- but I believe it requires _that_ with me.
 5024 And as it is some months since Miss Campbell married, the impression
 5025 may be a little worn off."

 5026 "Yes, he has been gone just four weeks, as you observe, Miss Woodhouse,"
 5027 said Miss Bates, "four weeks yesterday. -- A Miss Hawkins! -- Well, I had
 5028 always rather fancied it would be some young lady hereabouts;
 5029 not that I ever -- Mrs Cole once whispered to me -- but I immediately said,
 5030 `No, Mr Elton is a most worthy young man -- but' -- In short, I do
 5031 not think I am particularly quick at those sort of discoveries.
 5032 I do not pretend to it.  What is before me, I see.  At the same time,
 5033 nobody could wonder if Mr Elton should have aspired -- Miss Woodhouse
 5034 lets me chatter on, so good-humouredly. She knows I would not
 5035 offend for the world.  How does Miss Smith do?  She seems quite
 5036 recovered now.  Have you heard from Mrs John Knightley lately?
 5037 Oh! those dear little children.  Jane, do you know I always fancy
 5038 Mr Dixon like Mr John Knightley.  I mean in person -- tall, and with
 5039 that sort of look -- and not very talkative."

 5040 "Quite wrong, my dear aunt; there is no likeness at all."

 5041 "Very odd! but one never does form a just idea of any body beforehand.
 5042 One takes up a notion, and runs away with it.  Mr Dixon, you say,
 5043 is not, strictly speaking, handsome?"

 5044 "Handsome!  Oh! no -- far from it -- certainly plain.  I told you he
 5045 was plain."

 5046 "My dear, you said that Miss Campbell would not allow him to be plain,
 5047 and that you yourself -- "

 5048 "Oh! as for me, my judgment is worth nothing.  Where I have a regard,
 5049 I always think a person well-looking. But I gave what I believed
 5050 the general opinion, when I called him plain."

 5051 "Well, my dear Jane, I believe we must be running away.
 5052 The weather does not look well, and grandmama will be uneasy.
 5053 You are too obliging, my dear Miss Woodhouse; but we really must
 5054 take leave.  This has been a most agreeable piece of news indeed.
 5055 I shall just go round by Mrs Cole's; but I shall not stop three minutes:
 5056 and, Jane, you had better go home directly -- I would not have you
 5057 out in a shower! -- We think she is the better for Highbury already.
 5058 Thank you, we do indeed.  I shall not attempt calling on Mrs Goddard,
 5059 for I really do not think she cares for any thing but _boiled_ pork:
 5060 when we dress the leg it will be another thing.  Good morning to you,
 5061 my dear sir.  Oh!  Mr Knightley is coming too.  Well, that is
 5062 so very! -- I am sure if Jane is tired, you will be so kind as to
 5063 give her your arm. -- Mr Elton, and Miss Hawkins! -- Good morning
 5064 to you."

 5065 Emma, alone with her father, had half her attention wanted by him
 5066 while he lamented that young people would be in such a hurry to marry -- 
 5067 and to marry strangers too -- and the other half she could give
 5068 to her own view of the subject.  It was to herself an amusing
 5069 and a very welcome piece of news, as proving that Mr Elton
 5070 could not have suffered long; but she was sorry for Harriet:
 5071 Harriet must feel it -- and all that she could hope was, by giving
 5072 the first information herself, to save her from hearing it abruptly
 5073 from others.  It was now about the time that she was likely to call.
 5074 If she were to meet Miss Bates in her way! -- and upon its beginning
 5075 to rain, Emma was obliged to expect that the weather would be
 5076 detaining her at Mrs Goddard's, and that the intelligence would
 5077 undoubtedly rush upon her without preparation.

 5078 The shower was heavy, but short; and it had not been over five minutes,
 5079 when in came Harriet, with just the heated, agitated look which
 5080 hurrying thither with a full heart was likely to give; and the
 5081 "Oh! Miss Woodhouse, what do you think has happened!" which instantly
 5082 burst forth, had all the evidence of corresponding perturbation.
 5083 As the blow was given, Emma felt that she could not now shew greater
 5084 kindness than in listening; and Harriet, unchecked, ran eagerly
 5085 through what she had to tell.  "She had set out from Mrs Goddard's
 5086 half an hour ago -- she had been afraid it would rain -- she had been
 5087 afraid it would pour down every moment -- but she thought she might
 5088 get to Hartfield first -- she had hurried on as fast as possible;
 5089 but then, as she was passing by the house where a young woman
 5090 was making up a gown for her, she thought she would just step
 5091 in and see how it went on; and though she did not seem to stay
 5092 half a moment there, soon after she came out it began to rain,
 5093 and she did not know what to do; so she ran on directly, as fast
 5094 as she could, and took shelter at Ford's." -- Ford's was the principal
 5095 woollen-draper, linen-draper, and haberdasher's shop united;
 5096 the shop first in size and fashion in the place. -- "And so,
 5097 there she had set, without an idea of any thing in the world,
 5098 full ten minutes, perhaps -- when, all of a sudden, who should come in -- 
 5099 to be sure it was so very odd! -- but they always dealt at Ford's -- 
 5100 who should come in, but Elizabeth Martin and her brother! -- 
 5101 Dear Miss Woodhouse! only think.  I thought I should have fainted.
 5102 I did not know what to do.  I was sitting near the door -- Elizabeth saw
 5103 me directly; but he did not; he was busy with the umbrella.
 5104 I am sure she saw me, but she looked away directly, and took
 5105 no notice; and they both went to quite the farther end of the shop;
 5106 and I kept sitting near the door! -- Oh! dear; I was so miserable!
 5107 I am sure I must have been as white as my gown.  I could not go away
 5108 you know, because of the rain; but I did so wish myself anywhere
 5109 in the world but there. -- Oh! dear, Miss Woodhouse -- well, at last,
 5110 I fancy, he looked round and saw me; for instead of going
 5111 on with her buyings, they began whispering to one another.
 5112 I am sure they were talking of me; and I could not help thinking
 5113 that he was persuading her to speak to me -- (do you think he was,
 5114 Miss Woodhouse?) -- for presently she came forward -- came quite up
 5115 to me, and asked me how I did, and seemed ready to shake hands,
 5116 if I would.  She did not do any of it in the same way that she used;
 5117 I could see she was altered; but, however, she seemed to _try_ to be
 5118 very friendly, and we shook hands, and stood talking some time;
 5119 but I know no more what I said -- I was in such a tremble! -- I remember
 5120 she said she was sorry we never met now; which I thought almost
 5121 too kind!  Dear, Miss Woodhouse, I was absolutely miserable!
 5122 By that time, it was beginning to hold up, and I was determined
 5123 that nothing should stop me from getting away -- and then -- only think! -- 
 5124 I found he was coming up towards me too -- slowly you know, and as
 5125 if he did not quite know what to do; and so he came and spoke,
 5126 and I answered -- and I stood for a minute, feeling dreadfully,
 5127 you know, one can't tell how; and then I took courage, and said it
 5128 did not rain, and I must go; and so off I set; and I had not got
 5129 three yards from the door, when he came after me, only to say,
 5130 if I was going to Hartfield, he thought I had much better go round
 5131 by Mr Cole's stables, for I should find the near way quite floated
 5132 by this rain.  Oh! dear, I thought it would have been the death of me!
 5133 So I said, I was very much obliged to him:  you know I could
 5134 not do less; and then he went back to Elizabeth, and I came round
 5135 by the stables -- I believe I did -- but I hardly knew where I was,
 5136 or any thing about it.  Oh!  Miss Woodhouse, I would rather done
 5137 any thing than have it happen:  and yet, you know, there was a sort
 5138 of satisfaction in seeing him behave so pleasantly and so kindly.
 5139 And Elizabeth, too.  Oh!  Miss Woodhouse, do talk to me and make
 5140 me comfortable again."

 5141 Very sincerely did Emma wish to do so; but it was not immediately in
 5142 her power.  She was obliged to stop and think.  She was not thoroughly
 5143 comfortable herself.  The young man's conduct, and his sister's,
 5144 seemed the result of real feeling, and she could not but pity them.
 5145 As Harriet described it, there had been an interesting mixture
 5146 of wounded affection and genuine delicacy in their behaviour.
 5147 But she had believed them to be well-meaning, worthy people before;
 5148 and what difference did this make in the evils of the connexion?
 5149 It was folly to be disturbed by it.  Of course, he must be sorry
 5150 to lose her -- they must be all sorry.  Ambition, as well as love,
 5151 had probably been mortified.  They might all have hoped to rise
 5152 by Harriet's acquaintance:  and besides, what was the value of
 5153 Harriet's description? -- So easily pleased -- so little discerning; -- 
 5154 what signified her praise?

 5155 She exerted herself, and did try to make her comfortable,
 5156 by considering all that had passed as a mere trifle, and quite
 5157 unworthy of being dwelt on,

 5158 "It might be distressing, for the moment," said she; "but you seem
 5159 to have behaved extremely well; and it is over -- and may never -- 
 5160 can never, as a first meeting, occur again, and therefore you need
 5161 not think about it."

 5162 Harriet said, "very true," and she "would not think about it;"
 5163 but still she talked of it -- still she could talk of nothing else;
 5164 and Emma, at last, in order to put the Martins out of her head,
 5165 was obliged to hurry on the news, which she had meant to give
 5166 with so much tender caution; hardly knowing herself whether
 5167 to rejoice or be angry, ashamed or only amused, at such a state
 5168 of mind in poor Harriet -- such a conclusion of Mr Elton's importance
 5169 with her!

 5170 Mr Elton's rights, however, gradually revived.  Though she did not
 5171 feel the first intelligence as she might have done the day before,
 5172 or an hour before, its interest soon increased; and before their
 5173 first conversation was over, she had talked herself into all the
 5174 sensations of curiosity, wonder and regret, pain and pleasure,
 5175 as to this fortunate Miss Hawkins, which could conduce to place
 5176 the Martins under proper subordination in her fancy.

 5177 Emma learned to be rather glad that there had been such a meeting.
 5178 It had been serviceable in deadening the first shock, without retaining
 5179 any influence to alarm.  As Harriet now lived, the Martins could
 5180 not get at her, without seeking her, where hitherto they had wanted
 5181 either the courage or the condescension to seek her; for since her
 5182 refusal of the brother, the sisters never had been at Mrs Goddard's;
 5183 and a twelvemonth might pass without their being thrown together again,
 5184 with any necessity, or even any power of speech.



 5185 CHAPTER IV


 5186 Human nature is so well disposed towards those who are in
 5187 interesting situations, that a young person, who either marries
 5188 or dies, is sure of being kindly spoken of.

 5189 A week had not passed since Miss Hawkins's name was first
 5190 mentioned in Highbury, before she was, by some means or other,
 5191 discovered to have every recommendation of person and mind;
 5192 to be handsome, elegant, highly accomplished, and perfectly amiable:
 5193 and when Mr Elton himself arrived to triumph in his happy prospects,
 5194 and circulate the fame of her merits, there was very little more
 5195 for him to do, than to tell her Christian name, and say whose
 5196 music she principally played.

 5197 Mr Elton returned, a very happy man.  He had gone away rejected
 5198 and mortified -- disappointed in a very sanguine hope, after a series
 5199 of what appeared to him strong encouragement; and not only losing
 5200 the right lady, but finding himself debased to the level of a very
 5201 wrong one.  He had gone away deeply offended -- he came back engaged
 5202 to another -- and to another as superior, of course, to the first,
 5203 as under such circumstances what is gained always is to what is lost.
 5204 He came back gay and self-satisfied, eager and busy, caring nothing
 5205 for Miss Woodhouse, and defying Miss Smith.

 5206 The charming Augusta Hawkins, in addition to all the usual advantages
 5207 of perfect beauty and merit, was in possession of an independent fortune,
 5208 of so many thousands as would always be called ten; a point of
 5209 some dignity, as well as some convenience:  the story told well;
 5210 he had not thrown himself away -- he had gained a woman of 10,000 l.
 5211 or thereabouts; and he had gained her with such delightful rapidity -- 
 5212 the first hour of introduction had been so very soon followed by
 5213 distinguishing notice; the history which he had to give Mrs Cole
 5214 of the rise and progress of the affair was so glorious -- the steps
 5215 so quick, from the accidental rencontre, to the dinner at Mr Green's,
 5216 and the party at Mrs Brown's -- smiles and blushes rising in importance -- 
 5217 with consciousness and agitation richly scattered -- the lady
 5218 had been so easily impressed -- so sweetly disposed -- had in short,
 5219 to use a most intelligible phrase, been so very ready to have him,
 5220 that vanity and prudence were equally contented.

 5221 He had caught both substance and shadow -- both fortune and affection,
 5222 and was just the happy man he ought to be; talking only of himself
 5223 and his own concerns -- expecting to be congratulated -- ready to be
 5224 laughed at -- and, with cordial, fearless smiles, now addressing
 5225 all the young ladies of the place, to whom, a few weeks ago,
 5226 he would have been more cautiously gallant.

 5227 The wedding was no distant event, as the parties had only themselves
 5228 to please, and nothing but the necessary preparations to wait for;
 5229 and when he set out for Bath again, there was a general expectation,
 5230 which a certain glance of Mrs Cole's did not seem to contradict,
 5231 that when he next entered Highbury he would bring his bride.

 5232 During his present short stay, Emma had barely seen him; but just
 5233 enough to feel that the first meeting was over, and to give her
 5234 the impression of his not being improved by the mixture of pique
 5235 and pretension, now spread over his air.  She was, in fact,
 5236 beginning very much to wonder that she had ever thought him pleasing
 5237 at all; and his sight was so inseparably connected with some very
 5238 disagreeable feelings, that, except in a moral light, as a penance,
 5239 a lesson, a source of profitable humiliation to her own mind,
 5240 she would have been thankful to be assured of never seeing him again.
 5241 She wished him very well; but he gave her pain, and his welfare
 5242 twenty miles off would administer most satisfaction.

 5243 The pain of his continued residence in Highbury, however, must certainly
 5244 be lessened by his marriage.  Many vain solicitudes would be prevented -- 
 5245 many awkwardnesses smoothed by it.  A _Mrs._ _Elton_ would be an excuse for
 5246 any change of intercourse; former intimacy might sink without remark.
 5247 It would be almost beginning their life of civility again.

 5248 Of the lady, individually, Emma thought very little.  She was good
 5249 enough for Mr Elton, no doubt; accomplished enough for Highbury -- 
 5250 handsome enough -- to look plain, probably, by Harriet's side.
 5251 As to connexion, there Emma was perfectly easy; persuaded,
 5252 that after all his own vaunted claims and disdain of Harriet,
 5253 he had done nothing.  On that article, truth seemed attainable.
 5254 _What_ she was, must be uncertain; but _who_ she was, might be found out;
 5255 and setting aside the 10,000 l., it did not appear that she was at
 5256 all Harriet's superior.  She brought no name, no blood, no alliance.
 5257 Miss Hawkins was the youngest of the two daughters of a Bristol -- 
 5258 merchant, of course, he must be called; but, as the whole of the
 5259 profits of his mercantile life appeared so very moderate, it was
 5260 not unfair to guess the dignity of his line of trade had been very
 5261 moderate also.  Part of every winter she had been used to spend in Bath;
 5262 but Bristol was her home, the very heart of Bristol; for though
 5263 the father and mother had died some years ago, an uncle remained -- 
 5264 in the law line -- nothing more distinctly honourable was hazarded
 5265 of him, than that he was in the law line; and with him the daughter
 5266 had lived.  Emma guessed him to be the drudge of some attorney,
 5267 and too stupid to rise.  And all the grandeur of the connexion
 5268 seemed dependent on the elder sister, who was _very_ _well_ _married_,
 5269 to a gentleman in a _great_ _way_, near Bristol, who kept two carriages!
 5270 That was the wind-up of the history; that was the glory of
 5271 Miss Hawkins.

 5272 Could she but have given Harriet her feelings about it all!
 5273 She had talked her into love; but, alas! she was not so easily to be
 5274 talked out of it.  The charm of an object to occupy the many vacancies
 5275 of Harriet's mind was not to be talked away.  He might be superseded
 5276 by another; he certainly would indeed; nothing could be clearer;
 5277 even a Robert Martin would have been sufficient; but nothing else,
 5278 she feared, would cure her.  Harriet was one of those, who,
 5279 having once begun, would be always in love.  And now, poor girl!
 5280 she was considerably worse from this reappearance of Mr Elton.
 5281 She was always having a glimpse of him somewhere or other.  Emma saw
 5282 him only once; but two or three times every day Harriet was sure
 5283 _just_ to meet with him, or _just_ to miss him, _just_ to hear his voice,
 5284 or see his shoulder, _just_ to have something occur to preserve him
 5285 in her fancy, in all the favouring warmth of surprize and conjecture.
 5286 She was, moreover, perpetually hearing about him; for, excepting when
 5287 at Hartfield, she was always among those who saw no fault in Mr Elton,
 5288 and found nothing so interesting as the discussion of his concerns;
 5289 and every report, therefore, every guess -- all that had already
 5290 occurred, all that might occur in the arrangement of his affairs,
 5291 comprehending income, servants, and furniture, was continually
 5292 in agitation around her.  Her regard was receiving strength by
 5293 invariable praise of him, and her regrets kept alive, and feelings
 5294 irritated by ceaseless repetitions of Miss Hawkins's happiness,
 5295 and continual observation of, how much he seemed attached! -- 
 5296 his air as he walked by the house -- the very sitting of his hat,
 5297 being all in proof of how much he was in love!

 5298 Had it been allowable entertainment, had there been no pain
 5299 to her friend, or reproach to herself, in the waverings of
 5300 Harriet's mind, Emma would have been amused by its variations.
 5301 Sometimes Mr Elton predominated, sometimes the Martins; and each
 5302 was occasionally useful as a check to the other.  Mr Elton's
 5303 engagement had been the cure of the agitation of meeting Mr Martin.
 5304 The unhappiness produced by the knowledge of that engagement had been
 5305 a little put aside by Elizabeth Martin's calling at Mrs Goddard's
 5306 a few days afterwards.  Harriet had not been at home; but a note had
 5307 been prepared and left for her, written in the very style to touch;
 5308 a small mixture of reproach, with a great deal of kindness;
 5309 and till Mr Elton himself appeared, she had been much occupied
 5310 by it, continually pondering over what could be done in return,
 5311 and wishing to do more than she dared to confess.  But Mr Elton,
 5312 in person, had driven away all such cares.  While he staid,
 5313 the Martins were forgotten; and on the very morning of his setting off
 5314 for Bath again, Emma, to dissipate some of the distress it occasioned,
 5315 judged it best for her to return Elizabeth Martin's visit.

 5316 How that visit was to be acknowledged -- what would be necessary -- 
 5317 and what might be safest, had been a point of some doubtful
 5318 consideration.  Absolute neglect of the mother and sisters,
 5319 when invited to come, would be ingratitude.  It must not be:
 5320 and yet the danger of a renewal of the acquaintance! -- 

 5321 After much thinking, she could determine on nothing better, than Harriet's
 5322 returning the visit; but in a way that, if they had understanding,
 5323 should convince them that it was to be only a formal acquaintance.
 5324 She meant to take her in the carriage, leave her at the Abbey Mill,
 5325 while she drove a little farther, and call for her again so soon,
 5326 as to allow no time for insidious applications or dangerous
 5327 recurrences to the past, and give the most decided proof of what
 5328 degree of intimacy was chosen for the future.

 5329 She could think of nothing better:  and though there was something
 5330 in it which her own heart could not approve -- something of ingratitude,
 5331 merely glossed over -- it must be done, or what would become of Harriet?



 5332 CHAPTER V


 5333 Small heart had Harriet for visiting.  Only half an hour before her
 5334 friend called for her at Mrs Goddard's, her evil stars had led
 5335 her to the very spot where, at that moment, a trunk, directed to
 5336 _The Rev. Philip Elton, White-Hart, Bath_, was to be seen under the
 5337 operation of being lifted into the butcher's cart, which was to
 5338 convey it to where the coaches past; and every thing in this world,
 5339 excepting that trunk and the direction, was consequently a blank.

 5340 She went, however; and when they reached the farm, and she was to
 5341 be put down, at the end of the broad, neat gravel walk, which led
 5342 between espalier apple-trees to the front door, the sight of every
 5343 thing which had given her so much pleasure the autumn before,
 5344 was beginning to revive a little local agitation; and when they parted,
 5345 Emma observed her to be looking around with a sort of fearful curiosity,
 5346 which determined her not to allow the visit to exceed the proposed
 5347 quarter of an hour.  She went on herself, to give that portion
 5348 of time to an old servant who was married, and settled in Donwell.

 5349 The quarter of an hour brought her punctually to the white gate again;
 5350 and Miss Smith receiving her summons, was with her without delay,
 5351 and unattended by any alarming young man.  She came solitarily
 5352 down the gravel walk -- a Miss Martin just appearing at the door,
 5353 and parting with her seemingly with ceremonious civility.

 5354 Harriet could not very soon give an intelligible account.
 5355 She was feeling too much; but at last Emma collected from her
 5356 enough to understand the sort of meeting, and the sort of pain it
 5357 was creating.  She had seen only Mrs Martin and the two girls.
 5358 They had received her doubtingly, if not coolly; and nothing
 5359 beyond the merest commonplace had been talked almost all the time -- 
 5360 till just at last, when Mrs Martin's saying, all of a sudden,
 5361 that she thought Miss Smith was grown, had brought on a more
 5362 interesting subject, and a warmer manner.  In that very room
 5363 she had been measured last September, with her two friends.
 5364 There were the pencilled marks and memorandums on the wainscot by
 5365 the window.  _He_ had done it.  They all seemed to remember the day,
 5366 the hour, the party, the occasion -- to feel the same consciousness,
 5367 the same regrets -- to be ready to return to the same good understanding;
 5368 and they were just growing again like themselves, (Harriet, as Emma
 5369 must suspect, as ready as the best of them to be cordial and happy,)
 5370 when the carriage reappeared, and all was over.  The style of
 5371 the visit, and the shortness of it, were then felt to be decisive.
 5372 Fourteen minutes to be given to those with whom she had thankfully
 5373 passed six weeks not six months ago! -- Emma could not but picture
 5374 it all, and feel how justly they might resent, how naturally
 5375 Harriet must suffer.  It was a bad business.  She would have given
 5376 a great deal, or endured a great deal, to have had the Martins
 5377 in a higher rank of life.  They were so deserving, that a _little_
 5378 higher should have been enough:  but as it was, how could she have
 5379 done otherwise? -- Impossible! -- She could not repent.  They must
 5380 be separated; but there was a great deal of pain in the process -- 
 5381 so much to herself at this time, that she soon felt the necessity
 5382 of a little consolation, and resolved on going home by way of Randalls
 5383 to procure it.  Her mind was quite sick of Mr Elton and the Martins.
 5384 The refreshment of Randalls was absolutely necessary.

 5385 It was a good scheme; but on driving to the door they heard
 5386 that neither "master nor mistress was at home;" they had both
 5387 been out some time; the man believed they were gone to Hartfield.

 5388 "This is too bad," cried Emma, as they turned away.  "And now we
 5389 shall just miss them; too provoking! -- I do not know when I have been
 5390 so disappointed."  And she leaned back in the corner, to indulge
 5391 her murmurs, or to reason them away; probably a little of both -- 
 5392 such being the commonest process of a not ill-disposed mind.
 5393 Presently the carriage stopt; she looked up; it was stopt
 5394 by Mr and Mrs Weston, who were standing to speak to her.
 5395 There was instant pleasure in the sight of them, and still greater
 5396 pleasure was conveyed in sound -- for Mr Weston immediately accosted
 5397 her with,

 5398 "How d'ye do? -- how d'ye do? -- We have been sitting with your father -- 
 5399 glad to see him so well.  Frank comes to-morrow -- I had a letter
 5400 this morning -- we see him to-morrow by dinner-time to a certainty -- 
 5401 he is at Oxford to-day, and he comes for a whole fortnight; I knew it would
 5402 be so.  If he had come at Christmas he could not have staid three days;
 5403 I was always glad he did not come at Christmas; now we are going
 5404 to have just the right weather for him, fine, dry, settled weather.
 5405 We shall enjoy him completely; every thing has turned out exactly
 5406 as we could wish."

 5407 There was no resisting such news, no possibility of avoiding the
 5408 influence of such a happy face as Mr Weston's, confirmed as it all
 5409 was by the words and the countenance of his wife, fewer and quieter,
 5410 but not less to the purpose.  To know that _she_ thought his coming
 5411 certain was enough to make Emma consider it so, and sincerely did
 5412 she rejoice in their joy.  It was a most delightful reanimation
 5413 of exhausted spirits.  The worn-out past was sunk in the freshness
 5414 of what was coming; and in the rapidity of half a moment's thought,
 5415 she hoped Mr Elton would now be talked of no more.

 5416 Mr Weston gave her the history of the engagements at Enscombe,
 5417 which allowed his son to answer for having an entire fortnight at
 5418 his command, as well as the route and the method of his journey;
 5419 and she listened, and smiled, and congratulated.

 5420 "I shall soon bring him over to Hartfield," said he, at the conclusion.

 5421 Emma could imagine she saw a touch of the arm at this speech,
 5422 from his wife.

 5423 "We had better move on, Mr Weston," said she, "we are detaining
 5424 the girls."

 5425 "Well, well, I am ready;" -- and turning again to Emma, "but you must
 5426 not be expecting such a _very_ fine young man; you have only had _my_
 5427 account you know; I dare say he is really nothing extraordinary:" -- 
 5428 though his own sparkling eyes at the moment were speaking a very
 5429 different conviction.

 5430 Emma could look perfectly unconscious and innocent, and answer
 5431 in a manner that appropriated nothing.

 5432 "Think of me to-morrow, my dear Emma, about four o'clock,"
 5433 was Mrs Weston's parting injunction; spoken with some anxiety,
 5434 and meant only for her.

 5435 "Four o'clock! -- depend upon it he will be here by three," was Mr Weston's
 5436 quick amendment; and so ended a most satisfactory meeting.
 5437 Emma's spirits were mounted quite up to happiness; every thing wore
 5438 a different air; James and his horses seemed not half so sluggish
 5439 as before.  When she looked at the hedges, she thought the elder at
 5440 least must soon be coming out; and when she turned round to Harriet,
 5441 she saw something like a look of spring, a tender smile even there.

 5442 "Will Mr Frank Churchill pass through Bath as well as Oxford?" -- 
 5443 was a question, however, which did not augur much.

 5444 But neither geography nor tranquillity could come all at once,
 5445 and Emma was now in a humour to resolve that they should both come
 5446 in time.

 5447 The morning of the interesting day arrived, and Mrs Weston's
 5448 faithful pupil did not forget either at ten, or eleven, or twelve
 5449 o'clock, that she was to think of her at four.

 5450 "My dear, dear anxious friend," -- said she, in mental soliloquy,
 5451 while walking downstairs from her own room, "always overcareful
 5452 for every body's comfort but your own; I see you now in all your
 5453 little fidgets, going again and again into his room, to be sure
 5454 that all is right."  The clock struck twelve as she passed through
 5455 the hall.  "'Tis twelve; I shall not forget to think of you four
 5456 hours hence; and by this time to-morrow, perhaps, or a little later,
 5457 I may be thinking of the possibility of their all calling here.
 5458 I am sure they will bring him soon."

 5459 She opened the parlour door, and saw two gentlemen sitting with
 5460 her father -- Mr Weston and his son.  They had been arrived only
 5461 a few minutes, and Mr Weston had scarcely finished his explanation
 5462 of Frank's being a day before his time, and her father was yet
 5463 in the midst of his very civil welcome and congratulations, when
 5464 she appeared, to have her share of surprize, introduction, and pleasure.

 5465 The Frank Churchill so long talked of, so high in interest,
 5466 was actually before her -- he was presented to her, and she did
 5467 not think too much had been said in his praise; he was a _very_ good
 5468 looking young man; height, air, address, all were unexceptionable,
 5469 and his countenance had a great deal of the spirit and liveliness
 5470 of his father's; he looked quick and sensible.  She felt immediately
 5471 that she should like him; and there was a well-bred ease of manner,
 5472 and a readiness to talk, which convinced her that he came intending
 5473 to be acquainted with her, and that acquainted they soon must be.

 5474 He had reached Randalls the evening before.  She was pleased
 5475 with the eagerness to arrive which had made him alter his plan,
 5476 and travel earlier, later, and quicker, that he might gain half
 5477 a day.

 5478 "I told you yesterday," cried Mr Weston with exultation, "I told
 5479 you all that he would be here before the time named.  I remembered
 5480 what I used to do myself.  One cannot creep upon a journey;
 5481 one cannot help getting on faster than one has planned; and the
 5482 pleasure of coming in upon one's friends before the look-out begins,
 5483 is worth a great deal more than any little exertion it needs."

 5484 "It is a great pleasure where one can indulge in it," said the young man,
 5485 "though there are not many houses that I should presume on so far;
 5486 but in coming _home_ I felt I might do any thing."

 5487 The word _home_ made his father look on him with fresh complacency.
 5488 Emma was directly sure that he knew how to make himself agreeable;
 5489 the conviction was strengthened by what followed.  He was very much
 5490 pleased with Randalls, thought it a most admirably arranged house,
 5491 would hardly allow it even to be very small, admired the situation,
 5492 the walk to Highbury, Highbury itself, Hartfield still more,
 5493 and professed himself to have always felt the sort of interest
 5494 in the country which none but one's _own_ country gives, and the
 5495 greatest curiosity to visit it.  That he should never have been
 5496 able to indulge so amiable a feeling before, passed suspiciously
 5497 through Emma's brain; but still, if it were a falsehood, it was a
 5498 pleasant one, and pleasantly handled.  His manner had no air of study
 5499 or exaggeration.  He did really look and speak as if in a state of no
 5500 common enjoyment.

 5501 Their subjects in general were such as belong to an opening acquaintance.
 5502 On his side were the inquiries, -- "Was she a horsewoman? -- Pleasant rides? -- 
 5503 Pleasant walks? -- Had they a large neighbourhood? -- Highbury, perhaps,
 5504 afforded society enough? -- There were several very pretty houses
 5505 in and about it. -- Balls -- had they balls? -- Was it a musical society?"

 5506 But when satisfied on all these points, and their acquaintance
 5507 proportionably advanced, he contrived to find an opportunity,
 5508 while their two fathers were engaged with each other, of introducing
 5509 his mother-in-law, and speaking of her with so much handsome praise,
 5510 so much warm admiration, so much gratitude for the happiness she
 5511 secured to his father, and her very kind reception of himself,
 5512 as was an additional proof of his knowing how to please -- 
 5513 and of his certainly thinking it worth while to try to please her.
 5514 He did not advance a word of praise beyond what she knew to be
 5515 thoroughly deserved by Mrs Weston; but, undoubtedly he could know
 5516 very little of the matter.  He understood what would be welcome;
 5517 he could be sure of little else.  "His father's marriage," he said,
 5518 "had been the wisest measure, every friend must rejoice in it;
 5519 and the family from whom he had received such a blessing must
 5520 be ever considered as having conferred the highest obligation
 5521 on him."

 5522 He got as near as he could to thanking her for Miss Taylor's merits,
 5523 without seeming quite to forget that in the common course of things it
 5524 was to be rather supposed that Miss Taylor had formed Miss Woodhouse's
 5525 character, than Miss Woodhouse Miss Taylor's. And at last, as if resolved
 5526 to qualify his opinion completely for travelling round to its object, he
 5527 wound it all up with astonishment at the youth and beauty of her person.

 5528 "Elegant, agreeable manners, I was prepared for," said he;
 5529 "but I confess that, considering every thing, I had not expected
 5530 more than a very tolerably well-looking woman of a certain age;
 5531 I did not know that I was to find a pretty young woman in Mrs Weston."

 5532 "You cannot see too much perfection in Mrs Weston for my feelings,"
 5533 said Emma; "were you to guess her to be _eighteen_, I should listen
 5534 with pleasure; but _she_ would be ready to quarrel with you for using
 5535 such words.  Don't let her imagine that you have spoken of her as
 5536 a pretty young woman."

 5537 "I hope I should know better," he replied; "no, depend upon it,
 5538 (with a gallant bow,) that in addressing Mrs Weston I should
 5539 understand whom I might praise without any danger of being thought
 5540 extravagant in my terms."

 5541 Emma wondered whether the same suspicion of what might be expected
 5542 from their knowing each other, which had taken strong possession
 5543 of her mind, had ever crossed his; and whether his compliments were
 5544 to be considered as marks of acquiescence, or proofs of defiance.
 5545 She must see more of him to understand his ways; at present she
 5546 only felt they were agreeable.

 5547 She had no doubt of what Mr Weston was often thinking about.
 5548 His quick eye she detected again and again glancing towards them
 5549 with a happy expression; and even, when he might have determined not
 5550 to look, she was confident that he was often listening.

 5551 Her own father's perfect exemption from any thought of the kind,
 5552 the entire deficiency in him of all such sort of penetration
 5553 or suspicion, was a most comfortable circumstance.  Happily he
 5554 was not farther from approving matrimony than from foreseeing it. -- 
 5555 Though always objecting to every marriage that was arranged,
 5556 he never suffered beforehand from the apprehension of any;
 5557 it seemed as if he could not think so ill of any two persons'
 5558 understanding as to suppose they meant to marry till it were
 5559 proved against them.  She blessed the favouring blindness.
 5560 He could now, without the drawback of a single unpleasant surmise,
 5561 without a glance forward at any possible treachery in his guest,
 5562 give way to all his natural kind-hearted civility in solicitous
 5563 inquiries after Mr Frank Churchill's accommodation on his journey,
 5564 through the sad evils of sleeping two nights on the road, and express
 5565 very genuine unmixed anxiety to know that he had certainly escaped
 5566 catching cold -- which, however, he could not allow him to feel quite
 5567 assured of himself till after another night.

 5568 A reasonable visit paid, Mr Weston began to move. -- "He must be going.
 5569 He had business at the Crown about his hay, and a great many errands
 5570 for Mrs Weston at Ford's, but he need not hurry any body else."
 5571 His son, too well bred to hear the hint, rose immediately also,
 5572 saying,

 5573 "As you are going farther on business, sir, I will take the
 5574 opportunity of paying a visit, which must be paid some day or other,
 5575 and therefore may as well be paid now.  I have the honour of being
 5576 acquainted with a neighbour of yours, (turning to Emma,) a lady
 5577 residing in or near Highbury; a family of the name of Fairfax.
 5578 I shall have no difficulty, I suppose, in finding the house;
 5579 though Fairfax, I believe, is not the proper name -- I should rather
 5580 say Barnes, or Bates.  Do you know any family of that name?"

 5581 "To be sure we do," cried his father; "Mrs Bates -- we passed her house -- 
 5582 I saw Miss Bates at the window.  True, true, you are acquainted
 5583 with Miss Fairfax; I remember you knew her at Weymouth, and a fine
 5584 girl she is.  Call upon her, by all means."

 5585 "There is no necessity for my calling this morning," said the
 5586 young man; "another day would do as well; but there was that degree
 5587 of acquaintance at Weymouth which -- "

 5588 "Oh! go to-day, go to-day. Do not defer it.  What is right to be done
 5589 cannot be done too soon.  And, besides, I must give you a hint, Frank;
 5590 any want of attention to her _here_ should be carefully avoided.
 5591 You saw her with the Campbells, when she was the equal of every body
 5592 she mixed with, but here she is with a poor old grandmother,
 5593 who has barely enough to live on.  If you do not call early it
 5594 will be a slight."

 5595 The son looked convinced.

 5596 "I have heard her speak of the acquaintance," said Emma; "she is
 5597 a very elegant young woman."

 5598 He agreed to it, but with so quiet a "Yes," as inclined her almost
 5599 to doubt his real concurrence; and yet there must be a very distinct
 5600 sort of elegance for the fashionable world, if Jane Fairfax could
 5601 be thought only ordinarily gifted with it.

 5602 "If you were never particularly struck by her manners before,"
 5603 said she, "I think you will to-day. You will see her to advantage;
 5604 see her and hear her -- no, I am afraid you will not hear her at all,
 5605 for she has an aunt who never holds her tongue."

 5606 "You are acquainted with Miss Jane Fairfax, sir, are you?"
 5607 said Mr Woodhouse, always the last to make his way in conversation;
 5608 "then give me leave to assure you that you will find her a very
 5609 agreeable young lady.  She is staying here on a visit to her grandmama
 5610 and aunt, very worthy people; I have known them all my life.
 5611 They will be extremely glad to see you, I am sure; and one of my
 5612 servants shall go with you to shew you the way."

 5613 "My dear sir, upon no account in the world; my father can direct me."

 5614 "But your father is not going so far; he is only going to the Crown,
 5615 quite on the other side of the street, and there are a great many houses;
 5616 you might be very much at a loss, and it is a very dirty walk,
 5617 unless you keep on the footpath; but my coachman can tell you
 5618 where you had best cross the street."

 5619 Mr Frank Churchill still declined it, looking as serious as he could,
 5620 and his father gave his hearty support by calling out, "My good friend,
 5621 this is quite unnecessary; Frank knows a puddle of water when he
 5622 sees it, and as to Mrs Bates's, he may get there from the Crown
 5623 in a hop, step, and jump."

 5624 They were permitted to go alone; and with a cordial nod from one,
 5625 and a graceful bow from the other, the two gentlemen took leave.
 5626 Emma remained very well pleased with this beginning of the acquaintance,
 5627 and could now engage to think of them all at Randalls any hour of
 5628 the day, with full confidence in their comfort.



 5629 CHAPTER VI


 5630 The next morning brought Mr Frank Churchill again.  He came with
 5631 Mrs Weston, to whom and to Highbury he seemed to take very cordially.
 5632 He had been sitting with her, it appeared, most companionably at home,
 5633 till her usual hour of exercise; and on being desired to chuse
 5634 their walk, immediately fixed on Highbury. -- "He did not doubt there
 5635 being very pleasant walks in every direction, but if left to him,
 5636 he should always chuse the same.  Highbury, that airy, cheerful,
 5637 happy-looking Highbury, would be his constant attraction." -- 
 5638 Highbury, with Mrs Weston, stood for Hartfield; and she trusted to
 5639 its bearing the same construction with him.  They walked thither directly.

 5640 Emma had hardly expected them:  for Mr Weston, who had called in
 5641 for half a minute, in order to hear that his son was very handsome,
 5642 knew nothing of their plans; and it was an agreeable surprize
 5643 to her, therefore, to perceive them walking up to the house together,
 5644 arm in arm.  She was wanting to see him again, and especially
 5645 to see him in company with Mrs Weston, upon his behaviour to whom
 5646 her opinion of him was to depend.  If he were deficient there,
 5647 nothing should make amends for it.  But on seeing them together,
 5648 she became perfectly satisfied.  It was not merely in fine words
 5649 or hyperbolical compliment that he paid his duty; nothing could be
 5650 more proper or pleasing than his whole manner to her -- nothing could
 5651 more agreeably denote his wish of considering her as a friend and
 5652 securing her affection.  And there was time enough for Emma to form a
 5653 reasonable judgment, as their visit included all the rest of the morning.
 5654 They were all three walking about together for an hour or two -- 
 5655 first round the shrubberies of Hartfield, and afterwards in Highbury.
 5656 He was delighted with every thing; admired Hartfield sufficiently
 5657 for Mr Woodhouse's ear; and when their going farther was resolved on,
 5658 confessed his wish to be made acquainted with the whole village,
 5659 and found matter of commendation and interest much oftener than Emma
 5660 could have supposed.

 5661 Some of the objects of his curiosity spoke very amiable feelings.
 5662 He begged to be shewn the house which his father had lived in so long,
 5663 and which had been the home of his father's father; and on recollecting
 5664 that an old woman who had nursed him was still living, walked in quest
 5665 of her cottage from one end of the street to the other; and though
 5666 in some points of pursuit or observation there was no positive merit,
 5667 they shewed, altogether, a good-will towards Highbury in general,
 5668 which must be very like a merit to those he was with.

 5669 Emma watched and decided, that with such feelings as were now shewn,
 5670 it could not be fairly supposed that he had been ever voluntarily
 5671 absenting himself; that he had not been acting a part, or making
 5672 a parade of insincere professions; and that Mr Knightley certainly
 5673 had not done him justice.

 5674 Their first pause was at the Crown Inn, an inconsiderable house,
 5675 though the principal one of the sort, where a couple of pair of
 5676 post-horses were kept, more for the convenience of the neighbourhood
 5677 than from any run on the road; and his companions had not expected
 5678 to be detained by any interest excited there; but in passing it they
 5679 gave the history of the large room visibly added; it had been built
 5680 many years ago for a ball-room, and while the neighbourhood had been
 5681 in a particularly populous, dancing state, had been occasionally used
 5682 as such; -- but such brilliant days had long passed away, and now the
 5683 highest purpose for which it was ever wanted was to accommodate a whist
 5684 club established among the gentlemen and half-gentlemen of the place.
 5685 He was immediately interested.  Its character as a ball-room caught him;
 5686 and instead of passing on, he stopt for several minutes at the two
 5687 superior sashed windows which were open, to look in and contemplate
 5688 its capabilities, and lament that its original purpose should
 5689 have ceased.  He saw no fault in the room, he would acknowledge
 5690 none which they suggested.  No, it was long enough, broad enough,
 5691 handsome enough.  It would hold the very number for comfort.
 5692 They ought to have balls there at least every fortnight through
 5693 the winter.  Why had not Miss Woodhouse revived the former good
 5694 old days of the room? -- She who could do any thing in Highbury!
 5695 The want of proper families in the place, and the conviction
 5696 that none beyond the place and its immediate environs could be
 5697 tempted to attend, were mentioned; but he was not satisfied.
 5698 He could not be persuaded that so many good-looking houses as he saw
 5699 around him, could not furnish numbers enough for such a meeting;
 5700 and even when particulars were given and families described, he was
 5701 still unwilling to admit that the inconvenience of such a mixture
 5702 would be any thing, or that there would be the smallest difficulty
 5703 in every body's returning into their proper place the next morning.
 5704 He argued like a young man very much bent on dancing; and Emma
 5705 was rather surprized to see the constitution of the Weston prevail
 5706 so decidedly against the habits of the Churchills.  He seemed to have
 5707 all the life and spirit, cheerful feelings, and social inclinations
 5708 of his father, and nothing of the pride or reserve of Enscombe.
 5709 Of pride, indeed, there was, perhaps, scarcely enough; his indifference
 5710 to a confusion of rank, bordered too much on inelegance of mind.
 5711 He could be no judge, however, of the evil he was holding cheap.
 5712 It was but an effusion of lively spirits.

 5713 At last he was persuaded to move on from the front of the Crown;
 5714 and being now almost facing the house where the Bateses lodged,
 5715 Emma recollected his intended visit the day before, and asked him
 5716 if he had paid it.

 5717 "Yes, oh! yes" -- he replied; "I was just going to mention it.
 5718 A very successful visit: -- I saw all the three ladies; and felt very
 5719 much obliged to you for your preparatory hint.  If the talking aunt
 5720 had taken me quite by surprize, it must have been the death of me.
 5721 As it was, I was only betrayed into paying a most unreasonable visit.
 5722 Ten minutes would have been all that was necessary, perhaps all that
 5723 was proper; and I had told my father I should certainly be at home
 5724 before him -- but there was no getting away, no pause; and, to my
 5725 utter astonishment, I found, when he (finding me nowhere else)
 5726 joined me there at last, that I had been actually sitting with them
 5727 very nearly three-quarters of an hour.  The good lady had not given me
 5728 the possibility of escape before."

 5729 "And how did you think Miss Fairfax looking?"

 5730 "Ill, very ill -- that is, if a young lady can ever be allowed to look ill.
 5731 But the expression is hardly admissible, Mrs Weston, is it?
 5732 Ladies can never look ill.  And, seriously, Miss Fairfax is naturally
 5733 so pale, as almost always to give the appearance of ill health. -- 
 5734 A most deplorable want of complexion."

 5735 Emma would not agree to this, and began a warm defence of Miss
 5736 Fairfax's complexion.  "It was certainly never brilliant, but she
 5737 would not allow it to have a sickly hue in general; and there was
 5738 a softness and delicacy in her skin which gave peculiar elegance
 5739 to the character of her face."  He listened with all due deference;
 5740 acknowledged that he had heard many people say the same -- but yet he
 5741 must confess, that to him nothing could make amends for the want
 5742 of the fine glow of health.  Where features were indifferent,
 5743 a fine complexion gave beauty to them all; and where they were good,
 5744 the effect was -- fortunately he need not attempt to describe what the
 5745 effect was.

 5746 "Well," said Emma, "there is no disputing about taste. -- At least
 5747 you admire her except her complexion."

 5748 He shook his head and laughed. -- "I cannot separate Miss Fairfax
 5749 and her complexion."

 5750 "Did you see her often at Weymouth?  Were you often in the same society?"

 5751 At this moment they were approaching Ford's, and he hastily exclaimed,
 5752 "Ha! this must be the very shop that every body attends every day
 5753 of their lives, as my father informs me.  He comes to Highbury himself,
 5754 he says, six days out of the seven, and has always business at Ford's.
 5755 If it be not inconvenient to you, pray let us go in, that I may prove
 5756 myself to belong to the place, to be a true citizen of Highbury.
 5757 I must buy something at Ford's. It will be taking out my freedom. -- 
 5758 I dare say they sell gloves."

 5759 "Oh! yes, gloves and every thing.  I do admire your patriotism.
 5760 You will be adored in Highbury.  You were very popular before you came,
 5761 because you were Mr Weston's son -- but lay out half a guinea at
 5762 Ford's, and your popularity will stand upon your own virtues."

 5763 They went in; and while the sleek, well-tied parcels of "Men's Beavers"
 5764 and "York Tan" were bringing down and displaying on the counter,
 5765 he said -- "But I beg your pardon, Miss Woodhouse, you were speaking
 5766 to me, you were saying something at the very moment of this burst
 5767 of my _amor_ _patriae_.  Do not let me lose it.  I assure you the utmost
 5768 stretch of public fame would not make me amends for the loss of any
 5769 happiness in private life."

 5770 "I merely asked, whether you had known much of Miss Fairfax
 5771 and her party at Weymouth."

 5772 "And now that I understand your question, I must pronounce it to be a
 5773 very unfair one.  It is always the lady's right to decide on the degree
 5774 of acquaintance.  Miss Fairfax must already have given her account. -- 
 5775 I shall not commit myself by claiming more than she may chuse to allow."

 5776 "Upon my word! you answer as discreetly as she could do herself.
 5777 But her account of every thing leaves so much to be guessed,
 5778 she is so very reserved, so very unwilling to give the least
 5779 information about any body, that I really think you may say what you
 5780 like of your acquaintance with her."

 5781 "May I, indeed? -- Then I will speak the truth, and nothing suits me
 5782 so well.  I met her frequently at Weymouth.  I had known the Campbells
 5783 a little in town; and at Weymouth we were very much in the same set.
 5784 Colonel Campbell is a very agreeable man, and Mrs Campbell a friendly,
 5785 warm-hearted woman.  I like them all."

 5786 "You know Miss Fairfax's situation in life, I conclude; what she
 5787 is destined to be?"

 5788 "Yes -- (rather hesitatingly) -- I believe I do."

 5789 "You get upon delicate subjects, Emma," said Mrs Weston smiling;
 5790 "remember that I am here. -- Mr Frank Churchill hardly knows
 5791 what to say when you speak of Miss Fairfax's situation in life.
 5792 I will move a little farther off."

 5793 "I certainly do forget to think of _her_," said Emma, "as having ever
 5794 been any thing but my friend and my dearest friend."

 5795 He looked as if he fully understood and honoured such a sentiment.

 5796 When the gloves were bought, and they had quitted the shop again,
 5797 "Did you ever hear the young lady we were speaking of, play?"
 5798 said Frank Churchill.

 5799 "Ever hear her!" repeated Emma.  "You forget how much she belongs
 5800 to Highbury.  I have heard her every year of our lives since we
 5801 both began.  She plays charmingly."

 5802 "You think so, do you? -- I wanted the opinion of some one who
 5803 could really judge.  She appeared to me to play well, that is,
 5804 with considerable taste, but I know nothing of the matter myself. -- 
 5805 I am excessively fond of music, but without the smallest skill
 5806 or right of judging of any body's performance. -- I have been used
 5807 to hear her's admired; and I remember one proof of her being
 5808 thought to play well: -- a man, a very musical man, and in love
 5809 with another woman -- engaged to her -- on the point of marriage -- 
 5810 would yet never ask that other woman to sit down to the instrument,
 5811 if the lady in question could sit down instead -- never seemed
 5812 to like to hear one if he could hear the other.  That, I thought,
 5813 in a man of known musical talent, was some proof."

 5814 "Proof indeed!" said Emma, highly amused. -- "Mr Dixon is very musical,
 5815 is he?  We shall know more about them all, in half an hour, from you,
 5816 than Miss Fairfax would have vouchsafed in half a year."

 5817 "Yes, Mr Dixon and Miss Campbell were the persons; and I thought
 5818 it a very strong proof."

 5819 "Certainly -- very strong it was; to own the truth, a great deal
 5820 stronger than, if _I_ had been Miss Campbell, would have been at all
 5821 agreeable to me.  I could not excuse a man's having more music
 5822 than love -- more ear than eye -- a more acute sensibility to fine
 5823 sounds than to my feelings.  How did Miss Campbell appear to like it?"

 5824 "It was her very particular friend, you know."

 5825 "Poor comfort!" said Emma, laughing.  "One would rather have a stranger
 5826 preferred than one's very particular friend -- with a stranger it might
 5827 not recur again -- but the misery of having a very particular friend
 5828 always at hand, to do every thing better than one does oneself! -- 
 5829 Poor Mrs Dixon!  Well, I am glad she is gone to settle in Ireland."

 5830 "You are right.  It was not very flattering to Miss Campbell;
 5831 but she really did not seem to feel it."

 5832 "So much the better -- or so much the worse: -- I do not know which.
 5833 But be it sweetness or be it stupidity in her -- quickness of friendship,
 5834 or dulness of feeling -- there was one person, I think, who must have
 5835 felt it:  Miss Fairfax herself.  She must have felt the improper
 5836 and dangerous distinction."

 5837 "As to that -- I do not -- "

 5838 "Oh! do not imagine that I expect an account of Miss Fairfax's
 5839 sensations from you, or from any body else.  They are known to no
 5840 human being, I guess, but herself.  But if she continued to play
 5841 whenever she was asked by Mr Dixon, one may guess what one chuses."

 5842 "There appeared such a perfectly good understanding among them all -- "
 5843 he began rather quickly, but checking himself, added, "however, it
 5844 is impossible for me to say on what terms they really were -- 
 5845 how it might all be behind the scenes.  I can only say that there
 5846 was smoothness outwardly.  But you, who have known Miss Fairfax from
 5847 a child, must be a better judge of her character, and of how she
 5848 is likely to conduct herself in critical situations, than I can be."

 5849 "I have known her from a child, undoubtedly; we have been children
 5850 and women together; and it is natural to suppose that we should
 5851 be intimate, -- that we should have taken to each other whenever
 5852 she visited her friends.  But we never did.  I hardly know how it
 5853 has happened; a little, perhaps, from that wickedness on my side
 5854 which was prone to take disgust towards a girl so idolized
 5855 and so cried up as she always was, by her aunt and grandmother,
 5856 and all their set.  And then, her reserve -- I never could attach
 5857 myself to any one so completely reserved."

 5858 "It is a most repulsive quality, indeed," said he.  "Oftentimes
 5859 very convenient, no doubt, but never pleasing.  There is safety
 5860 in reserve, but no attraction.  One cannot love a reserved person."

 5861 "Not till the reserve ceases towards oneself; and then the attraction
 5862 may be the greater.  But I must be more in want of a friend,
 5863 or an agreeable companion, than I have yet been, to take
 5864 the trouble of conquering any body's reserve to procure one.
 5865 Intimacy between Miss Fairfax and me is quite out of the question.
 5866 I have no reason to think ill of her -- not the least -- except that
 5867 such extreme and perpetual cautiousness of word and manner,
 5868 such a dread of giving a distinct idea about any body, is apt
 5869 to suggest suspicions of there being something to conceal."

 5870 He perfectly agreed with her:  and after walking together so long,
 5871 and thinking so much alike, Emma felt herself so well acquainted with him,
 5872 that she could hardly believe it to be only their second meeting.
 5873 He was not exactly what she had expected; less of the man of the
 5874 world in some of his notions, less of the spoiled child of fortune,
 5875 therefore better than she had expected.  His ideas seemed more moderate -- 
 5876 his feelings warmer.  She was particularly struck by his manner
 5877 of considering Mr Elton's house, which, as well as the church,
 5878 he would go and look at, and would not join them in finding much
 5879 fault with.  No, he could not believe it a bad house; not such a house
 5880 as a man was to be pitied for having.  If it were to be shared with
 5881 the woman he loved, he could not think any man to be pitied for having
 5882 that house.  There must be ample room in it for every real comfort.
 5883 The man must be a blockhead who wanted more.

 5884 Mrs Weston laughed, and said he did not know what he was talking about.
 5885 Used only to a large house himself, and without ever thinking how many
 5886 advantages and accommodations were attached to its size, he could
 5887 be no judge of the privations inevitably belonging to a small one.
 5888 But Emma, in her own mind, determined that he _did_ know what he
 5889 was talking about, and that he shewed a very amiable inclination
 5890 to settle early in life, and to marry, from worthy motives.
 5891 He might not be aware of the inroads on domestic peace to be
 5892 occasioned by no housekeeper's room, or a bad butler's pantry,
 5893 but no doubt he did perfectly feel that Enscombe could not make
 5894 him happy, and that whenever he were attached, he would willingly
 5895 give up much of wealth to be allowed an early establishment.



 5896 CHAPTER VII


 5897 Emma's very good opinion of Frank Churchill was a little shaken
 5898 the following day, by hearing that he was gone off to London,
 5899 merely to have his hair cut.  A sudden freak seemed to have seized him
 5900 at breakfast, and he had sent for a chaise and set off, intending to
 5901 return to dinner, but with no more important view that appeared than
 5902 having his hair cut.  There was certainly no harm in his travelling
 5903 sixteen miles twice over on such an errand; but there was an air
 5904 of foppery and nonsense in it which she could not approve.  It did
 5905 not accord with the rationality of plan, the moderation in expense,
 5906 or even the unselfish warmth of heart, which she had believed herself
 5907 to discern in him yesterday.  Vanity, extravagance, love of change,
 5908 restlessness of temper, which must be doing something, good or bad;
 5909 heedlessness as to the pleasure of his father and Mrs Weston,
 5910 indifferent as to how his conduct might appear in general; he became
 5911 liable to all these charges.  His father only called him a coxcomb,
 5912 and thought it a very good story; but that Mrs Weston did not like it,
 5913 was clear enough, by her passing it over as quickly as possible,
 5914 and making no other comment than that "all young people would have
 5915 their little whims."

 5916 With the exception of this little blot, Emma found that his visit
 5917 hitherto had given her friend only good ideas of him.  Mrs Weston
 5918 was very ready to say how attentive and pleasant a companion he
 5919 made himself -- how much she saw to like in his disposition altogether.
 5920 He appeared to have a very open temper -- certainly a very cheerful
 5921 and lively one; she could observe nothing wrong in his notions,
 5922 a great deal decidedly right; he spoke of his uncle with warm regard,
 5923 was fond of talking of him -- said he would be the best man in the
 5924 world if he were left to himself; and though there was no being
 5925 attached to the aunt, he acknowledged her kindness with gratitude,
 5926 and seemed to mean always to speak of her with respect.
 5927 This was all very promising; and, but for such an unfortunate fancy
 5928 for having his hair cut, there was nothing to denote him unworthy
 5929 of the distinguished honour which her imagination had given him;
 5930 the honour, if not of being really in love with her, of being
 5931 at least very near it, and saved only by her own indifference -- 
 5932 (for still her resolution held of never marrying) -- the honour, in short,
 5933 of being marked out for her by all their joint acquaintance.

 5934 Mr Weston, on his side, added a virtue to the account which must
 5935 have some weight.  He gave her to understand that Frank admired
 5936 her extremely -- thought her very beautiful and very charming;
 5937 and with so much to be said for him altogether, she found she must
 5938 not judge him harshly.  As Mrs Weston observed, "all young people
 5939 would have their little whims."

 5940 There was one person among his new acquaintance in Surry, not so
 5941 leniently disposed.  In general he was judged, throughout the parishes
 5942 of Donwell and Highbury, with great candour; liberal allowances
 5943 were made for the little excesses of such a handsome young man -- 
 5944 one who smiled so often and bowed so well; but there was one spirit
 5945 among them not to be softened, from its power of censure, by bows
 5946 or smiles -- Mr Knightley.  The circumstance was told him at Hartfield;
 5947 for the moment, he was silent; but Emma heard him almost immediately
 5948 afterwards say to himself, over a newspaper he held in his hand,
 5949 "Hum! just the trifling, silly fellow I took him for."  She had
 5950 half a mind to resent; but an instant's observation convinced
 5951 her that it was really said only to relieve his own feelings,
 5952 and not meant to provoke; and therefore she let it pass.

 5953 Although in one instance the bearers of not good tidings,
 5954 Mr and Mrs Weston's visit this morning was in another respect
 5955 particularly opportune.  Something occurred while they were
 5956 at Hartfield, to make Emma want their advice; and, which was
 5957 still more lucky, she wanted exactly the advice they gave.

 5958 This was the occurrence: -- The Coles had been settled some years
 5959 in Highbury, and were very good sort of people -- friendly, liberal,
 5960 and unpretending; but, on the other hand, they were of low origin,
 5961 in trade, and only moderately genteel.  On their first coming into
 5962 the country, they had lived in proportion to their income, quietly,
 5963 keeping little company, and that little unexpensively; but the last
 5964 year or two had brought them a considerable increase of means -- 
 5965 the house in town had yielded greater profits, and fortune in general
 5966 had smiled on them.  With their wealth, their views increased;
 5967 their want of a larger house, their inclination for more company.
 5968 They added to their house, to their number of servants,
 5969 to their expenses of every sort; and by this time were, in fortune
 5970 and style of living, second only to the family at Hartfield.
 5971 Their love of society, and their new dining-room, prepared every body
 5972 for their keeping dinner-company; and a few parties, chiefly among
 5973 the single men, had already taken place.  The regular and best
 5974 families Emma could hardly suppose they would presume to invite -- 
 5975 neither Donwell, nor Hartfield, nor Randalls.  Nothing should
 5976 tempt _her_ to go, if they did; and she regretted that her father's
 5977 known habits would be giving her refusal less meaning than she
 5978 could wish.  The Coles were very respectable in their way, but they
 5979 ought to be taught that it was not for them to arrange the terms
 5980 on which the superior families would visit them.  This lesson,
 5981 she very much feared, they would receive only from herself;
 5982 she had little hope of Mr Knightley, none of Mr Weston.

 5983 But she had made up her mind how to meet this presumption so many
 5984 weeks before it appeared, that when the insult came at last,
 5985 it found her very differently affected.  Donwell and Randalls
 5986 had received their invitation, and none had come for her father
 5987 and herself; and Mrs Weston's accounting for it with "I suppose
 5988 they will not take the liberty with you; they know you do not
 5989 dine out," was not quite sufficient.  She felt that she should
 5990 like to have had the power of refusal; and afterwards, as the idea
 5991 of the party to be assembled there, consisting precisely of those
 5992 whose society was dearest to her, occurred again and again,
 5993 she did not know that she might not have been tempted to accept.
 5994 Harriet was to be there in the evening, and the Bateses.  They had
 5995 been speaking of it as they walked about Highbury the day before,
 5996 and Frank Churchill had most earnestly lamented her absence.
 5997 Might not the evening end in a dance? had been a question of his.
 5998 The bare possibility of it acted as a farther irritation on her spirits;
 5999 and her being left in solitary grandeur, even supposing the omission
 6000 to be intended as a compliment, was but poor comfort.

 6001 It was the arrival of this very invitation while the Westons were
 6002 at Hartfield, which made their presence so acceptable; for though her
 6003 first remark, on reading it, was that "of course it must be declined,"
 6004 she so very soon proceeded to ask them what they advised her to do,
 6005 that their advice for her going was most prompt and successful.

 6006 She owned that, considering every thing, she was not absolutely
 6007 without inclination for the party.  The Coles expressed themselves
 6008 so properly -- there was so much real attention in the manner of it -- 
 6009 so much consideration for her father.  "They would have solicited the
 6010 honour earlier, but had been waiting the arrival of a folding-screen
 6011 from London, which they hoped might keep Mr Woodhouse from any draught
 6012 of air, and therefore induce him the more readily to give them the
 6013 honour of his company."  Upon the whole, she was very persuadable;
 6014 and it being briefly settled among themselves how it might be
 6015 done without neglecting his comfort -- how certainly Mrs Goddard,
 6016 if not Mrs Bates, might be depended on for bearing him company -- 
 6017 Mr Woodhouse was to be talked into an acquiescence of his daughter's
 6018 going out to dinner on a day now near at hand, and spending
 6019 the whole evening away from him.  As for _his_ going, Emma did
 6020 not wish him to think it possible, the hours would be too late,
 6021 and the party too numerous.  He was soon pretty well resigned.

 6022 "I am not fond of dinner-visiting," said he -- "I never was.
 6023 No more is Emma.  Late hours do not agree with us.  I am sorry
 6024 Mr and Mrs Cole should have done it.  I think it would be
 6025 much better if they would come in one afternoon next summer,
 6026 and take their tea with us -- take us in their afternoon walk;
 6027 which they might do, as our hours are so reasonable, and yet get home
 6028 without being out in the damp of the evening.  The dews of a summer
 6029 evening are what I would not expose any body to.  However, as they
 6030 are so very desirous to have dear Emma dine with them, and as you
 6031 will both be there, and Mr Knightley too, to take care of her,
 6032 I cannot wish to prevent it, provided the weather be what it ought,
 6033 neither damp, nor cold, nor windy."  Then turning to Mrs Weston,
 6034 with a look of gentle reproach -- "Ah!  Miss Taylor, if you had
 6035 not married, you would have staid at home with me."

 6036 "Well, sir," cried Mr Weston, "as I took Miss Taylor away,
 6037 it is incumbent on me to supply her place, if I can; and I will
 6038 step to Mrs Goddard in a moment, if you wish it."

 6039 But the idea of any thing to be done in a _moment_, was increasing,
 6040 not lessening, Mr Woodhouse's agitation.  The ladies knew better
 6041 how to allay it.  Mr Weston must be quiet, and every thing
 6042 deliberately arranged.

 6043 With this treatment, Mr Woodhouse was soon composed enough
 6044 for talking as usual.  "He should be happy to see Mrs Goddard.
 6045 He had a great regard for Mrs Goddard; and Emma should write a line,
 6046 and invite her.  James could take the note.  But first of all,
 6047 there must be an answer written to Mrs Cole."

 6048 "You will make my excuses, my dear, as civilly as possible.  You will
 6049 say that I am quite an invalid, and go no where, and therefore must
 6050 decline their obliging invitation; beginning with my _compliments_,
 6051 of course.  But you will do every thing right.  I need not tell you
 6052 what is to be done.  We must remember to let James know that the carriage
 6053 will be wanted on Tuesday.  I shall have no fears for you with him.
 6054 We have never been there above once since the new approach was made;
 6055 but still I have no doubt that James will take you very safely.
 6056 And when you get there, you must tell him at what time you would
 6057 have him come for you again; and you had better name an early hour.
 6058 You will not like staying late.  You will get very tired when tea
 6059 is over."

 6060 "But you would not wish me to come away before I am tired, papa?"

 6061 "Oh! no, my love; but you will soon be tired.  There will be
 6062 a great many people talking at once.  You will not like the noise."

 6063 "But, my dear sir," cried Mr Weston, "if Emma comes away early,
 6064 it will be breaking up the party."

 6065 "And no great harm if it does," said Mr Woodhouse.  "The sooner
 6066 every party breaks up, the better."

 6067 "But you do not consider how it may appear to the Coles.
 6068 Emma's going away directly after tea might be giving offence.
 6069 They are good-natured people, and think little of their own claims;
 6070 but still they must feel that any body's hurrying away is no
 6071 great compliment; and Miss Woodhouse's doing it would be more thought
 6072 of than any other person's in the room.  You would not wish to disappoint
 6073 and mortify the Coles, I am sure, sir; friendly, good sort of people
 6074 as ever lived, and who have been your neighbours these _ten_ years."

 6075 "No, upon no account in the world, Mr Weston; I am much obliged
 6076 to you for reminding me.  I should be extremely sorry to be giving
 6077 them any pain.  I know what worthy people they are.  Perry tells
 6078 me that Mr Cole never touches malt liquor.  You would not think
 6079 it to look at him, but he is bilious -- Mr Cole is very bilious.
 6080 No, I would not be the means of giving them any pain.  My dear Emma,
 6081 we must consider this.  I am sure, rather than run the risk of hurting
 6082 Mr and Mrs Cole, you would stay a little longer than you might wish.
 6083 You will not regard being tired.  You will be perfectly safe,
 6084 you know, among your friends."

 6085 "Oh yes, papa.  I have no fears at all for myself; and I should have
 6086 no scruples of staying as late as Mrs Weston, but on your account.
 6087 I am only afraid of your sitting up for me.  I am not afraid
 6088 of your not being exceedingly comfortable with Mrs Goddard.
 6089 She loves piquet, you know; but when she is gone home, I am afraid
 6090 you will be sitting up by yourself, instead of going to bed at your
 6091 usual time -- and the idea of that would entirely destroy my comfort.
 6092 You must promise me not to sit up."

 6093 He did, on the condition of some promises on her side:  such as that,
 6094 if she came home cold, she would be sure to warm herself thoroughly;
 6095 if hungry, that she would take something to eat; that her own maid
 6096 should sit up for her; and that Serle and the butler should see
 6097 that every thing were safe in the house, as usual.



 6098 CHAPTER VIII


 6099 Frank Churchill came back again; and if he kept his father's
 6100 dinner waiting, it was not known at Hartfield; for Mrs Weston
 6101 was too anxious for his being a favourite with Mr Woodhouse,
 6102 to betray any imperfection which could be concealed.

 6103 He came back, had had his hair cut, and laughed at himself with
 6104 a very good grace, but without seeming really at all ashamed
 6105 of what he had done.  He had no reason to wish his hair longer,
 6106 to conceal any confusion of face; no reason to wish the money unspent,
 6107 to improve his spirits.  He was quite as undaunted and as lively
 6108 as ever; and, after seeing him, Emma thus moralised to herself: -- 

 6109 "I do not know whether it ought to be so, but certainly silly things
 6110 do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an
 6111 impudent way.  Wickedness is always wickedness, but folly is not
 6112 always folly. -- It depends upon the character of those who handle it.
 6113 Mr Knightley, he is _not_ a trifling, silly young man.  If he were,
 6114 he would have done this differently.  He would either have gloried
 6115 in the achievement, or been ashamed of it.  There would have been
 6116 either the ostentation of a coxcomb, or the evasions of a mind too
 6117 weak to defend its own vanities. -- No, I am perfectly sure that he
 6118 is not trifling or silly."

 6119 With Tuesday came the agreeable prospect of seeing him again,
 6120 and for a longer time than hitherto; of judging of his general manners,
 6121 and by inference, of the meaning of his manners towards herself;
 6122 of guessing how soon it might be necessary for her to throw coldness
 6123 into her air; and of fancying what the observations of all those
 6124 might be, who were now seeing them together for the first time.

 6125 She meant to be very happy, in spite of the scene being laid at
 6126 Mr Cole's; and without being able to forget that among the failings
 6127 of Mr Elton, even in the days of his favour, none had disturbed
 6128 her more than his propensity to dine with Mr Cole.

 6129 Her father's comfort was amply secured, Mrs Bates as well as
 6130 Mrs Goddard being able to come; and her last pleasing duty,
 6131 before she left the house, was to pay her respects to them as
 6132 they sat together after dinner; and while her father was fondly
 6133 noticing the beauty of her dress, to make the two ladies all
 6134 the amends in her power, by helping them to large slices of cake
 6135 and full glasses of wine, for whatever unwilling self-denial his
 6136 care of their constitution might have obliged them to practise
 6137 during the meal. -- She had provided a plentiful dinner for them;
 6138 she wished she could know that they had been allowed to eat it.

 6139 She followed another carriage to Mr Cole's door; and was pleased
 6140 to see that it was Mr Knightley's; for Mr Knightley keeping
 6141 no horses, having little spare money and a great deal of health,
 6142 activity, and independence, was too apt, in Emma's opinion, to get
 6143 about as he could, and not use his carriage so often as became
 6144 the owner of Donwell Abbey.  She had an opportunity now of speaking
 6145 her approbation while warm from her heart, for he stopped to hand her out.

 6146 "This is coming as you should do," said she; "like a gentleman. -- 
 6147 I am quite glad to see you."

 6148 He thanked her, observing, "How lucky that we should arrive at the same
 6149 moment! for, if we had met first in the drawing-room, I doubt whether
 6150 you would have discerned me to be more of a gentleman than usual. -- 
 6151 You might not have distinguished how I came, by my look or manner."

 6152 "Yes I should, I am sure I should.  There is always a look of
 6153 consciousness or bustle when people come in a way which they know
 6154 to be beneath them.  You think you carry it off very well, I dare say,
 6155 but with you it is a sort of bravado, an air of affected unconcern;
 6156 I always observe it whenever I meet you under those circumstances.
 6157 _Now_ you have nothing to try for.  You are not afraid of being
 6158 supposed ashamed.  You are not striving to look taller than any
 6159 body else.  _Now_ I shall really be very happy to walk into the same
 6160 room with you."

 6161 "Nonsensical girl!" was his reply, but not at all in anger.

 6162 Emma had as much reason to be satisfied with the rest of the party
 6163 as with Mr Knightley.  She was received with a cordial respect
 6164 which could not but please, and given all the consequence she could
 6165 wish for.  When the Westons arrived, the kindest looks of love,
 6166 the strongest of admiration were for her, from both husband and wife;
 6167 the son approached her with a cheerful eagerness which marked
 6168 her as his peculiar object, and at dinner she found him seated
 6169 by her -- and, as she firmly believed, not without some dexterity
 6170 on his side.

 6171 The party was rather large, as it included one other family, a proper
 6172 unobjectionable country family, whom the Coles had the advantage of
 6173 naming among their acquaintance, and the male part of Mr Cox's family,
 6174 the lawyer of Highbury.  The less worthy females were to come
 6175 in the evening, with Miss Bates, Miss Fairfax, and Miss Smith;
 6176 but already, at dinner, they were too numerous for any subject
 6177 of conversation to be general; and, while politics and Mr Elton
 6178 were talked over, Emma could fairly surrender all her attention to
 6179 the pleasantness of her neighbour.  The first remote sound to which
 6180 she felt herself obliged to attend, was the name of Jane Fairfax.
 6181 Mrs Cole seemed to be relating something of her that was expected to be
 6182 very interesting.  She listened, and found it well worth listening to.
 6183 That very dear part of Emma, her fancy, received an amusing supply.
 6184 Mrs Cole was telling that she had been calling on Miss Bates,
 6185 and as soon as she entered the room had been struck by the sight
 6186 of a pianoforte -- a very elegant looking instrument -- not a grand,
 6187 but a large-sized square pianoforte; and the substance of the story,
 6188 the end of all the dialogue which ensued of surprize, and inquiry,
 6189 and congratulations on her side, and explanations on Miss Bates's, was,
 6190 that this pianoforte had arrived from Broadwood's the day before,
 6191 to the great astonishment of both aunt and niece -- entirely unexpected;
 6192 that at first, by Miss Bates's account, Jane herself was quite at
 6193 a loss, quite bewildered to think who could possibly have ordered it -- 
 6194 but now, they were both perfectly satisfied that it could be from only
 6195 one quarter; -- of course it must be from Colonel Campbell.

 6196 "One can suppose nothing else," added Mrs Cole, "and I was only
 6197 surprized that there could ever have been a doubt.  But Jane,
 6198 it seems, had a letter from them very lately, and not a word was said
 6199 about it.  She knows their ways best; but I should not consider their
 6200 silence as any reason for their not meaning to make the present.
 6201 They might chuse to surprize her."

 6202 Mrs Cole had many to agree with her; every body who spoke on the
 6203 subject was equally convinced that it must come from Colonel Campbell,
 6204 and equally rejoiced that such a present had been made; and there
 6205 were enough ready to speak to allow Emma to think her own way,
 6206 and still listen to Mrs Cole.

 6207 "I declare, I do not know when I have heard any thing that has given
 6208 me more satisfaction! -- It always has quite hurt me that Jane Fairfax,
 6209 who plays so delightfully, should not have an instrument.
 6210 It seemed quite a shame, especially considering how many houses
 6211 there are where fine instruments are absolutely thrown away.
 6212 This is like giving ourselves a slap, to be sure! and it was
 6213 but yesterday I was telling Mr Cole, I really was ashamed
 6214 to look at our new grand pianoforte in the drawing-room, while I
 6215 do not know one note from another, and our little girls, who are
 6216 but just beginning, perhaps may never make any thing of it;
 6217 and there is poor Jane Fairfax, who is mistress of music, has not
 6218 any thing of the nature of an instrument, not even the pitifullest
 6219 old spinet in the world, to amuse herself with. -- I was saying this
 6220 to Mr Cole but yesterday, and he quite agreed with me; only he
 6221 is so particularly fond of music that he could not help indulging
 6222 himself in the purchase, hoping that some of our good neighbours might
 6223 be so obliging occasionally to put it to a better use than we can;
 6224 and that really is the reason why the instrument was bought -- 
 6225 or else I am sure we ought to be ashamed of it. -- We are in great
 6226 hopes that Miss Woodhouse may be prevailed with to try it this evening."

 6227 Miss Woodhouse made the proper acquiescence; and finding that nothing
 6228 more was to be entrapped from any communication of Mrs Cole's,
 6229 turned to Frank Churchill.

 6230 "Why do you smile?" said she.

 6231 "Nay, why do you?"

 6232 "Me! -- I suppose I smile for pleasure at Colonel Campbell's being
 6233 so rich and so liberal. -- It is a handsome present."

 6234 "Very."

 6235 "I rather wonder that it was never made before."

 6236 "Perhaps Miss Fairfax has never been staying here so long before."

 6237 "Or that he did not give her the use of their own instrument -- 
 6238 which must now be shut up in London, untouched by any body."

 6239 "That is a grand pianoforte, and he might think it too large
 6240 for Mrs Bates's house."

 6241 "You may _say_ what you chuse -- but your countenance testifies
 6242 that your _thoughts_ on this subject are very much like mine."

 6243 "I do not know.  I rather believe you are giving me more credit for
 6244 acuteness than I deserve.  I smile because you smile, and shall probably
 6245 suspect whatever I find you suspect; but at present I do not see what
 6246 there is to question.  If Colonel Campbell is not the person, who can be?"

 6247 "What do you say to Mrs Dixon?"

 6248 "Mrs Dixon! very true indeed.  I had not thought of Mrs Dixon.
 6249 She must know as well as her father, how acceptable an instrument
 6250 would be; and perhaps the mode of it, the mystery, the surprize,
 6251 is more like a young woman's scheme than an elderly man's. It
 6252 is Mrs Dixon, I dare say.  I told you that your suspicions would
 6253 guide mine."

 6254 "If so, you must extend your suspicions and comprehend _Mr_. Dixon
 6255 in them."

 6256 "Mr Dixon. -- Very well.  Yes, I immediately perceive that it must
 6257 be the joint present of Mr and Mrs Dixon.  We were speaking the
 6258 other day, you know, of his being so warm an admirer of her performance."

 6259 "Yes, and what you told me on that head, confirmed an idea which I
 6260 had entertained before. -- I do not mean to reflect upon the good
 6261 intentions of either Mr Dixon or Miss Fairfax, but I cannot help
 6262 suspecting either that, after making his proposals to her friend,
 6263 he had the misfortune to fall in love with _her_, or that he became
 6264 conscious of a little attachment on her side.  One might guess
 6265 twenty things without guessing exactly the right; but I am sure
 6266 there must be a particular cause for her chusing to come to Highbury
 6267 instead of going with the Campbells to Ireland.  Here, she must be
 6268 leading a life of privation and penance; there it would have been
 6269 all enjoyment.  As to the pretence of trying her native air, I look
 6270 upon that as a mere excuse. -- In the summer it might have passed;
 6271 but what can any body's native air do for them in the months
 6272 of January, February, and March?  Good fires and carriages would
 6273 be much more to the purpose in most cases of delicate health, and I
 6274 dare say in her's. I do not require you to adopt all my suspicions,
 6275 though you make so noble a profession of doing it, but I honestly
 6276 tell you what they are."

 6277 "And, upon my word, they have an air of great probability.
 6278 Mr Dixon's preference of her music to her friend's, I can answer
 6279 for being very decided."

 6280 "And then, he saved her life.  Did you ever hear of that? -- 
 6281 A water party; and by some accident she was falling overboard.
 6282 He caught her."

 6283 "He did.  I was there -- one of the party."

 6284 "Were you really? -- Well! -- But you observed nothing of course,
 6285 for it seems to be a new idea to you. -- If I had been there, I think
 6286 I should have made some discoveries."

 6287 "I dare say you would; but I, simple I, saw nothing but the fact,
 6288 that Miss Fairfax was nearly dashed from the vessel and that Mr Dixon
 6289 caught her. -- It was the work of a moment.  And though the consequent
 6290 shock and alarm was very great and much more durable -- indeed I
 6291 believe it was half an hour before any of us were comfortable again -- 
 6292 yet that was too general a sensation for any thing of peculiar
 6293 anxiety to be observable.  I do not mean to say, however, that you
 6294 might not have made discoveries."

 6295 The conversation was here interrupted.  They were called on to share
 6296 in the awkwardness of a rather long interval between the courses,
 6297 and obliged to be as formal and as orderly as the others; but when
 6298 the table was again safely covered, when every corner dish was placed
 6299 exactly right, and occupation and ease were generally restored,
 6300 Emma said,

 6301 "The arrival of this pianoforte is decisive with me.  I wanted to know
 6302 a little more, and this tells me quite enough.  Depend upon it,
 6303 we shall soon hear that it is a present from Mr and Mrs Dixon."

 6304 "And if the Dixons should absolutely deny all knowledge of it we
 6305 must conclude it to come from the Campbells."

 6306 "No, I am sure it is not from the Campbells.  Miss Fairfax knows it
 6307 is not from the Campbells, or they would have been guessed at first.
 6308 She would not have been puzzled, had she dared fix on them.
 6309 I may not have convinced you perhaps, but I am perfectly convinced
 6310 myself that Mr Dixon is a principal in the business."

 6311 "Indeed you injure me if you suppose me unconvinced.  Your reasonings
 6312 carry my judgment along with them entirely.  At first, while I
 6313 supposed you satisfied that Colonel Campbell was the giver, I saw
 6314 it only as paternal kindness, and thought it the most natural thing
 6315 in the world.  But when you mentioned Mrs Dixon, I felt how much more
 6316 probable that it should be the tribute of warm female friendship.
 6317 And now I can see it in no other light than as an offering of love."

 6318 There was no occasion to press the matter farther.  The conviction
 6319 seemed real; he looked as if he felt it.  She said no more,
 6320 other subjects took their turn; and the rest of the dinner passed away;
 6321 the dessert succeeded, the children came in, and were talked
 6322 to and admired amid the usual rate of conversation; a few clever
 6323 things said, a few downright silly, but by much the larger proportion
 6324 neither the one nor the other -- nothing worse than everyday remarks,
 6325 dull repetitions, old news, and heavy jokes.

 6326 The ladies had not been long in the drawing-room, before the other ladies,
 6327 in their different divisions, arrived.  Emma watched the entree of her
 6328 own particular little friend; and if she could not exult in her dignity
 6329 and grace, she could not only love the blooming sweetness and the
 6330 artless manner, but could most heartily rejoice in that light, cheerful,
 6331 unsentimental disposition which allowed her so many alleviations
 6332 of pleasure, in the midst of the pangs of disappointed affection.
 6333 There she sat -- and who would have guessed how many tears she had
 6334 been lately shedding?  To be in company, nicely dressed herself
 6335 and seeing others nicely dressed, to sit and smile and look pretty,
 6336 and say nothing, was enough for the happiness of the present hour.
 6337 Jane Fairfax did look and move superior; but Emma suspected she
 6338 might have been glad to change feelings with Harriet, very glad
 6339 to have purchased the mortification of having loved -- yes, of having
 6340 loved even Mr Elton in vain -- by the surrender of all the dangerous
 6341 pleasure of knowing herself beloved by the husband of her friend.

 6342 In so large a party it was not necessary that Emma should approach her.
 6343 She did not wish to speak of the pianoforte, she felt too much
 6344 in the secret herself, to think the appearance of curiosity
 6345 or interest fair, and therefore purposely kept at a distance;
 6346 but by the others, the subject was almost immediately introduced,
 6347 and she saw the blush of consciousness with which congratulations
 6348 were received, the blush of guilt which accompanied the name of "my
 6349 excellent friend Colonel Campbell."

 6350 Mrs Weston, kind-hearted and musical, was particularly interested
 6351 by the circumstance, and Emma could not help being amused at her
 6352 perseverance in dwelling on the subject; and having so much to ask
 6353 and to say as to tone, touch, and pedal, totally unsuspicious
 6354 of that wish of saying as little about it as possible, which she
 6355 plainly read in the fair heroine's countenance.

 6356 They were soon joined by some of the gentlemen; and the very first of the
 6357 early was Frank Churchill.  In he walked, the first and the handsomest;
 6358 and after paying his compliments en passant to Miss Bates and
 6359 her niece, made his way directly to the opposite side of the circle,
 6360 where sat Miss Woodhouse; and till he could find a seat by her,
 6361 would not sit at all.  Emma divined what every body present must
 6362 be thinking.  She was his object, and every body must perceive it.
 6363 She introduced him to her friend, Miss Smith, and, at convenient
 6364 moments afterwards, heard what each thought of the other.  "He had
 6365 never seen so lovely a face, and was delighted with her naivete."
 6366 And she, "Only to be sure it was paying him too great a compliment,
 6367 but she did think there were some looks a little like Mr Elton."
 6368 Emma restrained her indignation, and only turned from her in silence.

 6369 Smiles of intelligence passed between her and the gentleman on first
 6370 glancing towards Miss Fairfax; but it was most prudent to avoid speech.
 6371 He told her that he had been impatient to leave the dining-room -- 
 6372 hated sitting long -- was always the first to move when he could -- 
 6373 that his father, Mr Knightley, Mr Cox, and Mr Cole, were left
 6374 very busy over parish business -- that as long as he had staid,
 6375 however, it had been pleasant enough, as he had found them in general
 6376 a set of gentlemanlike, sensible men; and spoke so handsomely of
 6377 Highbury altogether -- thought it so abundant in agreeable families -- 
 6378 that Emma began to feel she had been used to despise the place
 6379 rather too much.  She questioned him as to the society in Yorkshire -- 
 6380 the extent of the neighbourhood about Enscombe, and the sort;
 6381 and could make out from his answers that, as far as Enscombe
 6382 was concerned, there was very little going on, that their visitings
 6383 were among a range of great families, none very near; and that even
 6384 when days were fixed, and invitations accepted, it was an even
 6385 chance that Mrs Churchill were not in health and spirits for going;
 6386 that they made a point of visiting no fresh person; and that,
 6387 though he had his separate engagements, it was not without difficulty,
 6388 without considerable address _at_ _times_, that he could get away,
 6389 or introduce an acquaintance for a night.

 6390 She saw that Enscombe could not satisfy, and that Highbury,
 6391 taken at its best, might reasonably please a young man who had more
 6392 retirement at home than he liked.  His importance at Enscombe was
 6393 very evident.  He did not boast, but it naturally betrayed itself,
 6394 that he had persuaded his aunt where his uncle could do nothing,
 6395 and on her laughing and noticing it, he owned that he believed (excepting
 6396 one or two points) he could _with_ _time_ persuade her to any thing.
 6397 One of those points on which his influence failed, he then mentioned.
 6398 He had wanted very much to go abroad -- had been very eager indeed
 6399 to be allowed to travel -- but she would not hear of it.  This had
 6400 happened the year before.  _Now_, he said, he was beginning to have
 6401 no longer the same wish.

 6402 The unpersuadable point, which he did not mention, Emma guessed
 6403 to be good behaviour to his father.

 6404 "I have made a most wretched discovery," said he, after a short pause. -- 
 6405 "I have been here a week to-morrow -- half my time.  I never knew
 6406 days fly so fast.  A week to-morrow! -- And I have hardly begun to
 6407 enjoy myself.  But just got acquainted with Mrs Weston, and others! -- 
 6408 I hate the recollection."

 6409 "Perhaps you may now begin to regret that you spent one whole day,
 6410 out of so few, in having your hair cut."

 6411 "No," said he, smiling, "that is no subject of regret at all.
 6412 I have no pleasure in seeing my friends, unless I can believe myself
 6413 fit to be seen."

 6414 The rest of the gentlemen being now in the room, Emma found herself
 6415 obliged to turn from him for a few minutes, and listen to Mr Cole.
 6416 When Mr Cole had moved away, and her attention could be restored
 6417 as before, she saw Frank Churchill looking intently across the room
 6418 at Miss Fairfax, who was sitting exactly opposite.

 6419 "What is the matter?" said she.

 6420 He started.  "Thank you for rousing me," he replied.  "I believe
 6421 I have been very rude; but really Miss Fairfax has done her hair
 6422 in so odd a way -- so very odd a way -- that I cannot keep my eyes
 6423 from her.  I never saw any thing so outree! -- Those curls! -- This must
 6424 be a fancy of her own.  I see nobody else looking like her! -- 
 6425 I must go and ask her whether it is an Irish fashion.  Shall I? -- 
 6426 Yes, I will -- I declare I will -- and you shall see how she takes it; -- 
 6427 whether she colours."

 6428 He was gone immediately; and Emma soon saw him standing before
 6429 Miss Fairfax, and talking to her; but as to its effect on the young lady,
 6430 as he had improvidently placed himself exactly between them, exactly
 6431 in front of Miss Fairfax, she could absolutely distinguish nothing.

 6432 Before he could return to his chair, it was taken by Mrs Weston.

 6433 "This is the luxury of a large party," said she: -- "one can get
 6434 near every body, and say every thing.  My dear Emma, I am longing
 6435 to talk to you.  I have been making discoveries and forming plans,
 6436 just like yourself, and I must tell them while the idea is fresh.
 6437 Do you know how Miss Bates and her niece came here?"

 6438 "How? -- They were invited, were not they?"

 6439 "Oh! yes -- but how they were conveyed hither? -- the manner of their coming?"

 6440 "They walked, I conclude.  How else could they come?"

 6441 "Very true. -- Well, a little while ago it occurred to me how very sad
 6442 it would be to have Jane Fairfax walking home again, late at night,
 6443 and cold as the nights are now.  And as I looked at her, though I
 6444 never saw her appear to more advantage, it struck me that she
 6445 was heated, and would therefore be particularly liable to take cold.
 6446 Poor girl!  I could not bear the idea of it; so, as soon as Mr Weston
 6447 came into the room, and I could get at him, I spoke to him about
 6448 the carriage.  You may guess how readily he came into my wishes;
 6449 and having his approbation, I made my way directly to Miss Bates,
 6450 to assure her that the carriage would be at her service before it took
 6451 us home; for I thought it would be making her comfortable at once.
 6452 Good soul! she was as grateful as possible, you may be sure.
 6453 `Nobody was ever so fortunate as herself!' -- but with many,
 6454 many thanks -- `there was no occasion to trouble us, for Mr Knightley's
 6455 carriage had brought, and was to take them home again.'  I was
 6456 quite surprized; -- very glad, I am sure; but really quite surprized.
 6457 Such a very kind attention -- and so thoughtful an attention! -- 
 6458 the sort of thing that so few men would think of.  And, in short,
 6459 from knowing his usual ways, I am very much inclined to think
 6460 that it was for their accommodation the carriage was used at all.
 6461 I do suspect he would not have had a pair of horses for himself,
 6462 and that it was only as an excuse for assisting them."

 6463 "Very likely," said Emma -- "nothing more likely.  I know no man
 6464 more likely than Mr Knightley to do the sort of thing -- to do any
 6465 thing really good-natured, useful, considerate, or benevolent.
 6466 He is not a gallant man, but he is a very humane one; and this,
 6467 considering Jane Fairfax's ill-health, would appear a case
 6468 of humanity to him; -- and for an act of unostentatious kindness,
 6469 there is nobody whom I would fix on more than on Mr Knightley.
 6470 I know he had horses to-day -- for we arrived together; and I laughed at
 6471 him about it, but he said not a word that could betray."

 6472 "Well," said Mrs Weston, smiling, "you give him credit for
 6473 more simple, disinterested benevolence in this instance than I do;
 6474 for while Miss Bates was speaking, a suspicion darted into my head,
 6475 and I have never been able to get it out again.  The more I think
 6476 of it, the more probable it appears.  In short, I have made a match
 6477 between Mr Knightley and Jane Fairfax.  See the consequence
 6478 of keeping you company! -- What do you say to it?"

 6479 "Mr Knightley and Jane Fairfax!" exclaimed Emma.  "Dear Mrs Weston,
 6480 how could you think of such a thing? -- Mr Knightley! -- Mr Knightley
 6481 must not marry! -- You would not have little Henry cut out from Donwell? -- 
 6482 Oh! no, no, Henry must have Donwell.  I cannot at all consent to
 6483 Mr Knightley's marrying; and I am sure it is not at all likely.
 6484 I am amazed that you should think of such a thing."

 6485 "My dear Emma, I have told you what led me to think of it.
 6486 I do not want the match -- I do not want to injure dear little Henry -- 
 6487 but the idea has been given me by circumstances; and if Mr Knightley
 6488 really wished to marry, you would not have him refrain on Henry's
 6489 account, a boy of six years old, who knows nothing of the matter?"

 6490 "Yes, I would.  I could not bear to have Henry supplanted. -- 
 6491 Mr Knightley marry! -- No, I have never had such an idea, and I
 6492 cannot adopt it now.  And Jane Fairfax, too, of all women!"

 6493 "Nay, she has always been a first favourite with him, as you
 6494 very well know."

 6495 "But the imprudence of such a match!"

 6496 "I am not speaking of its prudence; merely its probability."

 6497 "I see no probability in it, unless you have any better foundation
 6498 than what you mention.  His good-nature, his humanity, as I tell you,
 6499 would be quite enough to account for the horses.  He has a great
 6500 regard for the Bateses, you know, independent of Jane Fairfax -- 
 6501 and is always glad to shew them attention.  My dear Mrs Weston,
 6502 do not take to match-making.  You do it very ill.  Jane Fairfax mistress
 6503 of the Abbey! -- Oh! no, no; -- every feeling revolts.  For his own sake,
 6504 I would not have him do so mad a thing."

 6505 "Imprudent, if you please -- but not mad.  Excepting inequality of fortune,
 6506 and perhaps a little disparity of age, I can see nothing unsuitable."

 6507 "But Mr Knightley does not want to marry.  I am sure he has not the
 6508 least idea of it.  Do not put it into his head.  Why should he marry? -- 
 6509 He is as happy as possible by himself; with his farm, and his sheep,
 6510 and his library, and all the parish to manage; and he is extremely
 6511 fond of his brother's children.  He has no occasion to marry,
 6512 either to fill up his time or his heart."

 6513 "My dear Emma, as long as he thinks so, it is so; but if he really
 6514 loves Jane Fairfax -- "

 6515 "Nonsense!  He does not care about Jane Fairfax.  In the way
 6516 of love, I am sure he does not.  He would do any good to her,
 6517 or her family; but -- "

 6518 "Well," said Mrs Weston, laughing, "perhaps the greatest good he
 6519 could do them, would be to give Jane such a respectable home."

 6520 "If it would be good to her, I am sure it would be evil to himself;
 6521 a very shameful and degrading connexion.  How would he bear to have
 6522 Miss Bates belonging to him? -- To have her haunting the Abbey,
 6523 and thanking him all day long for his great kindness in marrying Jane? -- 
 6524 `So very kind and obliging! -- But he always had been such a very
 6525 kind neighbour!'  And then fly off, through half a sentence,
 6526 to her mother's old petticoat.  `Not that it was such a very old
 6527 petticoat either -- for still it would last a great while -- and, indeed,
 6528 she must thankfully say that their petticoats were all very strong.'"

 6529 "For shame, Emma!  Do not mimic her.  You divert me against
 6530 my conscience.  And, upon my word, I do not think Mr Knightley would
 6531 be much disturbed by Miss Bates.  Little things do not irritate him.
 6532 She might talk on; and if he wanted to say any thing himself, he would
 6533 only talk louder, and drown her voice.  But the question is not,
 6534 whether it would be a bad connexion for him, but whether he wishes it;
 6535 and I think he does.  I have heard him speak, and so must you,
 6536 so very highly of Jane Fairfax!  The interest he takes in her -- 
 6537 his anxiety about her health -- his concern that she should have no
 6538 happier prospect!  I have heard him express himself so warmly on
 6539 those points! -- Such an admirer of her performance on the pianoforte,
 6540 and of her voice!  I have heard him say that he could listen to her
 6541 for ever.  Oh! and I had almost forgotten one idea that occurred
 6542 to me -- this pianoforte that has been sent here by somebody -- 
 6543 though we have all been so well satisfied to consider it a present
 6544 from the Campbells, may it not be from Mr Knightley?  I cannot
 6545 help suspecting him.  I think he is just the person to do it,
 6546 even without being in love."

 6547 "Then it can be no argument to prove that he is in love.
 6548 But I do not think it is at all a likely thing for him to do.
 6549 Mr Knightley does nothing mysteriously."

 6550 "I have heard him lamenting her having no instrument repeatedly;
 6551 oftener than I should suppose such a circumstance would, in the common
 6552 course of things, occur to him."

 6553 "Very well; and if he had intended to give her one, he would have
 6554 told her so."

 6555 "There might be scruples of delicacy, my dear Emma.  I have a very
 6556 strong notion that it comes from him.  I am sure he was particularly
 6557 silent when Mrs Cole told us of it at dinner."

 6558 "You take up an idea, Mrs Weston, and run away with it; as you have
 6559 many a time reproached me with doing.  I see no sign of attachment -- 
 6560 I believe nothing of the pianoforte -- and proof only shall convince
 6561 me that Mr Knightley has any thought of marrying Jane Fairfax."

 6562 They combated the point some time longer in the same way; Emma rather
 6563 gaining ground over the mind of her friend; for Mrs Weston was
 6564 the most used of the two to yield; till a little bustle in the room
 6565 shewed them that tea was over, and the instrument in preparation; -- 
 6566 and at the same moment Mr Cole approaching to entreat Miss Woodhouse
 6567 would do them the honour of trying it.  Frank Churchill, of whom,
 6568 in the eagerness of her conversation with Mrs Weston, she had been
 6569 seeing nothing, except that he had found a seat by Miss Fairfax,
 6570 followed Mr Cole, to add his very pressing entreaties; and as,
 6571 in every respect, it suited Emma best to lead, she gave a very
 6572 proper compliance.

 6573 She knew the limitations of her own powers too well to attempt
 6574 more than she could perform with credit; she wanted neither taste
 6575 nor spirit in the little things which are generally acceptable,
 6576 and could accompany her own voice well.  One accompaniment to her song
 6577 took her agreeably by surprize -- a second, slightly but correctly
 6578 taken by Frank Churchill.  Her pardon was duly begged at the close
 6579 of the song, and every thing usual followed.  He was accused
 6580 of having a delightful voice, and a perfect knowledge of music;
 6581 which was properly denied; and that he knew nothing of the matter,
 6582 and had no voice at all, roundly asserted.  They sang together
 6583 once more; and Emma would then resign her place to Miss Fairfax,
 6584 whose performance, both vocal and instrumental, she never could
 6585 attempt to conceal from herself, was infinitely superior to her own.

 6586 With mixed feelings, she seated herself at a little distance from the
 6587 numbers round the instrument, to listen.  Frank Churchill sang again.
 6588 They had sung together once or twice, it appeared, at Weymouth.
 6589 But the sight of Mr Knightley among the most attentive, soon drew
 6590 away half Emma's mind; and she fell into a train of thinking
 6591 on the subject of Mrs Weston's suspicions, to which the sweet
 6592 sounds of the united voices gave only momentary interruptions.
 6593 Her objections to Mr Knightley's marrying did not in the least subside.
 6594 She could see nothing but evil in it.  It would be a great
 6595 disappointment to Mr John Knightley; consequently to Isabella.
 6596 A real injury to the children -- a most mortifying change,
 6597 and material loss to them all; -- a very great deduction from her
 6598 father's daily comfort -- and, as to herself, she could not at all
 6599 endure the idea of Jane Fairfax at Donwell Abbey.  A Mrs Knightley
 6600 for them all to give way to! -- No -- Mr Knightley must never marry.
 6601 Little Henry must remain the heir of Donwell.

 6602 Presently Mr Knightley looked back, and came and sat down by her.
 6603 They talked at first only of the performance.  His admiration
 6604 was certainly very warm; yet she thought, but for Mrs Weston,
 6605 it would not have struck her.  As a sort of touchstone, however,
 6606 she began to speak of his kindness in conveying the aunt and niece;
 6607 and though his answer was in the spirit of cutting the matter short,
 6608 she believed it to indicate only his disinclination to dwell on any
 6609 kindness of his own.

 6610 "I often feel concern," said she, "that I dare not make our carriage
 6611 more useful on such occasions.  It is not that I am without the wish;
 6612 but you know how impossible my father would deem it that James
 6613 should put-to for such a purpose."

 6614 "Quite out of the question, quite out of the question," he replied; -- 
 6615 "but you must often wish it, I am sure."  And he smiled with such
 6616 seeming pleasure at the conviction, that she must proceed another step.

 6617 "This present from the Campbells," said she -- "this pianoforte
 6618 is very kindly given."

 6619 "Yes," he replied, and without the smallest apparent embarrassment. -- 
 6620 "But they would have done better had they given her notice of it.
 6621 Surprizes are foolish things.  The pleasure is not enhanced, and the
 6622 inconvenience is often considerable.  I should have expected better
 6623 judgment in Colonel Campbell."

 6624 From that moment, Emma could have taken her oath that Mr Knightley
 6625 had had no concern in giving the instrument.  But whether he
 6626 were entirely free from peculiar attachment -- whether there
 6627 were no actual preference -- remained a little longer doubtful.
 6628 Towards the end of Jane's second song, her voice grew thick.

 6629 "That will do," said he, when it was finished, thinking aloud -- 
 6630 "you have sung quite enough for one evening -- now be quiet."

 6631 Another song, however, was soon begged for.  "One more; -- they would
 6632 not fatigue Miss Fairfax on any account, and would only ask for
 6633 one more."  And Frank Churchill was heard to say, "I think you could
 6634 manage this without effort; the first part is so very trifling.
 6635 The strength of the song falls on the second."

 6636 Mr Knightley grew angry.

 6637 "That fellow," said he, indignantly, "thinks of nothing but shewing
 6638 off his own voice.  This must not be."  And touching Miss Bates,
 6639 who at that moment passed near -- "Miss Bates, are you mad, to let
 6640 your niece sing herself hoarse in this manner?  Go, and interfere.
 6641 They have no mercy on her."

 6642 Miss Bates, in her real anxiety for Jane, could hardly stay even
 6643 to be grateful, before she stept forward and put an end to all
 6644 farther singing.  Here ceased the concert part of the evening,
 6645 for Miss Woodhouse and Miss Fairfax were the only young lady performers;
 6646 but soon (within five minutes) the proposal of dancing -- 
 6647 originating nobody exactly knew where -- was so effectually promoted
 6648 by Mr and Mrs Cole, that every thing was rapidly clearing away,
 6649 to give proper space.  Mrs Weston, capital in her country-dances,
 6650 was seated, and beginning an irresistible waltz; and Frank Churchill,
 6651 coming up with most becoming gallantry to Emma, had secured her hand,
 6652 and led her up to the top.

 6653 While waiting till the other young people could pair themselves off,
 6654 Emma found time, in spite of the compliments she was receiving on her
 6655 voice and her taste, to look about, and see what became of Mr Knightley.
 6656 This would be a trial.  He was no dancer in general.  If he were to be
 6657 very alert in engaging Jane Fairfax now, it might augur something.
 6658 There was no immediate appearance.  No; he was talking to Mrs Cole -- 
 6659 he was looking on unconcerned; Jane was asked by somebody else,
 6660 and he was still talking to Mrs Cole.

 6661 Emma had no longer an alarm for Henry; his interest was yet safe;
 6662 and she led off the dance with genuine spirit and enjoyment.
 6663 Not more than five couple could be mustered; but the rarity and the
 6664 suddenness of it made it very delightful, and she found herself well
 6665 matched in a partner.  They were a couple worth looking at.

 6666 Two dances, unfortunately, were all that could be allowed.
 6667 It was growing late, and Miss Bates became anxious to get home,
 6668 on her mother's account.  After some attempts, therefore, to be
 6669 permitted to begin again, they were obliged to thank Mrs Weston,
 6670 look sorrowful, and have done.

 6671 "Perhaps it is as well," said Frank Churchill, as he attended Emma
 6672 to her carriage.  "I must have asked Miss Fairfax, and her languid
 6673 dancing would not have agreed with me, after your's."



 6674 CHAPTER IX


 6675 Emma did not repent her condescension in going to the Coles.
 6676 The visit afforded her many pleasant recollections the next day;
 6677 and all that she might be supposed to have lost on the side
 6678 of dignified seclusion, must be amply repaid in the splendour
 6679 of popularity.  She must have delighted the Coles -- worthy people,
 6680 who deserved to be made happy! -- And left a name behind her that would
 6681 not soon die away.

 6682 Perfect happiness, even in memory, is not common; and there were
 6683 two points on which she was not quite easy.  She doubted whether
 6684 she had not transgressed the duty of woman by woman, in betraying
 6685 her suspicions of Jane Fairfax's feelings to Frank Churchill.
 6686 It was hardly right; but it had been so strong an idea, that it
 6687 would escape her, and his submission to all that she told,
 6688 was a compliment to her penetration, which made it difficult
 6689 for her to be quite certain that she ought to have held her tongue.

 6690 The other circumstance of regret related also to Jane Fairfax;
 6691 and there she had no doubt.  She did unfeignedly and unequivocally
 6692 regret the inferiority of her own playing and singing.  She did
 6693 most heartily grieve over the idleness of her childhood -- and sat
 6694 down and practised vigorously an hour and a half.

 6695 She was then interrupted by Harriet's coming in; and if Harriet's
 6696 praise could have satisfied her, she might soon have been comforted.

 6697 "Oh! if I could but play as well as you and Miss Fairfax!"

 6698 "Don't class us together, Harriet.  My playing is no more like
 6699 her's, than a lamp is like sunshine."

 6700 "Oh! dear -- I think you play the best of the two.  I think you play
 6701 quite as well as she does.  I am sure I had much rather hear you.
 6702 Every body last night said how well you played."

 6703 "Those who knew any thing about it, must have felt the difference.
 6704 The truth is, Harriet, that my playing is just good enough to be praised,
 6705 but Jane Fairfax's is much beyond it."

 6706 "Well, I always shall think that you play quite as well as she does,
 6707 or that if there is any difference nobody would ever find it out.
 6708 Mr Cole said how much taste you had; and Mr Frank Churchill talked
 6709 a great deal about your taste, and that he valued taste much more
 6710 than execution."

 6711 "Ah! but Jane Fairfax has them both, Harriet."

 6712 "Are you sure?  I saw she had execution, but I did not know she had
 6713 any taste.  Nobody talked about it.  And I hate Italian singing. -- 
 6714 There is no understanding a word of it.  Besides, if she does play
 6715 so very well, you know, it is no more than she is obliged to do,
 6716 because she will have to teach.  The Coxes were wondering last night
 6717 whether she would get into any great family.  How did you think the
 6718 Coxes looked?"

 6719 "Just as they always do -- very vulgar."

 6720 "They told me something," said Harriet rather hesitatingly;
 6721 "but it is nothing of any consequence."

 6722 Emma was obliged to ask what they had told her, though fearful
 6723 of its producing Mr Elton.

 6724 "They told me -- that Mr Martin dined with them last Saturday."

 6725 "Oh!"

 6726 "He came to their father upon some business, and he asked him
 6727 to stay to dinner."

 6728 "Oh!"

 6729 "They talked a great deal about him, especially Anne Cox.
 6730 I do not know what she meant, but she asked me if I thought I
 6731 should go and stay there again next summer."

 6732 "She meant to be impertinently curious, just as such an Anne Cox
 6733 should be."

 6734 "She said he was very agreeable the day he dined there.  He sat
 6735 by her at dinner.  Miss Nash thinks either of the Coxes would
 6736 be very glad to marry him."

 6737 "Very likely. -- I think they are, without exception, the most vulgar
 6738 girls in Highbury."

 6739 Harriet had business at Ford's. -- Emma thought it most prudent to go
 6740 with her.  Another accidental meeting with the Martins was possible,
 6741 and in her present state, would be dangerous.

 6742 Harriet, tempted by every thing and swayed by half a word, was always
 6743 very long at a purchase; and while she was still hanging over muslins
 6744 and changing her mind, Emma went to the door for amusement. -- Much could
 6745 not be hoped from the traffic of even the busiest part of Highbury; -- 
 6746 Mr Perry walking hastily by, Mr William Cox letting himself in at
 6747 the office-door, Mr Cole's carriage-horses returning from exercise,
 6748 or a stray letter-boy on an obstinate mule, were the liveliest
 6749 objects she could presume to expect; and when her eyes fell only on
 6750 the butcher with his tray, a tidy old woman travelling homewards from
 6751 shop with her full basket, two curs quarrelling over a dirty bone,
 6752 and a string of dawdling children round the baker's little bow-window
 6753 eyeing the gingerbread, she knew she had no reason to complain,
 6754 and was amused enough; quite enough still to stand at the door.
 6755 A mind lively and at ease, can do with seeing nothing, and can see
 6756 nothing that does not answer.

 6757 She looked down the Randalls road.  The scene enlarged;
 6758 two persons appeared; Mrs Weston and her son-in-law; they were
 6759 walking into Highbury; -- to Hartfield of course.  They were stopping,
 6760 however, in the first place at Mrs Bates's; whose house was
 6761 a little nearer Randalls than Ford's; and had all but knocked,
 6762 when Emma caught their eye. -- Immediately they crossed the road
 6763 and came forward to her; and the agreeableness of yesterday's
 6764 engagement seemed to give fresh pleasure to the present meeting.
 6765 Mrs Weston informed her that she was going to call on the Bateses,
 6766 in order to hear the new instrument.

 6767 "For my companion tells me," said she, "that I absolutely promised
 6768 Miss Bates last night, that I would come this morning.  I was
 6769 not aware of it myself.  I did not know that I had fixed a day,
 6770 but as he says I did, I am going now."

 6771 "And while Mrs Weston pays her visit, I may be allowed, I hope,"
 6772 said Frank Churchill, "to join your party and wait for her at Hartfield -- 
 6773 if you are going home."

 6774 Mrs Weston was disappointed.

 6775 "I thought you meant to go with me.  They would be very much pleased."

 6776 "Me!  I should be quite in the way.  But, perhaps -- I may be equally
 6777 in the way here.  Miss Woodhouse looks as if she did not want me.
 6778 My aunt always sends me off when she is shopping.  She says I fidget
 6779 her to death; and Miss Woodhouse looks as if she could almost say
 6780 the same.  What am I to do?"

 6781 "I am here on no business of my own," said Emma; "I am only waiting
 6782 for my friend.  She will probably have soon done, and then we
 6783 shall go home.  But you had better go with Mrs Weston and hear
 6784 the instrument."

 6785 "Well -- if you advise it. -- But (with a smile) if Colonel Campbell
 6786 should have employed a careless friend, and if it should prove
 6787 to have an indifferent tone -- what shall I say?  I shall be no
 6788 support to Mrs Weston.  She might do very well by herself.
 6789 A disagreeable truth would be palatable through her lips, but I
 6790 am the wretchedest being in the world at a civil falsehood."

 6791 "I do not believe any such thing," replied Emma. -- "I am persuaded
 6792 that you can be as insincere as your neighbours, when it is necessary;
 6793 but there is no reason to suppose the instrument is indifferent.
 6794 Quite otherwise indeed, if I understood Miss Fairfax's opinion
 6795 last night."

 6796 "Do come with me," said Mrs Weston, "if it be not very disagreeable
 6797 to you.  It need not detain us long.  We will go to Hartfield afterwards.
 6798 We will follow them to Hartfield.  I really wish you to call with me.
 6799 It will be felt so great an attention! and I always thought you
 6800 meant it."

 6801 He could say no more; and with the hope of Hartfield to reward him,
 6802 returned with Mrs Weston to Mrs Bates's door.  Emma watched them in,
 6803 and then joined Harriet at the interesting counter, -- trying, with all
 6804 the force of her own mind, to convince her that if she wanted plain
 6805 muslin it was of no use to look at figured; and that a blue ribbon,
 6806 be it ever so beautiful, would still never match her yellow pattern.
 6807 At last it was all settled, even to the destination of the parcel.

 6808 "Should I send it to Mrs Goddard's, ma'am?" asked Mrs Ford. -- 
 6809 "Yes -- no -- yes, to Mrs Goddard's. Only my pattern gown is
 6810 at Hartfield.  No, you shall send it to Hartfield, if you please.
 6811 But then, Mrs Goddard will want to see it. -- And I could take the
 6812 pattern gown home any day.  But I shall want the ribbon directly -- 
 6813 so it had better go to Hartfield -- at least the ribbon.  You could
 6814 make it into two parcels, Mrs Ford, could not you?"

 6815 "It is not worth while, Harriet, to give Mrs Ford the trouble
 6816 of two parcels."

 6817 "No more it is."

 6818 "No trouble in the world, ma'am," said the obliging Mrs Ford.

 6819 "Oh! but indeed I would much rather have it only in one.
 6820 Then, if you please, you shall send it all to Mrs Goddard's -- 
 6821 I do not know -- No, I think, Miss Woodhouse, I may just as well
 6822 have it sent to Hartfield, and take it home with me at night.
 6823 What do you advise?"

 6824 "That you do not give another half-second to the subject.
 6825 To Hartfield, if you please, Mrs Ford."

 6826 "Aye, that will be much best," said Harriet, quite satisfied,
 6827 "I should not at all like to have it sent to Mrs Goddard's."

 6828 Voices approached the shop -- or rather one voice and two ladies:
 6829 Mrs Weston and Miss Bates met them at the door.

 6830 "My dear Miss Woodhouse," said the latter, "I am just run across to
 6831 entreat the favour of you to come and sit down with us a little while,
 6832 and give us your opinion of our new instrument; you and Miss Smith.
 6833 How do you do, Miss Smith? -- Very well I thank you. -- And I begged
 6834 Mrs Weston to come with me, that I might be sure of succeeding."

 6835 "I hope Mrs Bates and Miss Fairfax are -- "

 6836 "Very well, I am much obliged to you.  My mother is delightfully well;
 6837 and Jane caught no cold last night.  How is Mr Woodhouse? -- I am so glad
 6838 to hear such a good account.  Mrs Weston told me you were here. -- 
 6839 Oh! then, said I, I must run across, I am sure Miss Woodhouse will
 6840 allow me just to run across and entreat her to come in; my mother
 6841 will be so very happy to see her -- and now we are such a nice party,
 6842 she cannot refuse. -- `Aye, pray do,' said Mr Frank Churchill,
 6843 `Miss Woodhouse's opinion of the instrument will be worth having.' -- 
 6844 But, said I, I shall be more sure of succeeding if one of you will go
 6845 with me. -- `Oh,' said he, `wait half a minute, till I have finished
 6846 my job;' -- For, would you believe it, Miss Woodhouse, there he is,
 6847 in the most obliging manner in the world, fastening in the rivet of my
 6848 mother's spectacles. -- The rivet came out, you know, this morning. -- 
 6849 So very obliging! -- For my mother had no use of her spectacles -- 
 6850 could not put them on.  And, by the bye, every body ought to have
 6851 two pair of spectacles; they should indeed.  Jane said so.
 6852 I meant to take them over to John Saunders the first thing I did,
 6853 but something or other hindered me all the morning; first one thing,
 6854 then another, there is no saying what, you know.  At one time Patty came
 6855 to say she thought the kitchen chimney wanted sweeping.  Oh, said I,
 6856 Patty do not come with your bad news to me.  Here is the rivet
 6857 of your mistress's spectacles out.  Then the baked apples came home,
 6858 Mrs Wallis sent them by her boy; they are extremely civil and
 6859 obliging to us, the Wallises, always -- I have heard some people
 6860 say that Mrs Wallis can be uncivil and give a very rude answer,
 6861 but we have never known any thing but the greatest attention
 6862 from them.  And it cannot be for the value of our custom now,
 6863 for what is our consumption of bread, you know?  Only three of us. -- 
 6864 besides dear Jane at present -- and she really eats nothing -- makes such
 6865 a shocking breakfast, you would be quite frightened if you saw it.
 6866 I dare not let my mother know how little she eats -- so I say one
 6867 thing and then I say another, and it passes off.  But about the
 6868 middle of the day she gets hungry, and there is nothing she likes
 6869 so well as these baked apples, and they are extremely wholesome,
 6870 for I took the opportunity the other day of asking Mr Perry;
 6871 I happened to meet him in the street.  Not that I had any doubt before -- 
 6872 I have so often heard Mr Woodhouse recommend a baked apple.
 6873 I believe it is the only way that Mr Woodhouse thinks the
 6874 fruit thoroughly wholesome.  We have apple-dumplings, however,
 6875 very often.  Patty makes an excellent apple-dumpling. Well,
 6876 Mrs Weston, you have prevailed, I hope, and these ladies will
 6877 oblige us."

 6878 Emma would be "very happy to wait on Mrs Bates, &c.," and they
 6879 did at last move out of the shop, with no farther delay from Miss
 6880 Bates than,

 6881 "How do you do, Mrs Ford?  I beg your pardon.  I did not see
 6882 you before.  I hear you have a charming collection of new ribbons
 6883 from town.  Jane came back delighted yesterday.  Thank ye,
 6884 the gloves do very well -- only a little too large about the wrist;
 6885 but Jane is taking them in."

 6886 "What was I talking of?" said she, beginning again when they were
 6887 all in the street.

 6888 Emma wondered on what, of all the medley, she would fix.

 6889 "I declare I cannot recollect what I was talking of. -- Oh! my
 6890 mother's spectacles.  So very obliging of Mr Frank Churchill!
 6891 `Oh!' said he, `I do think I can fasten the rivet; I like a job
 6892 of this kind excessively.' -- Which you know shewed him to be so
 6893 very. . . . Indeed I must say that, much as I had heard of him
 6894 before and much as I had expected, he very far exceeds any
 6895 thing. . . . I do congratulate you, Mrs Weston, most warmly.
 6896 He seems every thing the fondest parent could. . . . `Oh!' said he,
 6897 `I can fasten the rivet.  I like a job of that sort excessively.'
 6898 I never shall forget his manner.  And when I brought out the baked
 6899 apples from the closet, and hoped our friends would be so very
 6900 obliging as to take some, `Oh!' said he directly, `there is nothing
 6901 in the way of fruit half so good, and these are the finest-looking
 6902 home-baked apples I ever saw in my life.'  That, you know, was so
 6903 very. . . . And I am sure, by his manner, it was no compliment.
 6904 Indeed they are very delightful apples, and Mrs Wallis does them
 6905 full justice -- only we do not have them baked more than twice,
 6906 and Mr Woodhouse made us promise to have them done three times -- 
 6907 but Miss Woodhouse will be so good as not to mention it.  The apples
 6908 themselves are the very finest sort for baking, beyond a doubt;
 6909 all from Donwell -- some of Mr Knightley's most liberal supply.
 6910 He sends us a sack every year; and certainly there never was such
 6911 a keeping apple anywhere as one of his trees -- I believe there
 6912 is two of them.  My mother says the orchard was always famous
 6913 in her younger days.  But I was really quite shocked the other day -- 
 6914 for Mr Knightley called one morning, and Jane was eating these apples,
 6915 and we talked about them and said how much she enjoyed them,
 6916 and he asked whether we were not got to the end of our stock.
 6917 `I am sure you must be,' said he, `and I will send you
 6918 another supply; for I have a great many more than I can ever use.
 6919 William Larkins let me keep a larger quantity than usual this year.
 6920 I will send you some more, before they get good for nothing.'
 6921 So I begged he would not -- for really as to ours being gone, I could
 6922 not absolutely say that we had a great many left -- it was but half
 6923 a dozen indeed; but they should be all kept for Jane; and I could
 6924 not at all bear that he should be sending us more, so liberal as he
 6925 had been already; and Jane said the same.  And when he was gone,
 6926 she almost quarrelled with me -- No, I should not say quarrelled,
 6927 for we never had a quarrel in our lives; but she was quite distressed
 6928 that I had owned the apples were so nearly gone; she wished I had
 6929 made him believe we had a great many left.  Oh, said I, my dear,
 6930 I did say as much as I could.  However, the very same evening
 6931 William Larkins came over with a large basket of apples, the same
 6932 sort of apples, a bushel at least, and I was very much obliged,
 6933 and went down and spoke to William Larkins and said every thing,
 6934 as you may suppose.  William Larkins is such an old acquaintance!
 6935 I am always glad to see him.  But, however, I found afterwards
 6936 from Patty, that William said it was all the apples of _that_ sort
 6937 his master had; he had brought them all -- and now his master had not
 6938 one left to bake or boil.  William did not seem to mind it himself,
 6939 he was so pleased to think his master had sold so many; for William,
 6940 you know, thinks more of his master's profit than any thing;
 6941 but Mrs Hodges, he said, was quite displeased at their being
 6942 all sent away.  She could not bear that her master should not be
 6943 able to have another apple-tart this spring.  He told Patty this,
 6944 but bid her not mind it, and be sure not to say any thing to us
 6945 about it, for Mrs Hodges _would_ be cross sometimes, and as long as
 6946 so many sacks were sold, it did not signify who ate the remainder.
 6947 And so Patty told me, and I was excessively shocked indeed!
 6948 I would not have Mr Knightley know any thing about it for
 6949 the world!  He would be so very. . . . I wanted to keep it from
 6950 Jane's knowledge; but, unluckily, I had mentioned it before I was
 6951 aware."

 6952 Miss Bates had just done as Patty opened the door; and her visitors
 6953 walked upstairs without having any regular narration to attend to,
 6954 pursued only by the sounds of her desultory good-will.

 6955 "Pray take care, Mrs Weston, there is a step at the turning.
 6956 Pray take care, Miss Woodhouse, ours is rather a dark staircase -- 
 6957 rather darker and narrower than one could wish.  Miss Smith,
 6958 pray take care.  Miss Woodhouse, I am quite concerned, I am sure you
 6959 hit your foot.  Miss Smith, the step at the turning."



 6960 CHAPTER X


 6961 The appearance of the little sitting-room as they entered,
 6962 was tranquillity itself; Mrs Bates, deprived of her usual employment,
 6963 slumbering on one side of the fire, Frank Churchill, at a table
 6964 near her, most deedily occupied about her spectacles, and Jane Fairfax,
 6965 standing with her back to them, intent on her pianoforte.

 6966 Busy as he was, however, the young man was yet able to shew a most
 6967 happy countenance on seeing Emma again.

 6968 "This is a pleasure," said he, in rather a low voice, "coming at
 6969 least ten minutes earlier than I had calculated.  You find me
 6970 trying to be useful; tell me if you think I shall succeed."

 6971 "What!" said Mrs Weston, "have not you finished it yet? you would
 6972 not earn a very good livelihood as a working silversmith at this rate."

 6973 "I have not been working uninterruptedly," he replied, "I have been
 6974 assisting Miss Fairfax in trying to make her instrument stand steadily,
 6975 it was not quite firm; an unevenness in the floor, I believe.
 6976 You see we have been wedging one leg with paper.  This was very kind
 6977 of you to be persuaded to come.  I was almost afraid you would be
 6978 hurrying home."

 6979 He contrived that she should be seated by him; and was sufficiently
 6980 employed in looking out the best baked apple for her, and trying
 6981 to make her help or advise him in his work, till Jane Fairfax was
 6982 quite ready to sit down to the pianoforte again.  That she was not
 6983 immediately ready, Emma did suspect to arise from the state of her nerves;
 6984 she had not yet possessed the instrument long enough to touch it
 6985 without emotion; she must reason herself into the power of performance;
 6986 and Emma could not but pity such feelings, whatever their origin,
 6987 and could not but resolve never to expose them to her neighbour again.

 6988 At last Jane began, and though the first bars were feebly given,
 6989 the powers of the instrument were gradually done full justice to.
 6990 Mrs Weston had been delighted before, and was delighted again;
 6991 Emma joined her in all her praise; and the pianoforte, with every
 6992 proper discrimination, was pronounced to be altogether of the
 6993 highest promise.

 6994 "Whoever Colonel Campbell might employ," said Frank Churchill,
 6995 with a smile at Emma, "the person has not chosen ill.  I heard a good
 6996 deal of Colonel Campbell's taste at Weymouth; and the softness of the
 6997 upper notes I am sure is exactly what he and _all_ _that_ _party_ would
 6998 particularly prize.  I dare say, Miss Fairfax, that he either gave
 6999 his friend very minute directions, or wrote to Broadwood himself.
 7000 Do not you think so?"

 7001 Jane did not look round.  She was not obliged to hear.  Mrs Weston
 7002 had been speaking to her at the same moment.

 7003 "It is not fair," said Emma, in a whisper; "mine was a random guess.
 7004 Do not distress her."

 7005 He shook his head with a smile, and looked as if he had very little
 7006 doubt and very little mercy.  Soon afterwards he began again,

 7007 "How much your friends in Ireland must be enjoying your pleasure
 7008 on this occasion, Miss Fairfax.  I dare say they often think of you,
 7009 and wonder which will be the day, the precise day of the instrument's
 7010 coming to hand.  Do you imagine Colonel Campbell knows the business
 7011 to be going forward just at this time? -- Do you imagine it to be
 7012 the consequence of an immediate commission from him, or that he may
 7013 have sent only a general direction, an order indefinite as to time,
 7014 to depend upon contingencies and conveniences?"

 7015 He paused.  She could not but hear; she could not avoid answering,

 7016 "Till I have a letter from Colonel Campbell," said she, in a voice
 7017 of forced calmness, "I can imagine nothing with any confidence.
 7018 It must be all conjecture."

 7019 "Conjecture -- aye, sometimes one conjectures right, and sometimes
 7020 one conjectures wrong.  I wish I could conjecture how soon I shall
 7021 make this rivet quite firm.  What nonsense one talks, Miss Woodhouse,
 7022 when hard at work, if one talks at all; -- your real workmen,
 7023 I suppose, hold their tongues; but we gentlemen labourers if we get
 7024 hold of a word -- Miss Fairfax said something about conjecturing.
 7025 There, it is done.  I have the pleasure, madam, (to Mrs Bates,)
 7026 of restoring your spectacles, healed for the present."

 7027 He was very warmly thanked both by mother and daughter; to escape
 7028 a little from the latter, he went to the pianoforte, and begged
 7029 Miss Fairfax, who was still sitting at it, to play something more.

 7030 "If you are very kind," said he, "it will be one of the waltzes
 7031 we danced last night; -- let me live them over again.  You did not
 7032 enjoy them as I did; you appeared tired the whole time.  I believe
 7033 you were glad we danced no longer; but I would have given worlds -- 
 7034 all the worlds one ever has to give -- for another half-hour."

 7035 She played.

 7036 "What felicity it is to hear a tune again which _has_ made one happy! -- 
 7037 If I mistake not that was danced at Weymouth."

 7038 She looked up at him for a moment, coloured deeply, and played
 7039 something else.  He took some music from a chair near the pianoforte,
 7040 and turning to Emma, said,

 7041 "Here is something quite new to me.  Do you know it? -- Cramer. -- 
 7042 And here are a new set of Irish melodies.  That, from such a quarter,
 7043 one might expect.  This was all sent with the instrument.  Very thoughtful
 7044 of Colonel Campbell, was not it? -- He knew Miss Fairfax could have
 7045 no music here.  I honour that part of the attention particularly;
 7046 it shews it to have been so thoroughly from the heart.  Nothing hastily
 7047 done; nothing incomplete.  True affection only could have prompted it."

 7048 Emma wished he would be less pointed, yet could not help being amused;
 7049 and when on glancing her eye towards Jane Fairfax she caught
 7050 the remains of a smile, when she saw that with all the deep blush
 7051 of consciousness, there had been a smile of secret delight,
 7052 she had less scruple in the amusement, and much less compunction
 7053 with respect to her. -- This amiable, upright, perfect Jane Fairfax
 7054 was apparently cherishing very reprehensible feelings.

 7055 He brought all the music to her, and they looked it over together. -- 
 7056 Emma took the opportunity of whispering,

 7057 "You speak too plain.  She must understand you."

 7058 "I hope she does.  I would have her understand me.  I am not
 7059 in the least ashamed of my meaning."

 7060 "But really, I am half ashamed, and wish I had never taken up
 7061 the idea."

 7062 "I am very glad you did, and that you communicated it to me.
 7063 I have now a key to all her odd looks and ways.  Leave shame to her.
 7064 If she does wrong, she ought to feel it."

 7065 "She is not entirely without it, I think."

 7066 "I do not see much sign of it.  She is playing _Robin_ _Adair_
 7067 at this moment -- _his_ favourite."

 7068 Shortly afterwards Miss Bates, passing near the window,
 7069 descried Mr Knightley on horse-back not far off.

 7070 "Mr Knightley I declare! -- I must speak to him if possible,
 7071 just to thank him.  I will not open the window here; it would give
 7072 you all cold; but I can go into my mother's room you know.  I dare
 7073 say he will come in when he knows who is here.  Quite delightful
 7074 to have you all meet so! -- Our little room so honoured!"

 7075 She was in the adjoining chamber while she still spoke, and opening
 7076 the casement there, immediately called Mr Knightley's attention,
 7077 and every syllable of their conversation was as distinctly heard
 7078 by the others, as if it had passed within the same apartment.

 7079 "How d' ye do? -- how d'ye do? -- Very well, I thank you.  So obliged
 7080 to you for the carriage last night.  We were just in time;
 7081 my mother just ready for us.  Pray come in; do come in.  You will
 7082 find some friends here."

 7083 So began Miss Bates; and Mr Knightley seemed determined to be heard
 7084 in his turn, for most resolutely and commandingly did he say,

 7085 "How is your niece, Miss Bates? -- I want to inquire after you all,
 7086 but particularly your niece.  How is Miss Fairfax? -- I hope she
 7087 caught no cold last night.  How is she to-day? Tell me how Miss
 7088 Fairfax is."

 7089 And Miss Bates was obliged to give a direct answer before he
 7090 would hear her in any thing else.  The listeners were amused;
 7091 and Mrs Weston gave Emma a look of particular meaning.  But Emma
 7092 still shook her head in steady scepticism.

 7093 "So obliged to you! -- so very much obliged to you for the carriage,"
 7094 resumed Miss Bates.

 7095 He cut her short with,

 7096 "I am going to Kingston.  Can I do any thing for you?"

 7097 "Oh! dear, Kingston -- are you? -- Mrs Cole was saying the other day
 7098 she wanted something from Kingston."

 7099 "Mrs Cole has servants to send.  Can I do any thing for _you_?"

 7100 "No, I thank you.  But do come in.  Who do you think is here? -- 
 7101 Miss Woodhouse and Miss Smith; so kind as to call to hear the
 7102 new pianoforte.  Do put up your horse at the Crown, and come in."

 7103 "Well," said he, in a deliberating manner, "for five minutes, perhaps."

 7104 "And here is Mrs Weston and Mr Frank Churchill too! -- Quite delightful;
 7105 so many friends!"

 7106 "No, not now, I thank you.  I could not stay two minutes.
 7107 I must get on to Kingston as fast as I can."

 7108 "Oh! do come in.  They will be so very happy to see you."

 7109 "No, no; your room is full enough.  I will call another day,
 7110 and hear the pianoforte."

 7111 "Well, I am so sorry! -- Oh!  Mr Knightley, what a delightful party
 7112 last night; how extremely pleasant. -- Did you ever see such dancing? -- 
 7113 Was not it delightful? -- Miss Woodhouse and Mr Frank Churchill;
 7114 I never saw any thing equal to it."

 7115 "Oh! very delightful indeed; I can say nothing less, for I suppose
 7116 Miss Woodhouse and Mr Frank Churchill are hearing every thing
 7117 that passes.  And (raising his voice still more) I do not see why Miss
 7118 Fairfax should not be mentioned too.  I think Miss Fairfax dances
 7119 very well; and Mrs Weston is the very best country-dance player,
 7120 without exception, in England.  Now, if your friends have any gratitude,
 7121 they will say something pretty loud about you and me in return;
 7122 but I cannot stay to hear it."

 7123 "Oh!  Mr Knightley, one moment more; something of consequence -- 
 7124 so shocked! -- Jane and I are both so shocked about the apples!"

 7125 "What is the matter now?"

 7126 "To think of your sending us all your store apples.  You said you had
 7127 a great many, and now you have not one left.  We really are so shocked!
 7128 Mrs Hodges may well be angry.  William Larkins mentioned it here.
 7129 You should not have done it, indeed you should not.  Ah! he is off.
 7130 He never can bear to be thanked.  But I thought he would have staid now,
 7131 and it would have been a pity not to have mentioned. . . . Well,
 7132 (returning to the room,) I have not been able to succeed.
 7133 Mr Knightley cannot stop.  He is going to Kingston.  He asked me
 7134 if he could do any thing. . . ."

 7135 "Yes," said Jane, "we heard his kind offers, we heard every thing."

 7136 "Oh! yes, my dear, I dare say you might, because you know, the door
 7137 was open, and the window was open, and Mr Knightley spoke loud.
 7138 You must have heard every thing to be sure.  `Can I do any thing
 7139 for you at Kingston?' said he; so I just mentioned. . . . Oh!
 7140 Miss Woodhouse, must you be going? -- You seem but just come -- so very
 7141 obliging of you."

 7142 Emma found it really time to be at home; the visit had already
 7143 lasted long; and on examining watches, so much of the morning was
 7144 perceived to be gone, that Mrs Weston and her companion taking
 7145 leave also, could allow themselves only to walk with the two young
 7146 ladies to Hartfield gates, before they set off for Randalls.



 7147 CHAPTER XI


 7148 It may be possible to do without dancing entirely.  Instances have
 7149 been known of young people passing many, many months successively,
 7150 without being at any ball of any description, and no material injury
 7151 accrue either to body or mind; -- but when a beginning is made -- 
 7152 when the felicities of rapid motion have once been, though slightly,
 7153 felt -- it must be a very heavy set that does not ask for more.

 7154 Frank Churchill had danced once at Highbury, and longed to dance again;
 7155 and the last half-hour of an evening which Mr Woodhouse was persuaded
 7156 to spend with his daughter at Randalls, was passed by the two young
 7157 people in schemes on the subject.  Frank's was the first idea;
 7158 and his the greatest zeal in pursuing it; for the lady was the best
 7159 judge of the difficulties, and the most solicitous for accommodation
 7160 and appearance.  But still she had inclination enough for shewing
 7161 people again how delightfully Mr Frank Churchill and Miss
 7162 Woodhouse danced -- for doing that in which she need not blush to compare
 7163 herself with Jane Fairfax -- and even for simple dancing itself,
 7164 without any of the wicked aids of vanity -- to assist him first
 7165 in pacing out the room they were in to see what it could be made
 7166 to hold -- and then in taking the dimensions of the other parlour,
 7167 in the hope of discovering, in spite of all that Mr Weston could
 7168 say of their exactly equal size, that it was a little the largest.

 7169 His first proposition and request, that the dance begun at Mr Cole's
 7170 should be finished there -- that the same party should be collected,
 7171 and the same musician engaged, met with the readiest acquiescence.
 7172 Mr Weston entered into the idea with thorough enjoyment,
 7173 and Mrs Weston most willingly undertook to play as long as they
 7174 could wish to dance; and the interesting employment had followed,
 7175 of reckoning up exactly who there would be, and portioning out the
 7176 indispensable division of space to every couple.

 7177 "You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two
 7178 Miss Coxes five," had been repeated many times over.  "And there
 7179 will be the two Gilberts, young Cox, my father, and myself,
 7180 besides Mr Knightley.  Yes, that will be quite enough for pleasure.
 7181 You and Miss Smith, and Miss Fairfax, will be three, and the two Miss
 7182 Coxes five; and for five couple there will be plenty of room."

 7183 But soon it came to be on one side,

 7184 "But will there be good room for five couple? -- I really do not think
 7185 there will."

 7186 On another,

 7187 "And after all, five couple are not enough to make it worth
 7188 while to stand up.  Five couple are nothing, when one thinks
 7189 seriously about it.  It will not do to _invite_ five couple.
 7190 It can be allowable only as the thought of the moment."

 7191 Somebody said that _Miss_ Gilbert was expected at her brother's,
 7192 and must be invited with the rest.  Somebody else believed
 7193 _Mrs_. Gilbert would have danced the other evening, if she had
 7194 been asked.  A word was put in for a second young Cox; and at last,
 7195 Mr Weston naming one family of cousins who must be included,
 7196 and another of very old acquaintance who could not be left out,
 7197 it became a certainty that the five couple would be at least ten,
 7198 and a very interesting speculation in what possible manner they
 7199 could be disposed of.

 7200 The doors of the two rooms were just opposite each other.
 7201 "Might not they use both rooms, and dance across the passage?"
 7202 It seemed the best scheme; and yet it was not so good but that
 7203 many of them wanted a better.  Emma said it would be awkward;
 7204 Mrs Weston was in distress about the supper; and Mr Woodhouse
 7205 opposed it earnestly, on the score of health.  It made him so
 7206 very unhappy, indeed, that it could not be persevered in.

 7207 "Oh! no," said he; "it would be the extreme of imprudence.
 7208 I could not bear it for Emma! -- Emma is not strong.  She would
 7209 catch a dreadful cold.  So would poor little Harriet.
 7210 So you would all.  Mrs Weston, you would be quite laid up;
 7211 do not let them talk of such a wild thing.  Pray do not let them
 7212 talk of it.  That young man (speaking lower) is very thoughtless.
 7213 Do not tell his father, but that young man is not quite the thing.
 7214 He has been opening the doors very often this evening, and keeping
 7215 them open very inconsiderately.  He does not think of the draught.
 7216 I do not mean to set you against him, but indeed he is not quite
 7217 the thing!"

 7218 Mrs Weston was sorry for such a charge.  She knew the importance
 7219 of it, and said every thing in her power to do it away.  Every door
 7220 was now closed, the passage plan given up, and the first scheme
 7221 of dancing only in the room they were in resorted to again;
 7222 and with such good-will on Frank Churchill's part, that the space
 7223 which a quarter of an hour before had been deemed barely sufficient
 7224 for five couple, was now endeavoured to be made out quite enough
 7225 for ten.

 7226 "We were too magnificent," said he.  "We allowed unnecessary room.
 7227 Ten couple may stand here very well."

 7228 Emma demurred.  "It would be a crowd -- a sad crowd; and what could
 7229 be worse than dancing without space to turn in?"

 7230 "Very true," he gravely replied; "it was very bad."  But still he
 7231 went on measuring, and still he ended with,

 7232 "I think there will be very tolerable room for ten couple."

 7233 "No, no," said she, "you are quite unreasonable.  It would be dreadful
 7234 to be standing so close!  Nothing can be farther from pleasure
 7235 than to be dancing in a crowd -- and a crowd in a little room!"

 7236 "There is no denying it," he replied.  "I agree with you exactly.
 7237 A crowd in a little room -- Miss Woodhouse, you have the art of giving
 7238 pictures in a few words.  Exquisite, quite exquisite! -- Still, however,
 7239 having proceeded so far, one is unwilling to give the matter up.
 7240 It would be a disappointment to my father -- and altogether -- I do
 7241 not know that -- I am rather of opinion that ten couple might stand
 7242 here very well."

 7243 Emma perceived that the nature of his gallantry was a little
 7244 self-willed, and that he would rather oppose than lose the pleasure
 7245 of dancing with her; but she took the compliment, and forgave
 7246 the rest.  Had she intended ever to _marry_ him, it might have been
 7247 worth while to pause and consider, and try to understand the value
 7248 of his preference, and the character of his temper; but for
 7249 all the purposes of their acquaintance, he was quite amiable enough.

 7250 Before the middle of the next day, he was at Hartfield; and he entered
 7251 the room with such an agreeable smile as certified the continuance
 7252 of the scheme.  It soon appeared that he came to announce an improvement.

 7253 "Well, Miss Woodhouse," he almost immediately began, "your inclination
 7254 for dancing has not been quite frightened away, I hope, by the
 7255 terrors of my father's little rooms.  I bring a new proposal
 7256 on the subject: -- a thought of my father's, which waits only your
 7257 approbation to be acted upon.  May I hope for the honour of your
 7258 hand for the two first dances of this little projected ball,
 7259 to be given, not at Randalls, but at the Crown Inn?"

 7260 "The Crown!"

 7261 "Yes; if you and Mr Woodhouse see no objection, and I trust you cannot,
 7262 my father hopes his friends will be so kind as to visit him there.
 7263 Better accommodations, he can promise them, and not a less grateful
 7264 welcome than at Randalls.  It is his own idea.  Mrs Weston sees
 7265 no objection to it, provided you are satisfied.  This is what we
 7266 all feel.  Oh! you were perfectly right!  Ten couple, in either of
 7267 the Randalls rooms, would have been insufferable! -- Dreadful! -- I felt
 7268 how right you were the whole time, but was too anxious for securing
 7269 _any_ _thing_ to like to yield.  Is not it a good exchange? -- You consent -- 
 7270 I hope you consent?"

 7271 "It appears to me a plan that nobody can object to, if
 7272 Mr and Mrs Weston do not.  I think it admirable; and, as far as I can
 7273 answer for myself, shall be most happy -- It seems the only improvement
 7274 that could be.  Papa, do you not think it an excellent improvement?"

 7275 She was obliged to repeat and explain it, before it was fully
 7276 comprehended; and then, being quite new, farther representations
 7277 were necessary to make it acceptable.

 7278 "No; he thought it very far from an improvement -- a very bad plan -- 
 7279 much worse than the other.  A room at an inn was always damp
 7280 and dangerous; never properly aired, or fit to be inhabited.
 7281 If they must dance, they had better dance at Randalls.  He had never
 7282 been in the room at the Crown in his life -- did not know the people
 7283 who kept it by sight. -- Oh! no -- a very bad plan.  They would catch
 7284 worse colds at the Crown than anywhere."

 7285 "I was going to observe, sir," said Frank Churchill,
 7286 "that one of the great recommendations of this change would
 7287 be the very little danger of any body's catching cold -- 
 7288 so much less danger at the Crown than at Randalls!  Mr Perry
 7289 might have reason to regret the alteration, but nobody else could."

 7290 "Sir," said Mr Woodhouse, rather warmly, "you are very much
 7291 mistaken if you suppose Mr Perry to be that sort of character.
 7292 Mr Perry is extremely concerned when any of us are ill.  But I
 7293 do not understand how the room at the Crown can be safer for you
 7294 than your father's house."

 7295 "From the very circumstance of its being larger, sir.  We shall have
 7296 no occasion to open the windows at all -- not once the whole evening;
 7297 and it is that dreadful habit of opening the windows, letting in cold
 7298 air upon heated bodies, which (as you well know, sir) does the mischief."

 7299 "Open the windows! -- but surely, Mr Churchill, nobody would think
 7300 of opening the windows at Randalls.  Nobody could be so imprudent!
 7301 I never heard of such a thing.  Dancing with open windows! -- I am sure,
 7302 neither your father nor Mrs Weston (poor Miss Taylor that was)
 7303 would suffer it."

 7304 "Ah! sir -- but a thoughtless young person will sometimes step behind
 7305 a window-curtain, and throw up a sash, without its being suspected.
 7306 I have often known it done myself."

 7307 "Have you indeed, sir? -- Bless me!  I never could have supposed it.
 7308 But I live out of the world, and am often astonished at what I hear.
 7309 However, this does make a difference; and, perhaps, when we come
 7310 to talk it over -- but these sort of things require a good deal
 7311 of consideration.  One cannot resolve upon them in a hurry.
 7312 If Mr and Mrs Weston will be so obliging as to call here one morning,
 7313 we may talk it over, and see what can be done."

 7314 "But, unfortunately, sir, my time is so limited -- "

 7315 "Oh!" interrupted Emma, "there will be plenty of time for talking
 7316 every thing over.  There is no hurry at all.  If it can be contrived
 7317 to be at the Crown, papa, it will be very convenient for the horses.
 7318 They will be so near their own stable."

 7319 "So they will, my dear.  That is a great thing.  Not that James
 7320 ever complains; but it is right to spare our horses when we can.
 7321 If I could be sure of the rooms being thoroughly aired -- but is
 7322 Mrs Stokes to be trusted?  I doubt it.  I do not know her,
 7323 even by sight."

 7324 "I can answer for every thing of that nature, sir, because it will
 7325 be under Mrs Weston's care.  Mrs Weston undertakes to direct
 7326 the whole."

 7327 "There, papa! -- Now you must be satisfied -- Our own dear Mrs Weston,
 7328 who is carefulness itself.  Do not you remember what Mr Perry said,
 7329 so many years ago, when I had the measles?  `If _Miss_ _Taylor_ undertakes
 7330 to wrap Miss Emma up, you need not have any fears, sir.'  How often
 7331 have I heard you speak of it as such a compliment to her!"

 7332 "Aye, very true.  Mr Perry did say so.  I shall never forget it.
 7333 Poor little Emma!  You were very bad with the measles; that is,
 7334 you would have been very bad, but for Perry's great attention.
 7335 He came four times a day for a week.  He said, from the first,
 7336 it was a very good sort -- which was our great comfort; but the measles
 7337 are a dreadful complaint.  I hope whenever poor Isabella's little ones
 7338 have the measles, she will send for Perry."

 7339 "My father and Mrs Weston are at the Crown at this moment,"
 7340 said Frank Churchill, "examining the capabilities of the house.
 7341 I left them there and came on to Hartfield, impatient for your opinion,
 7342 and hoping you might be persuaded to join them and give your advice
 7343 on the spot.  I was desired to say so from both.  It would be the
 7344 greatest pleasure to them, if you could allow me to attend you there.
 7345 They can do nothing satisfactorily without you."

 7346 Emma was most happy to be called to such a council; and her father,
 7347 engaging to think it all over while she was gone, the two young
 7348 people set off together without delay for the Crown.  There were
 7349 Mr and Mrs Weston; delighted to see her and receive her approbation,
 7350 very busy and very happy in their different way; she, in some
 7351 little distress; and he, finding every thing perfect.

 7352 "Emma," said she, "this paper is worse than I expected.
 7353 Look! in places you see it is dreadfully dirty; and the wainscot
 7354 is more yellow and forlorn than any thing I could have imagined."

 7355 "My dear, you are too particular," said her husband.  "What does
 7356 all that signify?  You will see nothing of it by candlelight.
 7357 It will be as clean as Randalls by candlelight.  We never see any
 7358 thing of it on our club-nights."

 7359 The ladies here probably exchanged looks which meant, "Men never
 7360 know when things are dirty or not;" and the gentlemen perhaps
 7361 thought each to himself, "Women will have their little nonsenses
 7362 and needless cares."

 7363 One perplexity, however, arose, which the gentlemen did not disdain.
 7364 It regarded a supper-room.  At the time of the ballroom's being built,
 7365 suppers had not been in question; and a small card-room adjoining,
 7366 was the only addition.  What was to be done?  This card-room would
 7367 be wanted as a card-room now; or, if cards were conveniently voted
 7368 unnecessary by their four selves, still was it not too small for
 7369 any comfortable supper?  Another room of much better size might be
 7370 secured for the purpose; but it was at the other end of the house,
 7371 and a long awkward passage must be gone through to get at it.
 7372 This made a difficulty.  Mrs Weston was afraid of draughts
 7373 for the young people in that passage; and neither Emma nor the
 7374 gentlemen could tolerate the prospect of being miserably crowded
 7375 at supper.

 7376 Mrs Weston proposed having no regular supper; merely sandwiches,
 7377 &c., set out in the little room; but that was scouted as a
 7378 wretched suggestion.  A private dance, without sitting down to supper,
 7379 was pronounced an infamous fraud upon the rights of men and women;
 7380 and Mrs Weston must not speak of it again.  She then took another
 7381 line of expediency, and looking into the doubtful room, observed,

 7382 "I do not think it _is_ so very small.  We shall not be many,
 7383 you know."

 7384 And Mr Weston at the same time, walking briskly with long steps
 7385 through the passage, was calling out,

 7386 "You talk a great deal of the length of this passage, my dear.
 7387 It is a mere nothing after all; and not the least draught from
 7388 the stairs."

 7389 "I wish," said Mrs Weston, "one could know which arrangement our
 7390 guests in general would like best.  To do what would be most generally
 7391 pleasing must be our object -- if one could but tell what that would be."

 7392 "Yes, very true," cried Frank, "very true.  You want your neighbours'
 7393 opinions.  I do not wonder at you.  If one could ascertain what the
 7394 chief of them -- the Coles, for instance.  They are not far off.
 7395 Shall I call upon them?  Or Miss Bates?  She is still nearer. -- 
 7396 And I do not know whether Miss Bates is not as likely to understand
 7397 the inclinations of the rest of the people as any body.  I think
 7398 we do want a larger council.  Suppose I go and invite Miss Bates
 7399 to join us?"

 7400 "Well -- if you please," said Mrs Weston rather hesitating, "if you
 7401 think she will be of any use."

 7402 "You will get nothing to the purpose from Miss Bates," said Emma.
 7403 "She will be all delight and gratitude, but she will tell you nothing.
 7404 She will not even listen to your questions.  I see no advantage in
 7405 consulting Miss Bates."

 7406 "But she is so amusing, so extremely amusing!  I am very fond
 7407 of hearing Miss Bates talk.  And I need not bring the whole family,
 7408 you know."

 7409 Here Mr Weston joined them, and on hearing what was proposed,
 7410 gave it his decided approbation.

 7411 "Aye, do, Frank. -- Go and fetch Miss Bates, and let us end the matter
 7412 at once.  She will enjoy the scheme, I am sure; and I do not know
 7413 a properer person for shewing us how to do away difficulties.
 7414 Fetch Miss Bates.  We are growing a little too nice.  She is
 7415 a standing lesson of how to be happy.  But fetch them both.
 7416 Invite them both."

 7417 "Both sir!  Can the old lady?" . . .

 7418 "The old lady!  No, the young lady, to be sure.  I shall think you
 7419 a great blockhead, Frank, if you bring the aunt without the niece."

 7420 "Oh!  I beg your pardon, sir.  I did not immediately recollect.
 7421 Undoubtedly if you wish it, I will endeavour to persuade them both."
 7422 And away he ran.

 7423 Long before he reappeared, attending the short, neat, brisk-moving aunt,
 7424 and her elegant niece, -- Mrs Weston, like a sweet-tempered
 7425 woman and a good wife, had examined the passage again,
 7426 and found the evils of it much less than she had supposed before -- 
 7427 indeed very trifling; and here ended the difficulties of decision.
 7428 All the rest, in speculation at least, was perfectly smooth.
 7429 All the minor arrangements of table and chair, lights and music,
 7430 tea and supper, made themselves; or were left as mere trifles
 7431 to be settled at any time between Mrs Weston and Mrs Stokes. -- 
 7432 Every body invited, was certainly to come; Frank had already written
 7433 to Enscombe to propose staying a few days beyond his fortnight,
 7434 which could not possibly be refused.  And a delightful dance it was
 7435 to be.

 7436 Most cordially, when Miss Bates arrived, did she agree that it must.
 7437 As a counsellor she was not wanted; but as an approver, (a much
 7438 safer character,) she was truly welcome.  Her approbation, at once
 7439 general and minute, warm and incessant, could not but please;
 7440 and for another half-hour they were all walking to and fro,
 7441 between the different rooms, some suggesting, some attending,
 7442 and all in happy enjoyment of the future.  The party did not break
 7443 up without Emma's being positively secured for the two first dances
 7444 by the hero of the evening, nor without her overhearing Mr Weston
 7445 whisper to his wife, "He has asked her, my dear.  That's right.
 7446 I knew he would!"



 7447 CHAPTER XII


 7448 One thing only was wanting to make the prospect of the ball
 7449 completely satisfactory to Emma -- its being fixed for a day within
 7450 the granted term of Frank Churchill's stay in Surry; for, in spite
 7451 of Mr Weston's confidence, she could not think it so very impossible
 7452 that the Churchills might not allow their nephew to remain
 7453 a day beyond his fortnight.  But this was not judged feasible.
 7454 The preparations must take their time, nothing could be properly
 7455 ready till the third week were entered on, and for a few days they
 7456 must be planning, proceeding and hoping in uncertainty -- at the risk -- 
 7457 in her opinion, the great risk, of its being all in vain.

 7458 Enscombe however was gracious, gracious in fact, if not in word.
 7459 His wish of staying longer evidently did not please; but it was
 7460 not opposed.  All was safe and prosperous; and as the removal of one
 7461 solicitude generally makes way for another, Emma, being now certain
 7462 of her ball, began to adopt as the next vexation Mr Knightley's
 7463 provoking indifference about it.  Either because he did not
 7464 dance himself, or because the plan had been formed without his
 7465 being consulted, he seemed resolved that it should not interest him,
 7466 determined against its exciting any present curiosity, or affording
 7467 him any future amusement.  To her voluntary communications Emma
 7468 could get no more approving reply, than,

 7469 "Very well.  If the Westons think it worth while to be at all this
 7470 trouble for a few hours of noisy entertainment, I have nothing
 7471 to say against it, but that they shall not chuse pleasures for me. -- 
 7472 Oh! yes, I must be there; I could not refuse; and I will keep
 7473 as much awake as I can; but I would rather be at home, looking over
 7474 William Larkins's week's account; much rather, I confess. -- 
 7475 Pleasure in seeing dancing! -- not I, indeed -- I never look at it -- 
 7476 I do not know who does. -- Fine dancing, I believe, like virtue,
 7477 must be its own reward.  Those who are standing by are usually
 7478 thinking of something very different."

 7479 This Emma felt was aimed at her; and it made her quite angry.
 7480 It was not in compliment to Jane Fairfax however that he was
 7481 so indifferent, or so indignant; he was not guided by _her_ feelings
 7482 in reprobating the ball, for _she_ enjoyed the thought of it
 7483 to an extraordinary degree.  It made her animated -- open hearted -- 
 7484 she voluntarily said; -- 

 7485 "Oh!  Miss Woodhouse, I hope nothing may happen to prevent the ball.
 7486 What a disappointment it would be!  I do look forward to it, I own,
 7487 with _very_ great pleasure."

 7488 It was not to oblige Jane Fairfax therefore that he would have
 7489 preferred the society of William Larkins.  No! -- she was more and more
 7490 convinced that Mrs Weston was quite mistaken in that surmise.
 7491 There was a great deal of friendly and of compassionate attachment
 7492 on his side -- but no love.

 7493 Alas! there was soon no leisure for quarrelling with Mr Knightley.
 7494 Two days of joyful security were immediately followed by the
 7495 over-throw of every thing.  A letter arrived from Mr Churchill
 7496 to urge his nephew's instant return.  Mrs Churchill was unwell -- 
 7497 far too unwell to do without him; she had been in a very suffering
 7498 state (so said her husband) when writing to her nephew two days before,
 7499 though from her usual unwillingness to give pain, and constant
 7500 habit of never thinking of herself, she had not mentioned it;
 7501 but now she was too ill to trifle, and must entreat him to set off
 7502 for Enscombe without delay.

 7503 The substance of this letter was forwarded to Emma, in a note
 7504 from Mrs Weston, instantly.  As to his going, it was inevitable.
 7505 He must be gone within a few hours, though without feeling any real
 7506 alarm for his aunt, to lessen his repugnance.  He knew her illnesses;
 7507 they never occurred but for her own convenience.

 7508 Mrs Weston added, "that he could only allow himself time to
 7509 hurry to Highbury, after breakfast, and take leave of the few
 7510 friends there whom he could suppose to feel any interest in him;
 7511 and that he might be expected at Hartfield very soon."

 7512 This wretched note was the finale of Emma's breakfast.  When once
 7513 it had been read, there was no doing any thing, but lament
 7514 and exclaim.  The loss of the ball -- the loss of the young man -- 
 7515 and all that the young man might be feeling! -- It was too wretched! -- 
 7516 Such a delightful evening as it would have been! -- Every body so happy!
 7517 and she and her partner the happiest! -- "I said it would be so,"
 7518 was the only consolation.

 7519 Her father's feelings were quite distinct.  He thought principally
 7520 of Mrs Churchill's illness, and wanted to know how she was treated;
 7521 and as for the ball, it was shocking to have dear Emma disappointed;
 7522 but they would all be safer at home.

 7523 Emma was ready for her visitor some time before he appeared;
 7524 but if this reflected at all upon his impatience, his sorrowful
 7525 look and total want of spirits when he did come might redeem him.
 7526 He felt the going away almost too much to speak of it.  His dejection
 7527 was most evident.  He sat really lost in thought for the first
 7528 few minutes; and when rousing himself, it was only to say,

 7529 "Of all horrid things, leave-taking is the worst."

 7530 "But you will come again," said Emma.  "This will not be your only
 7531 visit to Randalls."

 7532 "Ah! -- (shaking his head) -- the uncertainty of when I may be able
 7533 to return! -- I shall try for it with a zeal! -- It will be the object
 7534 of all my thoughts and cares! -- and if my uncle and aunt go to town
 7535 this spring -- but I am afraid -- they did not stir last spring -- 
 7536 I am afraid it is a custom gone for ever."

 7537 "Our poor ball must be quite given up."

 7538 "Ah! that ball! -- why did we wait for any thing? -- why not seize the
 7539 pleasure at once? -- How often is happiness destroyed by preparation,
 7540 foolish preparation! -- You told us it would be so. -- Oh!  Miss Woodhouse,
 7541 why are you always so right?"

 7542 "Indeed, I am very sorry to be right in this instance.  I would
 7543 much rather have been merry than wise."

 7544 "If I can come again, we are still to have our ball.  My father
 7545 depends on it.  Do not forget your engagement."

 7546 Emma looked graciously.

 7547 "Such a fortnight as it has been!" he continued; "every day more
 7548 precious and more delightful than the day before! -- every day making
 7549 me less fit to bear any other place.  Happy those, who can remain
 7550 at Highbury!"

 7551 "As you do us such ample justice now," said Emma, laughing, "I will
 7552 venture to ask, whether you did not come a little doubtfully at first?
 7553 Do not we rather surpass your expectations?  I am sure we do.
 7554 I am sure you did not much expect to like us.  You would not have been
 7555 so long in coming, if you had had a pleasant idea of Highbury."

 7556 He laughed rather consciously; and though denying the sentiment,
 7557 Emma was convinced that it had been so.

 7558 "And you must be off this very morning?"

 7559 "Yes; my father is to join me here:  we shall walk back together,
 7560 and I must be off immediately.  I am almost afraid that every moment
 7561 will bring him."

 7562 "Not five minutes to spare even for your friends Miss Fairfax and
 7563 Miss Bates?  How unlucky!  Miss Bates's powerful, argumentative mind
 7564 might have strengthened yours."

 7565 "Yes -- I _have_ called there; passing the door, I thought it better.
 7566 It was a right thing to do.  I went in for three minutes, and was
 7567 detained by Miss Bates's being absent.  She was out; and I felt it
 7568 impossible not to wait till she came in.  She is a woman that one may,
 7569 that one _must_ laugh at; but that one would not wish to slight.
 7570 It was better to pay my visit, then" -- 

 7571 He hesitated, got up, walked to a window.

 7572 "In short," said he, "perhaps, Miss Woodhouse -- I think you can
 7573 hardly be quite without suspicion" -- 

 7574 He looked at her, as if wanting to read her thoughts.  She hardly
 7575 knew what to say.  It seemed like the forerunner of something
 7576 absolutely serious, which she did not wish.  Forcing herself
 7577 to speak, therefore, in the hope of putting it by, she calmly said,

 7578 "You are quite in the right; it was most natural to pay your visit, then" -- 

 7579 He was silent.  She believed he was looking at her; probably reflecting
 7580 on what she had said, and trying to understand the manner.
 7581 She heard him sigh.  It was natural for him to feel that he had
 7582 _cause_ to sigh.  He could not believe her to be encouraging him.
 7583 A few awkward moments passed, and he sat down again; and in a more
 7584 determined manner said,

 7585 "It was something to feel that all the rest of my time might be
 7586 given to Hartfield.  My regard for Hartfield is most warm" -- 

 7587 He stopt again, rose again, and seemed quite embarrassed. -- 
 7588 He was more in love with her than Emma had supposed; and who can say
 7589 how it might have ended, if his father had not made his appearance?
 7590 Mr Woodhouse soon followed; and the necessity of exertion made
 7591 him composed.

 7592 A very few minutes more, however, completed the present trial.
 7593 Mr Weston, always alert when business was to be done, and as
 7594 incapable of procrastinating any evil that was inevitable,
 7595 as of foreseeing any that was doubtful, said, "It was time to go;"
 7596 and the young man, though he might and did sigh, could not but agree,
 7597 to take leave.

 7598 "I shall hear about you all," said he; "that is my chief consolation.
 7599 I shall hear of every thing that is going on among you.  I have
 7600 engaged Mrs Weston to correspond with me.  She has been so kind as
 7601 to promise it.  Oh! the blessing of a female correspondent, when one
 7602 is really interested in the absent! -- she will tell me every thing.
 7603 In her letters I shall be at dear Highbury again."

 7604 A very friendly shake of the hand, a very earnest "Good-bye,"
 7605 closed the speech, and the door had soon shut out Frank Churchill.
 7606 Short had been the notice -- short their meeting; he was gone; and Emma
 7607 felt so sorry to part, and foresaw so great a loss to their little
 7608 society from his absence as to begin to be afraid of being too sorry,
 7609 and feeling it too much.

 7610 It was a sad change.  They had been meeting almost every day
 7611 since his arrival.  Certainly his being at Randalls had given
 7612 great spirit to the last two weeks -- indescribable spirit; the idea,
 7613 the expectation of seeing him which every morning had brought,
 7614 the assurance of his attentions, his liveliness, his manners!
 7615 It had been a very happy fortnight, and forlorn must be the sinking
 7616 from it into the common course of Hartfield days.  To complete every
 7617 other recommendation, he had _almost_ told her that he loved her.
 7618 What strength, or what constancy of affection he might be subject to,
 7619 was another point; but at present she could not doubt his having
 7620 a decidedly warm admiration, a conscious preference of herself;
 7621 and this persuasion, joined to all the rest, made her think that
 7622 she _must_ be a little in love with him, in spite of every previous
 7623 determination against it.

 7624 "I certainly must," said she.  "This sensation of listlessness,
 7625 weariness, stupidity, this disinclination to sit down and employ myself,
 7626 this feeling of every thing's being dull and insipid about the house! -- 
 7627 I must be in love; I should be the oddest creature in the world if I
 7628 were not -- for a few weeks at least.  Well! evil to some is always
 7629 good to others.  I shall have many fellow-mourners for the ball,
 7630 if not for Frank Churchill; but Mr Knightley will be happy.
 7631 He may spend the evening with his dear William Larkins now if he likes."

 7632 Mr Knightley, however, shewed no triumphant happiness.  He could
 7633 not say that he was sorry on his own account; his very cheerful look
 7634 would have contradicted him if he had; but he said, and very steadily,
 7635 that he was sorry for the disappointment of the others, and with
 7636 considerable kindness added,

 7637 "You, Emma, who have so few opportunities of dancing, you are really
 7638 out of luck; you are very much out of luck!"

 7639 It was some days before she saw Jane Fairfax, to judge of her
 7640 honest regret in this woeful change; but when they did meet,
 7641 her composure was odious.  She had been particularly unwell, however,
 7642 suffering from headache to a degree, which made her aunt declare,
 7643 that had the ball taken place, she did not think Jane could have
 7644 attended it; and it was charity to impute some of her unbecoming
 7645 indifference to the languor of ill-health.



 7646 CHAPTER XIII


 7647 Emma continued to entertain no doubt of her being in love.  Her ideas
 7648 only varied as to the how much.  At first, she thought it was a good deal;
 7649 and afterwards, but little.  She had great pleasure in hearing Frank
 7650 Churchill talked of; and, for his sake, greater pleasure than ever
 7651 in seeing Mr and Mrs Weston; she was very often thinking of him,
 7652 and quite impatient for a letter, that she might know how he was,
 7653 how were his spirits, how was his aunt, and what was the chance
 7654 of his coming to Randalls again this spring.  But, on the other hand,
 7655 she could not admit herself to be unhappy, nor, after the
 7656 first morning, to be less disposed for employment than usual;
 7657 she was still busy and cheerful; and, pleasing as he was, she could
 7658 yet imagine him to have faults; and farther, though thinking of him
 7659 so much, and, as she sat drawing or working, forming a thousand
 7660 amusing schemes for the progress and close of their attachment,
 7661 fancying interesting dialogues, and inventing elegant letters;
 7662 the conclusion of every imaginary declaration on his side was that she
 7663 _refused_ _him_.  Their affection was always to subside into friendship.
 7664 Every thing tender and charming was to mark their parting;
 7665 but still they were to part.  When she became sensible of this,
 7666 it struck her that she could not be very much in love; for in spite
 7667 of her previous and fixed determination never to quit her father,
 7668 never to marry, a strong attachment certainly must produce more
 7669 of a struggle than she could foresee in her own feelings.

 7670 "I do not find myself making any use of the word _sacrifice_," said she. -- 
 7671 "In not one of all my clever replies, my delicate negatives,
 7672 is there any allusion to making a sacrifice.  I do suspect that he
 7673 is not really necessary to my happiness.  So much the better.
 7674 I certainly will not persuade myself to feel more than I do.  I am
 7675 quite enough in love.  I should be sorry to be more."

 7676 Upon the whole, she was equally contented with her view of his feelings.

 7677 "_He_ is undoubtedly very much in love -- every thing denotes it -- very much
 7678 in love indeed! -- and when he comes again, if his affection continue,
 7679 I must be on my guard not to encourage it. -- It would be most
 7680 inexcusable to do otherwise, as my own mind is quite made up.
 7681 Not that I imagine he can think I have been encouraging him hitherto.
 7682 No, if he had believed me at all to share his feelings, he would
 7683 not have been so wretched.  Could he have thought himself encouraged,
 7684 his looks and language at parting would have been different. -- 
 7685 Still, however, I must be on my guard.  This is in the supposition
 7686 of his attachment continuing what it now is; but I do not know that I
 7687 expect it will; I do not look upon him to be quite the sort of man -- 
 7688 I do not altogether build upon his steadiness or constancy. -- 
 7689 His feelings are warm, but I can imagine them rather changeable. -- 
 7690 Every consideration of the subject, in short, makes me thankful
 7691 that my happiness is not more deeply involved. -- I shall do very well
 7692 again after a little while -- and then, it will be a good thing over;
 7693 for they say every body is in love once in their lives, and I shall
 7694 have been let off easily."

 7695 When his letter to Mrs Weston arrived, Emma had the perusal of it;
 7696 and she read it with a degree of pleasure and admiration which made
 7697 her at first shake her head over her own sensations, and think she
 7698 had undervalued their strength.  It was a long, well-written letter,
 7699 giving the particulars of his journey and of his feelings,
 7700 expressing all the affection, gratitude, and respect which was
 7701 natural and honourable, and describing every thing exterior and local
 7702 that could be supposed attractive, with spirit and precision.
 7703 No suspicious flourishes now of apology or concern; it was the
 7704 language of real feeling towards Mrs Weston; and the transition
 7705 from Highbury to Enscombe, the contrast between the places in some
 7706 of the first blessings of social life was just enough touched on
 7707 to shew how keenly it was felt, and how much more might have been
 7708 said but for the restraints of propriety. -- The charm of her own
 7709 name was not wanting.  _Miss_ _Woodhouse_ appeared more than once,
 7710 and never without a something of pleasing connexion, either a
 7711 compliment to her taste, or a remembrance of what she had said;
 7712 and in the very last time of its meeting her eye, unadorned as it
 7713 was by any such broad wreath of gallantry, she yet could discern
 7714 the effect of her influence and acknowledge the greatest compliment
 7715 perhaps of all conveyed.  Compressed into the very lowest vacant
 7716 corner were these words -- "I had not a spare moment on Tuesday,
 7717 as you know, for Miss Woodhouse's beautiful little friend.  Pray make
 7718 my excuses and adieus to her."  This, Emma could not doubt, was all
 7719 for herself.  Harriet was remembered only from being _her_ friend.
 7720 His information and prospects as to Enscombe were neither worse nor
 7721 better than had been anticipated; Mrs Churchill was recovering,
 7722 and he dared not yet, even in his own imagination, fix a time for
 7723 coming to Randalls again.

 7724 Gratifying, however, and stimulative as was the letter in the
 7725 material part, its sentiments, she yet found, when it was folded up
 7726 and returned to Mrs Weston, that it had not added any lasting warmth,
 7727 that she could still do without the writer, and that he must learn
 7728 to do without her.  Her intentions were unchanged.  Her resolution
 7729 of refusal only grew more interesting by the addition of a scheme for
 7730 his subsequent consolation and happiness.  His recollection of Harriet,
 7731 and the words which clothed it, the "beautiful little friend,"
 7732 suggested to her the idea of Harriet's succeeding her in his affections.
 7733 Was it impossible? -- No. -- Harriet undoubtedly was greatly his
 7734 inferior in understanding; but he had been very much struck with
 7735 the loveliness of her face and the warm simplicity of her manner;
 7736 and all the probabilities of circumstance and connexion were in
 7737 her favour. -- For Harriet, it would be advantageous and delightful indeed.

 7738 "I must not dwell upon it," said she. -- "I must not think of it.
 7739 I know the danger of indulging such speculations.  But stranger
 7740 things have happened; and when we cease to care for each other
 7741 as we do now, it will be the means of confirming us in that sort
 7742 of true disinterested friendship which I can already look forward
 7743 to with pleasure."

 7744 It was well to have a comfort in store on Harriet's behalf,
 7745 though it might be wise to let the fancy touch it seldom; for evil
 7746 in that quarter was at hand.  As Frank Churchill's arrival had
 7747 succeeded Mr Elton's engagement in the conversation of Highbury,
 7748 as the latest interest had entirely borne down the first, so now
 7749 upon Frank Churchill's disappearance, Mr Elton's concerns were
 7750 assuming the most irresistible form. -- His wedding-day was named.
 7751 He would soon be among them again; Mr Elton and his bride.
 7752 There was hardly time to talk over the first letter from Enscombe
 7753 before "Mr Elton and his bride" was in every body's mouth,
 7754 and Frank Churchill was forgotten.  Emma grew sick at the sound.
 7755 She had had three weeks of happy exemption from Mr Elton;
 7756 and Harriet's mind, she had been willing to hope, had been lately
 7757 gaining strength.  With Mr Weston's ball in view at least,
 7758 there had been a great deal of insensibility to other things;
 7759 but it was now too evident that she had not attained such a state
 7760 of composure as could stand against the actual approach -- new carriage,
 7761 bell-ringing, and all.

 7762 Poor Harriet was in a flutter of spirits which required all the
 7763 reasonings and soothings and attentions of every kind that Emma
 7764 could give.  Emma felt that she could not do too much for her,
 7765 that Harriet had a right to all her ingenuity and all her patience;
 7766 but it was heavy work to be for ever convincing without producing
 7767 any effect, for ever agreed to, without being able to make their opinions
 7768 the same.  Harriet listened submissively, and said "it was very true -- 
 7769 it was just as Miss Woodhouse described -- it was not worth while to
 7770 think about them -- and she would not think about them any longer"
 7771 but no change of subject could avail, and the next half-hour
 7772 saw her as anxious and restless about the Eltons as before.
 7773 At last Emma attacked her on another ground.

 7774 "Your allowing yourself to be so occupied and so unhappy about
 7775 Mr Elton's marrying, Harriet, is the strongest reproach you can
 7776 make _me_.  You could not give me a greater reproof for the mistake I
 7777 fell into.  It was all my doing, I know.  I have not forgotten it,
 7778 I assure you. -- Deceived myself, I did very miserably deceive you -- 
 7779 and it will be a painful reflection to me for ever.  Do not imagine
 7780 me in danger of forgetting it."

 7781 Harriet felt this too much to utter more than a few words
 7782 of eager exclamation.  Emma continued,

 7783 "I have not said, exert yourself Harriet for my sake; think less,
 7784 talk less of Mr Elton for my sake; because for your own sake rather,
 7785 I would wish it to be done, for the sake of what is more important
 7786 than my comfort, a habit of self-command in you, a consideration
 7787 of what is your duty, an attention to propriety, an endeavour
 7788 to avoid the suspicions of others, to save your health and credit,
 7789 and restore your tranquillity.  These are the motives which I
 7790 have been pressing on you.  They are very important -- and sorry
 7791 I am that you cannot feel them sufficiently to act upon them.
 7792 My being saved from pain is a very secondary consideration.  I want
 7793 you to save yourself from greater pain.  Perhaps I may sometimes
 7794 have felt that Harriet would not forget what was due -- or rather
 7795 what would be kind by me."

 7796 This appeal to her affections did more than all the rest.
 7797 The idea of wanting gratitude and consideration for Miss Woodhouse,
 7798 whom she really loved extremely, made her wretched for a while,
 7799 and when the violence of grief was comforted away, still remained
 7800 powerful enough to prompt to what was right and support her in it
 7801 very tolerably.

 7802 "You, who have been the best friend I ever had in my life -- 
 7803 Want gratitude to you! -- Nobody is equal to you! -- I care for nobody
 7804 as I do for you! -- Oh!  Miss Woodhouse, how ungrateful I have been!"

 7805 Such expressions, assisted as they were by every thing that look
 7806 and manner could do, made Emma feel that she had never loved Harriet
 7807 so well, nor valued her affection so highly before.

 7808 "There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart," said she
 7809 afterwards to herself.  "There is nothing to be compared to it.
 7810 Warmth and tenderness of heart, with an affectionate, open manner,
 7811 will beat all the clearness of head in the world, for attraction,
 7812 I am sure it will.  It is tenderness of heart which makes my dear
 7813 father so generally beloved -- which gives Isabella all her popularity. -- 
 7814 I have it not -- but I know how to prize and respect it. -- Harriet is
 7815 my superior in all the charm and all the felicity it gives.
 7816 Dear Harriet! -- I would not change you for the clearest-headed,
 7817 longest-sighted, best-judging female breathing.  Oh! the coldness
 7818 of a Jane Fairfax! -- Harriet is worth a hundred such -- And for a wife -- 
 7819 a sensible man's wife -- it is invaluable.  I mention no names;
 7820 but happy the man who changes Emma for Harriet!"



 7821 CHAPTER XIV


 7822 Mrs Elton was first seen at church:  but though devotion might
 7823 be interrupted, curiosity could not be satisfied by a bride in a pew,
 7824 and it must be left for the visits in form which were then to be paid,
 7825 to settle whether she were very pretty indeed, or only rather pretty,
 7826 or not pretty at all.

 7827 Emma had feelings, less of curiosity than of pride or propriety,
 7828 to make her resolve on not being the last to pay her respects;
 7829 and she made a point of Harriet's going with her, that the worst of
 7830 the business might be gone through as soon as possible.

 7831 She could not enter the house again, could not be in the same room
 7832 to which she had with such vain artifice retreated three months ago,
 7833 to lace up her boot, without _recollecting_.  A thousand vexatious
 7834 thoughts would recur.  Compliments, charades, and horrible blunders;
 7835 and it was not to be supposed that poor Harriet should not be
 7836 recollecting too; but she behaved very well, and was only rather
 7837 pale and silent.  The visit was of course short; and there was so
 7838 much embarrassment and occupation of mind to shorten it, that Emma
 7839 would not allow herself entirely to form an opinion of the lady,
 7840 and on no account to give one, beyond the nothing-meaning terms
 7841 of being "elegantly dressed, and very pleasing."

 7842 She did not really like her.  She would not be in a hurry to find fault,
 7843 but she suspected that there was no elegance; -- ease, but not elegance. -- 
 7844 She was almost sure that for a young woman, a stranger, a bride,
 7845 there was too much ease.  Her person was rather good; her face
 7846 not unpretty; but neither feature, nor air, nor voice, nor manner,
 7847 were elegant.  Emma thought at least it would turn out so.

 7848 As for Mr Elton, his manners did not appear -- but no, she would
 7849 not permit a hasty or a witty word from herself about his manners.
 7850 It was an awkward ceremony at any time to be receiving wedding visits,
 7851 and a man had need be all grace to acquit himself well through it.
 7852 The woman was better off; she might have the assistance of fine clothes,
 7853 and the privilege of bashfulness, but the man had only his own
 7854 good sense to depend on; and when she considered how peculiarly
 7855 unlucky poor Mr Elton was in being in the same room at once with
 7856 the woman he had just married, the woman he had wanted to marry,
 7857 and the woman whom he had been expected to marry, she must allow him
 7858 to have the right to look as little wise, and to be as much affectedly,
 7859 and as little really easy as could be.

 7860 "Well, Miss Woodhouse," said Harriet, when they had quitted
 7861 the house, and after waiting in vain for her friend to begin;
 7862 "Well, Miss Woodhouse, (with a gentle sigh,) what do you think of her? -- 
 7863 Is not she very charming?"

 7864 There was a little hesitation in Emma's answer.

 7865 "Oh! yes -- very -- a very pleasing young woman."

 7866 "I think her beautiful, quite beautiful."

 7867 "Very nicely dressed, indeed; a remarkably elegant gown."

 7868 "I am not at all surprized that he should have fallen in love."

 7869 "Oh! no -- there is nothing to surprize one at all. -- A pretty fortune;
 7870 and she came in his way."

 7871 "I dare say," returned Harriet, sighing again, "I dare say she
 7872 was very much attached to him."

 7873 "Perhaps she might; but it is not every man's fate to marry the
 7874 woman who loves him best.  Miss Hawkins perhaps wanted a home,
 7875 and thought this the best offer she was likely to have."

 7876 "Yes," said Harriet earnestly, "and well she might, nobody could ever
 7877 have a better.  Well, I wish them happy with all my heart.  And now,
 7878 Miss Woodhouse, I do not think I shall mind seeing them again.
 7879 He is just as superior as ever; -- but being married, you know,
 7880 it is quite a different thing.  No, indeed, Miss Woodhouse, you need
 7881 not be afraid; I can sit and admire him now without any great misery.
 7882 To know that he has not thrown himself away, is such a comfort! -- 
 7883 She does seem a charming young woman, just what he deserves.
 7884 Happy creature!  He called her `Augusta.'  How delightful!"

 7885 When the visit was returned, Emma made up her mind.  She could then
 7886 see more and judge better.  From Harriet's happening not to be
 7887 at Hartfield, and her father's being present to engage Mr Elton,
 7888 she had a quarter of an hour of the lady's conversation to herself,
 7889 and could composedly attend to her; and the quarter of an hour quite
 7890 convinced her that Mrs Elton was a vain woman, extremely well
 7891 satisfied with herself, and thinking much of her own importance;
 7892 that she meant to shine and be very superior, but with manners which
 7893 had been formed in a bad school, pert and familiar; that all her
 7894 notions were drawn from one set of people, and one style of living;
 7895 that if not foolish she was ignorant, and that her society would
 7896 certainly do Mr Elton no good.

 7897 Harriet would have been a better match.  If not wise or refined herself,
 7898 she would have connected him with those who were; but Miss Hawkins,
 7899 it might be fairly supposed from her easy conceit, had been the best
 7900 of her own set.  The rich brother-in-law near Bristol was the pride
 7901 of the alliance, and his place and his carriages were the pride
 7902 of him.

 7903 The very first subject after being seated was Maple Grove, "My brother
 7904 Mr Suckling's seat;" -- a comparison of Hartfield to Maple Grove.
 7905 The grounds of Hartfield were small, but neat and pretty; and the
 7906 house was modern and well-built. Mrs Elton seemed most favourably
 7907 impressed by the size of the room, the entrance, and all that she
 7908 could see or imagine.  "Very like Maple Grove indeed! -- She was quite
 7909 struck by the likeness! -- That room was the very shape and size
 7910 of the morning-room at Maple Grove; her sister's favourite room." -- 
 7911 Mr Elton was appealed to. -- "Was not it astonishingly like? -- 
 7912 She could really almost fancy herself at Maple Grove."

 7913 "And the staircase -- You know, as I came in, I observed how very like
 7914 the staircase was; placed exactly in the same part of the house.
 7915 I really could not help exclaiming!  I assure you, Miss Woodhouse,
 7916 it is very delightful to me, to be reminded of a place I am so
 7917 extremely partial to as Maple Grove.  I have spent so many happy
 7918 months there! (with a little sigh of sentiment). A charming place,
 7919 undoubtedly.  Every body who sees it is struck by its beauty;
 7920 but to me, it has been quite a home.  Whenever you are transplanted,
 7921 like me, Miss Woodhouse, you will understand how very delightful it
 7922 is to meet with any thing at all like what one has left behind.
 7923 I always say this is quite one of the evils of matrimony."

 7924 Emma made as slight a reply as she could; but it was fully sufficient
 7925 for Mrs Elton, who only wanted to be talking herself.

 7926 "So extremely like Maple Grove!  And it is not merely the house -- 
 7927 the grounds, I assure you, as far as I could observe, are strikingly
 7928 like.  The laurels at Maple Grove are in the same profusion as here,
 7929 and stand very much in the same way -- just across the lawn;
 7930 and I had a glimpse of a fine large tree, with a bench round it,
 7931 which put me so exactly in mind!  My brother and sister will be
 7932 enchanted with this place.  People who have extensive grounds
 7933 themselves are always pleased with any thing in the same style."

 7934 Emma doubted the truth of this sentiment.  She had a great idea
 7935 that people who had extensive grounds themselves cared very little
 7936 for the extensive grounds of any body else; but it was not worth
 7937 while to attack an error so double-dyed, and therefore only said
 7938 in reply,

 7939 "When you have seen more of this country, I am afraid you will think
 7940 you have overrated Hartfield.  Surry is full of beauties."

 7941 "Oh! yes, I am quite aware of that.  It is the garden of England,
 7942 you know.  Surry is the garden of England."

 7943 "Yes; but we must not rest our claims on that distinction.
 7944 Many counties, I believe, are called the garden of England,
 7945 as well as Surry."

 7946 "No, I fancy not," replied Mrs Elton, with a most satisfied smile."
 7947 I never heard any county but Surry called so."

 7948 Emma was silenced.

 7949 "My brother and sister have promised us a visit in the spring,
 7950 or summer at farthest," continued Mrs Elton; "and that will be
 7951 our time for exploring.  While they are with us, we shall explore
 7952 a great deal, I dare say.  They will have their barouche-landau,
 7953 of course, which holds four perfectly; and therefore, without saying
 7954 any thing of _our_ carriage, we should be able to explore the different
 7955 beauties extremely well.  They would hardly come in their chaise,
 7956 I think, at that season of the year.  Indeed, when the time draws on,
 7957 I shall decidedly recommend their bringing the barouche-landau;
 7958 it will be so very much preferable.  When people come into a beautiful
 7959 country of this sort, you know, Miss Woodhouse, one naturally wishes
 7960 them to see as much as possible; and Mr Suckling is extremely fond
 7961 of exploring.  We explored to King's-Weston twice last summer,
 7962 in that way, most delightfully, just after their first having the
 7963 barouche-landau.  You have many parties of that kind here, I suppose,
 7964 Miss Woodhouse, every summer?"

 7965 "No; not immediately here.  We are rather out of distance of the very
 7966 striking beauties which attract the sort of parties you speak of;
 7967 and we are a very quiet set of people, I believe; more disposed
 7968 to stay at home than engage in schemes of pleasure."

 7969 "Ah! there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.
 7970 Nobody can be more devoted to home than I am.  I was quite
 7971 a proverb for it at Maple Grove.  Many a time has Selina said,
 7972 when she has been going to Bristol, `I really cannot get this girl
 7973 to move from the house.  I absolutely must go in by myself, though I
 7974 hate being stuck up in the barouche-landau without a companion;
 7975 but Augusta, I believe, with her own good-will, would never stir
 7976 beyond the park paling.'  Many a time has she said so; and yet I
 7977 am no advocate for entire seclusion.  I think, on the contrary,
 7978 when people shut themselves up entirely from society, it is a very
 7979 bad thing; and that it is much more advisable to mix in the world in
 7980 a proper degree, without living in it either too much or too little.
 7981 I perfectly understand your situation, however, Miss Woodhouse -- 
 7982 (looking towards Mr Woodhouse), Your father's state of health must
 7983 be a great drawback.  Why does not he try Bath? -- Indeed he should.
 7984 Let me recommend Bath to you.  I assure you I have no doubt of its doing
 7985 Mr Woodhouse good."

 7986 "My father tried it more than once, formerly; but without receiving
 7987 any benefit; and Mr Perry, whose name, I dare say, is not unknown
 7988 to you, does not conceive it would be at all more likely to be
 7989 useful now."

 7990 "Ah! that's a great pity; for I assure you, Miss Woodhouse,
 7991 where the waters do agree, it is quite wonderful the relief
 7992 they give.  In my Bath life, I have seen such instances of it!
 7993 And it is so cheerful a place, that it could not fail of being of
 7994 use to Mr Woodhouse's spirits, which, I understand, are sometimes
 7995 much depressed.  And as to its recommendations to _you_, I fancy I
 7996 need not take much pains to dwell on them.  The advantages of Bath
 7997 to the young are pretty generally understood.  It would be a charming
 7998 introduction for you, who have lived so secluded a life; and I could
 7999 immediately secure you some of the best society in the place.
 8000 A line from me would bring you a little host of acquaintance; and my
 8001 particular friend, Mrs Partridge, the lady I have always resided
 8002 with when in Bath, would be most happy to shew you any attentions,
 8003 and would be the very person for you to go into public with."

 8004 It was as much as Emma could bear, without being impolite.
 8005 The idea of her being indebted to Mrs Elton for what was called
 8006 an _introduction_ -- of her going into public under the auspices
 8007 of a friend of Mrs Elton's -- probably some vulgar, dashing widow,
 8008 who, with the help of a boarder, just made a shift to live! -- 
 8009 The dignity of Miss Woodhouse, of Hartfield, was sunk indeed!

 8010 She restrained herself, however, from any of the reproofs she could
 8011 have given, and only thanked Mrs Elton coolly; "but their going
 8012 to Bath was quite out of the question; and she was not perfectly
 8013 convinced that the place might suit her better than her father."
 8014 And then, to prevent farther outrage and indignation, changed the
 8015 subject directly.

 8016 "I do not ask whether you are musical, Mrs Elton.  Upon these occasions,
 8017 a lady's character generally precedes her; and Highbury has long
 8018 known that you are a superior performer."

 8019 "Oh! no, indeed; I must protest against any such idea.
 8020 A superior performer! -- very far from it, I assure you.
 8021 Consider from how partial a quarter your information came.
 8022 I am doatingly fond of music -- passionately fond; -- and my friends
 8023 say I am not entirely devoid of taste; but as to any thing else,
 8024 upon my honour my performance is _mediocre_ to the last degree.
 8025 You, Miss Woodhouse, I well know, play delightfully.  I assure you
 8026 it has been the greatest satisfaction, comfort, and delight to me,
 8027 to hear what a musical society I am got into.  I absolutely cannot
 8028 do without music.  It is a necessary of life to me; and having always
 8029 been used to a very musical society, both at Maple Grove and in Bath,
 8030 it would have been a most serious sacrifice.  I honestly said as much
 8031 to Mr E. when he was speaking of my future home, and expressing
 8032 his fears lest the retirement of it should be disagreeable;
 8033 and the inferiority of the house too -- knowing what I had been
 8034 accustomed to -- of course he was not wholly without apprehension.
 8035 When he was speaking of it in that way, I honestly said that _the_
 8036 _world_ I could give up -- parties, balls, plays -- for I had no fear
 8037 of retirement.  Blessed with so many resources within myself,
 8038 the world was not necessary to _me_.  I could do very well without it.
 8039 To those who had no resources it was a different thing; but my
 8040 resources made me quite independent.  And as to smaller-sized rooms
 8041 than I had been used to, I really could not give it a thought.
 8042 I hoped I was perfectly equal to any sacrifice of that description.
 8043 Certainly I had been accustomed to every luxury at Maple Grove; but I
 8044 did assure him that two carriages were not necessary to my happiness,
 8045 nor were spacious apartments.  `But,' said I, `to be quite honest,
 8046 I do not think I can live without something of a musical society.
 8047 I condition for nothing else; but without music, life would be a blank
 8048 to me.'"

 8049 "We cannot suppose," said Emma, smiling, "that Mr Elton would hesitate
 8050 to assure you of there being a _very_ musical society in Highbury;
 8051 and I hope you will not find he has outstepped the truth more than
 8052 may be pardoned, in consideration of the motive."

 8053 "No, indeed, I have no doubts at all on that head.  I am delighted
 8054 to find myself in such a circle.  I hope we shall have many sweet
 8055 little concerts together.  I think, Miss Woodhouse, you and I
 8056 must establish a musical club, and have regular weekly meetings
 8057 at your house, or ours.  Will not it be a good plan?  If _we_
 8058 exert ourselves, I think we shall not be long in want of allies.
 8059 Something of that nature would be particularly desirable for _me_,
 8060 as an inducement to keep me in practice; for married women, you know -- 
 8061 there is a sad story against them, in general.  They are but too apt
 8062 to give up music."

 8063 "But you, who are so extremely fond of it -- there can
 8064 be no danger, surely?"

 8065 "I should hope not; but really when I look around among my acquaintance,
 8066 I tremble.  Selina has entirely given up music -- never touches
 8067 the instrument -- though she played sweetly.  And the same may be said
 8068 of Mrs Jeffereys -- Clara Partridge, that was -- and of the two Milmans,
 8069 now Mrs Bird and Mrs James Cooper; and of more than I can enumerate.
 8070 Upon my word it is enough to put one in a fright.  I used to be
 8071 quite angry with Selina; but really I begin now to comprehend
 8072 that a married woman has many things to call her attention.
 8073 I believe I was half an hour this morning shut up with my housekeeper."

 8074 "But every thing of that kind," said Emma, "will soon
 8075 be in so regular a train -- "

 8076 "Well," said Mrs Elton, laughing, "we shall see."

 8077 Emma, finding her so determined upon neglecting her music,
 8078 had nothing more to say; and, after a moment's pause, Mrs Elton
 8079 chose another subject.

 8080 "We have been calling at Randalls," said she, "and found them
 8081 both at home; and very pleasant people they seem to be.
 8082 I like them extremely.  Mr Weston seems an excellent creature -- 
 8083 quite a first-rate favourite with me already, I assure you.
 8084 And _she_ appears so truly good -- there is something so motherly
 8085 and kind-hearted about her, that it wins upon one directly.
 8086 She was your governess, I think?"

 8087 Emma was almost too much astonished to answer; but Mrs Elton
 8088 hardly waited for the affirmative before she went on.

 8089 "Having understood as much, I was rather astonished to find her
 8090 so very lady-like!  But she is really quite the gentlewoman."

 8091 "Mrs Weston's manners," said Emma, "were always particularly good.
 8092 Their propriety, simplicity, and elegance, would make them the safest
 8093 model for any young woman."

 8094 "And who do you think came in while we were there?"

 8095 Emma was quite at a loss.  The tone implied some old acquaintance -- 
 8096 and how could she possibly guess?

 8097 "Knightley!" continued Mrs Elton; "Knightley himself! -- Was not
 8098 it lucky? -- for, not being within when he called the other day,
 8099 I had never seen him before; and of course, as so particular a
 8100 friend of Mr E.'s, I had a great curiosity.  `My friend Knightley'
 8101 had been so often mentioned, that I was really impatient to see him;
 8102 and I must do my caro sposo the justice to say that he need not
 8103 be ashamed of his friend.  Knightley is quite the gentleman.
 8104 I like him very much.  Decidedly, I think, a very gentleman-like man."

 8105 Happily, it was now time to be gone.  They were off; and Emma
 8106 could breathe.

 8107 "Insufferable woman!" was her immediate exclamation.  "Worse than I
 8108 had supposed.  Absolutely insufferable!  Knightley! -- I could not
 8109 have believed it.  Knightley! -- never seen him in her life before,
 8110 and call him Knightley! -- and discover that he is a gentleman!
 8111 A little upstart, vulgar being, with her Mr E., and her _caro_ _sposo_,
 8112 and her resources, and all her airs of pert pretension and
 8113 underbred finery.  Actually to discover that Mr Knightley is
 8114 a gentleman!  I doubt whether he will return the compliment,
 8115 and discover her to be a lady.  I could not have believed it!
 8116 And to propose that she and I should unite to form a musical club!
 8117 One would fancy we were bosom friends!  And Mrs Weston! -- 
 8118 Astonished that the person who had brought me up should be
 8119 a gentlewoman!  Worse and worse.  I never met with her equal.
 8120 Much beyond my hopes.  Harriet is disgraced by any comparison.
 8121 Oh! what would Frank Churchill say to her, if he were here?
 8122 How angry and how diverted he would be!  Ah! there I am -- 
 8123 thinking of him directly.  Always the first person to be thought of!
 8124 How I catch myself out!  Frank Churchill comes as regularly into
 8125 my mind!" -- 

 8126 All this ran so glibly through her thoughts, that by the time
 8127 her father had arranged himself, after the bustle of the Eltons'
 8128 departure, and was ready to speak, she was very tolerably capable
 8129 of attending.

 8130 "Well, my dear," he deliberately began, "considering we never saw
 8131 her before, she seems a very pretty sort of young lady; and I dare say
 8132 she was very much pleased with you.  She speaks a little too quick.
 8133 A little quickness of voice there is which rather hurts the ear.
 8134 But I believe I am nice; I do not like strange voices; and nobody speaks
 8135 like you and poor Miss Taylor.  However, she seems a very obliging,
 8136 pretty-behaved young lady, and no doubt will make him a very good wife.
 8137 Though I think he had better not have married.  I made the best
 8138 excuses I could for not having been able to wait on him and Mrs Elton
 8139 on this happy occasion; I said that I hoped I _should_ in the course
 8140 of the summer.  But I ought to have gone before.  Not to wait upon
 8141 a bride is very remiss.  Ah! it shews what a sad invalid I am!
 8142 But I do not like the corner into Vicarage Lane."

 8143 "I dare say your apologies were accepted, sir.  Mr Elton knows you."

 8144 "Yes:  but a young lady -- a bride -- I ought to have paid my respects
 8145 to her if possible.  It was being very deficient."

 8146 "But, my dear papa, you are no friend to matrimony; and therefore
 8147 why should you be so anxious to pay your respects to a _bride_?
 8148 It ought to be no recommendation to _you_.  It is encouraging people
 8149 to marry if you make so much of them."

 8150 "No, my dear, I never encouraged any body to marry, but I would
 8151 always wish to pay every proper attention to a lady -- and a bride,
 8152 especially, is never to be neglected.  More is avowedly due to _her_.
 8153 A bride, you know, my dear, is always the first in company,
 8154 let the others be who they may."

 8155 "Well, papa, if this is not encouragement to marry, I do not know
 8156 what is.  And I should never have expected you to be lending your
 8157 sanction to such vanity-baits for poor young ladies."

 8158 "My dear, you do not understand me.  This is a
 8159 matter of mere common politeness and good-breeding,
 8160 and has nothing to do with any encouragement to people to marry."

 8161 Emma had done.  Her father was growing nervous, and could not
 8162 understand _her_.  Her mind returned to Mrs Elton's offences,
 8163 and long, very long, did they occupy her.



 8164 CHAPTER XV


 8165 Emma was not required, by any subsequent discovery, to retract her ill
 8166 opinion of Mrs Elton.  Her observation had been pretty correct.
 8167 Such as Mrs Elton appeared to her on this second interview,
 8168 such she appeared whenever they met again, -- self-important, presuming,
 8169 familiar, ignorant, and ill-bred. She had a little beauty and a
 8170 little accomplishment, but so little judgment that she thought herself
 8171 coming with superior knowledge of the world, to enliven and improve
 8172 a country neighbourhood; and conceived Miss Hawkins to have held
 8173 such a place in society as Mrs Elton's consequence only could surpass.

 8174 There was no reason to suppose Mr Elton thought at all differently
 8175 from his wife.  He seemed not merely happy with her, but proud.
 8176 He had the air of congratulating himself on having brought such
 8177 a woman to Highbury, as not even Miss Woodhouse could equal;
 8178 and the greater part of her new acquaintance, disposed to commend,
 8179 or not in the habit of judging, following the lead of Miss Bates's
 8180 good-will, or taking it for granted that the bride must be as clever
 8181 and as agreeable as she professed herself, were very well satisfied;
 8182 so that Mrs Elton's praise passed from one mouth to another as it
 8183 ought to do, unimpeded by Miss Woodhouse, who readily continued her
 8184 first contribution and talked with a good grace of her being "very
 8185 pleasant and very elegantly dressed."

 8186 In one respect Mrs Elton grew even worse than she had appeared
 8187 at first.  Her feelings altered towards Emma. -- Offended, probably,
 8188 by the little encouragement which her proposals of intimacy met with,
 8189 she drew back in her turn and gradually became much more cold
 8190 and distant; and though the effect was agreeable, the ill-will
 8191 which produced it was necessarily increasing Emma's dislike.
 8192 Her manners, too -- and Mr Elton's, were unpleasant towards Harriet.
 8193 They were sneering and negligent.  Emma hoped it must rapidly work
 8194 Harriet's cure; but the sensations which could prompt such behaviour
 8195 sunk them both very much. -- It was not to be doubted that poor
 8196 Harriet's attachment had been an offering to conjugal unreserve,
 8197 and her own share in the story, under a colouring the least favourable
 8198 to her and the most soothing to him, had in all likelihood been
 8199 given also.  She was, of course, the object of their joint dislike. -- 
 8200 When they had nothing else to say, it must be always easy to begin
 8201 abusing Miss Woodhouse; and the enmity which they dared not shew
 8202 in open disrespect to her, found a broader vent in contemptuous
 8203 treatment of Harriet.

 8204 Mrs Elton took a great fancy to Jane Fairfax; and from the first.
 8205 Not merely when a state of warfare with one young lady might be
 8206 supposed to recommend the other, but from the very first; and she
 8207 was not satisfied with expressing a natural and reasonable admiration -- 
 8208 but without solicitation, or plea, or privilege, she must be wanting
 8209 to assist and befriend her. -- Before Emma had forfeited her confidence,
 8210 and about the third time of their meeting, she heard all Mrs Elton's
 8211 knight-errantry on the subject. -- 

 8212 "Jane Fairfax is absolutely charming, Miss Woodhouse. -- I quite
 8213 rave about Jane Fairfax. -- A sweet, interesting creature.  So mild
 8214 and ladylike -- and with such talents! -- I assure you I think she
 8215 has very extraordinary talents.  I do not scruple to say that she
 8216 plays extremely well.  I know enough of music to speak decidedly
 8217 on that point.  Oh! she is absolutely charming!  You will laugh at
 8218 my warmth -- but, upon my word, I talk of nothing but Jane Fairfax. -- 
 8219 And her situation is so calculated to affect one! -- Miss Woodhouse,
 8220 we must exert ourselves and endeavour to do something for her.
 8221 We must bring her forward.  Such talent as hers must not be suffered
 8222 to remain unknown. -- I dare say you have heard those charming lines of
 8223 the poet,

 8224         `Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
 8225           `And waste its fragrance on the desert air.'

 8226 We must not allow them to be verified in sweet Jane Fairfax."

 8227 "I cannot think there is any danger of it," was Emma's calm answer -- 
 8228 "and when you are better acquainted with Miss Fairfax's situation
 8229 and understand what her home has been, with Colonel and Mrs Campbell,
 8230 I have no idea that you will suppose her talents can be unknown."

 8231 "Oh! but dear Miss Woodhouse, she is now in such retirement,
 8232 such obscurity, so thrown away. -- Whatever advantages she may have
 8233 enjoyed with the Campbells are so palpably at an end!  And I think
 8234 she feels it.  I am sure she does.  She is very timid and silent.
 8235 One can see that she feels the want of encouragement.  I like her
 8236 the better for it.  I must confess it is a recommendation to me.
 8237 I am a great advocate for timidity -- and I am sure one does
 8238 not often meet with it. -- But in those who are at all inferior,
 8239 it is extremely prepossessing.  Oh!  I assure you, Jane Fairfax
 8240 is a very delightful character, and interests me more than I
 8241 can express."

 8242 "You appear to feel a great deal -- but I am not aware how you or any
 8243 of Miss Fairfax's acquaintance here, any of those who have known
 8244 her longer than yourself, can shew her any other attention than" -- 

 8245 "My dear Miss Woodhouse, a vast deal may be done by those who dare
 8246 to act.  You and I need not be afraid.  If _we_ set the example,
 8247 many will follow it as far as they can; though all have not
 8248 our situations.  _We_ have carriages to fetch and convey her home,
 8249 and _we_ live in a style which could not make the addition of
 8250 Jane Fairfax, at any time, the least inconvenient. -- I should be
 8251 extremely displeased if Wright were to send us up such a dinner,
 8252 as could make me regret having asked _more_ than Jane Fairfax
 8253 to partake of it.  I have no idea of that sort of thing.  It is
 8254 not likely that I _should_, considering what I have been used to.
 8255 My greatest danger, perhaps, in housekeeping, may be quite the
 8256 other way, in doing too much, and being too careless of expense.
 8257 Maple Grove will probably be my model more than it ought to be -- 
 8258 for we do not at all affect to equal my brother, Mr Suckling,
 8259 in income. -- However, my resolution is taken as to noticing Jane Fairfax. -- 
 8260 I shall certainly have her very often at my house, shall introduce
 8261 her wherever I can, shall have musical parties to draw out her talents,
 8262 and shall be constantly on the watch for an eligible situation.
 8263 My acquaintance is so very extensive, that I have little doubt
 8264 of hearing of something to suit her shortly. -- I shall introduce her,
 8265 of course, very particularly to my brother and sister when they come
 8266 to us.  I am sure they will like her extremely; and when she gets
 8267 a little acquainted with them, her fears will completely wear off,
 8268 for there really is nothing in the manners of either but what is
 8269 highly conciliating. -- I shall have her very often indeed while they
 8270 are with me, and I dare say we shall sometimes find a seat for her in
 8271 the barouche-landau in some of our exploring parties."

 8272 "Poor Jane Fairfax!" -- thought Emma. -- "You have not deserved this.
 8273 You may have done wrong with regard to Mr Dixon, but this is a
 8274 punishment beyond what you can have merited! -- The kindness and protection
 8275 of Mrs Elton! -- `Jane Fairfax and Jane Fairfax.'  Heavens!  Let me
 8276 not suppose that she dares go about, Emma Woodhouse-ing me! -- 
 8277 But upon my honour, there seems no limits to the licentiousness
 8278 of that woman's tongue!"

 8279 Emma had not to listen to such paradings again -- to any so exclusively
 8280 addressed to herself -- so disgustingly decorated with a "dear Miss
 8281 Woodhouse."  The change on Mrs Elton's side soon afterwards appeared,
 8282 and she was left in peace -- neither forced to be the very particular
 8283 friend of Mrs Elton, nor, under Mrs Elton's guidance, the very
 8284 active patroness of Jane Fairfax, and only sharing with others in a
 8285 general way, in knowing what was felt, what was meditated, what was done.

 8286 She looked on with some amusement. -- Miss Bates's gratitude for
 8287 Mrs Elton's attentions to Jane was in the first style of guileless
 8288 simplicity and warmth.  She was quite one of her worthies -- 
 8289 the most amiable, affable, delightful woman -- just as accomplished
 8290 and condescending as Mrs Elton meant to be considered.
 8291 Emma's only surprize was that Jane Fairfax should accept
 8292 those attentions and tolerate Mrs Elton as she seemed to do.
 8293 She heard of her walking with the Eltons, sitting with the Eltons,
 8294 spending a day with the Eltons!  This was astonishing! -- She could not
 8295 have believed it possible that the taste or the pride of Miss Fairfax
 8296 could endure such society and friendship as the Vicarage had to offer.

 8297 "She is a riddle, quite a riddle!" said she. -- "To chuse to remain
 8298 here month after month, under privations of every sort!  And now
 8299 to chuse the mortification of Mrs Elton's notice and the penury
 8300 of her conversation, rather than return to the superior companions
 8301 who have always loved her with such real, generous affection."

 8302 Jane had come to Highbury professedly for three months; the Campbells
 8303 were gone to Ireland for three months; but now the Campbells
 8304 had promised their daughter to stay at least till Midsummer,
 8305 and fresh invitations had arrived for her to join them there.
 8306 According to Miss Bates -- it all came from her -- Mrs Dixon had
 8307 written most pressingly.  Would Jane but go, means were to be found,
 8308 servants sent, friends contrived -- no travelling difficulty allowed
 8309 to exist; but still she had declined it!

 8310 "She must have some motive, more powerful than appears, for refusing
 8311 this invitation," was Emma's conclusion.  "She must be under some
 8312 sort of penance, inflicted either by the Campbells or herself.
 8313 There is great fear, great caution, great resolution somewhere. -- 
 8314 She is _not_ to be with the _Dixons_.  The decree is issued by somebody.
 8315 But why must she consent to be with the Eltons? -- Here is quite a
 8316 separate puzzle."

 8317 Upon her speaking her wonder aloud on that part of the subject,
 8318 before the few who knew her opinion of Mrs Elton, Mrs Weston
 8319 ventured this apology for Jane.

 8320 "We cannot suppose that she has any great enjoyment at the Vicarage,
 8321 my dear Emma -- but it is better than being always at home.
 8322 Her aunt is a good creature, but, as a constant companion,
 8323 must be very tiresome.  We must consider what Miss Fairfax quits,
 8324 before we condemn her taste for what she goes to."

 8325 "You are right, Mrs Weston," said Mr Knightley warmly, "Miss Fairfax
 8326 is as capable as any of us of forming a just opinion of Mrs Elton.
 8327 Could she have chosen with whom to associate, she would not have
 8328 chosen her.  But (with a reproachful smile at Emma) she receives
 8329 attentions from Mrs Elton, which nobody else pays her."

 8330 Emma felt that Mrs Weston was giving her a momentary glance;
 8331 and she was herself struck by his warmth.  With a faint blush,
 8332 she presently replied,

 8333 "Such attentions as Mrs Elton's, I should have imagined,
 8334 would rather disgust than gratify Miss Fairfax.  Mrs Elton's
 8335 invitations I should have imagined any thing but inviting."

 8336 "I should not wonder," said Mrs Weston, "if Miss Fairfax were to have
 8337 been drawn on beyond her own inclination, by her aunt's eagerness
 8338 in accepting Mrs Elton's civilities for her.  Poor Miss Bates may
 8339 very likely have committed her niece and hurried her into a greater
 8340 appearance of intimacy than her own good sense would have dictated,
 8341 in spite of the very natural wish of a little change."

 8342 Both felt rather anxious to hear him speak again; and after a few
 8343 minutes silence, he said,

 8344 "Another thing must be taken into consideration too -- Mrs Elton
 8345 does not talk _to_ Miss Fairfax as she speaks _of_ her.  We all know
 8346 the difference between the pronouns he or she and thou, the plainest
 8347 spoken amongst us; we all feel the influence of a something beyond
 8348 common civility in our personal intercourse with each other -- 
 8349 a something more early implanted.  We cannot give any body the
 8350 disagreeable hints that we may have been very full of the hour before.
 8351 We feel things differently.  And besides the operation of this,
 8352 as a general principle, you may be sure that Miss Fairfax awes
 8353 Mrs Elton by her superiority both of mind and manner; and that,
 8354 face to face, Mrs Elton treats her with all the respect which she
 8355 has a claim to.  Such a woman as Jane Fairfax probably never fell
 8356 in Mrs Elton's way before -- and no degree of vanity can prevent
 8357 her acknowledging her own comparative littleness in action, if not
 8358 in consciousness."

 8359 "I know how highly you think of Jane Fairfax," said Emma.
 8360 Little Henry was in her thoughts, and a mixture of alarm and delicacy
 8361 made her irresolute what else to say.

 8362 "Yes," he replied, "any body may know how highly I think of her."

 8363 "And yet," said Emma, beginning hastily and with an arch look,
 8364 but soon stopping -- it was better, however, to know the worst at once -- 
 8365 she hurried on -- "And yet, perhaps, you may hardly be aware yourself
 8366 how highly it is.  The extent of your admiration may take you by
 8367 surprize some day or other."

 8368 Mr Knightley was hard at work upon the lower buttons of his thick
 8369 leather gaiters, and either the exertion of getting them together,
 8370 or some other cause, brought the colour into his face, as he answered,

 8371 "Oh! are you there? -- But you are miserably behindhand.  Mr Cole
 8372 gave me a hint of it six weeks ago."

 8373 He stopped. -- Emma felt her foot pressed by Mrs Weston, and did
 8374 not herself know what to think.  In a moment he went on -- 

 8375 "That will never be, however, I can assure you.  Miss Fairfax,
 8376 I dare say, would not have me if I were to ask her -- and I am very
 8377 sure I shall never ask her."

 8378 Emma returned her friend's pressure with interest; and was pleased
 8379 enough to exclaim,

 8380 "You are not vain, Mr Knightley.  I will say that for you."

 8381 He seemed hardly to hear her; he was thoughtful -- and in a manner
 8382 which shewed him not pleased, soon afterwards said,

 8383 "So you have been settling that I should marry Jane Fairfax?"

 8384 "No indeed I have not.  You have scolded me too much for match-making,
 8385 for me to presume to take such a liberty with you.  What I said
 8386 just now, meant nothing.  One says those sort of things, of course,
 8387 without any idea of a serious meaning.  Oh! no, upon my word I have not
 8388 the smallest wish for your marrying Jane Fairfax or Jane any body.
 8389 You would not come in and sit with us in this comfortable way,
 8390 if you were married."

 8391 Mr Knightley was thoughtful again.  The result of his reverie was,
 8392 "No, Emma, I do not think the extent of my admiration for her will
 8393 ever take me by surprize. -- I never had a thought of her in that way,
 8394 I assure you."  And soon afterwards, "Jane Fairfax is a very charming
 8395 young woman -- but not even Jane Fairfax is perfect.  She has a fault.
 8396 She has not the open temper which a man would wish for in a wife."

 8397 Emma could not but rejoice to hear that she had a fault.
 8398 "Well," said she, "and you soon silenced Mr Cole, I suppose?"

 8399 "Yes, very soon.  He gave me a quiet hint; I told him he was mistaken;
 8400 he asked my pardon and said no more.  Cole does not want to be wiser
 8401 or wittier than his neighbours."

 8402 "In that respect how unlike dear Mrs Elton, who wants to be wiser
 8403 and wittier than all the world!  I wonder how she speaks of the Coles -- 
 8404 what she calls them!  How can she find any appellation for them,
 8405 deep enough in familiar vulgarity?  She calls you, Knightley -- what can
 8406 she do for Mr Cole?  And so I am not to be surprized that Jane
 8407 Fairfax accepts her civilities and consents to be with her.
 8408 Mrs Weston, your argument weighs most with me.  I can much more
 8409 readily enter into the temptation of getting away from Miss Bates,
 8410 than I can believe in the triumph of Miss Fairfax's mind over
 8411 Mrs Elton.  I have no faith in Mrs Elton's acknowledging herself
 8412 the inferior in thought, word, or deed; or in her being under any
 8413 restraint beyond her own scanty rule of good-breeding. I cannot
 8414 imagine that she will not be continually insulting her visitor
 8415 with praise, encouragement, and offers of service; that she will not be
 8416 continually detailing her magnificent intentions, from the procuring
 8417 her a permanent situation to the including her in those delightful
 8418 exploring parties which are to take place in the barouche-landau."

 8419 "Jane Fairfax has feeling," said Mr Knightley -- "I do not
 8420 accuse her of want of feeling.  Her sensibilities, I suspect,
 8421 are strong -- and her temper excellent in its power of forbearance,
 8422 patience, self-controul; but it wants openness.  She is reserved,
 8423 more reserved, I think, than she used to be -- And I love an
 8424 open temper.  No -- till Cole alluded to my supposed attachment,
 8425 it had never entered my head.  I saw Jane Fairfax and conversed with
 8426 her, with admiration and pleasure always -- but with no thought beyond."

 8427 "Well, Mrs Weston," said Emma triumphantly when he left them,
 8428 "what do you say now to Mr Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax?"

 8429 "Why, really, dear Emma, I say that he is so very much occupied
 8430 by the idea of _not_ being in love with her, that I should not wonder
 8431 if it were to end in his being so at last.  Do not beat me."



 8432 CHAPTER XVI


 8433 Every body in and about Highbury who had ever visited Mr Elton,
 8434 was disposed to pay him attention on his marriage.  Dinner-parties and
 8435 evening-parties were made for him and his lady; and invitations
 8436 flowed in so fast that she had soon the pleasure of apprehending
 8437 they were never to have a disengaged day.

 8438 "I see how it is," said she.  "I see what a life I am to lead
 8439 among you.  Upon my word we shall be absolutely dissipated.
 8440 We really seem quite the fashion.  If this is living in the country,
 8441 it is nothing very formidable.  From Monday next to Saturday,
 8442 I assure you we have not a disengaged day! -- A woman with fewer
 8443 resources than I have, need not have been at a loss."

 8444 No invitation came amiss to her.  Her Bath habits made evening-parties
 8445 perfectly natural to her, and Maple Grove had given her a taste
 8446 for dinners.  She was a little shocked at the want of two
 8447 drawing rooms, at the poor attempt at rout-cakes, and there being
 8448 no ice in the Highbury card-parties. Mrs Bates, Mrs Perry,
 8449 Mrs Goddard and others, were a good deal behind-hand in knowledge
 8450 of the world, but she would soon shew them how every thing ought
 8451 to be arranged.  In the course of the spring she must return their
 8452 civilities by one very superior party -- in which her card-tables
 8453 should be set out with their separate candles and unbroken packs
 8454 in the true style -- and more waiters engaged for the evening
 8455 than their own establishment could furnish, to carry round
 8456 the refreshments at exactly the proper hour, and in the proper order.

 8457 Emma, in the meanwhile, could not be satisfied without a dinner
 8458 at Hartfield for the Eltons.  They must not do less than others,
 8459 or she should be exposed to odious suspicions, and imagined capable
 8460 of pitiful resentment.  A dinner there must be.  After Emma had
 8461 talked about it for ten minutes, Mr Woodhouse felt no unwillingness,
 8462 and only made the usual stipulation of not sitting at the bottom
 8463 of the table himself, with the usual regular difficulty of deciding
 8464 who should do it for him.

 8465 The persons to be invited, required little thought.  Besides the Eltons,
 8466 it must be the Westons and Mr Knightley; so far it was all of course -- 
 8467 and it was hardly less inevitable that poor little Harriet must
 8468 be asked to make the eighth: -- but this invitation was not given
 8469 with equal satisfaction, and on many accounts Emma was particularly
 8470 pleased by Harriet's begging to be allowed to decline it.
 8471 "She would rather not be in his company more than she could help.
 8472 She was not yet quite able to see him and his charming happy
 8473 wife together, without feeling uncomfortable.  If Miss Woodhouse
 8474 would not be displeased, she would rather stay at home."
 8475 It was precisely what Emma would have wished, had she deemed it
 8476 possible enough for wishing.  She was delighted with the fortitude
 8477 of her little friend -- for fortitude she knew it was in her to give
 8478 up being in company and stay at home; and she could now invite the
 8479 very person whom she really wanted to make the eighth, Jane Fairfax. -- 
 8480 Since her last conversation with Mrs Weston and Mr Knightley,
 8481 she was more conscience-stricken about Jane Fairfax than she had
 8482 often been. -- Mr Knightley's words dwelt with her.  He had said
 8483 that Jane Fairfax received attentions from Mrs Elton which nobody
 8484 else paid her.

 8485 "This is very true," said she, "at least as far as relates to me,
 8486 which was all that was meant -- and it is very shameful. -- Of the same age -- 
 8487 and always knowing her -- I ought to have been more her friend. -- 
 8488 She will never like me now.  I have neglected her too long.  But I
 8489 will shew her greater attention than I have done."

 8490 Every invitation was successful.  They were all disengaged and all happy. -- 
 8491 The preparatory interest of this dinner, however, was not yet over.
 8492 A circumstance rather unlucky occurred.  The two eldest little
 8493 Knightleys were engaged to pay their grandpapa and aunt a visit of
 8494 some weeks in the spring, and their papa now proposed bringing them,
 8495 and staying one whole day at Hartfield -- which one day would be
 8496 the very day of this party. -- His professional engagements did
 8497 not allow of his being put off, but both father and daughter were
 8498 disturbed by its happening so.  Mr Woodhouse considered eight
 8499 persons at dinner together as the utmost that his nerves could bear -- 
 8500 and here would be a ninth -- and Emma apprehended that it would
 8501 be a ninth very much out of humour at not being able to come even
 8502 to Hartfield for forty-eight hours without falling in with a dinner-party.

 8503 She comforted her father better than she could comfort herself,
 8504 by representing that though he certainly would make them nine,
 8505 yet he always said so little, that the increase of noise would be
 8506 very immaterial.  She thought it in reality a sad exchange for herself,
 8507 to have him with his grave looks and reluctant conversation opposed
 8508 to her instead of his brother.

 8509 The event was more favourable to Mr Woodhouse than to Emma.
 8510 John Knightley came; but Mr Weston was unexpectedly summoned to town
 8511 and must be absent on the very day.  He might be able to join them
 8512 in the evening, but certainly not to dinner.  Mr Woodhouse was quite
 8513 at ease; and the seeing him so, with the arrival of the little boys
 8514 and the philosophic composure of her brother on hearing his fate,
 8515 removed the chief of even Emma's vexation.

 8516 The day came, the party were punctually assembled, and Mr John Knightley
 8517 seemed early to devote himself to the business of being agreeable.
 8518 Instead of drawing his brother off to a window while they waited
 8519 for dinner, he was talking to Miss Fairfax.  Mrs Elton, as elegant
 8520 as lace and pearls could make her, he looked at in silence -- 
 8521 wanting only to observe enough for Isabella's information -- but Miss
 8522 Fairfax was an old acquaintance and a quiet girl, and he could
 8523 talk to her.  He had met her before breakfast as he was returning
 8524 from a walk with his little boys, when it had been just beginning
 8525 to rain.  It was natural to have some civil hopes on the subject,
 8526 and he said,

 8527 "I hope you did not venture far, Miss Fairfax, this morning, or I
 8528 am sure you must have been wet. -- We scarcely got home in time.
 8529 I hope you turned directly."

 8530 "I went only to the post-office," said she, "and reached home
 8531 before the rain was much.  It is my daily errand.  I always fetch
 8532 the letters when I am here.  It saves trouble, and is a something
 8533 to get me out.  A walk before breakfast does me good."

 8534 "Not a walk in the rain, I should imagine."

 8535 "No, but it did not absolutely rain when I set out."

 8536 Mr John Knightley smiled, and replied,

 8537 "That is to say, you chose to have your walk, for you were not six
 8538 yards from your own door when I had the pleasure of meeting you;
 8539 and Henry and John had seen more drops than they could count long before.
 8540 The post-office has a great charm at one period of our lives.
 8541 When you have lived to my age, you will begin to think letters are
 8542 never worth going through the rain for."

 8543 There was a little blush, and then this answer,

 8544 "I must not hope to be ever situated as you are, in the midst of
 8545 every dearest connexion, and therefore I cannot expect that simply
 8546 growing older should make me indifferent about letters."

 8547 "Indifferent!  Oh! no -- I never conceived you could become indifferent.
 8548 Letters are no matter of indifference; they are generally a very
 8549 positive curse."

 8550 "You are speaking of letters of business; mine are letters
 8551 of friendship."

 8552 "I have often thought them the worst of the two," replied he coolly.
 8553 "Business, you know, may bring money, but friendship hardly
 8554 ever does."

 8555 "Ah! you are not serious now.  I know Mr John Knightley too well -- 
 8556 I am very sure he understands the value of friendship as well as
 8557 any body.  I can easily believe that letters are very little to you,
 8558 much less than to me, but it is not your being ten years older than
 8559 myself which makes the difference, it is not age, but situation.
 8560 You have every body dearest to you always at hand, I, probably,
 8561 never shall again; and therefore till I have outlived all my affections,
 8562 a post-office, I think, must always have power to draw me out,
 8563 in worse weather than to-day."

 8564 "When I talked of your being altered by time, by the progress of years,"
 8565 said John Knightley, "I meant to imply the change of situation
 8566 which time usually brings.  I consider one as including the other.
 8567 Time will generally lessen the interest of every attachment not within
 8568 the daily circle -- but that is not the change I had in view for you.
 8569 As an old friend, you will allow me to hope, Miss Fairfax, that ten
 8570 years hence you may have as many concentrated objects as I have."

 8571 It was kindly said, and very far from giving offence.  A pleasant
 8572 "thank you" seemed meant to laugh it off, but a blush, a quivering lip,
 8573 a tear in the eye, shewed that it was felt beyond a laugh.
 8574 Her attention was now claimed by Mr Woodhouse, who being,
 8575 according to his custom on such occasions, making the circle of
 8576 his guests, and paying his particular compliments to the ladies,
 8577 was ending with her -- and with all his mildest urbanity, said,

 8578 "I am very sorry to hear, Miss Fairfax, of your being out this
 8579 morning in the rain.  Young ladies should take care of themselves. -- 
 8580 Young ladies are delicate plants.  They should take care of their
 8581 health and their complexion.  My dear, did you change your stockings?"

 8582 "Yes, sir, I did indeed; and I am very much obliged by your kind
 8583 solicitude about me."

 8584 "My dear Miss Fairfax, young ladies are very sure to be cared for. -- 
 8585 I hope your good grand-mama and aunt are well.  They are some
 8586 of my very old friends.  I wish my health allowed me to be a
 8587 better neighbour.  You do us a great deal of honour to-day, I am sure.
 8588 My daughter and I are both highly sensible of your goodness,
 8589 and have the greatest satisfaction in seeing you at Hartfield."

 8590 The kind-hearted, polite old man might then sit down and feel
 8591 that he had done his duty, and made every fair lady welcome and easy.

 8592 By this time, the walk in the rain had reached Mrs Elton,
 8593 and her remonstrances now opened upon Jane.

 8594 "My dear Jane, what is this I hear? -- Going to the post-office
 8595 in the rain! -- This must not be, I assure you. -- You sad girl,
 8596 how could you do such a thing? -- It is a sign I was not there
 8597 to take care of you."

 8598 Jane very patiently assured her that she had not caught any cold.

 8599 "Oh! do not tell _me_.  You really are a very sad girl, and do not
 8600 know how to take care of yourself. -- To the post-office indeed!
 8601 Mrs Weston, did you ever hear the like?  You and I must positively
 8602 exert our authority."

 8603 "My advice," said Mrs Weston kindly and persuasively, "I certainly
 8604 do feel tempted to give.  Miss Fairfax, you must not run such risks. -- 
 8605 Liable as you have been to severe colds, indeed you ought
 8606 to be particularly careful, especially at this time of year.
 8607 The spring I always think requires more than common care.
 8608 Better wait an hour or two, or even half a day for your letters,
 8609 than run the risk of bringing on your cough again.  Now do not you
 8610 feel that you had?  Yes, I am sure you are much too reasonable.
 8611 You look as if you would not do such a thing again."

 8612 "Oh! she _shall_ _not_ do such a thing again," eagerly rejoined
 8613 Mrs Elton.  "We will not allow her to do such a thing again:" -- 
 8614 and nodding significantly -- "there must be some arrangement made,
 8615 there must indeed.  I shall speak to Mr E. The man who fetches
 8616 our letters every morning (one of our men, I forget his name)
 8617 shall inquire for yours too and bring them to you.  That will obviate
 8618 all difficulties you know; and from _us_ I really think, my dear Jane,
 8619 you can have no scruple to accept such an accommodation."

 8620 "You are extremely kind," said Jane; "but I cannot give up my
 8621 early walk.  I am advised to be out of doors as much as I can,
 8622 I must walk somewhere, and the post-office is an object; and upon
 8623 my word, I have scarcely ever had a bad morning before."

 8624 "My dear Jane, say no more about it.  The thing is determined,
 8625 that is (laughing affectedly) as far as I can presume to determine
 8626 any thing without the concurrence of my lord and master.  You know,
 8627 Mrs Weston, you and I must be cautious how we express ourselves.
 8628 But I do flatter myself, my dear Jane, that my influence is not entirely
 8629 worn out.  If I meet with no insuperable difficulties therefore,
 8630 consider that point as settled."

 8631 "Excuse me," said Jane earnestly, "I cannot by any means consent
 8632 to such an arrangement, so needlessly troublesome to your servant.
 8633 If the errand were not a pleasure to me, it could be done, as it
 8634 always is when I am not here, by my grandmama's."

 8635 "Oh! my dear; but so much as Patty has to do! -- And it is a kindness
 8636 to employ our men."

 8637 Jane looked as if she did not mean to be conquered; but instead
 8638 of answering, she began speaking again to Mr John Knightley.

 8639 "The post-office is a wonderful establishment!" said she. -- 
 8640 "The regularity and despatch of it!  If one thinks of all that it
 8641 has to do, and all that it does so well, it is really astonishing!"

 8642 "It is certainly very well regulated."

 8643 "So seldom that any negligence or blunder appears!  So seldom
 8644 that a letter, among the thousands that are constantly passing
 8645 about the kingdom, is even carried wrong -- and not one in a million,
 8646 I suppose, actually lost!  And when one considers the variety
 8647 of hands, and of bad hands too, that are to be deciphered,
 8648 it increases the wonder."

 8649 "The clerks grow expert from habit. -- They must begin with some
 8650 quickness of sight and hand, and exercise improves them.  If you
 8651 want any farther explanation," continued he, smiling, "they are
 8652 paid for it.  That is the key to a great deal of capacity.
 8653 The public pays and must be served well."

 8654 The varieties of handwriting were farther talked of, and the usual
 8655 observations made.

 8656 "I have heard it asserted," said John Knightley, "that the same
 8657 sort of handwriting often prevails in a family; and where the
 8658 same master teaches, it is natural enough.  But for that reason,
 8659 I should imagine the likeness must be chiefly confined to the females,
 8660 for boys have very little teaching after an early age, and scramble
 8661 into any hand they can get.  Isabella and Emma, I think, do write
 8662 very much alike.  I have not always known their writing apart."

 8663 "Yes," said his brother hesitatingly, "there is a likeness.
 8664 I know what you mean -- but Emma's hand is the strongest."

 8665 "Isabella and Emma both write beautifully," said Mr Woodhouse;
 8666 "and always did.  And so does poor Mrs Weston" -- with half a sigh
 8667 and half a smile at her.

 8668 "I never saw any gentleman's handwriting" -- Emma began, looking also
 8669 at Mrs Weston; but stopped, on perceiving that Mrs Weston was
 8670 attending to some one else -- and the pause gave her time to reflect,
 8671 "Now, how am I going to introduce him? -- Am I unequal to speaking
 8672 his name at once before all these people?  Is it necessary
 8673 for me to use any roundabout phrase? -- Your Yorkshire friend -- 
 8674 your correspondent in Yorkshire; -- that would be the way, I suppose,
 8675 if I were very bad. -- No, I can pronounce his name without the
 8676 smallest distress.  I certainly get better and better. -- Now for it."

 8677 Mrs Weston was disengaged and Emma began again -- "Mr Frank Churchill
 8678 writes one of the best gentleman's hands I ever saw."

 8679 "I do not admire it," said Mr Knightley.  "It is too small -- 
 8680 wants strength.  It is like a woman's writing."

 8681 This was not submitted to by either lady.  They vindicated him
 8682 against the base aspersion.  "No, it by no means wanted strength -- 
 8683 it was not a large hand, but very clear and certainly strong.
 8684 Had not Mrs Weston any letter about her to produce?"  No, she had
 8685 heard from him very lately, but having answered the letter, had put
 8686 it away.

 8687 "If we were in the other room," said Emma, "if I had my writing-desk,
 8688 I am sure I could produce a specimen.  I have a note of his. -- 
 8689 Do not you remember, Mrs Weston, employing him to write for you
 8690 one day?"

 8691 "He chose to say he was employed" -- 

 8692 "Well, well, I have that note; and can shew it after dinner
 8693 to convince Mr Knightley."

 8694 "Oh! when a gallant young man, like Mr Frank Churchill,"
 8695 said Mr Knightley dryly, "writes to a fair lady like Miss Woodhouse,
 8696 he will, of course, put forth his best."

 8697 Dinner was on table. -- Mrs Elton, before she could be spoken to,
 8698 was ready; and before Mr Woodhouse had reached her with his request
 8699 to be allowed to hand her into the dining-parlour, was saying -- 

 8700 "Must I go first?  I really am ashamed of always leading the way."

 8701 Jane's solicitude about fetching her own letters had not escaped Emma.
 8702 She had heard and seen it all; and felt some curiosity to know
 8703 whether the wet walk of this morning had produced any.  She suspected
 8704 that it _had_; that it would not have been so resolutely encountered
 8705 but in full expectation of hearing from some one very dear,
 8706 and that it had not been in vain.  She thought there was an air
 8707 of greater happiness than usual -- a glow both of complexion and spirits.

 8708 She could have made an inquiry or two, as to the expedition
 8709 and the expense of the Irish mails; -- it was at her tongue's end -- 
 8710 but she abstained.  She was quite determined not to utter a word
 8711 that should hurt Jane Fairfax's feelings; and they followed
 8712 the other ladies out of the room, arm in arm, with an appearance
 8713 of good-will highly becoming to the beauty and grace of each.



 8714 CHAPTER XVII


 8715 When the ladies returned to the drawing-room after dinner, Emma found
 8716 it hardly possible to prevent their making two distinct parties; -- 
 8717 with so much perseverance in judging and behaving ill did Mrs Elton
 8718 engross Jane Fairfax and slight herself.  She and Mrs Weston were
 8719 obliged to be almost always either talking together or silent together.
 8720 Mrs Elton left them no choice.  If Jane repressed her for a
 8721 little time, she soon began again; and though much that passed
 8722 between them was in a half-whisper, especially on Mrs Elton's side,
 8723 there was no avoiding a knowledge of their principal subjects:
 8724 The post-office -- catching cold -- fetching letters -- and friendship,
 8725 were long under discussion; and to them succeeded one, which must
 8726 be at least equally unpleasant to Jane -- inquiries whether she had
 8727 yet heard of any situation likely to suit her, and professions of
 8728 Mrs Elton's meditated activity.

 8729 "Here is April come!" said she, "I get quite anxious about you.
 8730 June will soon be here."

 8731 "But I have never fixed on June or any other month -- merely looked
 8732 forward to the summer in general."

 8733 "But have you really heard of nothing?"

 8734 "I have not even made any inquiry; I do not wish to make any yet."

 8735 "Oh! my dear, we cannot begin too early; you are not aware
 8736 of the difficulty of procuring exactly the desirable thing."

 8737 "I not aware!" said Jane, shaking her head; "dear Mrs Elton,
 8738 who can have thought of it as I have done?"

 8739 "But you have not seen so much of the world as I have.  You do not
 8740 know how many candidates there always are for the _first_ situations.
 8741 I saw a vast deal of that in the neighbourhood round Maple Grove.
 8742 A cousin of Mr Suckling, Mrs Bragge, had such an infinity
 8743 of applications; every body was anxious to be in her family,
 8744 for she moves in the first circle.  Wax-candles in the schoolroom!
 8745 You may imagine how desirable!  Of all houses in the kingdom
 8746 Mrs Bragge's is the one I would most wish to see you in."

 8747 "Colonel and Mrs Campbell are to be in town again by midsummer,"
 8748 said Jane.  "I must spend some time with them; I am sure they will
 8749 want it; -- afterwards I may probably be glad to dispose of myself.
 8750 But I would not wish you to take the trouble of making any inquiries
 8751 at present."

 8752 "Trouble! aye, I know your scruples.  You are afraid of giving
 8753 me trouble; but I assure you, my dear Jane, the Campbells can
 8754 hardly be more interested about you than I am.  I shall write
 8755 to Mrs Partridge in a day or two, and shall give her a strict
 8756 charge to be on the look-out for any thing eligible."

 8757 "Thank you, but I would rather you did not mention the subject
 8758 to her; till the time draws nearer, I do not wish to be giving
 8759 any body trouble."

 8760 "But, my dear child, the time is drawing near; here is April,
 8761 and June, or say even July, is very near, with such business
 8762 to accomplish before us.  Your inexperience really amuses me!
 8763 A situation such as you deserve, and your friends would require for you,
 8764 is no everyday occurrence, is not obtained at a moment's notice;
 8765 indeed, indeed, we must begin inquiring directly."

 8766 "Excuse me, ma'am, but this is by no means my intention; I make no
 8767 inquiry myself, and should be sorry to have any made by my friends.
 8768 When I am quite determined as to the time, I am not at all afraid
 8769 of being long unemployed.  There are places in town, offices,
 8770 where inquiry would soon produce something -- Offices for the sale -- 
 8771 not quite of human flesh -- but of human intellect."

 8772 "Oh! my dear, human flesh!  You quite shock me; if you mean a fling
 8773 at the slave-trade, I assure you Mr Suckling was always rather
 8774 a friend to the abolition."

 8775 "I did not mean, I was not thinking of the slave-trade," replied Jane;
 8776 "governess-trade, I assure you, was all that I had in view;
 8777 widely different certainly as to the guilt of those who carry it on;
 8778 but as to the greater misery of the victims, I do not know where
 8779 it lies.  But I only mean to say that there are advertising offices,
 8780 and that by applying to them I should have no doubt of very soon
 8781 meeting with something that would do."

 8782 "Something that would do!" repeated Mrs Elton.  "Aye, _that_ may
 8783 suit your humble ideas of yourself; -- I know what a modest creature
 8784 you are; but it will not satisfy your friends to have you taking up
 8785 with any thing that may offer, any inferior, commonplace situation,
 8786 in a family not moving in a certain circle, or able to command
 8787 the elegancies of life."

 8788 "You are very obliging; but as to all that, I am very indifferent;
 8789 it would be no object to me to be with the rich; my mortifications,
 8790 I think, would only be the greater; I should suffer more from comparison.
 8791 A gentleman's family is all that I should condition for."

 8792 "I know you, I know you; you would take up with any thing; but I
 8793 shall be a little more nice, and I am sure the good Campbells will
 8794 be quite on my side; with your superior talents, you have a right
 8795 to move in the first circle.  Your musical knowledge alone would
 8796 entitle you to name your own terms, have as many rooms as you like,
 8797 and mix in the family as much as you chose; -- that is -- I do not know -- 
 8798 if you knew the harp, you might do all that, I am very sure;
 8799 but you sing as well as play; -- yes, I really believe you might,
 8800 even without the harp, stipulate for what you chose; -- and you must
 8801 and shall be delightfully, honourably and comfortably settled before
 8802 the Campbells or I have any rest."

 8803 "You may well class the delight, the honour, and the comfort
 8804 of such a situation together," said Jane, "they are pretty sure
 8805 to be equal; however, I am very serious in not wishing any thing
 8806 to be attempted at present for me.  I am exceedingly obliged to you,
 8807 Mrs Elton, I am obliged to any body who feels for me, but I am
 8808 quite serious in wishing nothing to be done till the summer.
 8809 For two or three months longer I shall remain where I am, and as
 8810 I am."

 8811 "And I am quite serious too, I assure you," replied Mrs Elton gaily,
 8812 "in resolving to be always on the watch, and employing my friends
 8813 to watch also, that nothing really unexceptionable may pass us."

 8814 In this style she ran on; never thoroughly stopped by any thing
 8815 till Mr Woodhouse came into the room; her vanity had then a change
 8816 of object, and Emma heard her saying in the same half-whisper to Jane,

 8817 "Here comes this dear old beau of mine, I protest! -- Only think of his
 8818 gallantry in coming away before the other men! -- what a dear creature
 8819 he is; -- I assure you I like him excessively.  I admire all that quaint,
 8820 old-fashioned politeness; it is much more to my taste than modern ease;
 8821 modern ease often disgusts me.  But this good old Mr Woodhouse,
 8822 I wish you had heard his gallant speeches to me at dinner.  Oh!  I assure
 8823 you I began to think my caro sposo would be absolutely jealous.
 8824 I fancy I am rather a favourite; he took notice of my gown.
 8825 How do you like it? -- Selina's choice -- handsome, I think, but I
 8826 do not know whether it is not over-trimmed; I have the greatest
 8827 dislike to the idea of being over-trimmed -- quite a horror of finery.
 8828 I must put on a few ornaments now, because it is expected of me.
 8829 A bride, you know, must appear like a bride, but my natural taste
 8830 is all for simplicity; a simple style of dress is so infinitely
 8831 preferable to finery.  But I am quite in the minority, I believe;
 8832 few people seem to value simplicity of dress, -- show and finery
 8833 are every thing.  I have some notion of putting such a trimming
 8834 as this to my white and silver poplin.  Do you think it will
 8835 look well?"

 8836 The whole party were but just reassembled in the drawing-room
 8837 when Mr Weston made his appearance among them.  He had returned
 8838 to a late dinner, and walked to Hartfield as soon as it was over.
 8839 He had been too much expected by the best judges, for surprize -- 
 8840 but there was great joy.  Mr Woodhouse was almost as glad to see
 8841 him now, as he would have been sorry to see him before.  John Knightley
 8842 only was in mute astonishment. -- That a man who might have spent
 8843 his evening quietly at home after a day of business in London,
 8844 should set off again, and walk half a mile to another man's house,
 8845 for the sake of being in mixed company till bed-time, of finishing
 8846 his day in the efforts of civility and the noise of numbers,
 8847 was a circumstance to strike him deeply.  A man who had been in motion
 8848 since eight o'clock in the morning, and might now have been still,
 8849 who had been long talking, and might have been silent, who had been
 8850 in more than one crowd, and might have been alone! -- Such a man,
 8851 to quit the tranquillity and independence of his own fireside,
 8852 and on the evening of a cold sleety April day rush out again into
 8853 the world! -- Could he by a touch of his finger have instantly taken
 8854 back his wife, there would have been a motive; but his coming would
 8855 probably prolong rather than break up the party.  John Knightley
 8856 looked at him with amazement, then shrugged his shoulders, and said,
 8857 "I could not have believed it even of _him_."

 8858 Mr Weston meanwhile, perfectly unsuspicious of the indignation
 8859 he was exciting, happy and cheerful as usual, and with all
 8860 the right of being principal talker, which a day spent anywhere
 8861 from home confers, was making himself agreeable among the rest;
 8862 and having satisfied the inquiries of his wife as to his dinner,
 8863 convincing her that none of all her careful directions to the servants
 8864 had been forgotten, and spread abroad what public news he had heard,
 8865 was proceeding to a family communication, which, though principally
 8866 addressed to Mrs Weston, he had not the smallest doubt of being
 8867 highly interesting to every body in the room.  He gave her a letter,
 8868 it was from Frank, and to herself; he had met with it in his way,
 8869 and had taken the liberty of opening it.

 8870 "Read it, read it," said he, "it will give you pleasure;
 8871 only a few lines -- will not take you long; read it to Emma."

 8872 The two ladies looked over it together; and he sat smiling
 8873 and talking to them the whole time, in a voice a little subdued,
 8874 but very audible to every body.

 8875 "Well, he is coming, you see; good news, I think.  Well, what do
 8876 you say to it? -- I always told you he would be here again soon,
 8877 did not I? -- Anne, my dear, did not I always tell you so, and you would
 8878 not believe me? -- In town next week, you see -- at the latest, I dare say;
 8879 for _she_ is as impatient as the black gentleman when any thing is
 8880 to be done; most likely they will be there to-morrow or Saturday.
 8881 As to her illness, all nothing of course.  But it is an excellent
 8882 thing to have Frank among us again, so near as town.  They will stay
 8883 a good while when they do come, and he will be half his time with us.
 8884 This is precisely what I wanted.  Well, pretty good news, is not it?
 8885 Have you finished it?  Has Emma read it all?  Put it up, put it up;
 8886 we will have a good talk about it some other time, but it will not
 8887 do now.  I shall only just mention the circumstance to the others in a
 8888 common way."

 8889 Mrs Weston was most comfortably pleased on the occasion.
 8890 Her looks and words had nothing to restrain them.  She was happy,
 8891 she knew she was happy, and knew she ought to be happy.
 8892 Her congratulations were warm and open; but Emma could not speak
 8893 so fluently.  _She_ was a little occupied in weighing her own feelings,
 8894 and trying to understand the degree of her agitation, which she
 8895 rather thought was considerable.

 8896 Mr Weston, however, too eager to be very observant, too communicative
 8897 to want others to talk, was very well satisfied with what she did say,
 8898 and soon moved away to make the rest of his friends happy by a partial
 8899 communication of what the whole room must have overheard already.

 8900 It was well that he took every body's joy for granted, or he
 8901 might not have thought either Mr Woodhouse or Mr Knightley
 8902 particularly delighted.  They were the first entitled,
 8903 after Mrs Weston and Emma, to be made happy; -- from them he would
 8904 have proceeded to Miss Fairfax, but she was so deep in conversation
 8905 with John Knightley, that it would have been too positive
 8906 an interruption; and finding himself close to Mrs Elton, and
 8907 her attention disengaged, he necessarily began on the subject with her.



 8908 CHAPTER XVIII


 8909 "I hope I shall soon have the pleasure of introducing my son to you,"
 8910 said Mr Weston.

 8911 Mrs Elton, very willing to suppose a particular compliment intended
 8912 her by such a hope, smiled most graciously.

 8913 "You have heard of a certain Frank Churchill, I presume," he continued -- 
 8914 "and know him to be my son, though he does not bear my name."

 8915 "Oh! yes, and I shall be very happy in his acquaintance.
 8916 I am sure Mr Elton will lose no time in calling on him; and we
 8917 shall both have great pleasure in seeing him at the Vicarage."

 8918 "You are very obliging. -- Frank will be extremely happy, I am sure. -- 
 8919 He is to be in town next week, if not sooner.  We have notice of it
 8920 in a letter to-day. I met the letters in my way this morning,
 8921 and seeing my son's hand, presumed to open it -- though it was not directed
 8922 to me -- it was to Mrs Weston.  She is his principal correspondent,
 8923 I assure you.  I hardly ever get a letter."

 8924 "And so you absolutely opened what was directed to her!  Oh!  Mr Weston -- 
 8925 (laughing affectedly) I must protest against that. -- A most dangerous
 8926 precedent indeed! -- I beg you will not let your neighbours follow
 8927 your example. -- Upon my word, if this is what I am to expect,
 8928 we married women must begin to exert ourselves! -- Oh!  Mr Weston,
 8929 I could not have believed it of you!"

 8930 "Aye, we men are sad fellows.  You must take care of yourself,
 8931 Mrs Elton. -- This letter tells us -- it is a short letter -- written in
 8932 a hurry, merely to give us notice -- it tells us that they are all
 8933 coming up to town directly, on Mrs Churchill's account -- she has
 8934 not been well the whole winter, and thinks Enscombe too cold for her -- 
 8935 so they are all to move southward without loss of time."

 8936 "Indeed! -- from Yorkshire, I think.  Enscombe is in Yorkshire?"

 8937 "Yes, they are about one hundred and ninety miles from London.
 8938 a considerable journey."

 8939 "Yes, upon my word, very considerable.  Sixty-five miles farther
 8940 than from Maple Grove to London.  But what is distance, Mr Weston,
 8941 to people of large fortune? -- You would be amazed to hear how my brother,
 8942 Mr Suckling, sometimes flies about.  You will hardly believe me -- 
 8943 but twice in one week he and Mr Bragge went to London and back again
 8944 with four horses."

 8945 "The evil of the distance from Enscombe," said Mr Weston, "is, that
 8946 Mrs Churchill, _as_ _we_ _understand_, has not been able to leave the
 8947 sofa for a week together.  In Frank's last letter she complained,
 8948 he said, of being too weak to get into her conservatory without having
 8949 both his arm and his uncle's! This, you know, speaks a great degree
 8950 of weakness -- but now she is so impatient to be in town, that she
 8951 means to sleep only two nights on the road. -- So Frank writes word.
 8952 Certainly, delicate ladies have very extraordinary constitutions,
 8953 Mrs Elton.  You must grant me that."

 8954 "No, indeed, I shall grant you nothing.  I Always take the part
 8955 of my own sex.  I do indeed.  I give you notice -- You will find me
 8956 a formidable antagonist on that point.  I always stand up for women -- 
 8957 and I assure you, if you knew how Selina feels with respect
 8958 to sleeping at an inn, you would not wonder at Mrs Churchill's
 8959 making incredible exertions to avoid it.  Selina says it is quite
 8960 horror to her -- and I believe I have caught a little of her nicety.
 8961 She always travels with her own sheets; an excellent precaution.
 8962 Does Mrs Churchill do the same?"

 8963 "Depend upon it, Mrs Churchill does every thing that any other
 8964 fine lady ever did.  Mrs Churchill will not be second to any lady
 8965 in the land for" -- 

 8966 Mrs Elton eagerly interposed with,

 8967 "Oh!  Mr Weston, do not mistake me.  Selina is no fine lady,
 8968 I assure you.  Do not run away with such an idea."

 8969 "Is not she?  Then she is no rule for Mrs Churchill, who is
 8970 as thorough a fine lady as any body ever beheld."

 8971 Mrs Elton began to think she had been wrong in disclaiming so warmly.
 8972 It was by no means her object to have it believed that her sister
 8973 was _not_ a fine lady; perhaps there was want of spirit in the pretence
 8974 of it; -- and she was considering in what way she had best retract,
 8975 when Mr Weston went on.

 8976 "Mrs Churchill is not much in my good graces, as you may suspect -- 
 8977 but this is quite between ourselves.  She is very fond of Frank,
 8978 and therefore I would not speak ill of her.  Besides, she is out of
 8979 health now; but _that_ indeed, by her own account, she has always been.
 8980 I would not say so to every body, Mrs Elton, but I have not much
 8981 faith in Mrs Churchill's illness."

 8982 "If she is really ill, why not go to Bath, Mr Weston? -- To Bath,
 8983 or to Clifton?"  "She has taken it into her head that Enscombe is too
 8984 cold for her.  The fact is, I suppose, that she is tired of Enscombe.
 8985 She has now been a longer time stationary there, than she ever
 8986 was before, and she begins to want change.  It is a retired place.
 8987 A fine place, but very retired."

 8988 "Aye -- like Maple Grove, I dare say.  Nothing can stand more retired from
 8989 the road than Maple Grove.  Such an immense plantation all round it!
 8990 You seem shut out from every thing -- in the most complete retirement. -- 
 8991 And Mrs Churchill probably has not health or spirits like Selina
 8992 to enjoy that sort of seclusion.  Or, perhaps she may not have
 8993 resources enough in herself to be qualified for a country life.
 8994 I always say a woman cannot have too many resources -- and I feel
 8995 very thankful that I have so many myself as to be quite independent
 8996 of society."

 8997 "Frank was here in February for a fortnight."

 8998 "So I remember to have heard.  He will find an _addition_ to the
 8999 society of Highbury when he comes again; that is, if I may presume
 9000 to call myself an addition.  But perhaps he may never have heard
 9001 of there being such a creature in the world."

 9002 This was too loud a call for a compliment to be passed by,
 9003 and Mr Weston, with a very good grace, immediately exclaimed,

 9004 "My dear madam!  Nobody but yourself could imagine such a
 9005 thing possible.  Not heard of you! -- I believe Mrs Weston's
 9006 letters lately have been full of very little else than Mrs Elton."

 9007 He had done his duty and could return to his son.

 9008 "When Frank left us," continued he, "it was quite uncertain when we
 9009 might see him again, which makes this day's news doubly welcome.
 9010 It has been completely unexpected.  That is, _I_ always had a strong
 9011 persuasion he would be here again soon, I was sure something
 9012 favourable would turn up -- but nobody believed me.  He and Mrs Weston
 9013 were both dreadfully desponding.  `How could he contrive to come?
 9014 And how could it be supposed that his uncle and aunt would spare
 9015 him again?' and so forth -- I always felt that something would happen
 9016 in our favour; and so it has, you see.  I have observed, Mrs Elton,
 9017 in the course of my life, that if things are going untowardly one month,
 9018 they are sure to mend the next."

 9019 "Very true, Mr Weston, perfectly true.  It is just what I used
 9020 to say to a certain gentleman in company in the days of courtship,
 9021 when, because things did not go quite right, did not proceed with all
 9022 the rapidity which suited his feelings, he was apt to be in despair,
 9023 and exclaim that he was sure at this rate it would be _May_ before
 9024 Hymen's saffron robe would be put on for us.  Oh! the pains I have
 9025 been at to dispel those gloomy ideas and give him cheerfuller views!
 9026 The carriage -- we had disappointments about the carriage; -- one morning,
 9027 I remember, he came to me quite in despair."

 9028 She was stopped by a slight fit of coughing, and Mr Weston instantly
 9029 seized the opportunity of going on.

 9030 "You were mentioning May.  May is the very month which Mrs Churchill
 9031 is ordered, or has ordered herself, to spend in some warmer place
 9032 than Enscombe -- in short, to spend in London; so that we have the
 9033 agreeable prospect of frequent visits from Frank the whole spring -- 
 9034 precisely the season of the year which one should have chosen
 9035 for it:  days almost at the longest; weather genial and pleasant,
 9036 always inviting one out, and never too hot for exercise.  When he
 9037 was here before, we made the best of it; but there was a good deal
 9038 of wet, damp, cheerless weather; there always is in February, you know,
 9039 and we could not do half that we intended.  Now will be the time.
 9040 This will be complete enjoyment; and I do not know, Mrs Elton,
 9041 whether the uncertainty of our meetings, the sort of constant
 9042 expectation there will be of his coming in to-day or to-morrow,
 9043 and at any hour, may not be more friendly to happiness than having
 9044 him actually in the house.  I think it is so.  I think it is the
 9045 state of mind which gives most spirit and delight.  I hope you
 9046 will be pleased with my son; but you must not expect a prodigy.
 9047 He is generally thought a fine young man, but do not expect a prodigy.
 9048 Mrs Weston's partiality for him is very great, and, as you may suppose,
 9049 most gratifying to me.  She thinks nobody equal to him."

 9050 "And I assure you, Mr Weston, I have very little doubt that my
 9051 opinion will be decidedly in his favour.  I have heard so much
 9052 in praise of Mr Frank Churchill. -- At the same time it is fair
 9053 to observe, that I am one of those who always judge for themselves,
 9054 and are by no means implicitly guided by others.  I give you notice
 9055 that as I find your son, so I shall judge of him. -- I am no flatterer."

 9056 Mr Weston was musing.

 9057 "I hope," said he presently, "I have not been severe upon poor
 9058 Mrs Churchill.  If she is ill I should be sorry to do her injustice;
 9059 but there are some traits in her character which make it difficult
 9060 for me to speak of her with the forbearance I could wish.
 9061 You cannot be ignorant, Mrs Elton, of my connexion with the family,
 9062 nor of the treatment I have met with; and, between ourselves,
 9063 the whole blame of it is to be laid to her.  She was the instigator.
 9064 Frank's mother would never have been slighted as she was but for her.
 9065 Mr Churchill has pride; but his pride is nothing to his wife's:
 9066 his is a quiet, indolent, gentlemanlike sort of pride that would
 9067 harm nobody, and only make himself a little helpless and tiresome;
 9068 but her pride is arrogance and insolence!  And what inclines one less
 9069 to bear, she has no fair pretence of family or blood.  She was nobody
 9070 when he married her, barely the daughter of a gentleman; but ever
 9071 since her being turned into a Churchill she has out-Churchill'd them
 9072 all in high and mighty claims:  but in herself, I assure you, she is
 9073 an upstart."

 9074 "Only think! well, that must be infinitely provoking!  I have quite
 9075 a horror of upstarts.  Maple Grove has given me a thorough disgust
 9076 to people of that sort; for there is a family in that neighbourhood
 9077 who are such an annoyance to my brother and sister from the airs
 9078 they give themselves!  Your description of Mrs Churchill made me
 9079 think of them directly.  People of the name of Tupman, very lately
 9080 settled there, and encumbered with many low connexions, but giving
 9081 themselves immense airs, and expecting to be on a footing with the old
 9082 established families.  A year and a half is the very utmost that they can
 9083 have lived at West Hall; and how they got their fortune nobody knows.
 9084 They came from Birmingham, which is not a place to promise much,
 9085 you know, Mr Weston.  One has not great hopes from Birmingham.
 9086 I always say there is something direful in the sound:  but nothing
 9087 more is positively known of the Tupmans, though a good many things
 9088 I assure you are suspected; and yet by their manners they evidently
 9089 think themselves equal even to my brother, Mr Suckling, who happens
 9090 to be one of their nearest neighbours.  It is infinitely too bad.
 9091 Mr Suckling, who has been eleven years a resident at Maple Grove,
 9092 and whose father had it before him -- I believe, at least -- I am
 9093 almost sure that old Mr Suckling had completed the purchase before
 9094 his death."

 9095 They were interrupted.  Tea was carrying round, and Mr Weston,
 9096 having said all that he wanted, soon took the opportunity of
 9097 walking away.

 9098 After tea, Mr and Mrs Weston, and Mr Elton sat down with Mr Woodhouse
 9099 to cards.  The remaining five were left to their own powers,
 9100 and Emma doubted their getting on very well; for Mr Knightley seemed
 9101 little disposed for conversation; Mrs Elton was wanting notice,
 9102 which nobody had inclination to pay, and she was herself
 9103 in a worry of spirits which would have made her prefer being silent.

 9104 Mr John Knightley proved more talkative than his brother.
 9105 He was to leave them early the next day; and he soon began with -- 

 9106 "Well, Emma, I do not believe I have any thing more to say about
 9107 the boys; but you have your sister's letter, and every thing is
 9108 down at full length there we may be sure.  My charge would be much
 9109 more concise than her's, and probably not much in the same spirit;
 9110 all that I have to recommend being comprised in, do not spoil them,
 9111 and do not physic them."

 9112 "I rather hope to satisfy you both," said Emma, "for I shall do all
 9113 in my power to make them happy, which will be enough for Isabella;
 9114 and happiness must preclude false indulgence and physic."

 9115 "And if you find them troublesome, you must send them home again."

 9116 "That is very likely.  You think so, do not you?"

 9117 "I hope I am aware that they may be too noisy for your father -- 
 9118 or even may be some encumbrance to you, if your visiting engagements
 9119 continue to increase as much as they have done lately."

 9120 "Increase!"

 9121 "Certainly; you must be sensible that the last half-year has made
 9122 a great difference in your way of life."

 9123 "Difference!  No indeed I am not."

 9124 "There can be no doubt of your being much more engaged with company
 9125 than you used to be.  Witness this very time.  Here am I come
 9126 down for only one day, and you are engaged with a dinner-party! -- 
 9127 When did it happen before, or any thing like it?  Your neighbourhood
 9128 is increasing, and you mix more with it.  A little while ago,
 9129 every letter to Isabella brought an account of fresh gaieties;
 9130 dinners at Mr Cole's, or balls at the Crown.  The difference
 9131 which Randalls, Randalls alone makes in your goings-on, is very great."

 9132 "Yes," said his brother quickly, "it is Randalls that does it all."

 9133 "Very well -- and as Randalls, I suppose, is not likely to have less
 9134 influence than heretofore, it strikes me as a possible thing, Emma,
 9135 that Henry and John may be sometimes in the way.  And if they are,
 9136 I only beg you to send them home."

 9137 "No," cried Mr Knightley, "that need not be the consequence.
 9138 Let them be sent to Donwell.  I shall certainly be at leisure."

 9139 "Upon my word," exclaimed Emma, "you amuse me!  I should like to know
 9140 how many of all my numerous engagements take place without your being
 9141 of the party; and why I am to be supposed in danger of wanting leisure
 9142 to attend to the little boys.  These amazing engagements of mine -- 
 9143 what have they been?  Dining once with the Coles -- and having a ball
 9144 talked of, which never took place.  I can understand you -- (nodding at
 9145 Mr John Knightley) -- your good fortune in meeting with so many of
 9146 your friends at once here, delights you too much to pass unnoticed.
 9147 But you, (turning to Mr Knightley,) who know how very, very seldom
 9148 I am ever two hours from Hartfield, why you should foresee such a
 9149 series of dissipation for me, I cannot imagine.  And as to my dear
 9150 little boys, I must say, that if Aunt Emma has not time for them,
 9151 I do not think they would fare much better with Uncle Knightley,
 9152 who is absent from home about five hours where she is absent one -- 
 9153 and who, when he is at home, is either reading to himself or settling
 9154 his accounts."

 9155 Mr Knightley seemed to be trying not to smile; and succeeded
 9156 without difficulty, upon Mrs Elton's beginning to talk to him.




 9157 VOLUME III



 9158 CHAPTER I


 9159 A very little quiet reflection was enough to satisfy Emma as to the
 9160 nature of her agitation on hearing this news of Frank Churchill.
 9161 She was soon convinced that it was not for herself she was feeling at
 9162 all apprehensive or embarrassed; it was for him.  Her own attachment
 9163 had really subsided into a mere nothing; it was not worth thinking of; -- 
 9164 but if he, who had undoubtedly been always so much the most in love
 9165 of the two, were to be returning with the same warmth of sentiment
 9166 which he had taken away, it would be very distressing.  If a separation
 9167 of two months should not have cooled him, there were dangers and evils
 9168 before her: -- caution for him and for herself would be necessary.
 9169 She did not mean to have her own affections entangled again,
 9170 and it would be incumbent on her to avoid any encouragement of his.

 9171 She wished she might be able to keep him from an absolute declaration.
 9172 That would be so very painful a conclusion of their present acquaintance!
 9173 and yet, she could not help rather anticipating something decisive.
 9174 She felt as if the spring would not pass without bringing a crisis,
 9175 an event, a something to alter her present composed and tranquil state.

 9176 It was not very long, though rather longer than Mr Weston had foreseen,
 9177 before she had the power of forming some opinion of Frank Churchill's
 9178 feelings.  The Enscombe family were not in town quite so soon as had
 9179 been imagined, but he was at Highbury very soon afterwards.  He rode
 9180 down for a couple of hours; he could not yet do more; but as he came
 9181 from Randalls immediately to Hartfield, she could then exercise all
 9182 her quick observation, and speedily determine how he was influenced,
 9183 and how she must act.  They met with the utmost friendliness.
 9184 There could be no doubt of his great pleasure in seeing her.
 9185 But she had an almost instant doubt of his caring for her as he
 9186 had done, of his feeling the same tenderness in the same degree.
 9187 She watched him well.  It was a clear thing he was less in love than he
 9188 had been.  Absence, with the conviction probably of her indifference,
 9189 had produced this very natural and very desirable effect.

 9190 He was in high spirits; as ready to talk and laugh as ever, and seemed
 9191 delighted to speak of his former visit, and recur to old stories:
 9192 and he was not without agitation.  It was not in his calmness that
 9193 she read his comparative difference.  He was not calm; his spirits
 9194 were evidently fluttered; there was restlessness about him.
 9195 Lively as he was, it seemed a liveliness that did not satisfy himself;
 9196 but what decided her belief on the subject, was his staying only a
 9197 quarter of an hour, and hurrying away to make other calls in Highbury.
 9198 "He had seen a group of old acquaintance in the street as he passed -- 
 9199 he had not stopped, he would not stop for more than a word -- but he
 9200 had the vanity to think they would be disappointed if he did not call,
 9201 and much as he wished to stay longer at Hartfield, he must hurry off."
 9202 She had no doubt as to his being less in love -- but neither his
 9203 agitated spirits, nor his hurrying away, seemed like a perfect cure;
 9204 and she was rather inclined to think it implied a dread of her
 9205 returning power, and a discreet resolution of not trusting himself
 9206 with her long.

 9207 This was the only visit from Frank Churchill in the course of ten days.
 9208 He was often hoping, intending to come -- but was always prevented.
 9209 His aunt could not bear to have him leave her.  Such was his own account
 9210 at Randall's. If he were quite sincere, if he really tried to come,
 9211 it was to be inferred that Mrs Churchill's removal to London had
 9212 been of no service to the wilful or nervous part of her disorder.
 9213 That she was really ill was very certain; he had declared himself
 9214 convinced of it, at Randalls.  Though much might be fancy, he could
 9215 not doubt, when he looked back, that she was in a weaker state
 9216 of health than she had been half a year ago.  He did not believe it
 9217 to proceed from any thing that care and medicine might not remove,
 9218 or at least that she might not have many years of existence before her;
 9219 but he could not be prevailed on, by all his father's doubts, to say
 9220 that her complaints were merely imaginary, or that she was as strong
 9221 as ever.

 9222 It soon appeared that London was not the place for her.  She could
 9223 not endure its noise.  Her nerves were under continual irritation
 9224 and suffering; and by the ten days' end, her nephew's letter to
 9225 Randalls communicated a change of plan.  They were going to remove
 9226 immediately to Richmond.  Mrs Churchill had been recommended
 9227 to the medical skill of an eminent person there, and had otherwise
 9228 a fancy for the place.  A ready-furnished house in a favourite
 9229 spot was engaged, and much benefit expected from the change.

 9230 Emma heard that Frank wrote in the highest spirits of this arrangement,
 9231 and seemed most fully to appreciate the blessing of having two
 9232 months before him of such near neighbourhood to many dear friends -- 
 9233 for the house was taken for May and June.  She was told that now
 9234 he wrote with the greatest confidence of being often with them,
 9235 almost as often as he could even wish.

 9236 Emma saw how Mr Weston understood these joyous prospects.  He was
 9237 considering her as the source of all the happiness they offered.
 9238 She hoped it was not so.  Two months must bring it to the proof.

 9239 Mr Weston's own happiness was indisputable.  He was quite delighted.
 9240 It was the very circumstance he could have wished for.  Now, it would
 9241 be really having Frank in their neighbourhood.  What were nine miles
 9242 to a young man? -- An hour's ride.  He would be always coming over.
 9243 The difference in that respect of Richmond and London was enough
 9244 to make the whole difference of seeing him always and seeing
 9245 him never.  Sixteen miles -- nay, eighteen -- it must be full eighteen
 9246 to Manchester-street -- was a serious obstacle.  Were he ever able
 9247 to get away, the day would be spent in coming and returning.
 9248 There was no comfort in having him in London; he might as well be
 9249 at Enscombe; but Richmond was the very distance for easy intercourse.
 9250 Better than nearer!

 9251 One good thing was immediately brought to a certainty by this removal, -- 
 9252 the ball at the Crown.  It had not been forgotten before, but it had
 9253 been soon acknowledged vain to attempt to fix a day.  Now, however,
 9254 it was absolutely to be; every preparation was resumed, and very soon
 9255 after the Churchills had removed to Richmond, a few lines from Frank,
 9256 to say that his aunt felt already much better for the change,
 9257 and that he had no doubt of being able to join them for twenty-four
 9258 hours at any given time, induced them to name as early a day as possible.

 9259 Mr Weston's ball was to be a real thing.  A very few to-morrows
 9260 stood between the young people of Highbury and happiness.

 9261 Mr Woodhouse was resigned.  The time of year lightened the evil
 9262 to him.  May was better for every thing than February.  Mrs Bates
 9263 was engaged to spend the evening at Hartfield, James had due notice,
 9264 and he sanguinely hoped that neither dear little Henry nor dear
 9265 little John would have any thing the matter with them, while dear
 9266 Emma were gone.



 9267 CHAPTER II


 9268 No misfortune occurred, again to prevent the ball.  The day approached,
 9269 the day arrived; and after a morning of some anxious watching,
 9270 Frank Churchill, in all the certainty of his own self, reached Randalls
 9271 before dinner, and every thing was safe.

 9272 No second meeting had there yet been between him and Emma.
 9273 The room at the Crown was to witness it; -- but it would be better
 9274 than a common meeting in a crowd.  Mr Weston had been so very
 9275 earnest in his entreaties for her arriving there as soon as possible
 9276 after themselves, for the purpose of taking her opinion as to the
 9277 propriety and comfort of the rooms before any other persons came,
 9278 that she could not refuse him, and must therefore spend some quiet
 9279 interval in the young man's company.  She was to convey Harriet,
 9280 and they drove to the Crown in good time, the Randalls party just
 9281 sufficiently before them.

 9282 Frank Churchill seemed to have been on the watch; and though
 9283 he did not say much, his eyes declared that he meant to have
 9284 a delightful evening.  They all walked about together, to see
 9285 that every thing was as it should be; and within a few minutes
 9286 were joined by the contents of another carriage, which Emma
 9287 could not hear the sound of at first, without great surprize.
 9288 "So unreasonably early!" she was going to exclaim; but she presently
 9289 found that it was a family of old friends, who were coming, like herself,
 9290 by particular desire, to help Mr Weston's judgment; and they were
 9291 so very closely followed by another carriage of cousins, who had been
 9292 entreated to come early with the same distinguishing earnestness,
 9293 on the same errand, that it seemed as if half the company might
 9294 soon be collected together for the purpose of preparatory inspection.

 9295 Emma perceived that her taste was not the only taste on which
 9296 Mr Weston depended, and felt, that to be the favourite and
 9297 intimate of a man who had so many intimates and confidantes,
 9298 was not the very first distinction in the scale of vanity.
 9299 She liked his open manners, but a little less of open-heartedness
 9300 would have made him a higher character. -- General benevolence,
 9301 but not general friendship, made a man what he ought to be. -- 
 9302 She could fancy such a man.  The whole party walked about,
 9303 and looked, and praised again; and then, having nothing else to do,
 9304 formed a sort of half-circle round the fire, to observe in their
 9305 various modes, till other subjects were started, that, though _May_,
 9306 a fire in the evening was still very pleasant.

 9307 Emma found that it was not Mr Weston's fault that the number
 9308 of privy councillors was not yet larger.  They had stopped
 9309 at Mrs Bates's door to offer the use of their carriage,
 9310 but the aunt and niece were to be brought by the Eltons.

 9311 Frank was standing by her, but not steadily; there was a restlessness,
 9312 which shewed a mind not at ease.  He was looking about, he was going
 9313 to the door, he was watching for the sound of other carriages, -- 
 9314 impatient to begin, or afraid of being always near her.

 9315 Mrs Elton was spoken of.  "I think she must be here soon," said he.
 9316 "I have a great curiosity to see Mrs Elton, I have heard so much
 9317 of her.  It cannot be long, I think, before she comes."

 9318 A carriage was heard.  He was on the move immediately;
 9319 but coming back, said,

 9320 "I am forgetting that I am not acquainted with her.  I have never seen
 9321 either Mr or Mrs Elton.  I have no business to put myself forward."

 9322 Mr and Mrs Elton appeared; and all the smiles and the proprieties passed.

 9323 "But Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax!" said Mr Weston, looking about.
 9324 "We thought you were to bring them."

 9325 The mistake had been slight.  The carriage was sent for them now.
 9326 Emma longed to know what Frank's first opinion of Mrs Elton
 9327 might be; how he was affected by the studied elegance of her dress,
 9328 and her smiles of graciousness.  He was immediately qualifying
 9329 himself to form an opinion, by giving her very proper attention,
 9330 after the introduction had passed.

 9331 In a few minutes the carriage returned. -- Somebody talked of rain. -- 
 9332 "I will see that there are umbrellas, sir," said Frank to his father:
 9333 "Miss Bates must not be forgotten:"  and away he went.  Mr Weston
 9334 was following; but Mrs Elton detained him, to gratify him by her
 9335 opinion of his son; and so briskly did she begin, that the young
 9336 man himself, though by no means moving slowly, could hardly be out
 9337 of hearing.

 9338 "A very fine young man indeed, Mr Weston.  You know I candidly told
 9339 you I should form my own opinion; and I am happy to say that I am
 9340 extremely pleased with him. -- You may believe me.  I never compliment.
 9341 I think him a very handsome young man, and his manners are precisely
 9342 what I like and approve -- so truly the gentleman, without the least
 9343 conceit or puppyism.  You must know I have a vast dislike to puppies -- 
 9344 quite a horror of them.  They were never tolerated at Maple Grove.
 9345 Neither Mr Suckling nor me had ever any patience with them; and we
 9346 used sometimes to say very cutting things!  Selina, who is mild almost
 9347 to a fault, bore with them much better."

 9348 While she talked of his son, Mr Weston's attention was chained;
 9349 but when she got to Maple Grove, he could recollect that there were
 9350 ladies just arriving to be attended to, and with happy smiles must
 9351 hurry away.

 9352 Mrs Elton turned to Mrs Weston.  "I have no doubt of its being
 9353 our carriage with Miss Bates and Jane.  Our coachman and horses are
 9354 so extremely expeditious! -- I believe we drive faster than any body. -- 
 9355 What a pleasure it is to send one's carriage for a friend! -- 
 9356 I understand you were so kind as to offer, but another time it
 9357 will be quite unnecessary.  You may be very sure I shall always
 9358 take care of _them_."

 9359 Miss Bates and Miss Fairfax, escorted by the two gentlemen,
 9360 walked into the room; and Mrs Elton seemed to think it as much
 9361 her duty as Mrs Weston's to receive them.  Her gestures and
 9362 movements might be understood by any one who looked on like Emma;
 9363 but her words, every body's words, were soon lost under the
 9364 incessant flow of Miss Bates, who came in talking, and had not
 9365 finished her speech under many minutes after her being admitted
 9366 into the circle at the fire.  As the door opened she was heard,

 9367 "So very obliging of you! -- No rain at all.  Nothing to signify.
 9368 I do not care for myself.  Quite thick shoes.  And Jane declares -- 
 9369 Well! -- (as soon as she was within the door) Well!  This is brilliant
 9370 indeed! -- This is admirable! -- Excellently contrived, upon my word.
 9371 Nothing wanting.  Could not have imagined it. -- So well lighted up! -- 
 9372 Jane, Jane, look! -- did you ever see any thing?  Oh!  Mr Weston,
 9373 you must really have had Aladdin's lamp.  Good Mrs Stokes
 9374 would not know her own room again.  I saw her as I came in;
 9375 she was standing in the entrance.  `Oh!  Mrs Stokes,' said I -- 
 9376 but I had not time for more."  She was now met by Mrs Weston. -- 
 9377 "Very well, I thank you, ma'am. I hope you are quite well.
 9378 Very happy to hear it.  So afraid you might have a headache! -- 
 9379 seeing you pass by so often, and knowing how much trouble you must have.
 9380 Delighted to hear it indeed.  Ah! dear Mrs Elton, so obliged
 9381 to you for the carriage! -- excellent time.  Jane and I quite ready.
 9382 Did not keep the horses a moment.  Most comfortable carriage. -- 
 9383 Oh! and I am sure our thanks are due to you, Mrs Weston, on that score.
 9384 Mrs Elton had most kindly sent Jane a note, or we should have been. -- 
 9385 But two such offers in one day! -- Never were such neighbours.
 9386 I said to my mother, `Upon my word, ma'am -- .'  Thank you, my mother
 9387 is remarkably well.  Gone to Mr Woodhouse's. I made her take
 9388 her shawl -- for the evenings are not warm -- her large new shawl -- 
 9389 Mrs Dixon's wedding-present. -- So kind of her to think of my mother!
 9390 Bought at Weymouth, you know -- Mr Dixon's choice.  There were
 9391 three others, Jane says, which they hesitated about some time.
 9392 Colonel Campbell rather preferred an olive.  My dear Jane,
 9393 are you sure you did not wet your feet? -- It was but a drop or two,
 9394 but I am so afraid: -- but Mr Frank Churchill was so extremely -- 
 9395 and there was a mat to step upon -- I shall never forget his
 9396 extreme politeness. -- Oh!  Mr Frank Churchill, I must tell you
 9397 my mother's spectacles have never been in fault since; the rivet
 9398 never came out again.  My mother often talks of your good-nature.
 9399 Does not she, Jane? -- Do not we often talk of Mr Frank Churchill? -- 
 9400 Ah! here's Miss Woodhouse. -- Dear Miss Woodhouse, how do you do? -- 
 9401 Very well I thank you, quite well.  This is meeting quite in fairy-land! -- 
 9402 Such a transformation! -- Must not compliment, I know (eyeing Emma
 9403 most complacently) -- that would be rude -- but upon my word, Miss Woodhouse,
 9404 you do look -- how do you like Jane's hair? -- You are a judge. -- 
 9405 She did it all herself.  Quite wonderful how she does her hair! -- 
 9406 No hairdresser from London I think could. -- Ah! Dr. Hughes I declare -- 
 9407 and Mrs Hughes.  Must go and speak to Dr and Mrs Hughes for
 9408 a moment. -- How do you do?  How do you do? -- Very well, I thank you.
 9409 This is delightful, is not it? -- Where's dear Mr Richard? -- 
 9410 Oh! there he is.  Don't disturb him.  Much better employed talking
 9411 to the young ladies.  How do you do, Mr Richard? -- I saw you the
 9412 other day as you rode through the town -- Mrs Otway, I protest! -- 
 9413 and good Mr Otway, and Miss Otway and Miss Caroline. -- Such a host
 9414 of friends! -- and Mr George and Mr Arthur! -- How do you do?  How do
 9415 you all do? -- Quite well, I am much obliged to you.  Never better. -- 
 9416 Don't I hear another carriage? -- Who can this be? -- very likely the
 9417 worthy Coles. -- Upon my word, this is charming to be standing about
 9418 among such friends!  And such a noble fire! -- I am quite roasted.
 9419 No coffee, I thank you, for me -- never take coffee. -- A little tea
 9420 if you please, sir, by and bye, -- no hurry -- Oh! here it comes.
 9421 Every thing so good!"

 9422 Frank Churchill returned to his station by Emma; and as soon as Miss
 9423 Bates was quiet, she found herself necessarily overhearing the
 9424 discourse of Mrs Elton and Miss Fairfax, who were standing a little
 9425 way behind her. -- He was thoughtful.  Whether he were overhearing too,
 9426 she could not determine.  After a good many compliments to Jane
 9427 on her dress and look, compliments very quietly and properly taken,
 9428 Mrs Elton was evidently wanting to be complimented herself -- 
 9429 and it was, "How do you like my gown? -- How do you like my trimming? -- 
 9430 How has Wright done my hair?" -- with many other relative questions,
 9431 all answered with patient politeness.  Mrs Elton then said,
 9432 "Nobody can think less of dress in general than I do -- but upon such
 9433 an occasion as this, when every body's eyes are so much upon me,
 9434 and in compliment to the Westons -- who I have no doubt are giving
 9435 this ball chiefly to do me honour -- I would not wish to be inferior
 9436 to others.  And I see very few pearls in the room except mine. -- 
 9437 So Frank Churchill is a capital dancer, I understand. -- We shall see
 9438 if our styles suit. -- A fine young man certainly is Frank Churchill.
 9439 I like him very well."

 9440 At this moment Frank began talking so vigorously, that Emma could
 9441 not but imagine he had overheard his own praises, and did not want
 9442 to hear more; -- and the voices of the ladies were drowned for a while,
 9443 till another suspension brought Mrs Elton's tones again distinctly
 9444 forward. -- Mr Elton had just joined them, and his wife was exclaiming,

 9445 "Oh! you have found us out at last, have you, in our seclusion? -- 
 9446 I was this moment telling Jane, I thought you would begin to be
 9447 impatient for tidings of us."

 9448 "Jane!" -- repeated Frank Churchill, with a look of surprize and displeasure. -- 
 9449 "That is easy -- but Miss Fairfax does not disapprove it, I suppose."

 9450 "How do you like Mrs Elton?" said Emma in a whisper.

 9451 "Not at all."

 9452 "You are ungrateful."

 9453 "Ungrateful! -- What do you mean?"  Then changing from a frown to
 9454 a smile -- "No, do not tell me -- I do not want to know what you mean. -- 
 9455 Where is my father? -- When are we to begin dancing?"

 9456 Emma could hardly understand him; he seemed in an odd humour.
 9457 He walked off to find his father, but was quickly back again with both
 9458 Mr and Mrs Weston.  He had met with them in a little perplexity,
 9459 which must be laid before Emma.  It had just occurred to Mrs Weston
 9460 that Mrs Elton must be asked to begin the ball; that she would
 9461 expect it; which interfered with all their wishes of giving Emma
 9462 that distinction. -- Emma heard the sad truth with fortitude.

 9463 "And what are we to do for a proper partner for her?" said Mr Weston.
 9464 "She will think Frank ought to ask her."

 9465 Frank turned instantly to Emma, to claim her former promise;
 9466 and boasted himself an engaged man, which his father looked his most
 9467 perfect approbation of -- and it then appeared that Mrs Weston was
 9468 wanting _him_ to dance with Mrs Elton himself, and that their business
 9469 was to help to persuade him into it, which was done pretty soon. -- 
 9470 Mr Weston and Mrs Elton led the way, Mr Frank Churchill and Miss
 9471 Woodhouse followed.  Emma must submit to stand second to Mrs Elton,
 9472 though she had always considered the ball as peculiarly for her.
 9473 It was almost enough to make her think of marrying.  Mrs Elton had
 9474 undoubtedly the advantage, at this time, in vanity completely gratified;
 9475 for though she had intended to begin with Frank Churchill, she could
 9476 not lose by the change.  Mr Weston might be his son's superior. -- 
 9477 In spite of this little rub, however, Emma was smiling with enjoyment,
 9478 delighted to see the respectable length of the set as it was forming,
 9479 and to feel that she had so many hours of unusual festivity before her. -- 
 9480 She was more disturbed by Mr Knightley's not dancing than by any
 9481 thing else. -- There he was, among the standers-by, where he ought not
 9482 to be; he ought to be dancing, -- not classing himself with the husbands,
 9483 and fathers, and whist-players, who were pretending to feel an interest
 9484 in the dance till their rubbers were made up, -- so young as he looked! -- 
 9485 He could not have appeared to greater advantage perhaps anywhere,
 9486 than where he had placed himself.  His tall, firm, upright figure,
 9487 among the bulky forms and stooping shoulders of the elderly men,
 9488 was such as Emma felt must draw every body's eyes; and, excepting her
 9489 own partner, there was not one among the whole row of young men
 9490 who could be compared with him. -- He moved a few steps nearer,
 9491 and those few steps were enough to prove in how gentlemanlike
 9492 a manner, with what natural grace, he must have danced, would he
 9493 but take the trouble. -- Whenever she caught his eye, she forced him
 9494 to smile; but in general he was looking grave.  She wished he could
 9495 love a ballroom better, and could like Frank Churchill better. -- 
 9496 He seemed often observing her.  She must not flatter herself that he
 9497 thought of her dancing, but if he were criticising her behaviour,
 9498 she did not feel afraid.  There was nothing like flirtation between
 9499 her and her partner.  They seemed more like cheerful, easy friends,
 9500 than lovers.  That Frank Churchill thought less of her than he had done,
 9501 was indubitable.

 9502 The ball proceeded pleasantly.  The anxious cares, the incessant
 9503 attentions of Mrs Weston, were not thrown away.  Every body
 9504 seemed happy; and the praise of being a delightful ball,
 9505 which is seldom bestowed till after a ball has ceased to be,
 9506 was repeatedly given in the very beginning of the existence of this.
 9507 Of very important, very recordable events, it was not more productive
 9508 than such meetings usually are.  There was one, however, which Emma
 9509 thought something of. -- The two last dances before supper were begun,
 9510 and Harriet had no partner; -- the only young lady sitting down; -- 
 9511 and so equal had been hitherto the number of dancers, that how there
 9512 could be any one disengaged was the wonder! -- But Emma's wonder
 9513 lessened soon afterwards, on seeing Mr Elton sauntering about.
 9514 He would not ask Harriet to dance if it were possible to be avoided:
 9515 she was sure he would not -- and she was expecting him every moment to
 9516 escape into the card-room.

 9517 Escape, however, was not his plan.  He came to the part of the room
 9518 where the sitters-by were collected, spoke to some, and walked about
 9519 in front of them, as if to shew his liberty, and his resolution
 9520 of maintaining it.  He did not omit being sometimes directly
 9521 before Miss Smith, or speaking to those who were close to her. -- 
 9522 Emma saw it.  She was not yet dancing; she was working her way
 9523 up from the bottom, and had therefore leisure to look around,
 9524 and by only turning her head a little she saw it all.  When she was
 9525 half-way up the set, the whole group were exactly behind her, and she
 9526 would no longer allow her eyes to watch; but Mr Elton was so near,
 9527 that she heard every syllable of a dialogue which just then took
 9528 place between him and Mrs Weston; and she perceived that his wife,
 9529 who was standing immediately above her, was not only listening also,
 9530 but even encouraging him by significant glances. -- The kind-hearted,
 9531 gentle Mrs Weston had left her seat to join him and say, "Do not
 9532 you dance, Mr Elton?" to which his prompt reply was, "Most readily,
 9533 Mrs Weston, if you will dance with me."

 9534 "Me! -- oh! no -- I would get you a better partner than myself.
 9535 I am no dancer."

 9536 "If Mrs Gilbert wishes to dance," said he, "I shall have great pleasure,
 9537 I am sure -- for, though beginning to feel myself rather an old married man,
 9538 and that my dancing days are over, it would give me very great
 9539 pleasure at any time to stand up with an old friend like Mrs Gilbert."

 9540 "Mrs Gilbert does not mean to dance, but there is a young lady
 9541 disengaged whom I should be very glad to see dancing -- Miss Smith."
 9542 "Miss Smith! -- oh! -- I had not observed. -- You are extremely obliging -- 
 9543 and if I were not an old married man. -- But my dancing days are over,
 9544 Mrs Weston.  You will excuse me.  Any thing else I should be most happy
 9545 to do, at your command -- but my dancing days are over."

 9546 Mrs Weston said no more; and Emma could imagine with what
 9547 surprize and mortification she must be returning to her seat.
 9548 This was Mr Elton! the amiable, obliging, gentle Mr Elton. -- 
 9549 She looked round for a moment; he had joined Mr Knightley at a
 9550 little distance, and was arranging himself for settled conversation,
 9551 while smiles of high glee passed between him and his wife.

 9552 She would not look again.  Her heart was in a glow, and she feared
 9553 her face might be as hot.

 9554 In another moment a happier sight caught her; -- Mr Knightley
 9555 leading Harriet to the set! -- Never had she been more surprized,
 9556 seldom more delighted, than at that instant.  She was all pleasure
 9557 and gratitude, both for Harriet and herself, and longed to be
 9558 thanking him; and though too distant for speech, her countenance
 9559 said much, as soon as she could catch his eye again.

 9560 His dancing proved to be just what she had believed it,
 9561 extremely good; and Harriet would have seemed almost too lucky,
 9562 if it had not been for the cruel state of things before, and for
 9563 the very complete enjoyment and very high sense of the distinction
 9564 which her happy features announced.  It was not thrown away on her,
 9565 she bounded higher than ever, flew farther down the middle,
 9566 and was in a continual course of smiles.

 9567 Mr Elton had retreated into the card-room, looking (Emma trusted)
 9568 very foolish.  She did not think he was quite so hardened as his wife,
 9569 though growing very like her; -- _she_ spoke some of her feelings,
 9570 by observing audibly to her partner,

 9571 "Knightley has taken pity on poor little Miss Smith! -- Very goodnatured,
 9572 I declare."

 9573 Supper was announced.  The move began; and Miss Bates might be
 9574 heard from that moment, without interruption, till her being
 9575 seated at table and taking up her spoon.

 9576 "Jane, Jane, my dear Jane, where are you? -- Here is your tippet.
 9577 Mrs Weston begs you to put on your tippet.  She says she is afraid
 9578 there will be draughts in the passage, though every thing has
 9579 been done -- One door nailed up -- Quantities of matting -- My dear Jane,
 9580 indeed you must.  Mr Churchill, oh! you are too obliging!
 9581 How well you put it on! -- so gratified!  Excellent dancing indeed! -- 
 9582 Yes, my dear, I ran home, as I said I should, to help grandmama
 9583 to bed, and got back again, and nobody missed me. -- I set off without
 9584 saying a word, just as I told you.  Grandmama was quite well,
 9585 had a charming evening with Mr Woodhouse, a vast deal of chat,
 9586 and backgammon. -- Tea was made downstairs, biscuits and baked apples
 9587 and wine before she came away:  amazing luck in some of her throws:
 9588 and she inquired a great deal about you, how you were amused,
 9589 and who were your partners.  `Oh!' said I, `I shall not forestall Jane;
 9590 I left her dancing with Mr George Otway; she will love to tell you
 9591 all about it herself to-morrow: her first partner was Mr Elton,
 9592 I do not know who will ask her next, perhaps Mr William Cox.'
 9593 My dear sir, you are too obliging. -- Is there nobody you would
 9594 not rather? -- I am not helpless.  Sir, you are most kind.  Upon my word,
 9595 Jane on one arm, and me on the other! -- Stop, stop, let us stand
 9596 a little back, Mrs Elton is going; dear Mrs Elton, how elegant
 9597 she looks! -- Beautiful lace! -- Now we all follow in her train.
 9598 Quite the queen of the evening! -- Well, here we are at the passage.
 9599 Two steps, Jane, take care of the two steps.  Oh! no, there is
 9600 but one.  Well, I was persuaded there were two.  How very odd!
 9601 I was convinced there were two, and there is but one.  I never saw any
 9602 thing equal to the comfort and style -- Candles everywhere. -- I was telling
 9603 you of your grandmama, Jane, -- There was a little disappointment. -- 
 9604 The baked apples and biscuits, excellent in their way, you know;
 9605 but there was a delicate fricassee of sweetbread and some asparagus
 9606 brought in at first, and good Mr Woodhouse, not thinking the
 9607 asparagus quite boiled enough, sent it all out again.  Now there
 9608 is nothing grandmama loves better than sweetbread and asparagus -- 
 9609 so she was rather disappointed, but we agreed we would not speak of it
 9610 to any body, for fear of its getting round to dear Miss Woodhouse,
 9611 who would be so very much concerned! -- Well, this is brilliant!
 9612 I am all amazement! could not have supposed any thing! -- Such
 9613 elegance and profusion! -- I have seen nothing like it since -- 
 9614 Well, where shall we sit? where shall we sit?  Anywhere, so that
 9615 Jane is not in a draught.  Where _I_ sit is of no consequence.
 9616 Oh! do you recommend this side? -- Well, I am sure, Mr Churchill -- 
 9617 only it seems too good -- but just as you please.  What you direct
 9618 in this house cannot be wrong.  Dear Jane, how shall we ever
 9619 recollect half the dishes for grandmama?  Soup too!  Bless me!
 9620 I should not be helped so soon, but it smells most excellent, and I
 9621 cannot help beginning."

 9622 Emma had no opportunity of speaking to Mr Knightley till
 9623 after supper; but, when they were all in the ballroom again,
 9624 her eyes invited him irresistibly to come to her and be thanked.
 9625 He was warm in his reprobation of Mr Elton's conduct; it had been
 9626 unpardonable rudeness; and Mrs Elton's looks also received the due
 9627 share of censure.

 9628 "They aimed at wounding more than Harriet," said he.  "Emma, why
 9629 is it that they are your enemies?"

 9630 He looked with smiling penetration; and, on receiving
 9631 no answer, added, "_She_ ought not to be angry with you, I suspect,
 9632 whatever he may be. -- To that surmise, you say nothing, of course;
 9633 but confess, Emma, that you did want him to marry Harriet."

 9634 "I did," replied Emma, "and they cannot forgive me."

 9635 He shook his head; but there was a smile of indulgence with it,
 9636 and he only said,

 9637 "I shall not scold you.  I leave you to your own reflections."

 9638 "Can you trust me with such flatterers? -- Does my vain spirit ever
 9639 tell me I am wrong?"

 9640 "Not your vain spirit, but your serious spirit. -- If one leads
 9641 you wrong, I am sure the other tells you of it."

 9642 "I do own myself to have been completely mistaken in Mr Elton.
 9643 There is a littleness about him which you discovered, and which I
 9644 did not:  and I was fully convinced of his being in love with Harriet.
 9645 It was through a series of strange blunders!"

 9646 "And, in return for your acknowledging so much, I will do you the justice
 9647 to say, that you would have chosen for him better than he has chosen for
 9648 himself. -- Harriet Smith has some first-rate qualities, which Mrs Elton
 9649 is totally without.  An unpretending, single-minded, artless girl -- 
 9650 infinitely to be preferred by any man of sense and taste to such
 9651 a woman as Mrs Elton.  I found Harriet more conversable than I expected."

 9652 Emma was extremely gratified. -- They were interrupted by the bustle
 9653 of Mr Weston calling on every body to begin dancing again.

 9654 "Come Miss Woodhouse, Miss Otway, Miss Fairfax, what are you all doing? -- 
 9655 Come Emma, set your companions the example.  Every body is lazy!
 9656 Every body is asleep!"

 9657 "I am ready," said Emma, "whenever I am wanted."

 9658 "Whom are you going to dance with?" asked Mr Knightley.

 9659 She hesitated a moment, and then replied, "With you, if you will
 9660 ask me."

 9661 "Will you?" said he, offering his hand.

 9662 "Indeed I will.  You have shewn that you can dance, and you know we
 9663 are not really so much brother and sister as to make it at all improper."

 9664 "Brother and sister! no, indeed."



 9665 CHAPTER III


 9666 This little explanation with Mr Knightley gave Emma considerable
 9667 pleasure.  It was one of the agreeable recollections of the ball,
 9668 which she walked about the lawn the next morning to enjoy. -- She was
 9669 extremely glad that they had come to so good an understanding respecting
 9670 the Eltons, and that their opinions of both husband and wife were so
 9671 much alike; and his praise of Harriet, his concession in her favour,
 9672 was peculiarly gratifying.  The impertinence of the Eltons, which for
 9673 a few minutes had threatened to ruin the rest of her evening, had been
 9674 the occasion of some of its highest satisfactions; and she looked
 9675 forward to another happy result -- the cure of Harriet's infatuation. -- 
 9676 From Harriet's manner of speaking of the circumstance before they
 9677 quitted the ballroom, she had strong hopes.  It seemed as if her eyes
 9678 were suddenly opened, and she were enabled to see that Mr Elton
 9679 was not the superior creature she had believed him.  The fever
 9680 was over, and Emma could harbour little fear of the pulse being
 9681 quickened again by injurious courtesy.  She depended on the evil
 9682 feelings of the Eltons for supplying all the discipline of pointed
 9683 neglect that could be farther requisite. -- Harriet rational,
 9684 Frank Churchill not too much in love, and Mr Knightley not
 9685 wanting to quarrel with her, how very happy a summer must be before her!

 9686 She was not to see Frank Churchill this morning.  He had told
 9687 her that he could not allow himself the pleasure of stopping
 9688 at Hartfield, as he was to be at home by the middle of the day.
 9689 She did not regret it.

 9690 Having arranged all these matters, looked them through, and put them all
 9691 to rights, she was just turning to the house with spirits freshened up
 9692 for the demands of the two little boys, as well as of their grandpapa,
 9693 when the great iron sweep-gate opened, and two persons entered
 9694 whom she had never less expected to see together -- Frank Churchill,
 9695 with Harriet leaning on his arm -- actually Harriet! -- A moment
 9696 sufficed to convince her that something extraordinary had happened.
 9697 Harriet looked white and frightened, and he was trying to cheer her. -- 
 9698 The iron gates and the front-door were not twenty yards asunder; -- 
 9699 they were all three soon in the hall, and Harriet immediately sinking
 9700 into a chair fainted away.

 9701 A young lady who faints, must be recovered; questions must be answered,
 9702 and surprizes be explained.  Such events are very interesting,
 9703 but the suspense of them cannot last long.  A few minutes made Emma
 9704 acquainted with the whole.

 9705 Miss Smith, and Miss Bickerton, another parlour boarder at
 9706 Mrs Goddard's, who had been also at the ball, had walked out together,
 9707 and taken a road, the Richmond road, which, though apparently public
 9708 enough for safety, had led them into alarm. -- About half a mile
 9709 beyond Highbury, making a sudden turn, and deeply shaded by elms
 9710 on each side, it became for a considerable stretch very retired;
 9711 and when the young ladies had advanced some way into it,
 9712 they had suddenly perceived at a small distance before them,
 9713 on a broader patch of greensward by the side, a party of gipsies.
 9714 A child on the watch, came towards them to beg; and Miss Bickerton,
 9715 excessively frightened, gave a great scream, and calling on Harriet
 9716 to follow her, ran up a steep bank, cleared a slight hedge at the top,
 9717 and made the best of her way by a short cut back to Highbury.
 9718 But poor Harriet could not follow.  She had suffered very much
 9719 from cramp after dancing, and her first attempt to mount the bank
 9720 brought on such a return of it as made her absolutely powerless -- 
 9721 and in this state, and exceedingly terrified, she had been obliged
 9722 to remain.

 9723 How the trampers might have behaved, had the young ladies been
 9724 more courageous, must be doubtful; but such an invitation for attack
 9725 could not be resisted; and Harriet was soon assailed by half a
 9726 dozen children, headed by a stout woman and a great boy, all clamorous,
 9727 and impertinent in look, though not absolutely in word. -- More and
 9728 more frightened, she immediately promised them money, and taking out
 9729 her purse, gave them a shilling, and begged them not to want more,
 9730 or to use her ill. -- She was then able to walk, though but slowly,
 9731 and was moving away -- but her terror and her purse were too tempting,
 9732 and she was followed, or rather surrounded, by the whole gang,
 9733 demanding more.

 9734 In this state Frank Churchill had found her, she trembling
 9735 and conditioning, they loud and insolent.  By a most fortunate
 9736 chance his leaving Highbury had been delayed so as to bring him
 9737 to her assistance at this critical moment.  The pleasantness
 9738 of the morning had induced him to walk forward, and leave his
 9739 horses to meet him by another road, a mile or two beyond Highbury -- 
 9740 and happening to have borrowed a pair of scissors the night before
 9741 of Miss Bates, and to have forgotten to restore them, he had
 9742 been obliged to stop at her door, and go in for a few minutes:
 9743 he was therefore later than he had intended; and being on foot,
 9744 was unseen by the whole party till almost close to them.
 9745 The terror which the woman and boy had been creating in Harriet
 9746 was then their own portion.  He had left them completely frightened;
 9747 and Harriet eagerly clinging to him, and hardly able to speak,
 9748 had just strength enough to reach Hartfield, before her spirits
 9749 were quite overcome.  It was his idea to bring her to Hartfield:
 9750 he had thought of no other place.

 9751 This was the amount of the whole story, -- of his communication and
 9752 of Harriet's as soon as she had recovered her senses and speech. -- 
 9753 He dared not stay longer than to see her well; these several delays
 9754 left him not another minute to lose; and Emma engaging to give
 9755 assurance of her safety to Mrs Goddard, and notice of there
 9756 being such a set of people in the neighbourhood to Mr Knightley,
 9757 he set off, with all the grateful blessings that she could utter
 9758 for her friend and herself.

 9759 Such an adventure as this, -- a fine young man and a lovely young
 9760 woman thrown together in such a way, could hardly fail of suggesting
 9761 certain ideas to the coldest heart and the steadiest brain.
 9762 So Emma thought, at least.  Could a linguist, could a grammarian,
 9763 could even a mathematician have seen what she did, have witnessed their
 9764 appearance together, and heard their history of it, without feeling
 9765 that circumstances had been at work to make them peculiarly interesting
 9766 to each other? -- How much more must an imaginist, like herself,
 9767 be on fire with speculation and foresight! -- especially with such
 9768 a groundwork of anticipation as her mind had already made.

 9769 It was a very extraordinary thing!  Nothing of the sort had ever
 9770 occurred before to any young ladies in the place, within her memory;
 9771 no rencontre, no alarm of the kind; -- and now it had happened
 9772 to the very person, and at the very hour, when the other very
 9773 person was chancing to pass by to rescue her! -- It certainly
 9774 was very extraordinary! -- And knowing, as she did, the favourable
 9775 state of mind of each at this period, it struck her the more.
 9776 He was wishing to get the better of his attachment to herself,
 9777 she just recovering from her mania for Mr Elton.  It seemed as if
 9778 every thing united to promise the most interesting consequences.
 9779 It was not possible that the occurrence should not be strongly
 9780 recommending each to the other.

 9781 In the few minutes' conversation which she had yet had with him,
 9782 while Harriet had been partially insensible, he had spoken of her terror,
 9783 her naivete, her fervour as she seized and clung to his arm, with a
 9784 sensibility amused and delighted; and just at last, after Harriet's
 9785 own account had been given, he had expressed his indignation
 9786 at the abominable folly of Miss Bickerton in the warmest terms.
 9787 Every thing was to take its natural course, however, neither impelled
 9788 nor assisted.  She would not stir a step, nor drop a hint.
 9789 No, she had had enough of interference.  There could be no harm
 9790 in a scheme, a mere passive scheme.  It was no more than a wish.
 9791 Beyond it she would on no account proceed.

 9792 Emma's first resolution was to keep her father from the knowledge
 9793 of what had passed, -- aware of the anxiety and alarm it would occasion:
 9794 but she soon felt that concealment must be impossible.  Within half
 9795 an hour it was known all over Highbury.  It was the very event
 9796 to engage those who talk most, the young and the low; and all
 9797 the youth and servants in the place were soon in the happiness of
 9798 frightful news.  The last night's ball seemed lost in the gipsies.
 9799 Poor Mr Woodhouse trembled as he sat, and, as Emma had foreseen,
 9800 would scarcely be satisfied without their promising never to go
 9801 beyond the shrubbery again.  It was some comfort to him that many
 9802 inquiries after himself and Miss Woodhouse (for his neighbours
 9803 knew that he loved to be inquired after), as well as Miss Smith,
 9804 were coming in during the rest of the day; and he had the pleasure
 9805 of returning for answer, that they were all very indifferent -- 
 9806 which, though not exactly true, for she was perfectly well,
 9807 and Harriet not much otherwise, Emma would not interfere with.
 9808 She had an unhappy state of health in general for the child of such
 9809 a man, for she hardly knew what indisposition was; and if he did not
 9810 invent illnesses for her, she could make no figure in a message.

 9811 The gipsies did not wait for the operations of justice; they took
 9812 themselves off in a hurry.  The young ladies of Highbury might have
 9813 walked again in safety before their panic began, and the whole
 9814 history dwindled soon into a matter of little importance but to Emma
 9815 and her nephews: -- in her imagination it maintained its ground,
 9816 and Henry and John were still asking every day for the story of
 9817 Harriet and the gipsies, and still tenaciously setting her right
 9818 if she varied in the slightest particular from the original recital.



 9819 CHAPTER IV


 9820 A very few days had passed after this adventure, when Harriet came
 9821 one morning to Emma with a small parcel in her hand, and after
 9822 sitting down and hesitating, thus began:

 9823 "Miss Woodhouse -- if you are at leisure -- I have something that I
 9824 should like to tell you -- a sort of confession to make -- and then,
 9825 you know, it will be over."

 9826 Emma was a good deal surprized; but begged her to speak.
 9827 There was a seriousness in Harriet's manner which prepared her,
 9828 quite as much as her words, for something more than ordinary.

 9829 "It is my duty, and I am sure it is my wish," she continued,
 9830 "to have no reserves with you on this subject.  As I am happily
 9831 quite an altered creature in _one_ _respect_, it is very fit that you
 9832 should have the satisfaction of knowing it.  I do not want to say
 9833 more than is necessary -- I am too much ashamed of having given way
 9834 as I have done, and I dare say you understand me."

 9835 "Yes," said Emma, "I hope I do."

 9836 "How I could so long a time be fancying myself! . . ."
 9837 cried Harriet, warmly.  "It seems like madness!  I can see nothing
 9838 at all extraordinary in him now. -- I do not care whether I meet
 9839 him or not -- except that of the two I had rather not see him -- 
 9840 and indeed I would go any distance round to avoid him -- but I do
 9841 not envy his wife in the least; I neither admire her nor envy her,
 9842 as I have done:  she is very charming, I dare say, and all that,
 9843 but I think her very ill-tempered and disagreeable -- I shall never forget
 9844 her look the other night! -- However, I assure you, Miss Woodhouse,
 9845 I wish her no evil. -- No, let them be ever so happy together,
 9846 it will not give me another moment's pang:  and to convince you
 9847 that I have been speaking truth, I am now going to destroy -- what I
 9848 ought to have destroyed long ago -- what I ought never to have kept -- 
 9849 I know that very well (blushing as she spoke). -- However, now I
 9850 will destroy it all -- and it is my particular wish to do it
 9851 in your presence, that you may see how rational I am grown.
 9852 Cannot you guess what this parcel holds?" said she, with a conscious look.

 9853 "Not the least in the world. -- Did he ever give you any thing?"

 9854 "No -- I cannot call them gifts; but they are things that I have
 9855 valued very much."

 9856 She held the parcel towards her, and Emma read the words _Most_
 9857 _precious_ _treasures_ on the top.  Her curiosity was greatly excited.
 9858 Harriet unfolded the parcel, and she looked on with impatience.
 9859 Within abundance of silver paper was a pretty little Tunbridge-ware box,
 9860 which Harriet opened:  it was well lined with the softest cotton;
 9861 but, excepting the cotton, Emma saw only a small piece of court-plaister.

 9862 "Now," said Harriet, "you _must_ recollect."

 9863 "No, indeed I do not."

 9864 "Dear me!  I should not have thought it possible you could forget
 9865 what passed in this very room about court-plaister, one of the very
 9866 last times we ever met in it! -- It was but a very few days before I
 9867 had my sore throat -- just before Mr and Mrs John Knightley came -- 
 9868 I think the very evening. -- Do not you remember his cutting his finger
 9869 with your new penknife, and your recommending court-plaister? -- 
 9870 But, as you had none about you, and knew I had, you desired
 9871 me to supply him; and so I took mine out and cut him a piece;
 9872 but it was a great deal too large, and he cut it smaller, and kept
 9873 playing some time with what was left, before he gave it back to me.
 9874 And so then, in my nonsense, I could not help making a treasure of it -- 
 9875 so I put it by never to be used, and looked at it now and then
 9876 as a great treat."

 9877 "My dearest Harriet!" cried Emma, putting her hand before her face,
 9878 and jumping up, "you make me more ashamed of myself than I can bear.
 9879 Remember it?  Aye, I remember it all now; all, except your saving
 9880 this relic -- I knew nothing of that till this moment -- but the cutting
 9881 the finger, and my recommending court-plaister, and saying I had none
 9882 about me! -- Oh! my sins, my sins! -- And I had plenty all the while in
 9883 my pocket! -- One of my senseless tricks! -- I deserve to be under a
 9884 continual blush all the rest of my life. -- Well -- (sitting down again) -- 
 9885 go on -- what else?"

 9886 "And had you really some at hand yourself?  I am sure I never
 9887 suspected it, you did it so naturally."

 9888 "And so you actually put this piece of court-plaister by for his sake!"
 9889 said Emma, recovering from her state of shame and feeling divided
 9890 between wonder and amusement.  And secretly she added to herself,
 9891 "Lord bless me! when should I ever have thought of putting by in cotton
 9892 a piece of court-plaister that Frank Churchill had been pulling about!
 9893 I never was equal to this."

 9894 "Here," resumed Harriet, turning to her box again, "here is
 9895 something still more valuable, I mean that _has_ _been_ more valuable,
 9896 because this is what did really once belong to him, which the
 9897 court-plaister never did."

 9898 Emma was quite eager to see this superior treasure.  It was the end
 9899 of an old pencil, -- the part without any lead.

 9900 "This was really his," said Harriet. -- "Do not you remember
 9901 one morning? -- no, I dare say you do not.  But one morning -- I forget
 9902 exactly the day -- but perhaps it was the Tuesday or Wednesday before
 9903 _that_ _evening_, he wanted to make a memorandum in his pocket-book;
 9904 it was about spruce-beer. Mr Knightley had been telling him
 9905 something about brewing spruce-beer, and he wanted to put it down;
 9906 but when he took out his pencil, there was so little lead that he
 9907 soon cut it all away, and it would not do, so you lent him another,
 9908 and this was left upon the table as good for nothing.  But I kept
 9909 my eye on it; and, as soon as I dared, caught it up, and never
 9910 parted with it again from that moment."

 9911 "I do remember it," cried Emma; "I perfectly remember it. -- 
 9912 Talking about spruce-beer. -- Oh! yes -- Mr Knightley and I both saying we
 9913 liked it, and Mr Elton's seeming resolved to learn to like it too.
 9914 I perfectly remember it. -- Stop; Mr Knightley was standing just here,
 9915 was not he?  I have an idea he was standing just here."

 9916 "Ah!  I do not know.  I cannot recollect. -- It is very odd,
 9917 but I cannot recollect. -- Mr Elton was sitting here, I remember,
 9918 much about where I am now." -- 

 9919 "Well, go on."

 9920 "Oh! that's all.  I have nothing more to shew you, or to say -- 
 9921 except that I am now going to throw them both behind the fire,
 9922 and I wish you to see me do it."

 9923 "My poor dear Harriet! and have you actually found happiness
 9924 in treasuring up these things?"

 9925 "Yes, simpleton as I was! -- but I am quite ashamed of it now, and wish
 9926 I could forget as easily as I can burn them.  It was very wrong
 9927 of me, you know, to keep any remembrances, after he was married.
 9928 I knew it was -- but had not resolution enough to part with them."

 9929 "But, Harriet, is it necessary to burn the court-plaister? -- I have
 9930 not a word to say for the bit of old pencil, but the court-plaister
 9931 might be useful."

 9932 "I shall be happier to burn it," replied Harriet.  "It has
 9933 a disagreeable look to me.  I must get rid of every thing. -- 
 9934 There it goes, and there is an end, thank Heaven! of Mr Elton."

 9935 "And when," thought Emma, "will there be a beginning of Mr Churchill?"

 9936 She had soon afterwards reason to believe that the beginning was
 9937 already made, and could not but hope that the gipsy, though she had
 9938 _told_ no fortune, might be proved to have made Harriet's. -- About a
 9939 fortnight after the alarm, they came to a sufficient explanation,
 9940 and quite undesignedly.  Emma was not thinking of it at the moment,
 9941 which made the information she received more valuable.
 9942 She merely said, in the course of some trivial chat, "Well, Harriet,
 9943 whenever you marry I would advise you to do so and so" -- and thought
 9944 no more of it, till after a minute's silence she heard Harriet
 9945 say in a very serious tone, "I shall never marry."

 9946 Emma then looked up, and immediately saw how it was; and after a
 9947 moment's debate, as to whether it should pass unnoticed or not, replied,

 9948 "Never marry! -- This is a new resolution."

 9949 "It is one that I shall never change, however."

 9950 After another short hesitation, "I hope it does not proceed from -- 
 9951 I hope it is not in compliment to Mr Elton?"

 9952 "Mr Elton indeed!" cried Harriet indignantly. -- "Oh! no" -- and Emma
 9953 could just catch the words, "so superior to Mr Elton!"

 9954 She then took a longer time for consideration.  Should she proceed
 9955 no farther? -- should she let it pass, and seem to suspect nothing? -- 
 9956 Perhaps Harriet might think her cold or angry if she did;
 9957 or perhaps if she were totally silent, it might only drive
 9958 Harriet into asking her to hear too much; and against any thing
 9959 like such an unreserve as had been, such an open and frequent
 9960 discussion of hopes and chances, she was perfectly resolved. -- 
 9961 She believed it would be wiser for her to say and know at once,
 9962 all that she meant to say and know.  Plain dealing was always best.
 9963 She had previously determined how far she would proceed,
 9964 on any application of the sort; and it would be safer for both,
 9965 to have the judicious law of her own brain laid down with speed. -- 
 9966 She was decided, and thus spoke -- 

 9967 "Harriet, I will not affect to be in doubt of your meaning.
 9968 Your resolution, or rather your expectation of never marrying,
 9969 results from an idea that the person whom you might prefer,
 9970 would be too greatly your superior in situation to think of you.
 9971 Is not it so?"

 9972 "Oh!  Miss Woodhouse, believe me I have not the presumption to suppose -- 
 9973 Indeed I am not so mad. -- But it is a pleasure to me to admire him
 9974 at a distance -- and to think of his infinite superiority to all
 9975 the rest of the world, with the gratitude, wonder, and veneration,
 9976 which are so proper, in me especially."

 9977 "I am not at all surprized at you, Harriet.  The service he rendered
 9978 you was enough to warm your heart."

 9979 "Service! oh! it was such an inexpressible obligation! -- 
 9980 The very recollection of it, and all that I felt at the time -- 
 9981 when I saw him coming -- his noble look -- and my wretchedness before.
 9982 Such a change!  In one moment such a change!  From perfect misery
 9983 to perfect happiness!"

 9984 "It is very natural.  It is natural, and it is honourable. -- 
 9985 Yes, honourable, I think, to chuse so well and so gratefully. -- 
 9986 But that it will be a fortunate preference is more that I can promise.
 9987 I do not advise you to give way to it, Harriet.  I do not by any
 9988 means engage for its being returned.  Consider what you are about.
 9989 Perhaps it will be wisest in you to check your feelings while you can:
 9990 at any rate do not let them carry you far, unless you are persuaded
 9991 of his liking you.  Be observant of him.  Let his behaviour be the
 9992 guide of your sensations.  I give you this caution now, because I
 9993 shall never speak to you again on the subject.  I am determined
 9994 against all interference.  Henceforward I know nothing of the matter.
 9995 Let no name ever pass our lips.  We were very wrong before;
 9996 we will be cautious now. -- He is your superior, no doubt, and there
 9997 do seem objections and obstacles of a very serious nature;
 9998 but yet, Harriet, more wonderful things have taken place, there have
 9999 been matches of greater disparity.  But take care of yourself.
10000 I would not have you too sanguine; though, however it may end,
10001 be assured your raising your thoughts to _him_, is a mark of good taste
10002 which I shall always know how to value."

10003 Harriet kissed her hand in silent and submissive gratitude.
10004 Emma was very decided in thinking such an attachment no bad thing
10005 for her friend.  Its tendency would be to raise and refine her mind -- 
10006 and it must be saving her from the danger of degradation.



10007 CHAPTER V


10008 In this state of schemes, and hopes, and connivance, June opened
10009 upon Hartfield.  To Highbury in general it brought no material change.
10010 The Eltons were still talking of a visit from the Sucklings,
10011 and of the use to be made of their barouche-landau; and Jane Fairfax
10012 was still at her grandmother's; and as the return of the Campbells
10013 from Ireland was again delayed, and August, instead of Midsummer,
10014 fixed for it, she was likely to remain there full two months longer,
10015 provided at least she were able to defeat Mrs Elton's activity
10016 in her service, and save herself from being hurried into a delightful
10017 situation against her will.

10018 Mr Knightley, who, for some reason best known to himself, had certainly
10019 taken an early dislike to Frank Churchill, was only growing to dislike
10020 him more.  He began to suspect him of some double dealing in his
10021 pursuit of Emma.  That Emma was his object appeared indisputable.
10022 Every thing declared it; his own attentions, his father's hints,
10023 his mother-in-law's guarded silence; it was all in unison;
10024 words, conduct, discretion, and indiscretion, told the same story.
10025 But while so many were devoting him to Emma, and Emma herself making him
10026 over to Harriet, Mr Knightley began to suspect him of some inclination
10027 to trifle with Jane Fairfax.  He could not understand it; but there
10028 were symptoms of intelligence between them -- he thought so at least -- 
10029 symptoms of admiration on his side, which, having once observed,
10030 he could not persuade himself to think entirely void of meaning,
10031 however he might wish to escape any of Emma's errors of imagination.
10032 _She_ was not present when the suspicion first arose.  He was dining
10033 with the Randalls family, and Jane, at the Eltons'; and he had
10034 seen a look, more than a single look, at Miss Fairfax, which,
10035 from the admirer of Miss Woodhouse, seemed somewhat out of place.
10036 When he was again in their company, he could not help remembering
10037 what he had seen; nor could he avoid observations which, unless it
10038 were like Cowper and his fire at twilight,

10039 "Myself creating what I saw,"

10040 brought him yet stronger suspicion of there being a something
10041 of private liking, of private understanding even, between Frank
10042 Churchill and Jane.

10043 He had walked up one day after dinner, as he very often did,
10044 to spend his evening at Hartfield.  Emma and Harriet were going
10045 to walk; he joined them; and, on returning, they fell in with a
10046 larger party, who, like themselves, judged it wisest to take their
10047 exercise early, as the weather threatened rain; Mr and Mrs Weston
10048 and their son, Miss Bates and her niece, who had accidentally met.
10049 They all united; and, on reaching Hartfield gates, Emma, who knew it
10050 was exactly the sort of visiting that would be welcome to her father,
10051 pressed them all to go in and drink tea with him.  The Randalls
10052 party agreed to it immediately; and after a pretty long speech
10053 from Miss Bates, which few persons listened to, she also found it
10054 possible to accept dear Miss Woodhouse's most obliging invitation.

10055 As they were turning into the grounds, Mr Perry passed by on horseback.
10056 The gentlemen spoke of his horse.

10057 "By the bye," said Frank Churchill to Mrs Weston presently,
10058 "what became of Mr Perry's plan of setting up his carriage?"

10059 Mrs Weston looked surprized, and said, "I did not know that he
10060 ever had any such plan."

10061 "Nay, I had it from you.  You wrote me word of it three months ago."

10062 "Me! impossible!"

10063 "Indeed you did.  I remember it perfectly.  You mentioned it as
10064 what was certainly to be very soon.  Mrs Perry had told somebody,
10065 and was extremely happy about it.  It was owing to _her_ persuasion,
10066 as she thought his being out in bad weather did him a great deal
10067 of harm.  You must remember it now?"

10068 "Upon my word I never heard of it till this moment."

10069 "Never! really, never! -- Bless me! how could it be? -- Then I must
10070 have dreamt it -- but I was completely persuaded -- Miss Smith,
10071 you walk as if you were tired.  You will not be sorry to find
10072 yourself at home."

10073 "What is this? -- What is this?" cried Mr Weston, "about Perry
10074 and a carriage?  Is Perry going to set up his carriage, Frank?
10075 I am glad he can afford it.  You had it from himself, had you?"

10076 "No, sir," replied his son, laughing, "I seem to have had it
10077 from nobody. -- Very odd! -- I really was persuaded of Mrs Weston's
10078 having mentioned it in one of her letters to Enscombe, many weeks ago,
10079 with all these particulars -- but as she declares she never heard
10080 a syllable of it before, of course it must have been a dream.  I am
10081 a great dreamer.  I dream of every body at Highbury when I am away -- 
10082 and when I have gone through my particular friends, then I begin
10083 dreaming of Mr and Mrs Perry."

10084 "It is odd though," observed his father, "that you should have had such
10085 a regular connected dream about people whom it was not very likely you
10086 should be thinking of at Enscombe.  Perry's setting up his carriage!
10087 and his wife's persuading him to it, out of care for his health -- 
10088 just what will happen, I have no doubt, some time or other;
10089 only a little premature.  What an air of probability sometimes
10090 runs through a dream!  And at others, what a heap of absurdities
10091 it is!  Well, Frank, your dream certainly shews that Highbury is in
10092 your thoughts when you are absent.  Emma, you are a great dreamer,
10093 I think?"

10094 Emma was out of hearing.  She had hurried on before her guests
10095 to prepare her father for their appearance, and was beyond the reach
10096 of Mr Weston's hint.

10097 "Why, to own the truth," cried Miss Bates, who had been trying in vain
10098 to be heard the last two minutes, "if I must speak on this subject,
10099 there is no denying that Mr Frank Churchill might have -- I do not
10100 mean to say that he did not dream it -- I am sure I have sometimes
10101 the oddest dreams in the world -- but if I am questioned about it,
10102 I must acknowledge that there was such an idea last spring;
10103 for Mrs Perry herself mentioned it to my mother, and the Coles
10104 knew of it as well as ourselves -- but it was quite a secret,
10105 known to nobody else, and only thought of about three days.
10106 Mrs Perry was very anxious that he should have a carriage, and came
10107 to my mother in great spirits one morning because she thought she
10108 had prevailed.  Jane, don't you remember grandmama's telling us
10109 of it when we got home?  I forget where we had been walking to -- 
10110 very likely to Randalls; yes, I think it was to Randalls.
10111 Mrs Perry was always particularly fond of my mother -- indeed I do
10112 not know who is not -- and she had mentioned it to her in confidence;
10113 she had no objection to her telling us, of course, but it was not
10114 to go beyond:  and, from that day to this, I never mentioned it
10115 to a soul that I know of.  At the same time, I will not positively
10116 answer for my having never dropt a hint, because I know I do
10117 sometimes pop out a thing before I am aware.  I am a talker,
10118 you know; I am rather a talker; and now and then I have let a thing
10119 escape me which I should not.  I am not like Jane; I wish I were.
10120 I will answer for it _she_ never betrayed the least thing in the world.
10121 Where is she? -- Oh! just behind.  Perfectly remember Mrs Perry's coming. -- 
10122 Extraordinary dream, indeed!"

10123 They were entering the hall.  Mr Knightley's eyes had preceded
10124 Miss Bates's in a glance at Jane.  From Frank Churchill's face,
10125 where he thought he saw confusion suppressed or laughed away,
10126 he had involuntarily turned to hers; but she was indeed behind,
10127 and too busy with her shawl.  Mr Weston had walked in.  The two
10128 other gentlemen waited at the door to let her pass.  Mr Knightley
10129 suspected in Frank Churchill the determination of catching her eye -- 
10130 he seemed watching her intently -- in vain, however, if it were so -- 
10131 Jane passed between them into the hall, and looked at neither.

10132 There was no time for farther remark or explanation.  The dream must
10133 be borne with, and Mr Knightley must take his seat with the rest round
10134 the large modern circular table which Emma had introduced at Hartfield,
10135 and which none but Emma could have had power to place there and
10136 persuade her father to use, instead of the small-sized Pembroke,
10137 on which two of his daily meals had, for forty years been crowded.
10138 Tea passed pleasantly, and nobody seemed in a hurry to move.

10139 "Miss Woodhouse," said Frank Churchill, after examining a table
10140 behind him, which he could reach as he sat, "have your nephews taken
10141 away their alphabets -- their box of letters?  It used to stand here.
10142 Where is it?  This is a sort of dull-looking evening, that ought
10143 to be treated rather as winter than summer.  We had great amusement
10144 with those letters one morning.  I want to puzzle you again."

10145 Emma was pleased with the thought; and producing the box, the table
10146 was quickly scattered over with alphabets, which no one seemed so much
10147 disposed to employ as their two selves.  They were rapidly forming
10148 words for each other, or for any body else who would be puzzled.
10149 The quietness of the game made it particularly eligible for
10150 Mr Woodhouse, who had often been distressed by the more animated sort,
10151 which Mr Weston had occasionally introduced, and who now sat happily
10152 occupied in lamenting, with tender melancholy, over the departure
10153 of the "poor little boys," or in fondly pointing out, as he took
10154 up any stray letter near him, how beautifully Emma had written it.

10155 Frank Churchill placed a word before Miss Fairfax.  She gave
10156 a slight glance round the table, and applied herself to it.
10157 Frank was next to Emma, Jane opposite to them -- and Mr Knightley
10158 so placed as to see them all; and it was his object to see as much
10159 as he could, with as little apparent observation.  The word
10160 was discovered, and with a faint smile pushed away.  If meant
10161 to be immediately mixed with the others, and buried from sight,
10162 she should have looked on the table instead of looking just across,
10163 for it was not mixed; and Harriet, eager after every fresh word,
10164 and finding out none, directly took it up, and fell to work.
10165 She was sitting by Mr Knightley, and turned to him for help.
10166 The word was _blunder_; and as Harriet exultingly proclaimed it,
10167 there was a blush on Jane's cheek which gave it a meaning not
10168 otherwise ostensible.  Mr Knightley connected it with the dream;
10169 but how it could all be, was beyond his comprehension.
10170 How the delicacy, the discretion of his favourite could have been
10171 so lain asleep!  He feared there must be some decided involvement.
10172 Disingenuousness and double dealing seemed to meet him at every turn.
10173 These letters were but the vehicle for gallantry and trick.
10174 It was a child's play, chosen to conceal a deeper game on Frank
10175 Churchill's part.

10176 With great indignation did he continue to observe him; with great
10177 alarm and distrust, to observe also his two blinded companions.
10178 He saw a short word prepared for Emma, and given to her with a look
10179 sly and demure.  He saw that Emma had soon made it out, and found
10180 it highly entertaining, though it was something which she judged it
10181 proper to appear to censure; for she said, "Nonsense! for shame!"
10182 He heard Frank Churchill next say, with a glance towards Jane,
10183 "I will give it to her -- shall I?" -- and as clearly heard Emma
10184 opposing it with eager laughing warmth.  "No, no, you must not;
10185 you shall not, indeed."

10186 It was done however.  This gallant young man, who seemed to love
10187 without feeling, and to recommend himself without complaisance,
10188 directly handed over the word to Miss Fairfax, and with a particular
10189 degree of sedate civility entreated her to study it.  Mr Knightley's
10190 excessive curiosity to know what this word might be, made him seize
10191 every possible moment for darting his eye towards it, and it was
10192 not long before he saw it to be _Dixon_.  Jane Fairfax's perception
10193 seemed to accompany his; her comprehension was certainly more equal
10194 to the covert meaning, the superior intelligence, of those five letters
10195 so arranged.  She was evidently displeased; looked up, and seeing
10196 herself watched, blushed more deeply than he had ever perceived her,
10197 and saying only, "I did not know that proper names were allowed,"
10198 pushed away the letters with even an angry spirit, and looked
10199 resolved to be engaged by no other word that could be offered.
10200 Her face was averted from those who had made the attack, and turned
10201 towards her aunt.

10202 "Aye, very true, my dear," cried the latter, though Jane had not
10203 spoken a word -- "I was just going to say the same thing.  It is time
10204 for us to be going indeed.  The evening is closing in, and grandmama
10205 will be looking for us.  My dear sir, you are too obliging.
10206 We really must wish you good night."

10207 Jane's alertness in moving, proved her as ready as her aunt
10208 had preconceived.  She was immediately up, and wanting to quit
10209 the table; but so many were also moving, that she could not get away;
10210 and Mr Knightley thought he saw another collection of letters anxiously
10211 pushed towards her, and resolutely swept away by her unexamined.
10212 She was afterwards looking for her shawl -- Frank Churchill was
10213 looking also -- it was growing dusk, and the room was in confusion;
10214 and how they parted, Mr Knightley could not tell.

10215 He remained at Hartfield after all the rest, his thoughts full
10216 of what he had seen; so full, that when the candles came to assist
10217 his observations, he must -- yes, he certainly must, as a friend -- 
10218 an anxious friend -- give Emma some hint, ask her some question.
10219 He could not see her in a situation of such danger, without trying to
10220 preserve her.  It was his duty.

10221 "Pray, Emma," said he, "may I ask in what lay the great amusement,
10222 the poignant sting of the last word given to you and Miss Fairfax?
10223 I saw the word, and am curious to know how it could be so very
10224 entertaining to the one, and so very distressing to the other."

10225 Emma was extremely confused.  She could not endure to give him the
10226 true explanation; for though her suspicions were by no means removed,
10227 she was really ashamed of having ever imparted them.

10228 "Oh!" she cried in evident embarrassment, "it all meant nothing;
10229 a mere joke among ourselves."

10230 "The joke," he replied gravely, "seemed confined to you
10231 and Mr Churchill."

10232 He had hoped she would speak again, but she did not.  She would
10233 rather busy herself about any thing than speak.  He sat a little
10234 while in doubt.  A variety of evils crossed his mind.  Interference -- 
10235 fruitless interference.  Emma's confusion, and the acknowledged intimacy,
10236 seemed to declare her affection engaged.  Yet he would speak.
10237 He owed it to her, to risk any thing that might be involved in
10238 an unwelcome interference, rather than her welfare; to encounter
10239 any thing, rather than the remembrance of neglect in such a cause.

10240 "My dear Emma," said he at last, with earnest kindness, "do you
10241 think you perfectly understand the degree of acquaintance between
10242 the gentleman and lady we have been speaking of?"

10243 "Between Mr Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax?  Oh! yes, perfectly. -- 
10244 Why do you make a doubt of it?"

10245 "Have you never at any time had reason to think that he admired her,
10246 or that she admired him?"

10247 "Never, never!" she cried with a most open eagerness -- "Never, for
10248 the twentieth part of a moment, did such an idea occur to me.
10249 And how could it possibly come into your head?"

10250 "I have lately imagined that I saw symptoms of attachment between them -- 
10251 certain expressive looks, which I did not believe meant to be public."

10252 "Oh! you amuse me excessively.  I am delighted to find that you
10253 can vouchsafe to let your imagination wander -- but it will not do -- 
10254 very sorry to check you in your first essay -- but indeed it will
10255 not do.  There is no admiration between them, I do assure you;
10256 and the appearances which have caught you, have arisen from some
10257 peculiar circumstances -- feelings rather of a totally different nature -- 
10258 it is impossible exactly to explain: -- there is a good deal of
10259 nonsense in it -- but the part which is capable of being communicated,
10260 which is sense, is, that they are as far from any attachment or
10261 admiration for one another, as any two beings in the world can be.
10262 That is, I _presume_ it to be so on her side, and I can _answer_ for its
10263 being so on his.  I will answer for the gentleman's indifference."

10264 She spoke with a confidence which staggered, with a satisfaction
10265 which silenced, Mr Knightley.  She was in gay spirits, and would
10266 have prolonged the conversation, wanting to hear the particulars
10267 of his suspicions, every look described, and all the wheres and hows
10268 of a circumstance which highly entertained her:  but his gaiety did
10269 not meet hers.  He found he could not be useful, and his feelings
10270 were too much irritated for talking.  That he might not be irritated
10271 into an absolute fever, by the fire which Mr Woodhouse's tender
10272 habits required almost every evening throughout the year, he soon
10273 afterwards took a hasty leave, and walked home to the coolness
10274 and solitude of Donwell Abbey.



10275 CHAPTER VI


10276 After being long fed with hopes of a speedy visit from
10277 Mr and Mrs Suckling, the Highbury world were obliged to endure the
10278 mortification of hearing that they could not possibly come till the autumn.
10279 No such importation of novelties could enrich their intellectual stores
10280 at present.  In the daily interchange of news, they must be again
10281 restricted to the other topics with which for a while the Sucklings'
10282 coming had been united, such as the last accounts of Mrs Churchill,
10283 whose health seemed every day to supply a different report,
10284 and the situation of Mrs Weston, whose happiness it was to be hoped
10285 might eventually be as much increased by the arrival of a child,
10286 as that of all her neighbours was by the approach of it.

10287 Mrs Elton was very much disappointed.  It was the delay of a great
10288 deal of pleasure and parade.  Her introductions and recommendations
10289 must all wait, and every projected party be still only talked of.
10290 So she thought at first; -- but a little consideration convinced
10291 her that every thing need not be put off.  Why should not they
10292 explore to Box Hill though the Sucklings did not come?  They could
10293 go there again with them in the autumn.  It was settled that they
10294 should go to Box Hill.  That there was to be such a party had been
10295 long generally known:  it had even given the idea of another.
10296 Emma had never been to Box Hill; she wished to see what every body
10297 found so well worth seeing, and she and Mr Weston had agreed
10298 to chuse some fine morning and drive thither.  Two or three more
10299 of the chosen only were to be admitted to join them, and it was to
10300 be done in a quiet, unpretending, elegant way, infinitely superior
10301 to the bustle and preparation, the regular eating and drinking,
10302 and picnic parade of the Eltons and the Sucklings.

10303 This was so very well understood between them, that Emma could
10304 not but feel some surprise, and a little displeasure, on hearing
10305 from Mr Weston that he had been proposing to Mrs Elton, as her
10306 brother and sister had failed her, that the two parties should unite,
10307 and go together; and that as Mrs Elton had very readily acceded
10308 to it, so it was to be, if she had no objection.  Now, as her
10309 objection was nothing but her very great dislike of Mrs Elton,
10310 of which Mr Weston must already be perfectly aware, it was not worth
10311 bringing forward again: -- it could not be done without a reproof
10312 to him, which would be giving pain to his wife; and she found
10313 herself therefore obliged to consent to an arrangement which she
10314 would have done a great deal to avoid; an arrangement which would
10315 probably expose her even to the degradation of being said to be of
10316 Mrs Elton's party!  Every feeling was offended; and the forbearance
10317 of her outward submission left a heavy arrear due of secret severity
10318 in her reflections on the unmanageable goodwill of Mr Weston's temper.

10319 "I am glad you approve of what I have done," said he very comfortably.
10320 "But I thought you would.  Such schemes as these are nothing
10321 without numbers.  One cannot have too large a party.  A large party
10322 secures its own amusement.  And she is a good-natured woman after all.
10323 One could not leave her out."

10324 Emma denied none of it aloud, and agreed to none of it in private.

10325 It was now the middle of June, and the weather fine; and Mrs Elton
10326 was growing impatient to name the day, and settle with Mr Weston
10327 as to pigeon-pies and cold lamb, when a lame carriage-horse threw
10328 every thing into sad uncertainty.  It might be weeks, it might be
10329 only a few days, before the horse were useable; but no preparations
10330 could be ventured on, and it was all melancholy stagnation.
10331 Mrs Elton's resources were inadequate to such an attack.

10332 "Is not this most vexations, Knightley?" she cried. -- "And such weather
10333 for exploring! -- These delays and disappointments are quite odious.
10334 What are we to do? -- The year will wear away at this rate,
10335 and nothing done.  Before this time last year I assure you we had
10336 had a delightful exploring party from Maple Grove to Kings Weston."

10337 "You had better explore to Donwell," replied Mr Knightley.
10338 "That may be done without horses.  Come, and eat my strawberries.
10339 They are ripening fast."

10340 If Mr Knightley did not begin seriously, he was obliged to proceed so,
10341 for his proposal was caught at with delight; and the "Oh!  I should
10342 like it of all things," was not plainer in words than manner.
10343 Donwell was famous for its strawberry-beds, which seemed a plea for
10344 the invitation:  but no plea was necessary; cabbage-beds would have
10345 been enough to tempt the lady, who only wanted to be going somewhere.
10346 She promised him again and again to come -- much oftener than
10347 he doubted -- and was extremely gratified by such a proof of intimacy,
10348 such a distinguishing compliment as she chose to consider it.

10349 "You may depend upon me," said she.  "I certainly will come.
10350 Name your day, and I will come.  You will allow me to bring
10351 Jane Fairfax?"

10352 "I cannot name a day," said he, "till I have spoken to some others
10353 whom I would wish to meet you."

10354 "Oh! leave all that to me.  Only give me a carte-blanche. -- I am
10355 Lady Patroness, you know.  It is my party.  I will bring friends
10356 with me."

10357 "I hope you will bring Elton," said he:  "but I will not trouble
10358 you to give any other invitations."

10359 "Oh! now you are looking very sly.  But consider -- you need not be afraid
10360 of delegating power to _me_.  I am no young lady on her preferment.
10361 Married women, you know, may be safely authorised.  It is my party.
10362 Leave it all to me.  I will invite your guests."

10363 "No," -- he calmly replied, -- "there is but one married woman in the world
10364 whom I can ever allow to invite what guests she pleases to Donwell,
10365 and that one is -- "

10366 " -- Mrs Weston, I suppose," interrupted Mrs Elton, rather mortified.

10367 "No -- Mrs Knightley; -- and till she is in being, I will manage
10368 such matters myself."

10369 "Ah! you are an odd creature!" she cried, satisfied to have no
10370 one preferred to herself. -- "You are a humourist, and may say what
10371 you like.  Quite a humourist.  Well, I shall bring Jane with me -- 
10372 Jane and her aunt. -- The rest I leave to you.  I have no objections
10373 at all to meeting the Hartfield family.  Don't scruple.  I know
10374 you are attached to them."

10375 "You certainly will meet them if I can prevail; and I shall call
10376 on Miss Bates in my way home."

10377 "That's quite unnecessary; I see Jane every day: -- but as you like.
10378 It is to be a morning scheme, you know, Knightley; quite a simple thing.
10379 I shall wear a large bonnet, and bring one of my little baskets
10380 hanging on my arm.  Here, -- probably this basket with pink ribbon.
10381 Nothing can be more simple, you see.  And Jane will have such another.
10382 There is to be no form or parade -- a sort of gipsy party.  We are
10383 to walk about your gardens, and gather the strawberries ourselves,
10384 and sit under trees; -- and whatever else you may like to provide,
10385 it is to be all out of doors -- a table spread in the shade, you know.
10386 Every thing as natural and simple as possible.  Is not that your idea?"

10387 "Not quite.  My idea of the simple and the natural will be to have
10388 the table spread in the dining-room. The nature and the simplicity
10389 of gentlemen and ladies, with their servants and furniture, I think
10390 is best observed by meals within doors.  When you are tired of eating
10391 strawberries in the garden, there shall be cold meat in the house."

10392 "Well -- as you please; only don't have a great set out.  And, by the bye,
10393 can I or my housekeeper be of any use to you with our opinion? -- 
10394 Pray be sincere, Knightley.  If you wish me to talk to Mrs Hodges,
10395 or to inspect anything -- "

10396 "I have not the least wish for it, I thank you."

10397 "Well -- but if any difficulties should arise, my housekeeper
10398 is extremely clever."

10399 "I will answer for it, that mine thinks herself full as clever,
10400 and would spurn any body's assistance."

10401 "I wish we had a donkey.  The thing would be for us all to come
10402 on donkeys, Jane, Miss Bates, and me -- and my caro sposo walking by.
10403 I really must talk to him about purchasing a donkey.  In a country
10404 life I conceive it to be a sort of necessary; for, let a woman have
10405 ever so many resources, it is not possible for her to be always shut
10406 up at home; -- and very long walks, you know -- in summer there is dust,
10407 and in winter there is dirt."

10408 "You will not find either, between Donwell and Highbury.
10409 Donwell Lane is never dusty, and now it is perfectly dry.  Come on
10410 a donkey, however, if you prefer it.  You can borrow Mrs Cole's.
10411 I would wish every thing to be as much to your taste as possible."

10412 "That I am sure you would.  Indeed I do you justice, my good friend.
10413 Under that peculiar sort of dry, blunt manner, I know you have the
10414 warmest heart.  As I tell Mr E., you are a thorough humourist. -- 
10415 Yes, believe me, Knightley, I am fully sensible of your attention
10416 to me in the whole of this scheme.  You have hit upon the very thing
10417 to please me."

10418 Mr Knightley had another reason for avoiding a table in the shade.
10419 He wished to persuade Mr Woodhouse, as well as Emma, to join the party;
10420 and he knew that to have any of them sitting down out of doors
10421 to eat would inevitably make him ill.  Mr Woodhouse must not,
10422 under the specious pretence of a morning drive, and an hour or two
10423 spent at Donwell, be tempted away to his misery.

10424 He was invited on good faith.  No lurking horrors were to upbraid
10425 him for his easy credulity.  He did consent.  He had not been
10426 at Donwell for two years.  "Some very fine morning, he, and Emma,
10427 and Harriet, could go very well; and he could sit still with
10428 Mrs Weston, while the dear girls walked about the gardens.
10429 He did not suppose they could be damp now, in the middle of
10430 the day.  He should like to see the old house again exceedingly,
10431 and should be very happy to meet Mr and Mrs Elton, and any other
10432 of his neighbours. -- He could not see any objection at all to his,
10433 and Emma's, and Harriet's going there some very fine morning.
10434 He thought it very well done of Mr Knightley to invite them -- 
10435 very kind and sensible -- much cleverer than dining out. -- He was not
10436 fond of dining out."

10437 Mr Knightley was fortunate in every body's most ready concurrence.
10438 The invitation was everywhere so well received, that it seemed as if,
10439 like Mrs Elton, they were all taking the scheme as a particular
10440 compliment to themselves. -- Emma and Harriet professed very high
10441 expectations of pleasure from it; and Mr Weston, unasked,
10442 promised to get Frank over to join them, if possible; a proof
10443 of approbation and gratitude which could have been dispensed with. -- 
10444 Mr Knightley was then obliged to say that he should be glad
10445 to see him; and Mr Weston engaged to lose no time in writing,
10446 and spare no arguments to induce him to come.

10447 In the meanwhile the lame horse recovered so fast, that the party
10448 to Box Hill was again under happy consideration; and at last Donwell
10449 was settled for one day, and Box Hill for the next, -- the weather
10450 appearing exactly right.

10451 Under a bright mid-day sun, at almost Midsummer, Mr Woodhouse
10452 was safely conveyed in his carriage, with one window down,
10453 to partake of this al-fresco party; and in one of the most
10454 comfortable rooms in the Abbey, especially prepared for him by a
10455 fire all the morning, he was happily placed, quite at his ease,
10456 ready to talk with pleasure of what had been achieved, and advise
10457 every body to come and sit down, and not to heat themselves. -- 
10458 Mrs Weston, who seemed to have walked there on purpose to be tired,
10459 and sit all the time with him, remained, when all the others
10460 were invited or persuaded out, his patient listener and sympathiser.

10461 It was so long since Emma had been at the Abbey, that as soon as she
10462 was satisfied of her father's comfort, she was glad to leave him,
10463 and look around her; eager to refresh and correct her memory with
10464 more particular observation, more exact understanding of a house
10465 and grounds which must ever be so interesting to her and all her family.

10466 She felt all the honest pride and complacency which her alliance
10467 with the present and future proprietor could fairly warrant,
10468 as she viewed the respectable size and style of the building,
10469 its suitable, becoming, characteristic situation, low and sheltered -- 
10470 its ample gardens stretching down to meadows washed by a stream,
10471 of which the Abbey, with all the old neglect of prospect,
10472 had scarcely a sight -- and its abundance of timber in rows and avenues,
10473 which neither fashion nor extravagance had rooted up. -- The house
10474 was larger than Hartfield, and totally unlike it, covering a good
10475 deal of ground, rambling and irregular, with many comfortable,
10476 and one or two handsome rooms. -- It was just what it ought to be,
10477 and it looked what it was -- and Emma felt an increasing respect
10478 for it, as the residence of a family of such true gentility,
10479 untainted in blood and understanding. -- Some faults of temper John
10480 Knightley had; but Isabella had connected herself unexceptionably.
10481 She had given them neither men, nor names, nor places, that could
10482 raise a blush.  These were pleasant feelings, and she walked about
10483 and indulged them till it was necessary to do as the others did,
10484 and collect round the strawberry-beds. -- The whole party were assembled,
10485 excepting Frank Churchill, who was expected every moment from Richmond;
10486 and Mrs Elton, in all her apparatus of happiness, her large bonnet
10487 and her basket, was very ready to lead the way in gathering,
10488 accepting, or talking -- strawberries, and only strawberries,
10489 could now be thought or spoken of. -- "The best fruit in England -- 
10490 every body's favourite -- always wholesome. -- These the finest beds
10491 and finest sorts. -- Delightful to gather for one's self -- the only way
10492 of really enjoying them. -- Morning decidedly the best time -- never tired -- 
10493 every sort good -- hautboy infinitely superior -- no comparison -- 
10494 the others hardly eatable -- hautboys very scarce -- Chili preferred -- 
10495 white wood finest flavour of all -- price of strawberries in London -- 
10496 abundance about Bristol -- Maple Grove -- cultivation -- beds when to
10497 be renewed -- gardeners thinking exactly different -- no general rule -- 
10498 gardeners never to be put out of their way -- delicious fruit -- 
10499 only too rich to be eaten much of -- inferior to cherries -- 
10500 currants more refreshing -- only objection to gathering strawberries
10501 the stooping -- glaring sun -- tired to death -- could bear it no longer -- 
10502 must go and sit in the shade."

10503 Such, for half an hour, was the conversation -- interrupted only
10504 once by Mrs Weston, who came out, in her solicitude after her
10505 son-in-law, to inquire if he were come -- and she was a little uneasy. -- 
10506 She had some fears of his horse.

10507 Seats tolerably in the shade were found; and now Emma was obliged
10508 to overhear what Mrs Elton and Jane Fairfax were talking of. -- 
10509 A situation, a most desirable situation, was in question.  Mrs Elton
10510 had received notice of it that morning, and was in raptures.
10511 It was not with Mrs Suckling, it was not with Mrs Bragge,
10512 but in felicity and splendour it fell short only of them:  it was
10513 with a cousin of Mrs Bragge, an acquaintance of Mrs Suckling,
10514 a lady known at Maple Grove.  Delightful, charming, superior,
10515 first circles, spheres, lines, ranks, every thing -- and Mrs Elton
10516 was wild to have the offer closed with immediately. -- On her side,
10517 all was warmth, energy, and triumph -- and she positively refused
10518 to take her friend's negative, though Miss Fairfax continued
10519 to assure her that she would not at present engage in any thing,
10520 repeating the same motives which she had been heard to urge before. -- 
10521 Still Mrs Elton insisted on being authorised to write an acquiescence
10522 by the morrow's post. -- How Jane could bear it at all, was astonishing
10523 to Emma. -- She did look vexed, she did speak pointedly -- and at last,
10524 with a decision of action unusual to her, proposed a removal. -- 
10525 "Should not they walk?  Would not Mr Knightley shew them the gardens -- 
10526 all the gardens? -- She wished to see the whole extent." -- The pertinacity
10527 of her friend seemed more than she could bear.

10528 It was hot; and after walking some time over the gardens in a scattered,
10529 dispersed way, scarcely any three together, they insensibly
10530 followed one another to the delicious shade of a broad short
10531 avenue of limes, which stretching beyond the garden at an equal
10532 distance from the river, seemed the finish of the pleasure grounds. -- 
10533 It led to nothing; nothing but a view at the end over a low stone
10534 wall with high pillars, which seemed intended, in their erection,
10535 to give the appearance of an approach to the house, which never had
10536 been there.  Disputable, however, as might be the taste of such
10537 a termination, it was in itself a charming walk, and the view
10538 which closed it extremely pretty. -- The considerable slope, at nearly
10539 the foot of which the Abbey stood, gradually acquired a steeper
10540 form beyond its grounds; and at half a mile distant was a bank
10541 of considerable abruptness and grandeur, well clothed with wood; -- 
10542 and at the bottom of this bank, favourably placed and sheltered,
10543 rose the Abbey Mill Farm, with meadows in front, and the river
10544 making a close and handsome curve around it.

10545 It was a sweet view -- sweet to the eye and the mind.  English verdure,
10546 English culture, English comfort, seen under a sun bright,
10547 without being oppressive.

10548 In this walk Emma and Mr Weston found all the others assembled;
10549 and towards this view she immediately perceived Mr Knightley
10550 and Harriet distinct from the rest, quietly leading the way.
10551 Mr Knightley and Harriet! -- It was an odd tete-a-tete; but she was
10552 glad to see it. -- There had been a time when he would have scorned
10553 her as a companion, and turned from her with little ceremony.
10554 Now they seemed in pleasant conversation.  There had been a time
10555 also when Emma would have been sorry to see Harriet in a spot
10556 so favourable for the Abbey Mill Farm; but now she feared it not.
10557 It might be safely viewed with all its appendages of prosperity
10558 and beauty, its rich pastures, spreading flocks, orchard in blossom,
10559 and light column of smoke ascending. -- She joined them at the wall,
10560 and found them more engaged in talking than in looking around.
10561 He was giving Harriet information as to modes of agriculture, etc.
10562 and Emma received a smile which seemed to say, "These are my
10563 own concerns.  I have a right to talk on such subjects, without being
10564 suspected of introducing Robert Martin." -- She did not suspect him.
10565 It was too old a story. -- Robert Martin had probably ceased to think
10566 of Harriet. -- They took a few turns together along the walk. -- The shade
10567 was most refreshing, and Emma found it the pleasantest part of
10568 the day.

10569 The next remove was to the house; they must all go in and eat; -- 
10570 and they were all seated and busy, and still Frank Churchill did
10571 not come.  Mrs Weston looked, and looked in vain.  His father would
10572 not own himself uneasy, and laughed at her fears; but she could
10573 not be cured of wishing that he would part with his black mare.
10574 He had expressed himself as to coming, with more than common certainty.
10575 "His aunt was so much better, that he had not a doubt of getting
10576 over to them." -- Mrs Churchill's state, however, as many were ready
10577 to remind her, was liable to such sudden variation as might disappoint
10578 her nephew in the most reasonable dependence -- and Mrs Weston
10579 was at last persuaded to believe, or to say, that it must be
10580 by some attack of Mrs Churchill that he was prevented coming. -- 
10581 Emma looked at Harriet while the point was under consideration;
10582 she behaved very well, and betrayed no emotion.

10583 The cold repast was over, and the party were to go out once more
10584 to see what had not yet been seen, the old Abbey fish-ponds;
10585 perhaps get as far as the clover, which was to be begun cutting
10586 on the morrow, or, at any rate, have the pleasure of being hot,
10587 and growing cool again. -- Mr Woodhouse, who had already taken
10588 his little round in the highest part of the gardens, where no
10589 damps from the river were imagined even by him, stirred no more;
10590 and his daughter resolved to remain with him, that Mrs Weston
10591 might be persuaded away by her husband to the exercise and variety
10592 which her spirits seemed to need.

10593 Mr Knightley had done all in his power for Mr Woodhouse's
10594 entertainment.  Books of engravings, drawers of medals, cameos,
10595 corals, shells, and every other family collection within his cabinets,
10596 had been prepared for his old friend, to while away the morning;
10597 and the kindness had perfectly answered.  Mr Woodhouse had been
10598 exceedingly well amused.  Mrs Weston had been shewing them all to him,
10599 and now he would shew them all to Emma; -- fortunate in having no other
10600 resemblance to a child, than in a total want of taste for what he saw,
10601 for he was slow, constant, and methodical. -- Before this second looking
10602 over was begun, however, Emma walked into the hall for the sake
10603 of a few moments' free observation of the entrance and ground-plot
10604 of the house -- and was hardly there, when Jane Fairfax appeared,
10605 coming quickly in from the garden, and with a look of escape. -- 
10606 Little expecting to meet Miss Woodhouse so soon, there was a start
10607 at first; but Miss Woodhouse was the very person she was in quest of.

10608 "Will you be so kind," said she, "when I am missed, as to say
10609 that I am gone home? -- I am going this moment. -- My aunt is not aware
10610 how late it is, nor how long we have been absent -- but I am sure we
10611 shall be wanted, and I am determined to go directly. -- I have said
10612 nothing about it to any body.  It would only be giving trouble
10613 and distress.  Some are gone to the ponds, and some to the lime walk.
10614 Till they all come in I shall not be missed; and when they do,
10615 will you have the goodness to say that I am gone?"

10616 "Certainly, if you wish it; -- but you are not going to walk
10617 to Highbury alone?"

10618 "Yes -- what should hurt me? -- I walk fast.  I shall be at home
10619 in twenty minutes."

10620 "But it is too far, indeed it is, to be walking quite alone.
10621 Let my father's servant go with you. -- Let me order the carriage.
10622 It can be round in five minutes."

10623 "Thank you, thank you -- but on no account. -- I would rather walk. -- 
10624 And for _me_ to be afraid of walking alone! -- I, who may so soon have
10625 to guard others!"

10626 She spoke with great agitation; and Emma very feelingly replied,
10627 "That can be no reason for your being exposed to danger now.
10628 I must order the carriage.  The heat even would be danger. -- You are
10629 fatigued already."

10630 "I am," -- she answered -- "I am fatigued; but it is not the sort
10631 of fatigue -- quick walking will refresh me. -- Miss Woodhouse, we all
10632 know at times what it is to be wearied in spirits.  Mine, I confess,
10633 are exhausted.  The greatest kindness you can shew me, will be to let
10634 me have my own way, and only say that I am gone when it is necessary."

10635 Emma had not another word to oppose.  She saw it all; and entering
10636 into her feelings, promoted her quitting the house immediately,
10637 and watched her safely off with the zeal of a friend.  Her parting
10638 look was grateful -- and her parting words, "Oh!  Miss Woodhouse,
10639 the comfort of being sometimes alone!" -- seemed to burst from
10640 an overcharged heart, and to describe somewhat of the continual
10641 endurance to be practised by her, even towards some of those who
10642 loved her best.

10643 "Such a home, indeed! such an aunt!" said Emma, as she turned back
10644 into the hall again.  "I do pity you.  And the more sensibility
10645 you betray of their just horrors, the more I shall like you."

10646 Jane had not been gone a quarter of an hour, and they had only
10647 accomplished some views of St. Mark's Place, Venice, when Frank
10648 Churchill entered the room.  Emma had not been thinking of him,
10649 she had forgotten to think of him -- but she was very glad to see him.
10650 Mrs Weston would be at ease.  The black mare was blameless;
10651 _they_ were right who had named Mrs Churchill as the cause.
10652 He had been detained by a temporary increase of illness in her;
10653 a nervous seizure, which had lasted some hours -- and he had quite given
10654 up every thought of coming, till very late; -- and had he known how hot
10655 a ride he should have, and how late, with all his hurry, he must be,
10656 he believed he should not have come at all.  The heat was excessive;
10657 he had never suffered any thing like it -- almost wished he had staid
10658 at home -- nothing killed him like heat -- he could bear any degree of cold,
10659 etc., but heat was intolerable -- and he sat down, at the greatest
10660 possible distance from the slight remains of Mr Woodhouse's fire,
10661 looking very deplorable.

10662 "You will soon be cooler, if you sit still," said Emma.

10663 "As soon as I am cooler I shall go back again.  I could very
10664 ill be spared -- but such a point had been made of my coming!
10665 You will all be going soon I suppose; the whole party breaking up.
10666 I met _one_ as I came -- Madness in such weather! -- absolute madness!"

10667 Emma listened, and looked, and soon perceived that Frank Churchill's
10668 state might be best defined by the expressive phrase of being
10669 out of humour.  Some people were always cross when they were hot.
10670 Such might be his constitution; and as she knew that eating
10671 and drinking were often the cure of such incidental complaints,
10672 she recommended his taking some refreshment; he would find abundance
10673 of every thing in the dining-room -- and she humanely pointed out
10674 the door.

10675 "No -- he should not eat.  He was not hungry; it would only make
10676 him hotter."  In two minutes, however, he relented in his own favour;
10677 and muttering something about spruce-beer, walked off.  Emma returned
10678 all her attention to her father, saying in secret -- 

10679 "I am glad I have done being in love with him.  I should not like a
10680 man who is so soon discomposed by a hot morning.  Harriet's sweet
10681 easy temper will not mind it."

10682 He was gone long enough to have had a very comfortable meal, and came
10683 back all the better -- grown quite cool -- and, with good manners,
10684 like himself -- able to draw a chair close to them, take an interest
10685 in their employment; and regret, in a reasonable way, that he
10686 should be so late.  He was not in his best spirits, but seemed
10687 trying to improve them; and, at last, made himself talk nonsense
10688 very agreeably.  They were looking over views in Swisserland.

10689 "As soon as my aunt gets well, I shall go abroad," said he.
10690 "I shall never be easy till I have seen some of these places.
10691 You will have my sketches, some time or other, to look at -- or my tour
10692 to read -- or my poem.  I shall do something to expose myself."

10693 "That may be -- but not by sketches in Swisserland.  You will
10694 never go to Swisserland.  Your uncle and aunt will never allow
10695 you to leave England."

10696 "They may be induced to go too.  A warm climate may be prescribed
10697 for her.  I have more than half an expectation of our all going abroad.
10698 I assure you I have.  I feel a strong persuasion, this morning,
10699 that I shall soon be abroad.  I ought to travel.  I am tired
10700 of doing nothing.  I want a change.  I am serious, Miss Woodhouse,
10701 whatever your penetrating eyes may fancy -- I am sick of England -- 
10702 and would leave it to-morrow, if I could."

10703 "You are sick of prosperity and indulgence.  Cannot you invent
10704 a few hardships for yourself, and be contented to stay?"

10705 "_I_ sick of prosperity and indulgence!  You are quite mistaken.
10706 I do not look upon myself as either prosperous or indulged.  I am
10707 thwarted in every thing material.  I do not consider myself at all
10708 a fortunate person."

10709 "You are not quite so miserable, though, as when you first came.
10710 Go and eat and drink a little more, and you will do very well.
10711 Another slice of cold meat, another draught of Madeira and water,
10712 will make you nearly on a par with the rest of us."

10713 "No -- I shall not stir.  I shall sit by you.  You are my best cure."

10714 "We are going to Box Hill to-morrow; -- you will join us.
10715 It is not Swisserland, but it will be something for a young
10716 man so much in want of a change.  You will stay, and go with us?"

10717 "No, certainly not; I shall go home in the cool of the evening."

10718 "But you may come again in the cool of to-morrow morning."

10719 "No -- It will not be worth while.  If I come, I shall be cross."

10720 "Then pray stay at Richmond."

10721 "But if I do, I shall be crosser still.  I can never bear to think
10722 of you all there without me."

10723 "These are difficulties which you must settle for yourself.
10724 Chuse your own degree of crossness.  I shall press you no more."

10725 The rest of the party were now returning, and all were soon collected.
10726 With some there was great joy at the sight of Frank Churchill;
10727 others took it very composedly; but there was a very general distress
10728 and disturbance on Miss Fairfax's disappearance being explained.
10729 That it was time for every body to go, concluded the subject; and with
10730 a short final arrangement for the next day's scheme, they parted.
10731 Frank Churchill's little inclination to exclude himself increased
10732 so much, that his last words to Emma were,

10733 "Well; -- if _you_ wish me to stay and join the party, I will."

10734 She smiled her acceptance; and nothing less than a summons from
10735 Richmond was to take him back before the following evening.



10736 CHAPTER VII


10737 They had a very fine day for Box Hill; and all the other outward
10738 circumstances of arrangement, accommodation, and punctuality,
10739 were in favour of a pleasant party.  Mr Weston directed the whole,
10740 officiating safely between Hartfield and the Vicarage, and every
10741 body was in good time.  Emma and Harriet went together; Miss Bates
10742 and her niece, with the Eltons; the gentlemen on horseback.
10743 Mrs Weston remained with Mr Woodhouse.  Nothing was wanting
10744 but to be happy when they got there.  Seven miles were travelled
10745 in expectation of enjoyment, and every body had a burst of admiration
10746 on first arriving; but in the general amount of the day there
10747 was deficiency.  There was a languor, a want of spirits, a want of union,
10748 which could not be got over.  They separated too much into parties.
10749 The Eltons walked together; Mr Knightley took charge of Miss
10750 Bates and Jane; and Emma and Harriet belonged to Frank Churchill.
10751 And Mr Weston tried, in vain, to make them harmonise better.  It seemed
10752 at first an accidental division, but it never materially varied.
10753 Mr and Mrs Elton, indeed, shewed no unwillingness to mix,
10754 and be as agreeable as they could; but during the two whole hours
10755 that were spent on the hill, there seemed a principle of separation,
10756 between the other parties, too strong for any fine prospects, or any
10757 cold collation, or any cheerful Mr Weston, to remove.

10758 At first it was downright dulness to Emma.  She had never seen Frank
10759 Churchill so silent and stupid.  He said nothing worth hearing -- 
10760 looked without seeing -- admired without intelligence -- listened without
10761 knowing what she said.  While he was so dull, it was no wonder that
10762 Harriet should be dull likewise; and they were both insufferable.

10763 When they all sat down it was better; to her taste a great deal better,
10764 for Frank Churchill grew talkative and gay, making her his first object.
10765 Every distinguishing attention that could be paid, was paid to her.
10766 To amuse her, and be agreeable in her eyes, seemed all that he
10767 cared for -- and Emma, glad to be enlivened, not sorry to be flattered,
10768 was gay and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragement,
10769 the admission to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first
10770 and most animating period of their acquaintance; but which now,
10771 in her own estimation, meant nothing, though in the judgment of most
10772 people looking on it must have had such an appearance as no English
10773 word but flirtation could very well describe.  "Mr Frank Churchill
10774 and Miss Woodhouse flirted together excessively."  They were laying
10775 themselves open to that very phrase -- and to having it sent off
10776 in a letter to Maple Grove by one lady, to Ireland by another.
10777 Not that Emma was gay and thoughtless from any real felicity;
10778 it was rather because she felt less happy than she had expected.
10779 She laughed because she was disappointed; and though she liked him
10780 for his attentions, and thought them all, whether in friendship,
10781 admiration, or playfulness, extremely judicious, they were not winning
10782 back her heart.  She still intended him for her friend.

10783 "How much I am obliged to you," said he, "for telling me to come to-day! -- 
10784 If it had not been for you, I should certainly have lost all the
10785 happiness of this party.  I had quite determined to go away again."

10786 "Yes, you were very cross; and I do not know what about,
10787 except that you were too late for the best strawberries.
10788 I was a kinder friend than you deserved.  But you were humble.
10789 You begged hard to be commanded to come."

10790 "Don't say I was cross.  I was fatigued.  The heat overcame me."

10791 "It is hotter to-day."

10792 "Not to my feelings.  I am perfectly comfortable to-day."

10793 "You are comfortable because you are under command."

10794 "Your command? -- Yes."

10795 "Perhaps I intended you to say so, but I meant self-command. You had,
10796 somehow or other, broken bounds yesterday, and run away from your
10797 own management; but to-day you are got back again -- and as I cannot
10798 be always with you, it is best to believe your temper under your
10799 own command rather than mine."

10800 "It comes to the same thing.  I can have no self-command without
10801 a motive.  You order me, whether you speak or not.  And you can
10802 be always with me.  You are always with me."

10803 "Dating from three o'clock yesterday.  My perpetual influence
10804 could not begin earlier, or you would not have been so much
10805 out of humour before."

10806 "Three o'clock yesterday!  That is your date.  I thought I had seen
10807 you first in February."

10808 "Your gallantry is really unanswerable.  But (lowering her voice) -- 
10809 nobody speaks except ourselves, and it is rather too much to be
10810 talking nonsense for the entertainment of seven silent people."

10811 "I say nothing of which I am ashamed," replied he, with lively impudence.
10812 "I saw you first in February.  Let every body on the Hill hear me if
10813 they can.  Let my accents swell to Mickleham on one side, and Dorking
10814 on the other.  I saw you first in February."  And then whispering -- 
10815 "Our companions are excessively stupid.  What shall we do to rouse them?
10816 Any nonsense will serve.  They _shall_ talk.  Ladies and gentlemen,
10817 I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse (who, wherever she is, presides)
10818 to say, that she desires to know what you are all thinking of?"

10819 Some laughed, and answered good-humouredly. Miss Bates said a great deal;
10820 Mrs Elton swelled at the idea of Miss Woodhouse's presiding;
10821 Mr Knightley's answer was the most distinct.

10822 "Is Miss Woodhouse sure that she would like to hear what we are
10823 all thinking of?"

10824 "Oh! no, no" -- cried Emma, laughing as carelessly as she could -- 
10825 "Upon no account in the world.  It is the very last thing I
10826 would stand the brunt of just now.  Let me hear any thing rather
10827 than what you are all thinking of.  I will not say quite all.
10828 There are one or two, perhaps, (glancing at Mr Weston and Harriet,)
10829 whose thoughts I might not be afraid of knowing."

10830 "It is a sort of thing," cried Mrs Elton emphatically,
10831 "which _I_ should not have thought myself privileged to
10832 inquire into.  Though, perhaps, as the _Chaperon_ of the party -- 
10833 _I_ never was in any circle -- exploring parties -- young ladies -- married women -- "

10834 Her mutterings were chiefly to her husband; and he murmured,
10835 in reply,

10836 "Very true, my love, very true.  Exactly so, indeed -- quite unheard of -- 
10837 but some ladies say any thing.  Better pass it off as a joke.
10838 Every body knows what is due to _you_."

10839 "It will not do," whispered Frank to Emma; "they are most
10840 of them affronted.  I will attack them with more address.
10841 Ladies and gentlemen -- I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say, that she
10842 waives her right of knowing exactly what you may all be thinking of,
10843 and only requires something very entertaining from each of you,
10844 in a general way.  Here are seven of you, besides myself, (who, she
10845 is pleased to say, am very entertaining already,) and she only
10846 demands from each of you either one thing very clever, be it prose
10847 or verse, original or repeated -- or two things moderately clever -- 
10848 or three things very dull indeed, and she engages to laugh heartily
10849 at them all."

10850 "Oh! very well," exclaimed Miss Bates, "then I need not be uneasy.
10851 `Three things very dull indeed.'  That will just do for me, you know.
10852 I shall be sure to say three dull things as soon as ever I open
10853 my mouth, shan't I? (looking round with the most good-humoured
10854 dependence on every body's assent) -- Do not you all think I shall?"

10855 Emma could not resist.

10856 "Ah! ma'am, but there may be a difficulty.  Pardon me -- but you
10857 will be limited as to number -- only three at once."

10858 Miss Bates, deceived by the mock ceremony of her manner, did not
10859 immediately catch her meaning; but, when it burst on her, it could
10860 not anger, though a slight blush shewed that it could pain her.

10861 "Ah! -- well -- to be sure.  Yes, I see what she means, (turning to
10862 Mr Knightley,) and I will try to hold my tongue.  I must make
10863 myself very disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing
10864 to an old friend."

10865 "I like your plan," cried Mr Weston.  "Agreed, agreed.  I will do
10866 my best.  I am making a conundrum.  How will a conundrum reckon?"

10867 "Low, I am afraid, sir, very low," answered his son; -- "but we shall
10868 be indulgent -- especially to any one who leads the way."

10869 "No, no," said Emma, "it will not reckon low.  A conundrum of
10870 Mr Weston's shall clear him and his next neighbour.  Come, sir,
10871 pray let me hear it."

10872 "I doubt its being very clever myself," said Mr Weston.
10873 "It is too much a matter of fact, but here it is. -- What two letters
10874 of the alphabet are there, that express perfection?"

10875 "What two letters! -- express perfection!  I am sure I do not know."

10876 "Ah! you will never guess.  You, (to Emma), I am certain, will
10877 never guess. -- I will tell you. -- M. and A. -- Em-ma. -- Do you understand?"

10878 Understanding and gratification came together.  It might be a very
10879 indifferent piece of wit, but Emma found a great deal to laugh
10880 at and enjoy in it -- and so did Frank and Harriet. -- It did not seem
10881 to touch the rest of the party equally; some looked very stupid
10882 about it, and Mr Knightley gravely said,

10883 "This explains the sort of clever thing that is wanted, and Mr Weston
10884 has done very well for himself; but he must have knocked up every
10885 body else.  _Perfection_ should not have come quite so soon."

10886 "Oh! for myself, I protest I must be excused," said Mrs Elton;
10887 "_I_ really cannot attempt -- I am not at all fond of the sort of thing.
10888 I had an acrostic once sent to me upon my own name, which I was not
10889 at all pleased with.  I knew who it came from.  An abominable puppy! -- 
10890 You know who I mean (nodding to her husband). These kind of things
10891 are very well at Christmas, when one is sitting round the fire;
10892 but quite out of place, in my opinion, when one is exploring
10893 about the country in summer.  Miss Woodhouse must excuse me.
10894 I am not one of those who have witty things at every body's service.
10895 I do not pretend to be a wit.  I have a great deal of vivacity
10896 in my own way, but I really must be allowed to judge when to speak
10897 and when to hold my tongue.  Pass us, if you please, Mr Churchill.
10898 Pass Mr E., Knightley, Jane, and myself.  We have nothing clever to say -- 
10899 not one of us.

10900 "Yes, yes, pray pass _me_," added her husband, with a sort of
10901 sneering consciousness; "_I_ have nothing to say that can entertain
10902 Miss Woodhouse, or any other young lady.  An old married man -- 
10903 quite good for nothing.  Shall we walk, Augusta?"

10904 "With all my heart.  I am really tired of exploring so long
10905 on one spot.  Come, Jane, take my other arm."

10906 Jane declined it, however, and the husband and wife walked off.
10907 "Happy couple!" said Frank Churchill, as soon as they were out
10908 of hearing: -- "How well they suit one another! -- Very lucky -- marrying as
10909 they did, upon an acquaintance formed only in a public place! -- They only
10910 knew each other, I think, a few weeks in Bath!  Peculiarly lucky! -- 
10911 for as to any real knowledge of a person's disposition that Bath,
10912 or any public place, can give -- it is all nothing; there can be
10913 no knowledge.  It is only by seeing women in their own homes,
10914 among their own set, just as they always are, that you can form
10915 any just judgment.  Short of that, it is all guess and luck -- 
10916 and will generally be ill-luck. How many a man has committed himself
10917 on a short acquaintance, and rued it all the rest of his life!"

10918 Miss Fairfax, who had seldom spoken before, except among her
10919 own confederates, spoke now.

10920 "Such things do occur, undoubtedly." -- She was stopped by a cough.
10921 Frank Churchill turned towards her to listen.

10922 "You were speaking," said he, gravely.  She recovered her voice.

10923 "I was only going to observe, that though such unfortunate circumstances
10924 do sometimes occur both to men and women, I cannot imagine them
10925 to be very frequent.  A hasty and imprudent attachment may arise -- 
10926 but there is generally time to recover from it afterwards.  I would
10927 be understood to mean, that it can be only weak, irresolute characters,
10928 (whose happiness must be always at the mercy of chance,)
10929 who will suffer an unfortunate acquaintance to be an inconvenience,
10930 an oppression for ever."

10931 He made no answer; merely looked, and bowed in submission; and soon
10932 afterwards said, in a lively tone,

10933 "Well, I have so little confidence in my own judgment, that whenever
10934 I marry, I hope some body will chuse my wife for me.  Will you?
10935 (turning to Emma.) Will you chuse a wife for me? -- I am sure I
10936 should like any body fixed on by you.  You provide for the family,
10937 you know, (with a smile at his father). Find some body for me.
10938 I am in no hurry.  Adopt her, educate her."

10939 "And make her like myself."

10940 "By all means, if you can."

10941 "Very well.  I undertake the commission.  You shall have a charming wife."

10942 "She must be very lively, and have hazle eyes.  I care for nothing else.
10943 I shall go abroad for a couple of years -- and when I return,
10944 I shall come to you for my wife.  Remember."

10945 Emma was in no danger of forgetting.  It was a commission to touch every
10946 favourite feeling.  Would not Harriet be the very creature described?
10947 Hazle eyes excepted, two years more might make her all that he wished.
10948 He might even have Harriet in his thoughts at the moment;
10949 who could say?  Referring the education to her seemed to imply it.

10950 "Now, ma'am," said Jane to her aunt, "shall we join Mrs Elton?"

10951 "If you please, my dear.  With all my heart.  I am quite ready.
10952 I was ready to have gone with her, but this will do just as well.
10953 We shall soon overtake her.  There she is -- no, that's somebody else.
10954 That's one of the ladies in the Irish car party, not at all like her. -- 
10955 Well, I declare -- "

10956 They walked off, followed in half a minute by Mr Knightley.
10957 Mr Weston, his son, Emma, and Harriet, only remained; and the young
10958 man's spirits now rose to a pitch almost unpleasant.  Even Emma grew
10959 tired at last of flattery and merriment, and wished herself rather
10960 walking quietly about with any of the others, or sitting almost alone,
10961 and quite unattended to, in tranquil observation of the beautiful
10962 views beneath her.  The appearance of the servants looking out
10963 for them to give notice of the carriages was a joyful sight;
10964 and even the bustle of collecting and preparing to depart,
10965 and the solicitude of Mrs Elton to have _her_ carriage first,
10966 were gladly endured, in the prospect of the quiet drive home which was
10967 to close the very questionable enjoyments of this day of pleasure.
10968 Such another scheme, composed of so many ill-assorted people,
10969 she hoped never to be betrayed into again.

10970 While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr Knightley by her side.
10971 He looked around, as if to see that no one were near, and then said,

10972 "Emma, I must once more speak to you as I have been used to do:
10973 a privilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I must still
10974 use it.  I cannot see you acting wrong, without a remonstrance.
10975 How could you be so unfeeling to Miss Bates?  How could you be so
10976 insolent in your wit to a woman of her character, age, and situation? -- 
10977 Emma, I had not thought it possible."

10978 Emma recollected, blushed, was sorry, but tried to laugh it off.

10979 "Nay, how could I help saying what I did? -- Nobody could have helped it.
10980 It was not so very bad.  I dare say she did not understand me."

10981 "I assure you she did.  She felt your full meaning.  She has talked
10982 of it since.  I wish you could have heard how she talked of it -- 
10983 with what candour and generosity.  I wish you could have heard her
10984 honouring your forbearance, in being able to pay her such attentions,
10985 as she was for ever receiving from yourself and your father,
10986 when her society must be so irksome."

10987 "Oh!" cried Emma, "I know there is not a better creature in the world:
10988 but you must allow, that what is good and what is ridiculous are
10989 most unfortunately blended in her."

10990 "They are blended," said he, "I acknowledge; and, were she prosperous,
10991 I could allow much for the occasional prevalence of the ridiculous
10992 over the good.  Were she a woman of fortune, I would leave every
10993 harmless absurdity to take its chance, I would not quarrel with you
10994 for any liberties of manner.  Were she your equal in situation -- 
10995 but, Emma, consider how far this is from being the case.  She is poor;
10996 she has sunk from the comforts she was born to; and, if she live
10997 to old age, must probably sink more.  Her situation should secure
10998 your compassion.  It was badly done, indeed!  You, whom she had known
10999 from an infant, whom she had seen grow up from a period when her
11000 notice was an honour, to have you now, in thoughtless spirits,
11001 and the pride of the moment, laugh at her, humble her -- and before
11002 her niece, too -- and before others, many of whom (certainly _some_,)
11003 would be entirely guided by _your_ treatment of her. -- This is not
11004 pleasant to you, Emma -- and it is very far from pleasant to me;
11005 but I must, I will, -- I will tell you truths while I can;
11006 satisfied with proving myself your friend by very faithful counsel,
11007 and trusting that you will some time or other do me greater justice
11008 than you can do now."

11009 While they talked, they were advancing towards the carriage;
11010 it was ready; and, before she could speak again, he had handed her in.
11011 He had misinterpreted the feelings which had kept her face averted,
11012 and her tongue motionless.  They were combined only of anger
11013 against herself, mortification, and deep concern.  She had not
11014 been able to speak; and, on entering the carriage, sunk back
11015 for a moment overcome -- then reproaching herself for having taken
11016 no leave, making no acknowledgment, parting in apparent sullenness,
11017 she looked out with voice and hand eager to shew a difference;
11018 but it was just too late.  He had turned away, and the horses were
11019 in motion.  She continued to look back, but in vain; and soon,
11020 with what appeared unusual speed, they were half way down the hill,
11021 and every thing left far behind.  She was vexed beyond what could
11022 have been expressed -- almost beyond what she could conceal.
11023 Never had she felt so agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance
11024 in her life.  She was most forcibly struck.  The truth of this
11025 representation there was no denying.  She felt it at her heart.
11026 How could she have been so brutal, so cruel to Miss Bates!  How could
11027 she have exposed herself to such ill opinion in any one she valued!
11028 And how suffer him to leave her without saying one word of gratitude,
11029 of concurrence, of common kindness!

11030 Time did not compose her.  As she reflected more, she seemed
11031 but to feel it more.  She never had been so depressed.  Happily it
11032 was not necessary to speak.  There was only Harriet, who seemed not
11033 in spirits herself, fagged, and very willing to be silent; and Emma
11034 felt the tears running down her cheeks almost all the way home,
11035 without being at any trouble to check them, extraordinary as they were.



11036 CHAPTER VIII


11037 The wretchedness of a scheme to Box Hill was in Emma's thoughts all
11038 the evening.  How it might be considered by the rest of the party,
11039 she could not tell.  They, in their different homes, and their different
11040 ways, might be looking back on it with pleasure; but in her view it
11041 was a morning more completely misspent, more totally bare of rational
11042 satisfaction at the time, and more to be abhorred in recollection,
11043 than any she had ever passed.  A whole evening of back-gammon with
11044 her father, was felicity to it.  _There_, indeed, lay real pleasure,
11045 for there she was giving up the sweetest hours of the twenty-four
11046 to his comfort; and feeling that, unmerited as might be the degree
11047 of his fond affection and confiding esteem, she could not, in her
11048 general conduct, be open to any severe reproach.  As a daughter,
11049 she hoped she was not without a heart.  She hoped no one could
11050 have said to her, "How could you be so unfeeling to your father? -- 
11051 I must, I will tell you truths while I can."  Miss Bates should
11052 never again -- no, never!  If attention, in future, could do away
11053 the past, she might hope to be forgiven.  She had been often remiss,
11054 her conscience told her so; remiss, perhaps, more in thought
11055 than fact; scornful, ungracious.  But it should be so no more.
11056 In the warmth of true contrition, she would call upon her the
11057 very next morning, and it should be the beginning, on her side,
11058 of a regular, equal, kindly intercourse.

11059 She was just as determined when the morrow came, and went early,
11060 that nothing might prevent her.  It was not unlikely, she thought,
11061 that she might see Mr Knightley in her way; or, perhaps, he might
11062 come in while she were paying her visit.  She had no objection.
11063 She would not be ashamed of the appearance of the penitence, so justly
11064 and truly hers.  Her eyes were towards Donwell as she walked, but she
11065 saw him not.

11066 "The ladies were all at home."  She had never rejoiced at the sound
11067 before, nor ever before entered the passage, nor walked up the stairs,
11068 with any wish of giving pleasure, but in conferring obligation,
11069 or of deriving it, except in subsequent ridicule.

11070 There was a bustle on her approach; a good deal of moving and talking.
11071 She heard Miss Bates's voice, something was to be done in a hurry;
11072 the maid looked frightened and awkward; hoped she would be pleased
11073 to wait a moment, and then ushered her in too soon.  The aunt and
11074 niece seemed both escaping into the adjoining room.  Jane she had
11075 a distinct glimpse of, looking extremely ill; and, before the door
11076 had shut them out, she heard Miss Bates saying, "Well, my dear,
11077 I shall _say_ you are laid down upon the bed, and I am sure you are
11078 ill enough."

11079 Poor old Mrs Bates, civil and humble as usual, looked as if she
11080 did not quite understand what was going on.

11081 "I am afraid Jane is not very well," said she, "but I do not know;
11082 they _tell_ me she is well.  I dare say my daughter will be here presently,
11083 Miss Woodhouse.  I hope you find a chair.  I wish Hetty had not gone.
11084 I am very little able -- Have you a chair, ma'am? Do you sit where
11085 you like?  I am sure she will be here presently."

11086 Emma seriously hoped she would.  She had a moment's fear of Miss
11087 Bates keeping away from her.  But Miss Bates soon came -- "Very happy
11088 and obliged" -- but Emma's conscience told her that there was not the
11089 same cheerful volubility as before -- less ease of look and manner.
11090 A very friendly inquiry after Miss Fairfax, she hoped, might lead
11091 the way to a return of old feelings.  The touch seemed immediate.

11092 "Ah!  Miss Woodhouse, how kind you are! -- I suppose you have heard -- 
11093 and are come to give us joy.  This does not seem much like joy,
11094 indeed, in me -- (twinkling away a tear or two) -- but it will be
11095 very trying for us to part with her, after having had her so long,
11096 and she has a dreadful headache just now, writing all the morning: -- 
11097 such long letters, you know, to be written to Colonel Campbell,
11098 and Mrs Dixon.  `My dear,' said I, `you will blind yourself' -- 
11099 for tears were in her eyes perpetually.  One cannot wonder,
11100 one cannot wonder.  It is a great change; and though she is
11101 amazingly fortunate -- such a situation, I suppose, as no young woman
11102 before ever met with on first going out -- do not think us ungrateful,
11103 Miss Woodhouse, for such surprising good fortune -- (again dispersing
11104 her tears) -- but, poor dear soul! if you were to see what a headache
11105 she has.  When one is in great pain, you know one cannot feel
11106 any blessing quite as it may deserve.  She is as low as possible.
11107 To look at her, nobody would think how delighted and happy she
11108 is to have secured such a situation.  You will excuse her not
11109 coming to you -- she is not able -- she is gone into her own room -- 
11110 I want her to lie down upon the bed.  `My dear,' said I, `I shall
11111 say you are laid down upon the bed:'  but, however, she is not;
11112 she is walking about the room.  But, now that she has written
11113 her letters, she says she shall soon be well.  She will be extremely
11114 sorry to miss seeing you, Miss Woodhouse, but your kindness will
11115 excuse her.  You were kept waiting at the door -- I was quite ashamed -- 
11116 but somehow there was a little bustle -- for it so happened that we
11117 had not heard the knock, and till you were on the stairs, we did
11118 not know any body was coming.  `It is only Mrs Cole,' said I,
11119 `depend upon it.  Nobody else would come so early.'  `Well,' said she,
11120 `it must be borne some time or other, and it may as well be now.'
11121 But then Patty came in, and said it was you.  `Oh!' said I,
11122 `it is Miss Woodhouse:  I am sure you will like to see her.' -- 
11123 `I can see nobody,' said she; and up she got, and would go away;
11124 and that was what made us keep you waiting -- and extremely sorry
11125 and ashamed we were.  `If you must go, my dear,' said I, `you must,
11126 and I will say you are laid down upon the bed.'"

11127 Emma was most sincerely interested.  Her heart had been long growing
11128 kinder towards Jane; and this picture of her present sufferings acted
11129 as a cure of every former ungenerous suspicion, and left her nothing
11130 but pity; and the remembrance of the less just and less gentle
11131 sensations of the past, obliged her to admit that Jane might very
11132 naturally resolve on seeing Mrs Cole or any other steady friend,
11133 when she might not bear to see herself.  She spoke as she felt,
11134 with earnest regret and solicitude -- sincerely wishing that the
11135 circumstances which she collected from Miss Bates to be now actually
11136 determined on, might be as much for Miss Fairfax's advantage
11137 and comfort as possible.  "It must be a severe trial to them all.
11138 She had understood it was to be delayed till Colonel Campbell's return."

11139 "So very kind!" replied Miss Bates.  "But you are always kind."

11140 There was no bearing such an "always;" and to break through her
11141 dreadful gratitude, Emma made the direct inquiry of -- 

11142 "Where -- may I ask? -- is Miss Fairfax going?"

11143 "To a Mrs Smallridge -- charming woman -- most superior -- to have
11144 the charge of her three little girls -- delightful children.
11145 Impossible that any situation could be more replete with comfort;
11146 if we except, perhaps, Mrs Suckling's own family, and Mrs Bragge's;
11147 but Mrs Smallridge is intimate with both, and in the very
11148 same neighbourhood: -- lives only four miles from Maple Grove.
11149 Jane will be only four miles from Maple Grove."

11150 "Mrs Elton, I suppose, has been the person to whom Miss Fairfax owes -- "

11151 "Yes, our good Mrs Elton.  The most indefatigable, true friend.
11152 She would not take a denial.  She would not let Jane say, `No;' for
11153 when Jane first heard of it, (it was the day before yesterday,
11154 the very morning we were at Donwell,) when Jane first heard of it,
11155 she was quite decided against accepting the offer, and for the
11156 reasons you mention; exactly as you say, she had made up her mind
11157 to close with nothing till Colonel Campbell's return, and nothing
11158 should induce her to enter into any engagement at present -- and so she
11159 told Mrs Elton over and over again -- and I am sure I had no more
11160 idea that she would change her mind! -- but that good Mrs Elton,
11161 whose judgment never fails her, saw farther than I did.  It is not
11162 every body that would have stood out in such a kind way as she did,
11163 and refuse to take Jane's answer; but she positively declared she
11164 would _not_ write any such denial yesterday, as Jane wished her;
11165 she would wait -- and, sure enough, yesterday evening it was all
11166 settled that Jane should go.  Quite a surprize to me!  I had not
11167 the least idea! -- Jane took Mrs Elton aside, and told her at once,
11168 that upon thinking over the advantages of Mrs Smallridge's situation,
11169 she had come to the resolution of accepting it. -- I did not know a word
11170 of it till it was all settled."

11171 "You spent the evening with Mrs Elton?"

11172 "Yes, all of us; Mrs Elton would have us come.  It was settled so,
11173 upon the hill, while we were walking about with Mr Knightley.
11174 `You _must_ _all_ spend your evening with us,' said she -- `I positively must
11175 have you _all_ come.'"

11176 "Mr Knightley was there too, was he?"

11177 "No, not Mr Knightley; he declined it from the first; and though I
11178 thought he would come, because Mrs Elton declared she would not let
11179 him off, he did not; -- but my mother, and Jane, and I, were all there,
11180 and a very agreeable evening we had.  Such kind friends, you know,
11181 Miss Woodhouse, one must always find agreeable, though every body
11182 seemed rather fagged after the morning's party.  Even pleasure,
11183 you know, is fatiguing -- and I cannot say that any of them seemed
11184 very much to have enjoyed it.  However, _I_ shall always think it
11185 a very pleasant party, and feel extremely obliged to the kind friends
11186 who included me in it."

11187 "Miss Fairfax, I suppose, though you were not aware of it, had been
11188 making up her mind the whole day?"

11189 "I dare say she had."

11190 "Whenever the time may come, it must be unwelcome to her and all
11191 her friends -- but I hope her engagement will have every alleviation
11192 that is possible -- I mean, as to the character and manners of the family."

11193 "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse.  Yes, indeed, there is every thing
11194 in the world that can make her happy in it.  Except the Sucklings
11195 and Bragges, there is not such another nursery establishment,
11196 so liberal and elegant, in all Mrs Elton's acquaintance.
11197 Mrs Smallridge, a most delightful woman! -- A style of living almost
11198 equal to Maple Grove -- and as to the children, except the little
11199 Sucklings and little Bragges, there are not such elegant sweet
11200 children anywhere.  Jane will be treated with such regard and kindness! -- 
11201 It will be nothing but pleasure, a life of pleasure. -- And her salary! -- 
11202 I really cannot venture to name her salary to you, Miss Woodhouse.
11203 Even you, used as you are to great sums, would hardly believe that
11204 so much could be given to a young person like Jane."

11205 "Ah! madam," cried Emma, "if other children are at all like what I
11206 remember to have been myself, I should think five times the amount
11207 of what I have ever yet heard named as a salary on such occasions,
11208 dearly earned."

11209 "You are so noble in your ideas!"

11210 "And when is Miss Fairfax to leave you?"

11211 "Very soon, very soon, indeed; that's the worst of it.
11212 Within a fortnight.  Mrs Smallridge is in a great hurry.  My poor
11213 mother does not know how to bear it.  So then, I try to put it out of
11214 her thoughts, and say, Come ma'am, do not let us think about it any more."

11215 "Her friends must all be sorry to lose her; and will not Colonel
11216 and Mrs Campbell be sorry to find that she has engaged herself
11217 before their return?"

11218 "Yes; Jane says she is sure they will; but yet, this is such
11219 a situation as she cannot feel herself justified in declining.
11220 I was so astonished when she first told me what she had been saying
11221 to Mrs Elton, and when Mrs Elton at the same moment came congratulating
11222 me upon it!  It was before tea -- stay -- no, it could not be before tea,
11223 because we were just going to cards -- and yet it was before tea,
11224 because I remember thinking -- Oh! no, now I recollect, now I have it;
11225 something happened before tea, but not that.  Mr Elton was called
11226 out of the room before tea, old John Abdy's son wanted to speak
11227 with him.  Poor old John, I have a great regard for him; he was clerk
11228 to my poor father twenty-seven years; and now, poor old man, he is
11229 bed-ridden, and very poorly with the rheumatic gout in his joints -- 
11230 I must go and see him to-day; and so will Jane, I am sure, if she
11231 gets out at all.  And poor John's son came to talk to Mr Elton
11232 about relief from the parish; he is very well to do himself,
11233 you know, being head man at the Crown, ostler, and every thing
11234 of that sort, but still he cannot keep his father without some help;
11235 and so, when Mr Elton came back, he told us what John ostler
11236 had been telling him, and then it came out about the chaise having
11237 been sent to Randalls to take Mr Frank Churchill to Richmond.
11238 That was what happened before tea.  It was after tea that Jane spoke
11239 to Mrs Elton."

11240 Miss Bates would hardly give Emma time to say how perfectly
11241 new this circumstance was to her; but as without supposing it
11242 possible that she could be ignorant of any of the particulars
11243 of Mr Frank Churchill's going, she proceeded to give them all,
11244 it was of no consequence.

11245 What Mr Elton had learned from the ostler on the subject, being the
11246 accumulation of the ostler's own knowledge, and the knowledge
11247 of the servants at Randalls, was, that a messenger had come over
11248 from Richmond soon after the return of the party from Box Hill -- 
11249 which messenger, however, had been no more than was expected;
11250 and that Mr Churchill had sent his nephew a few lines, containing,
11251 upon the whole, a tolerable account of Mrs Churchill, and only
11252 wishing him not to delay coming back beyond the next morning early;
11253 but that Mr Frank Churchill having resolved to go home directly,
11254 without waiting at all, and his horse seeming to have got a cold,
11255 Tom had been sent off immediately for the Crown chaise, and the
11256 ostler had stood out and seen it pass by, the boy going a good pace,
11257 and driving very steady.

11258 There was nothing in all this either to astonish or interest,
11259 and it caught Emma's attention only as it united with the subject
11260 which already engaged her mind.  The contrast between Mrs Churchill's
11261 importance in the world, and Jane Fairfax's, struck her; one was
11262 every thing, the other nothing -- and she sat musing on the difference
11263 of woman's destiny, and quite unconscious on what her eyes were fixed,
11264 till roused by Miss Bates's saying,

11265 "Aye, I see what you are thinking of, the pianoforte.  What is to become
11266 of that? -- Very true.  Poor dear Jane was talking of it just now. -- 
11267 `You must go,' said she.  `You and I must part.  You will have no
11268 business here. -- Let it stay, however,' said she; `give it houseroom
11269 till Colonel Campbell comes back.  I shall talk about it to him;
11270 he will settle for me; he will help me out of all my difficulties.' -- 
11271 And to this day, I do believe, she knows not whether it was his
11272 present or his daughter's."

11273 Now Emma was obliged to think of the pianoforte; and the remembrance
11274 of all her former fanciful and unfair conjectures was so little pleasing,
11275 that she soon allowed herself to believe her visit had been
11276 long enough; and, with a repetition of every thing that she could
11277 venture to say of the good wishes which she really felt, took leave.



11278 CHAPTER IX


11279 Emma's pensive meditations, as she walked home, were not interrupted;
11280 but on entering the parlour, she found those who must rouse her.
11281 Mr Knightley and Harriet had arrived during her absence, and were
11282 sitting with her father. -- Mr Knightley immediately got up, and in a
11283 manner decidedly graver than usual, said,

11284 "I would not go away without seeing you, but I have no time to spare,
11285 and therefore must now be gone directly.  I am going to London,
11286 to spend a few days with John and Isabella.  Have you any thing to
11287 send or say, besides the `love,' which nobody carries?"

11288 "Nothing at all.  But is not this a sudden scheme?"

11289 "Yes -- rather -- I have been thinking of it some little time."

11290 Emma was sure he had not forgiven her; he looked unlike himself.
11291 Time, however, she thought, would tell him that they ought to be
11292 friends again.  While he stood, as if meaning to go, but not going -- 
11293 her father began his inquiries.

11294 "Well, my dear, and did you get there safely? -- And how did you
11295 find my worthy old friend and her daughter? -- I dare say they must
11296 have been very much obliged to you for coming.  Dear Emma has been
11297 to call on Mrs and Miss Bates, Mr Knightley, as I told you before.
11298 She is always so attentive to them!"

11299 Emma's colour was heightened by this unjust praise; and with a smile,
11300 and shake of the head, which spoke much, she looked at Mr Knightley. -- 
11301 It seemed as if there were an instantaneous impression in her favour,
11302 as if his eyes received the truth from her's, and all that had
11303 passed of good in her feelings were at once caught and honoured. -- 
11304 He looked at her with a glow of regard.  She was warmly gratified -- 
11305 and in another moment still more so, by a little movement of
11306 more than common friendliness on his part. -- He took her hand; -- 
11307 whether she had not herself made the first motion, she could not say -- 
11308 she might, perhaps, have rather offered it -- but he took her hand,
11309 pressed it, and certainly was on the point of carrying it to his lips -- 
11310 when, from some fancy or other, he suddenly let it go. -- Why he should feel
11311 such a scruple, why he should change his mind when it was all but done,
11312 she could not perceive. -- He would have judged better, she thought,
11313 if he had not stopped. -- The intention, however, was indubitable;
11314 and whether it was that his manners had in general so little gallantry,
11315 or however else it happened, but she thought nothing became him more. -- 
11316 It was with him, of so simple, yet so dignified a nature. -- 
11317 She could not but recall the attempt with great satisfaction.
11318 It spoke such perfect amity. -- He left them immediately afterwards -- 
11319 gone in a moment.  He always moved with the alertness of a mind which
11320 could neither be undecided nor dilatory, but now he seemed more sudden
11321 than usual in his disappearance.

11322 Emma could not regret her having gone to Miss Bates, but she wished
11323 she had left her ten minutes earlier; -- it would have been a great
11324 pleasure to talk over Jane Fairfax's situation with Mr Knightley. -- 
11325 Neither would she regret that he should be going to Brunswick Square,
11326 for she knew how much his visit would be enjoyed -- but it might have
11327 happened at a better time -- and to have had longer notice of it,
11328 would have been pleasanter. -- They parted thorough friends, however;
11329 she could not be deceived as to the meaning of his countenance,
11330 and his unfinished gallantry; -- it was all done to assure her that she
11331 had fully recovered his good opinion. -- He had been sitting with them
11332 half an hour, she found.  It was a pity that she had not come
11333 back earlier!

11334 In the hope of diverting her father's thoughts from the disagreeableness
11335 of Mr Knightley's going to London; and going so suddenly;
11336 and going on horseback, which she knew would be all very bad;
11337 Emma communicated her news of Jane Fairfax, and her dependence
11338 on the effect was justified; it supplied a very useful check, -- 
11339 interested, without disturbing him.  He had long made up his mind to Jane
11340 Fairfax's going out as governess, and could talk of it cheerfully,
11341 but Mr Knightley's going to London had been an unexpected blow.

11342 "I am very glad, indeed, my dear, to hear she is to be so
11343 comfortably settled.  Mrs Elton is very good-natured and agreeable,
11344 and I dare say her acquaintance are just what they ought
11345 to be.  I hope it is a dry situation, and that her health
11346 will be taken good care of.  It ought to be a first object,
11347 as I am sure poor Miss Taylor's always was with me.  You know,
11348 my dear, she is going to be to this new lady what Miss Taylor
11349 was to us.  And I hope she will be better off in one respect,
11350 and not be induced to go away after it has been her home so long."

11351 The following day brought news from Richmond to throw every
11352 thing else into the background.  An express arrived at Randalls
11353 to announce the death of Mrs Churchill!  Though her nephew
11354 had had no particular reason to hasten back on her account,
11355 she had not lived above six-and-thirty hours after his return.
11356 A sudden seizure of a different nature from any thing foreboded
11357 by her general state, had carried her off after a short struggle.
11358 The great Mrs Churchill was no more.

11359 It was felt as such things must be felt.  Every body had a
11360 degree of gravity and sorrow; tenderness towards the departed,
11361 solicitude for the surviving friends; and, in a reasonable time,
11362 curiosity to know where she would be buried.  Goldsmith tells us,
11363 that when lovely woman stoops to folly, she has nothing to do
11364 but to die; and when she stoops to be disagreeable, it is equally
11365 to be recommended as a clearer of ill-fame. Mrs Churchill,
11366 after being disliked at least twenty-five years, was now spoken of
11367 with compassionate allowances.  In one point she was fully justified.
11368 She had never been admitted before to be seriously ill.  The event
11369 acquitted her of all the fancifulness, and all the selfishness
11370 of imaginary complaints.

11371 "Poor Mrs Churchill! no doubt she had been suffering a great deal:
11372 more than any body had ever supposed -- and continual pain would try
11373 the temper.  It was a sad event -- a great shock -- with all her faults,
11374 what would Mr Churchill do without her?  Mr Churchill's loss
11375 would be dreadful indeed.  Mr Churchill would never get over it." -- 
11376 Even Mr Weston shook his head, and looked solemn, and said,
11377 "Ah! poor woman, who would have thought it!" and resolved, that his
11378 mourning should be as handsome as possible; and his wife sat sighing
11379 and moralising over her broad hems with a commiseration and good sense,
11380 true and steady.  How it would affect Frank was among the earliest
11381 thoughts of both.  It was also a very early speculation with Emma.
11382 The character of Mrs Churchill, the grief of her husband -- her mind
11383 glanced over them both with awe and compassion -- and then rested
11384 with lightened feelings on how Frank might be affected by the event,
11385 how benefited, how freed.  She saw in a moment all the possible good.
11386 Now, an attachment to Harriet Smith would have nothing to encounter.
11387 Mr Churchill, independent of his wife, was feared by nobody;
11388 an easy, guidable man, to be persuaded into any thing by his nephew.
11389 All that remained to be wished was, that the nephew should form
11390 the attachment, as, with all her goodwill in the cause, Emma could feel
11391 no certainty of its being already formed.

11392 Harriet behaved extremely well on the occasion, with great self-command.
11393 What ever she might feel of brighter hope, she betrayed nothing.  Emma was
11394 gratified, to observe such a proof in her of strengthened character,
11395 and refrained from any allusion that might endanger its maintenance.
11396 They spoke, therefore, of Mrs Churchill's death with mutual forbearance.

11397 Short letters from Frank were received at Randalls, communicating
11398 all that was immediately important of their state and plans.
11399 Mr Churchill was better than could be expected; and their
11400 first removal, on the departure of the funeral for Yorkshire,
11401 was to be to the house of a very old friend in Windsor, to whom
11402 Mr Churchill had been promising a visit the last ten years.
11403 At present, there was nothing to be done for Harriet; good wishes
11404 for the future were all that could yet be possible on Emma's side.

11405 It was a more pressing concern to shew attention to Jane Fairfax,
11406 whose prospects were closing, while Harriet's opened, and whose
11407 engagements now allowed of no delay in any one at Highbury, who wished
11408 to shew her kindness -- and with Emma it was grown into a first wish.
11409 She had scarcely a stronger regret than for her past coldness;
11410 and the person, whom she had been so many months neglecting, was now
11411 the very one on whom she would have lavished every distinction of
11412 regard or sympathy.  She wanted to be of use to her; wanted to shew
11413 a value for her society, and testify respect and consideration.
11414 She resolved to prevail on her to spend a day at Hartfield.
11415 A note was written to urge it.  The invitation was refused, and by
11416 a verbal message.  "Miss Fairfax was not well enough to write;"
11417 and when Mr Perry called at Hartfield, the same morning,
11418 it appeared that she was so much indisposed as to have been visited,
11419 though against her own consent, by himself, and that she was suffering
11420 under severe headaches, and a nervous fever to a degree, which made
11421 him doubt the possibility of her going to Mrs Smallridge's at the
11422 time proposed.  Her health seemed for the moment completely deranged -- 
11423 appetite quite gone -- and though there were no absolutely
11424 alarming symptoms, nothing touching the pulmonary complaint,
11425 which was the standing apprehension of the family, Mr Perry was
11426 uneasy about her.  He thought she had undertaken more than she
11427 was equal to, and that she felt it so herself, though she would
11428 not own it.  Her spirits seemed overcome.  Her present home,
11429 he could not but observe, was unfavourable to a nervous disorder: -- 
11430 confined always to one room; -- he could have wished it otherwise -- 
11431 and her good aunt, though his very old friend, he must acknowledge
11432 to be not the best companion for an invalid of that description.
11433 Her care and attention could not be questioned; they were, in fact,
11434 only too great.  He very much feared that Miss Fairfax derived more
11435 evil than good from them.  Emma listened with the warmest concern;
11436 grieved for her more and more, and looked around eager to discover
11437 some way of being useful.  To take her -- be it only an hour
11438 or two -- from her aunt, to give her change of air and scene,
11439 and quiet rational conversation, even for an hour or two,
11440 might do her good; and the following morning she wrote again to say,
11441 in the most feeling language she could command, that she would
11442 call for her in the carriage at any hour that Jane would name -- 
11443 mentioning that she had Mr Perry's decided opinion, in favour
11444 of such exercise for his patient.  The answer was only in this
11445 short note:

11446 "Miss Fairfax's compliments and thanks, but is quite unequal
11447 to any exercise."

11448 Emma felt that her own note had deserved something better; but it
11449 was impossible to quarrel with words, whose tremulous inequality
11450 shewed indisposition so plainly, and she thought only of how she
11451 might best counteract this unwillingness to be seen or assisted.
11452 In spite of the answer, therefore, she ordered the carriage, and drove
11453 to Mrs Bates's, in the hope that Jane would be induced to join her -- 
11454 but it would not do; -- Miss Bates came to the carriage door, all gratitude,
11455 and agreeing with her most earnestly in thinking an airing might be of
11456 the greatest service -- and every thing that message could do was tried -- 
11457 but all in vain.  Miss Bates was obliged to return without success;
11458 Jane was quite unpersuadable; the mere proposal of going out
11459 seemed to make her worse. -- Emma wished she could have seen her,
11460 and tried her own powers; but, almost before she could hint the wish,
11461 Miss Bates made it appear that she had promised her niece on
11462 no account to let Miss Woodhouse in.  "Indeed, the truth was,
11463 that poor dear Jane could not bear to see any body -- any body at all -- 
11464 Mrs Elton, indeed, could not be denied -- and Mrs Cole had made
11465 such a point -- and Mrs Perry had said so much -- but, except them,
11466 Jane would really see nobody."

11467 Emma did not want to be classed with the Mrs Eltons, the Mrs Perrys,
11468 and the Mrs Coles, who would force themselves anywhere;
11469 neither could she feel any right of preference herself -- 
11470 she submitted, therefore, and only questioned Miss Bates farther
11471 as to her niece's appetite and diet, which she longed to be able
11472 to assist.  On that subject poor Miss Bates was very unhappy,
11473 and very communicative; Jane would hardly eat any thing: -- 
11474 Mr Perry recommended nourishing food; but every thing they could
11475 command (and never had any body such good neighbours) was distasteful.

11476 Emma, on reaching home, called the housekeeper directly, to an
11477 examination of her stores; and some arrowroot of very superior quality
11478 was speedily despatched to Miss Bates with a most friendly note.
11479 In half an hour the arrowroot was returned, with a thousand thanks
11480 from Miss Bates, but "dear Jane would not be satisfied without its
11481 being sent back; it was a thing she could not take -- and, moreover,
11482 she insisted on her saying, that she was not at all in want of any thing."

11483 When Emma afterwards heard that Jane Fairfax had been seen wandering
11484 about the meadows, at some distance from Highbury, on the afternoon
11485 of the very day on which she had, under the plea of being unequal
11486 to any exercise, so peremptorily refused to go out with her in
11487 the carriage, she could have no doubt -- putting every thing together -- 
11488 that Jane was resolved to receive no kindness from _her_.  She was sorry,
11489 very sorry.  Her heart was grieved for a state which seemed
11490 but the more pitiable from this sort of irritation of spirits,
11491 inconsistency of action, and inequality of powers; and it mortified
11492 her that she was given so little credit for proper feeling, or esteemed
11493 so little worthy as a friend:  but she had the consolation of knowing
11494 that her intentions were good, and of being able to say to herself,
11495 that could Mr Knightley have been privy to all her attempts
11496 of assisting Jane Fairfax, could he even have seen into her heart,
11497 he would not, on this occasion, have found any thing to reprove.



11498 CHAPTER X


11499 One morning, about ten days after Mrs Churchill's decease,
11500 Emma was called downstairs to Mr Weston, who "could not stay
11501 five minutes, and wanted particularly to speak with her." -- 
11502 He met her at the parlour-door, and hardly asking her how she did,
11503 in the natural key of his voice, sunk it immediately, to say,
11504 unheard by her father,

11505 "Can you come to Randalls at any time this morning? -- Do, if it
11506 be possible.  Mrs Weston wants to see you.  She must see you."

11507 "Is she unwell?"

11508 "No, no, not at all -- only a little agitated.  She would have
11509 ordered the carriage, and come to you, but she must see you _alone_,
11510 and that you know -- (nodding towards her father) -- Humph! -- Can you come?"

11511 "Certainly.  This moment, if you please.  It is impossible to
11512 refuse what you ask in such a way.  But what can be the matter? -- 
11513 Is she really not ill?"

11514 "Depend upon me -- but ask no more questions.  You will know it
11515 all in time.  The most unaccountable business!  But hush, hush!"

11516 To guess what all this meant, was impossible even for Emma.
11517 Something really important seemed announced by his looks;
11518 but, as her friend was well, she endeavoured not to be uneasy,
11519 and settling it with her father, that she would take her walk now,
11520 she and Mr Weston were soon out of the house together and on
11521 their way at a quick pace for Randalls.

11522 "Now," -- said Emma, when they were fairly beyond the sweep gates, -- 
11523 "now Mr Weston, do let me know what has happened."

11524 "No, no," -- he gravely replied. -- "Don't ask me.  I promised my wife
11525 to leave it all to her.  She will break it to you better than I can.
11526 Do not be impatient, Emma; it will all come out too soon."

11527 "Break it to me," cried Emma, standing still with terror. -- 
11528 "Good God! -- Mr Weston, tell me at once. -- Something has happened
11529 in Brunswick Square.  I know it has.  Tell me, I charge you tell
11530 me this moment what it is."

11531 "No, indeed you are mistaken." -- 

11532 "Mr Weston do not trifle with me. -- Consider how many of my dearest
11533 friends are now in Brunswick Square.  Which of them is it? -- 
11534 I charge you by all that is sacred, not to attempt concealment."

11535 "Upon my word, Emma." -- 

11536 "Your word! -- why not your honour! -- why not say upon your honour,
11537 that it has nothing to do with any of them?  Good Heavens! -- What can
11538 be to be _broke_ to me, that does not relate to one of that family?"

11539 "Upon my honour," said he very seriously, "it does not.  It is not
11540 in the smallest degree connected with any human being of the name
11541 of Knightley."

11542 Emma's courage returned, and she walked on.

11543 "I was wrong," he continued, "in talking of its being _broke_ to you.
11544 I should not have used the expression.  In fact, it does not concern you -- 
11545 it concerns only myself, -- that is, we hope. -- Humph! -- In short,
11546 my dear Emma, there is no occasion to be so uneasy about it.
11547 I don't say that it is not a disagreeable business -- but things might
11548 be much worse. -- If we walk fast, we shall soon be at Randalls."

11549 Emma found that she must wait; and now it required little effort.
11550 She asked no more questions therefore, merely employed her own fancy,
11551 and that soon pointed out to her the probability of its being some
11552 money concern -- something just come to light, of a disagreeable
11553 nature in the circumstances of the family, -- something which the late
11554 event at Richmond had brought forward.  Her fancy was very active.
11555 Half a dozen natural children, perhaps -- and poor Frank cut off! -- 
11556 This, though very undesirable, would be no matter of agony to her.
11557 It inspired little more than an animating curiosity.

11558 "Who is that gentleman on horseback?" said she, as they proceeded -- 
11559 speaking more to assist Mr Weston in keeping his secret, than with
11560 any other view.

11561 "I do not know. -- One of the Otways. -- Not Frank; -- it is not Frank,
11562 I assure you.  You will not see him.  He is half way to Windsor
11563 by this time."

11564 "Has your son been with you, then?"

11565 "Oh! yes -- did not you know? -- Well, well, never mind."

11566 For a moment he was silent; and then added, in a tone much more
11567 guarded and demure,

11568 "Yes, Frank came over this morning, just to ask us how we did."

11569 They hurried on, and were speedily at Randalls. -- "Well, my dear,"
11570 said he, as they entered the room -- "I have brought her, and now
11571 I hope you will soon be better.  I shall leave you together.
11572 There is no use in delay.  I shall not be far off, if you want me." -- 
11573 And Emma distinctly heard him add, in a lower tone, before he
11574 quitted the room, -- "I have been as good as my word.  She has not the
11575 least idea."

11576 Mrs Weston was looking so ill, and had an air of so much perturbation,
11577 that Emma's uneasiness increased; and the moment they were alone,
11578 she eagerly said,

11579 "What is it my dear friend?  Something of a very unpleasant nature,
11580 I find, has occurred; -- do let me know directly what it is.
11581 I have been walking all this way in complete suspense.  We both
11582 abhor suspense.  Do not let mine continue longer.  It will do you
11583 good to speak of your distress, whatever it may be."

11584 "Have you indeed no idea?" said Mrs Weston in a trembling voice.
11585 "Cannot you, my dear Emma -- cannot you form a guess as to what you
11586 are to hear?"

11587 "So far as that it relates to Mr Frank Churchill, I do guess."

11588 "You are right.  It does relate to him, and I will tell you directly;"
11589 (resuming her work, and seeming resolved against looking up.)
11590 "He has been here this very morning, on a most extraordinary errand.
11591 It is impossible to express our surprize.  He came to speak to his
11592 father on a subject, -- to announce an attachment -- "

11593 She stopped to breathe.  Emma thought first of herself, and then
11594 of Harriet.

11595 "More than an attachment, indeed," resumed Mrs Weston; "an engagement -- 
11596 a positive engagement. -- What will you say, Emma -- what will any
11597 body say, when it is known that Frank Churchill and Miss Fairfax
11598 are engaged; -- nay, that they have been long engaged!"

11599 Emma even jumped with surprize; -- and, horror-struck, exclaimed,

11600 "Jane Fairfax! -- Good God!  You are not serious?  You do not mean it?"

11601 "You may well be amazed," returned Mrs Weston, still averting her eyes,
11602 and talking on with eagerness, that Emma might have time to recover -- 
11603 "You may well be amazed.  But it is even so.  There has been a solemn
11604 engagement between them ever since October -- formed at Weymouth,
11605 and kept a secret from every body.  Not a creature knowing it
11606 but themselves -- neither the Campbells, nor her family, nor his. -- 
11607 It is so wonderful, that though perfectly convinced of the fact,
11608 it is yet almost incredible to myself.  I can hardly believe it. -- 
11609 I thought I knew him."

11610 Emma scarcely heard what was said. -- Her mind was divided between
11611 two ideas -- her own former conversations with him about Miss Fairfax;
11612 and poor Harriet; -- and for some time she could only exclaim,
11613 and require confirmation, repeated confirmation.

11614 "Well," said she at last, trying to recover herself; "this is a
11615 circumstance which I must think of at least half a day, before I
11616 can at all comprehend it.  What! -- engaged to her all the winter -- 
11617 before either of them came to Highbury?"

11618 "Engaged since October, -- secretly engaged. -- It has hurt me,
11619 Emma, very much.  It has hurt his father equally.  _Some_ _part_
11620 of his conduct we cannot excuse."

11621 Emma pondered a moment, and then replied, "I will not pretend
11622 _not_ to understand you; and to give you all the relief in my power,
11623 be assured that no such effect has followed his attentions to me,
11624 as you are apprehensive of."

11625 Mrs Weston looked up, afraid to believe; but Emma's countenance
11626 was as steady as her words.

11627 "That you may have less difficulty in believing this boast, of my
11628 present perfect indifference," she continued, "I will farther tell you,
11629 that there was a period in the early part of our acquaintance,
11630 when I did like him, when I was very much disposed to be
11631 attached to him -- nay, was attached -- and how it came to cease,
11632 is perhaps the wonder.  Fortunately, however, it did cease.
11633 I have really for some time past, for at least these three months,
11634 cared nothing about him.  You may believe me, Mrs Weston.
11635 This is the simple truth."

11636 Mrs Weston kissed her with tears of joy; and when she could
11637 find utterance, assured her, that this protestation had done
11638 her more good than any thing else in the world could do.

11639 "Mr Weston will be almost as much relieved as myself," said she.
11640 "On this point we have been wretched.  It was our darling wish that you
11641 might be attached to each other -- and we were persuaded that it was so. -- 
11642 Imagine what we have been feeling on your account."

11643 "I have escaped; and that I should escape, may be a matter of
11644 grateful wonder to you and myself.  But this does not acquit _him_,
11645 Mrs Weston; and I must say, that I think him greatly to blame.
11646 What right had he to come among us with affection and faith engaged,
11647 and with manners so _very_ disengaged?  What right had he to endeavour
11648 to please, as he certainly did -- to distinguish any one young woman with
11649 persevering attention, as he certainly did -- while he really belonged
11650 to another? -- How could he tell what mischief he might be doing? -- 
11651 How could he tell that he might not be making me in love with him? -- 
11652 very wrong, very wrong indeed."

11653 "From something that he said, my dear Emma, I rather imagine -- "

11654 "And how could _she_ bear such behaviour!  Composure with a witness!
11655 to look on, while repeated attentions were offering to another woman,
11656 before her face, and not resent it. -- That is a degree of placidity,
11657 which I can neither comprehend nor respect."

11658 "There were misunderstandings between them, Emma; he said
11659 so expressly.  He had not time to enter into much explanation.
11660 He was here only a quarter of an hour, and in a state of agitation
11661 which did not allow the full use even of the time he could stay -- 
11662 but that there had been misunderstandings he decidedly said.
11663 The present crisis, indeed, seemed to be brought on by them;
11664 and those misunderstandings might very possibly arise from the
11665 impropriety of his conduct."

11666 "Impropriety!  Oh!  Mrs Weston -- it is too calm a censure.
11667 Much, much beyond impropriety! -- It has sunk him, I cannot say how
11668 it has sunk him in my opinion.  So unlike what a man should be! -- 
11669 None of that upright integrity, that strict adherence to truth
11670 and principle, that disdain of trick and littleness, which a man
11671 should display in every transaction of his life."

11672 "Nay, dear Emma, now I must take his part; for though he has been
11673 wrong in this instance, I have known him long enough to answer
11674 for his having many, very many, good qualities; and -- "

11675 "Good God!" cried Emma, not attending to her. -- "Mrs Smallridge, too!
11676 Jane actually on the point of going as governess!  What could he
11677 mean by such horrible indelicacy?  To suffer her to engage herself -- 
11678 to suffer her even to think of such a measure!"

11679 "He knew nothing about it, Emma.  On this article I can fully
11680 acquit him.  It was a private resolution of hers, not communicated
11681 to him -- or at least not communicated in a way to carry conviction. -- 
11682 Till yesterday, I know he said he was in the dark as to her plans.
11683 They burst on him, I do not know how, but by some letter or message -- 
11684 and it was the discovery of what she was doing, of this very project
11685 of hers, which determined him to come forward at once, own it
11686 all to his uncle, throw himself on his kindness, and, in short,
11687 put an end to the miserable state of concealment that had been
11688 carrying on so long."

11689 Emma began to listen better.

11690 "I am to hear from him soon," continued Mrs Weston.  "He told me
11691 at parting, that he should soon write; and he spoke in a manner which
11692 seemed to promise me many particulars that could not be given now.
11693 Let us wait, therefore, for this letter.  It may bring many extenuations.
11694 It may make many things intelligible and excusable which now are
11695 not to be understood.  Don't let us be severe, don't let us be in
11696 a hurry to condemn him.  Let us have patience.  I must love him;
11697 and now that I am satisfied on one point, the one material point,
11698 I am sincerely anxious for its all turning out well, and ready
11699 to hope that it may.  They must both have suffered a great deal
11700 under such a system of secresy and concealment."

11701 "_His_ sufferings," replied Emma dryly, "do not appear to have done
11702 him much harm.  Well, and how did Mr Churchill take it?"

11703 "Most favourably for his nephew -- gave his consent with scarcely
11704 a difficulty.  Conceive what the events of a week have done
11705 in that family!  While poor Mrs Churchill lived, I suppose there
11706 could not have been a hope, a chance, a possibility; -- but scarcely
11707 are her remains at rest in the family vault, than her husband is
11708 persuaded to act exactly opposite to what she would have required.
11709 What a blessing it is, when undue influence does not survive the grave! -- 
11710 He gave his consent with very little persuasion."

11711 "Ah!" thought Emma, "he would have done as much for Harriet."

11712 "This was settled last night, and Frank was off with the light
11713 this morning.  He stopped at Highbury, at the Bates's, I fancy,
11714 some time -- and then came on hither; but was in such a hurry to get
11715 back to his uncle, to whom he is just now more necessary than ever,
11716 that, as I tell you, he could stay with us but a quarter of an hour. -- 
11717 He was very much agitated -- very much, indeed -- to a degree that made
11718 him appear quite a different creature from any thing I had ever seen
11719 him before. -- In addition to all the rest, there had been the shock of
11720 finding her so very unwell, which he had had no previous suspicion of -- 
11721 and there was every appearance of his having been feeling a great deal."

11722 "And do you really believe the affair to have been carrying on
11723 with such perfect secresy? -- The Campbells, the Dixons, did none
11724 of them know of the engagement?"

11725 Emma could not speak the name of Dixon without a little blush.

11726 "None; not one.  He positively said that it had been known to no
11727 being in the world but their two selves."

11728 "Well," said Emma, "I suppose we shall gradually grow reconciled
11729 to the idea, and I wish them very happy.  But I shall always
11730 think it a very abominable sort of proceeding.  What has it been
11731 but a system of hypocrisy and deceit, -- espionage, and treachery? -- 
11732 To come among us with professions of openness and simplicity;
11733 and such a league in secret to judge us all! -- Here have we been,
11734 the whole winter and spring, completely duped, fancying ourselves
11735 all on an equal footing of truth and honour, with two people in the
11736 midst of us who may have been carrying round, comparing and sitting
11737 in judgment on sentiments and words that were never meant for both
11738 to hear. -- They must take the consequence, if they have heard each
11739 other spoken of in a way not perfectly agreeable!"

11740 "I am quite easy on that head," replied Mrs Weston.  "I am
11741 very sure that I never said any thing of either to the other,
11742 which both might not have heard."

11743 "You are in luck. -- Your only blunder was confined to my ear,
11744 when you imagined a certain friend of ours in love with the lady."

11745 "True.  But as I have always had a thoroughly good opinion of Miss
11746 Fairfax, I never could, under any blunder, have spoken ill of her;
11747 and as to speaking ill of him, there I must have been safe."

11748 At this moment Mr Weston appeared at a little distance from the window,
11749 evidently on the watch.  His wife gave him a look which invited
11750 him in; and, while he was coming round, added, "Now, dearest Emma,
11751 let me intreat you to say and look every thing that may set his
11752 heart at ease, and incline him to be satisfied with the match.
11753 Let us make the best of it -- and, indeed, almost every thing may
11754 be fairly said in her favour.  It is not a connexion to gratify;
11755 but if Mr Churchill does not feel that, why should we? and it
11756 may be a very fortunate circumstance for him, for Frank, I mean,
11757 that he should have attached himself to a girl of such steadiness
11758 of character and good judgment as I have always given her credit for -- 
11759 and still am disposed to give her credit for, in spite of this
11760 one great deviation from the strict rule of right.  And how much
11761 may be said in her situation for even that error!"

11762 "Much, indeed!" cried Emma feelingly.  "If a woman can ever
11763 be excused for thinking only of herself, it is in a situation
11764 like Jane Fairfax's. -- Of such, one may almost say, that `the
11765 world is not their's, nor the world's law.'"

11766 She met Mr Weston on his entrance, with a smiling countenance,
11767 exclaiming,

11768 "A very pretty trick you have been playing me, upon my word!
11769 This was a device, I suppose, to sport with my curiosity,
11770 and exercise my talent of guessing.  But you really frightened me.
11771 I thought you had lost half your property, at least.  And here,
11772 instead of its being a matter of condolence, it turns out to be one
11773 of congratulation. -- I congratulate you, Mr Weston, with all my heart,
11774 on the prospect of having one of the most lovely and accomplished
11775 young women in England for your daughter."

11776 A glance or two between him and his wife, convinced him that all was
11777 as right as this speech proclaimed; and its happy effect on his spirits
11778 was immediate.  His air and voice recovered their usual briskness:
11779 he shook her heartily and gratefully by the hand, and entered
11780 on the subject in a manner to prove, that he now only wanted
11781 time and persuasion to think the engagement no very bad thing.
11782 His companions suggested only what could palliate imprudence,
11783 or smooth objections; and by the time they had talked it all
11784 over together, and he had talked it all over again with Emma,
11785 in their walk back to Hartfield, he was become perfectly reconciled,
11786 and not far from thinking it the very best thing that Frank could
11787 possibly have done.



11788 CHAPTER XI


11789 "Harriet, poor Harriet!" -- Those were the words; in them lay the
11790 tormenting ideas which Emma could not get rid of, and which constituted
11791 the real misery of the business to her.  Frank Churchill had behaved
11792 very ill by herself -- very ill in many ways, -- but it was not so much
11793 _his_ behaviour as her _own_, which made her so angry with him.
11794 It was the scrape which he had drawn her into on Harriet's account,
11795 that gave the deepest hue to his offence. -- Poor Harriet! to be a second
11796 time the dupe of her misconceptions and flattery.  Mr Knightley
11797 had spoken prophetically, when he once said, "Emma, you have been
11798 no friend to Harriet Smith." -- She was afraid she had done her nothing
11799 but disservice. -- It was true that she had not to charge herself,
11800 in this instance as in the former, with being the sole and original
11801 author of the mischief; with having suggested such feelings as might
11802 otherwise never have entered Harriet's imagination; for Harriet
11803 had acknowledged her admiration and preference of Frank Churchill
11804 before she had ever given her a hint on the subject; but she felt
11805 completely guilty of having encouraged what she might have repressed.
11806 She might have prevented the indulgence and increase of such sentiments.
11807 Her influence would have been enough.  And now she was very conscious
11808 that she ought to have prevented them. -- She felt that she had been
11809 risking her friend's happiness on most insufficient grounds.
11810 Common sense would have directed her to tell Harriet, that she
11811 must not allow herself to think of him, and that there were five
11812 hundred chances to one against his ever caring for her. -- "But, with
11813 common sense," she added, "I am afraid I have had little to do."

11814 She was extremely angry with herself.  If she could not have been
11815 angry with Frank Churchill too, it would have been dreadful. -- 
11816 As for Jane Fairfax, she might at least relieve her feelings
11817 from any present solicitude on her account.  Harriet would
11818 be anxiety enough; she need no longer be unhappy about Jane,
11819 whose troubles and whose ill-health having, of course, the same origin,
11820 must be equally under cure. -- Her days of insignificance and evil
11821 were over. -- She would soon be well, and happy, and prosperous. -- 
11822 Emma could now imagine why her own attentions had been slighted.
11823 This discovery laid many smaller matters open.  No doubt it had been
11824 from jealousy. -- In Jane's eyes she had been a rival; and well might
11825 any thing she could offer of assistance or regard be repulsed.
11826 An airing in the Hartfield carriage would have been the rack,
11827 and arrowroot from the Hartfield storeroom must have been poison.
11828 She understood it all; and as far as her mind could disengage itself
11829 from the injustice and selfishness of angry feelings, she acknowledged
11830 that Jane Fairfax would have neither elevation nor happiness beyond
11831 her desert.  But poor Harriet was such an engrossing charge!
11832 There was little sympathy to be spared for any body else.
11833 Emma was sadly fearful that this second disappointment would be
11834 more severe than the first.  Considering the very superior claims
11835 of the object, it ought; and judging by its apparently stronger effect
11836 on Harriet's mind, producing reserve and self-command, it would. -- 
11837 She must communicate the painful truth, however, and as soon
11838 as possible.  An injunction of secresy had been among Mr Weston's
11839 parting words.  "For the present, the whole affair was to be
11840 completely a secret.  Mr Churchill had made a point of it,
11841 as a token of respect to the wife he had so very recently lost;
11842 and every body admitted it to be no more than due decorum." -- 
11843 Emma had promised; but still Harriet must be excepted.  It was her
11844 superior duty.

11845 In spite of her vexation, she could not help feeling it almost ridiculous,
11846 that she should have the very same distressing and delicate office to
11847 perform by Harriet, which Mrs Weston had just gone through by herself.
11848 The intelligence, which had been so anxiously announced to her,
11849 she was now to be anxiously announcing to another.  Her heart beat
11850 quick on hearing Harriet's footstep and voice; so, she supposed,
11851 had poor Mrs Weston felt when _she_ was approaching Randalls.
11852 Could the event of the disclosure bear an equal resemblance! -- 
11853 But of that, unfortunately, there could be no chance.

11854 "Well, Miss Woodhouse!" cried Harriet, coming eagerly into the room -- 
11855 "is not this the oddest news that ever was?"

11856 "What news do you mean?" replied Emma, unable to guess, by look
11857 or voice, whether Harriet could indeed have received any hint.

11858 "About Jane Fairfax.  Did you ever hear any thing so strange?
11859 Oh! -- you need not be afraid of owning it to me, for Mr Weston has
11860 told me himself.  I met him just now.  He told me it was to be
11861 a great secret; and, therefore, I should not think of mentioning
11862 it to any body but you, but he said you knew it."

11863 "What did Mr Weston tell you?" -- said Emma, still perplexed.

11864 "Oh! he told me all about it; that Jane Fairfax and Mr Frank Churchill
11865 are to be married, and that they have been privately
11866 engaged to one another this long while.  How very odd!"

11867 It was, indeed, so odd; Harriet's behaviour was so extremely odd,
11868 that Emma did not know how to understand it.  Her character appeared
11869 absolutely changed.  She seemed to propose shewing no agitation,
11870 or disappointment, or peculiar concern in the discovery.  Emma looked
11871 at her, quite unable to speak.

11872 "Had you any idea," cried Harriet, "of his being in love
11873 with her? -- You, perhaps, might. -- You (blushing as she spoke)
11874 who can see into every body's heart; but nobody else -- "

11875 "Upon my word," said Emma, "I begin to doubt my having any such talent.
11876 Can you seriously ask me, Harriet, whether I imagined him attached
11877 to another woman at the very time that I was -- tacitly, if not openly -- 
11878 encouraging you to give way to your own feelings? -- I never had
11879 the slightest suspicion, till within the last hour, of
11880 Mr Frank Churchill's having the least regard for Jane Fairfax.  You may
11881 be very sure that if I had, I should have cautioned you accordingly."

11882 "Me!" cried Harriet, colouring, and astonished.  "Why should you
11883 caution me? -- You do not think I care about Mr Frank Churchill."

11884 "I am delighted to hear you speak so stoutly on the subject,"
11885 replied Emma, smiling; "but you do not mean to deny that there
11886 was a time -- and not very distant either -- when you gave me reason
11887 to understand that you did care about him?"

11888 "Him! -- never, never.  Dear Miss Woodhouse, how could you so mistake me?"
11889 turning away distressed.

11890 "Harriet!" cried Emma, after a moment's pause -- "What do you mean? -- 
11891 Good Heaven! what do you mean? -- Mistake you! -- Am I to suppose then? -- "

11892 She could not speak another word. -- Her voice was lost; and she
11893 sat down, waiting in great terror till Harriet should answer.

11894 Harriet, who was standing at some distance, and with face turned
11895 from her, did not immediately say any thing; and when she did speak,
11896 it was in a voice nearly as agitated as Emma's.

11897 "I should not have thought it possible," she began, "that you
11898 could have misunderstood me!  I know we agreed never to name him -- 
11899 but considering how infinitely superior he is to every body else,
11900 I should not have thought it possible that I could be supposed
11901 to mean any other person.  Mr Frank Churchill, indeed!  I do not
11902 know who would ever look at him in the company of the other.
11903 I hope I have a better taste than to think of Mr Frank Churchill,
11904 who is like nobody by his side.  And that you should have been
11905 so mistaken, is amazing! -- I am sure, but for believing that you
11906 entirely approved and meant to encourage me in my attachment,
11907 I should have considered it at first too great a presumption almost,
11908 to dare to think of him.  At first, if you had not told me
11909 that more wonderful things had happened; that there had been
11910 matches of greater disparity (those were your very words); -- 
11911 I should not have dared to give way to -- I should not have thought
11912 it possible -- But if _you_, who had been always acquainted with him -- "

11913 "Harriet!" cried Emma, collecting herself resolutely -- "Let us
11914 understand each other now, without the possibility of farther mistake.
11915 Are you speaking of -- Mr Knightley?"

11916 "To be sure I am.  I never could have an idea of any body else -- 
11917 and so I thought you knew.  When we talked about him, it was as clear
11918 as possible."

11919 "Not quite," returned Emma, with forced calmness, "for all that
11920 you then said, appeared to me to relate to a different person.
11921 I could almost assert that you had _named_ Mr Frank Churchill.
11922 I am sure the service Mr Frank Churchill had rendered you,
11923 in protecting you from the gipsies, was spoken of."

11924 "Oh!  Miss Woodhouse, how you do forget!"

11925 "My dear Harriet, I perfectly remember the substance of what I
11926 said on the occasion.  I told you that I did not wonder at
11927 your attachment; that considering the service he had rendered you,
11928 it was extremely natural: -- and you agreed to it, expressing yourself
11929 very warmly as to your sense of that service, and mentioning
11930 even what your sensations had been in seeing him come forward
11931 to your rescue. -- The impression of it is strong on my memory."

11932 "Oh, dear," cried Harriet, "now I recollect what you mean; but I
11933 was thinking of something very different at the time.  It was not
11934 the gipsies -- it was not Mr Frank Churchill that I meant.  No! (with
11935 some elevation) I was thinking of a much more precious circumstance -- 
11936 of Mr Knightley's coming and asking me to dance, when Mr Elton
11937 would not stand up with me; and when there was no other partner in
11938 the room.  That was the kind action; that was the noble benevolence
11939 and generosity; that was the service which made me begin to feel
11940 how superior he was to every other being upon earth."

11941 "Good God!" cried Emma, "this has been a most unfortunate -- 
11942 most deplorable mistake! -- What is to be done?"

11943 "You would not have encouraged me, then, if you had understood me?
11944 At least, however, I cannot be worse off than I should have been,
11945 if the other had been the person; and now -- it _is_ possible -- "

11946 She paused a few moments.  Emma could not speak.

11947 "I do not wonder, Miss Woodhouse," she resumed, "that you should feel
11948 a great difference between the two, as to me or as to any body.
11949 You must think one five hundred million times more above me than
11950 the other.  But I hope, Miss Woodhouse, that supposing -- that if -- 
11951 strange as it may appear -- .  But you know they were your own words,
11952 that _more_ wonderful things had happened, matches of _greater_ disparity
11953 had taken place than between Mr Frank Churchill and me; and, therefore,
11954 it seems as if such a thing even as this, may have occurred before -- 
11955 and if I should be so fortunate, beyond expression, as to -- 
11956 if Mr Knightley should really -- if _he_ does not mind the disparity,
11957 I hope, dear Miss Woodhouse, you will not set yourself against it,
11958 and try to put difficulties in the way.  But you are too good for that,
11959 I am sure."

11960 Harriet was standing at one of the windows.  Emma turned round
11961 to look at her in consternation, and hastily said,

11962 "Have you any idea of Mr Knightley's returning your affection?"

11963 "Yes," replied Harriet modestly, but not fearfully -- "I must say
11964 that I have."

11965 Emma's eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating,
11966 in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes.  A few minutes were sufficient
11967 for making her acquainted with her own heart.  A mind like hers,
11968 once opening to suspicion, made rapid progress.  She touched -- 
11969 she admitted -- she acknowledged the whole truth.  Why was it
11970 so much worse that Harriet should be in love with Mr Knightley,
11971 than with Frank Churchill?  Why was the evil so dreadfully increased
11972 by Harriet's having some hope of a return?  It darted through her,
11973 with the speed of an arrow, that Mr Knightley must marry no one
11974 but herself!

11975 Her own conduct, as well as her own heart, was before her in the
11976 same few minutes.  She saw it all with a clearness which had
11977 never blessed her before.  How improperly had she been acting
11978 by Harriet!  How inconsiderate, how indelicate, how irrational,
11979 how unfeeling had been her conduct!  What blindness, what madness,
11980 had led her on!  It struck her with dreadful force, and she
11981 was ready to give it every bad name in the world.  Some portion
11982 of respect for herself, however, in spite of all these demerits -- 
11983 some concern for her own appearance, and a strong sense of justice
11984 by Harriet -- (there would be no need of _compassion_ to the girl
11985 who believed herself loved by Mr Knightley -- but justice required
11986 that she should not be made unhappy by any coldness now,)
11987 gave Emma the resolution to sit and endure farther with calmness,
11988 with even apparent kindness. -- For her own advantage indeed, it was fit
11989 that the utmost extent of Harriet's hopes should be enquired into;
11990 and Harriet had done nothing to forfeit the regard and interest
11991 which had been so voluntarily formed and maintained -- or to deserve
11992 to be slighted by the person, whose counsels had never led her right. -- 
11993 Rousing from reflection, therefore, and subduing her emotion,
11994 she turned to Harriet again, and, in a more inviting accent, renewed
11995 the conversation; for as to the subject which had first introduced it,
11996 the wonderful story of Jane Fairfax, that was quite sunk and lost. -- 
11997 Neither of them thought but of Mr Knightley and themselves.

11998 Harriet, who had been standing in no unhappy reverie, was yet very glad
11999 to be called from it, by the now encouraging manner of such a judge,
12000 and such a friend as Miss Woodhouse, and only wanted invitation,
12001 to give the history of her hopes with great, though trembling
12002 delight. -- Emma's tremblings as she asked, and as she listened,
12003 were better concealed than Harriet's, but they were not less.
12004 Her voice was not unsteady; but her mind was in all the perturbation
12005 that such a development of self, such a burst of threatening evil,
12006 such a confusion of sudden and perplexing emotions, must create. -- 
12007 She listened with much inward suffering, but with great outward
12008 patience, to Harriet's detail. -- Methodical, or well arranged,
12009 or very well delivered, it could not be expected to be;
12010 but it contained, when separated from all the feebleness and
12011 tautology of the narration, a substance to sink her spirit -- 
12012 especially with the corroborating circumstances, which her own memory
12013 brought in favour of Mr Knightley's most improved opinion of Harriet.

12014 Harriet had been conscious of a difference in his behaviour ever since
12015 those two decisive dances. -- Emma knew that he had, on that occasion,
12016 found her much superior to his expectation.  From that evening,
12017 or at least from the time of Miss Woodhouse's encouraging her
12018 to think of him, Harriet had begun to be sensible of his talking
12019 to her much more than he had been used to do, and of his having
12020 indeed quite a different manner towards her; a manner of kindness
12021 and sweetness! -- Latterly she had been more and more aware of it.
12022 When they had been all walking together, he had so often come and walked
12023 by her, and talked so very delightfully! -- He seemed to want to be
12024 acquainted with her.  Emma knew it to have been very much the case.
12025 She had often observed the change, to almost the same extent. -- 
12026 Harriet repeated expressions of approbation and praise from him -- 
12027 and Emma felt them to be in the closest agreement with what she had
12028 known of his opinion of Harriet.  He praised her for being without
12029 art or affectation, for having simple, honest, generous, feelings. -- 
12030 She knew that he saw such recommendations in Harriet; he had dwelt
12031 on them to her more than once. -- Much that lived in Harriet's memory,
12032 many little particulars of the notice she had received from him, a look,
12033 a speech, a removal from one chair to another, a compliment implied,
12034 a preference inferred, had been unnoticed, because unsuspected,
12035 by Emma.  Circumstances that might swell to half an hour's relation,
12036 and contained multiplied proofs to her who had seen them, had passed
12037 undiscerned by her who now heard them; but the two latest occurrences
12038 to be mentioned, the two of strongest promise to Harriet, were not
12039 without some degree of witness from Emma herself. -- The first,
12040 was his walking with her apart from the others, in the lime-walk
12041 at Donwell, where they had been walking some time before Emma came,
12042 and he had taken pains (as she was convinced) to draw her from
12043 the rest to himself -- and at first, he had talked to her in a more
12044 particular way than he had ever done before, in a very particular
12045 way indeed! -- (Harriet could not recall it without a blush.) He seemed
12046 to be almost asking her, whether her affections were engaged. -- 
12047 But as soon as she (Miss Woodhouse) appeared likely to join them,
12048 he changed the subject, and began talking about farming: -- 
12049 The second, was his having sat talking with her nearly half an hour
12050 before Emma came back from her visit, the very last morning of his
12051 being at Hartfield -- though, when he first came in, he had said
12052 that he could not stay five minutes -- and his having told her,
12053 during their conversation, that though he must go to London,
12054 it was very much against his inclination that he left home at all,
12055 which was much more (as Emma felt) than he had acknowledged to _her_.
12056 The superior degree of confidence towards Harriet, which this one
12057 article marked, gave her severe pain.

12058 On the subject of the first of the two circumstances, she did,
12059 after a little reflection, venture the following question.
12060 "Might he not? -- Is not it possible, that when enquiring, as you thought,
12061 into the state of your affections, he might be alluding to Mr Martin -- 
12062 he might have Mr Martin's interest in view?  But Harriet rejected
12063 the suspicion with spirit.

12064 "Mr Martin!  No indeed! -- There was not a hint of Mr Martin.
12065 I hope I know better now, than to care for Mr Martin, or to be
12066 suspected of it."

12067 When Harriet had closed her evidence, she appealed to her dear
12068 Miss Woodhouse, to say whether she had not good ground for hope.

12069 "I never should have presumed to think of it at first," said she,
12070 "but for you.  You told me to observe him carefully, and let
12071 his behaviour be the rule of mine -- and so I have.  But now I seem
12072 to feel that I may deserve him; and that if he does chuse me,
12073 it will not be any thing so very wonderful."

12074 The bitter feelings occasioned by this speech, the many bitter
12075 feelings, made the utmost exertion necessary on Emma's side,
12076 to enable her to say on reply,

12077 "Harriet, I will only venture to declare, that Mr Knightley is
12078 the last man in the world, who would intentionally give any woman
12079 the idea of his feeling for her more than he really does."

12080 Harriet seemed ready to worship her friend for a sentence so satisfactory;
12081 and Emma was only saved from raptures and fondness, which at
12082 that moment would have been dreadful penance, by the sound of her
12083 father's footsteps.  He was coming through the hall.  Harriet was
12084 too much agitated to encounter him.  "She could not compose herself -- 
12085 Mr Woodhouse would be alarmed -- she had better go;" -- with most ready
12086 encouragement from her friend, therefore, she passed off through
12087 another door -- and the moment she was gone, this was the spontaneous
12088 burst of Emma's feelings:  "Oh God! that I had never seen her!"

12089 The rest of the day, the following night, were hardly enough
12090 for her thoughts. -- She was bewildered amidst the confusion
12091 of all that had rushed on her within the last few hours.
12092 Every moment had brought a fresh surprize; and every surprize
12093 must be matter of humiliation to her. -- How to understand it all!
12094 How to understand the deceptions she had been thus practising
12095 on herself, and living under! -- The blunders, the blindness of her
12096 own head and heart! -- she sat still, she walked about, she tried her
12097 own room, she tried the shrubbery -- in every place, every posture,
12098 she perceived that she had acted most weakly; that she had been imposed
12099 on by others in a most mortifying degree; that she had been imposing
12100 on herself in a degree yet more mortifying; that she was wretched,
12101 and should probably find this day but the beginning of wretchedness.

12102 To understand, thoroughly understand her own heart, was the
12103 first endeavour.  To that point went every leisure moment which her
12104 father's claims on her allowed, and every moment of involuntary
12105 absence of mind.

12106 How long had Mr Knightley been so dear to her, as every feeling
12107 declared him now to be?  When had his influence, such influence begun? -- 
12108 When had he succeeded to that place in her affection, which Frank
12109 Churchill had once, for a short period, occupied? -- She looked back;
12110 she compared the two -- compared them, as they had always stood in
12111 her estimation, from the time of the latter's becoming known to her -- 
12112 and as they must at any time have been compared by her, had it -- 
12113 oh! had it, by any blessed felicity, occurred to her, to institute
12114 the comparison. -- She saw that there never had been a time when she
12115 did not consider Mr Knightley as infinitely the superior, or when
12116 his regard for her had not been infinitely the most dear.  She saw,
12117 that in persuading herself, in fancying, in acting to the contrary,
12118 she had been entirely under a delusion, totally ignorant of her
12119 own heart -- and, in short, that she had never really cared for Frank
12120 Churchill at all!

12121 This was the conclusion of the first series of reflection.
12122 This was the knowledge of herself, on the first question of inquiry,
12123 which she reached; and without being long in reaching it. -- 
12124 She was most sorrowfully indignant; ashamed of every sensation
12125 but the one revealed to her -- her affection for Mr Knightley. -- 
12126 Every other part of her mind was disgusting.

12127 With insufferable vanity had she believed herself in the secret of every
12128 body's feelings; with unpardonable arrogance proposed to arrange every
12129 body's destiny.  She was proved to have been universally mistaken;
12130 and she had not quite done nothing -- for she had done mischief.
12131 She had brought evil on Harriet, on herself, and she too much feared,
12132 on Mr Knightley. -- Were this most unequal of all connexions to
12133 take place, on her must rest all the reproach of having given it
12134 a beginning; for his attachment, she must believe to be produced only
12135 by a consciousness of Harriet's; -- and even were this not the case,
12136 he would never have known Harriet at all but for her folly.

12137 Mr Knightley and Harriet Smith! -- It was a union to distance every
12138 wonder of the kind. -- The attachment of Frank Churchill and Jane
12139 Fairfax became commonplace, threadbare, stale in the comparison,
12140 exciting no surprize, presenting no disparity, affording nothing
12141 to be said or thought. -- Mr Knightley and Harriet Smith! -- Such an
12142 elevation on her side!  Such a debasement on his!  It was horrible
12143 to Emma to think how it must sink him in the general opinion,
12144 to foresee the smiles, the sneers, the merriment it would prompt at
12145 his expense; the mortification and disdain of his brother, the thousand
12146 inconveniences to himself. -- Could it be? -- No; it was impossible.
12147 And yet it was far, very far, from impossible. -- Was it a new
12148 circumstance for a man of first-rate abilities to be captivated by
12149 very inferior powers?  Was it new for one, perhaps too busy to seek,
12150 to be the prize of a girl who would seek him? -- Was it new for any
12151 thing in this world to be unequal, inconsistent, incongruous -- or for
12152 chance and circumstance (as second causes) to direct the human fate?

12153 Oh! had she never brought Harriet forward!  Had she left her where
12154 she ought, and where he had told her she ought! -- Had she not,
12155 with a folly which no tongue could express, prevented her marrying
12156 the unexceptionable young man who would have made her happy
12157 and respectable in the line of life to which she ought to belong -- 
12158 all would have been safe; none of this dreadful sequel would have been.

12159 How Harriet could ever have had the presumption to raise
12160 her thoughts to Mr Knightley! -- How she could dare to fancy
12161 herself the chosen of such a man till actually assured of it! -- 
12162 But Harriet was less humble, had fewer scruples than formerly. -- 
12163 Her inferiority, whether of mind or situation, seemed little felt. -- 
12164 She had seemed more sensible of Mr Elton's being to stoop
12165 in marrying her, than she now seemed of Mr Knightley's. -- 
12166 Alas! was not that her own doing too?  Who had been at pains to give
12167 Harriet notions of self-consequence but herself? -- Who but herself
12168 had taught her, that she was to elevate herself if possible,
12169 and that her claims were great to a high worldly establishment? -- 
12170 If Harriet, from being humble, were grown vain, it was her doing too.



12171 CHAPTER XII


12172 Till now that she was threatened with its loss, Emma had never known
12173 how much of her happiness depended on being _first_ with Mr Knightley,
12174 first in interest and affection. -- Satisfied that it was so,
12175 and feeling it her due, she had enjoyed it without reflection;
12176 and only in the dread of being supplanted, found how inexpressibly
12177 important it had been. -- Long, very long, she felt she had been first;
12178 for, having no female connexions of his own, there had been
12179 only Isabella whose claims could be compared with hers, and she
12180 had always known exactly how far he loved and esteemed Isabella.
12181 She had herself been first with him for many years past.
12182 She had not deserved it; she had often been negligent or perverse,
12183 slighting his advice, or even wilfully opposing him, insensible of
12184 half his merits, and quarrelling with him because he would not
12185 acknowledge her false and insolent estimate of her own -- but still,
12186 from family attachment and habit, and thorough excellence of mind,
12187 he had loved her, and watched over her from a girl, with an endeavour
12188 to improve her, and an anxiety for her doing right, which no
12189 other creature had at all shared.  In spite of all her faults,
12190 she knew she was dear to him; might she not say, very dear? -- 
12191 When the suggestions of hope, however, which must follow here,
12192 presented themselves, she could not presume to indulge them.
12193 Harriet Smith might think herself not unworthy of being peculiarly,
12194 exclusively, passionately loved by Mr Knightley.  _She_ could not.
12195 She could not flatter herself with any idea of blindness in his attachment
12196 to _her_.  She had received a very recent proof of its impartiality. -- 
12197 How shocked had he been by her behaviour to Miss Bates!  How directly,
12198 how strongly had he expressed himself to her on the subject! -- Not too
12199 strongly for the offence -- but far, far too strongly to issue from
12200 any feeling softer than upright justice and clear-sighted goodwill. -- 
12201 She had no hope, nothing to deserve the name of hope, that he could
12202 have that sort of affection for herself which was now in question;
12203 but there was a hope (at times a slight one, at times much stronger,)
12204 that Harriet might have deceived herself, and be overrating his
12205 regard for _her_. -- Wish it she must, for his sake -- be the consequence
12206 nothing to herself, but his remaining single all his life.
12207 Could she be secure of that, indeed, of his never marrying at all,
12208 she believed she should be perfectly satisfied. -- Let him but continue
12209 the same Mr Knightley to her and her father, the same Mr Knightley
12210 to all the world; let Donwell and Hartfield lose none of their
12211 precious intercourse of friendship and confidence, and her peace
12212 would be fully secured. -- Marriage, in fact, would not do for her.
12213 It would be incompatible with what she owed to her father, and with
12214 what she felt for him.  Nothing should separate her from her father.
12215 She would not marry, even if she were asked by Mr Knightley.

12216 It must be her ardent wish that Harriet might be disappointed;
12217 and she hoped, that when able to see them together again, she might at
12218 least be able to ascertain what the chances for it were. -- She should
12219 see them henceforward with the closest observance; and wretchedly
12220 as she had hitherto misunderstood even those she was watching,
12221 she did not know how to admit that she could be blinded here. -- 
12222 He was expected back every day.  The power of observation would be
12223 soon given -- frightfully soon it appeared when her thoughts were in
12224 one course.  In the meanwhile, she resolved against seeing Harriet. -- 
12225 It would do neither of them good, it would do the subject no good,
12226 to be talking of it farther. -- She was resolved not to be convinced,
12227 as long as she could doubt, and yet had no authority for opposing
12228 Harriet's confidence.  To talk would be only to irritate. -- She wrote
12229 to her, therefore, kindly, but decisively, to beg that she would not,
12230 at present, come to Hartfield; acknowledging it to be her conviction,
12231 that all farther confidential discussion of _one_ topic had better
12232 be avoided; and hoping, that if a few days were allowed to pass before
12233 they met again, except in the company of others -- she objected only
12234 to a tete-a-tete -- they might be able to act as if they had forgotten
12235 the conversation of yesterday. -- Harriet submitted, and approved,
12236 and was grateful.

12237 This point was just arranged, when a visitor arrived to tear Emma's
12238 thoughts a little from the one subject which had engrossed them,
12239 sleeping or waking, the last twenty-four hours -- Mrs Weston, who had
12240 been calling on her daughter-in-law elect, and took Hartfield in her
12241 way home, almost as much in duty to Emma as in pleasure to herself,
12242 to relate all the particulars of so interesting an interview.

12243 Mr Weston had accompanied her to Mrs Bates's, and gone through his
12244 share of this essential attention most handsomely; but she having
12245 then induced Miss Fairfax to join her in an airing, was now returned
12246 with much more to say, and much more to say with satisfaction,
12247 than a quarter of an hour spent in Mrs Bates's parlour, with all
12248 the encumbrance of awkward feelings, could have afforded.

12249 A little curiosity Emma had; and she made the most of it while
12250 her friend related.  Mrs Weston had set off to pay the visit
12251 in a good deal of agitation herself; and in the first place had
12252 wished not to go at all at present, to be allowed merely to write
12253 to Miss Fairfax instead, and to defer this ceremonious call till
12254 a little time had passed, and Mr Churchill could be reconciled
12255 to the engagement's becoming known; as, considering every thing,
12256 she thought such a visit could not be paid without leading to reports: -- 
12257 but Mr Weston had thought differently; he was extremely anxious
12258 to shew his approbation to Miss Fairfax and her family, and did not
12259 conceive that any suspicion could be excited by it; or if it were,
12260 that it would be of any consequence; for "such things," he observed,
12261 "always got about."  Emma smiled, and felt that Mr Weston had
12262 very good reason for saying so.  They had gone, in short -- and very
12263 great had been the evident distress and confusion of the lady.
12264 She had hardly been able to speak a word, and every look and action
12265 had shewn how deeply she was suffering from consciousness.  The quiet,
12266 heart-felt satisfaction of the old lady, and the rapturous delight
12267 of her daughter -- who proved even too joyous to talk as usual,
12268 had been a gratifying, yet almost an affecting, scene.  They were
12269 both so truly respectable in their happiness, so disinterested
12270 in every sensation; thought so much of Jane; so much of every body,
12271 and so little of themselves, that every kindly feeling was at work
12272 for them.  Miss Fairfax's recent illness had offered a fair plea
12273 for Mrs Weston to invite her to an airing; she had drawn back and
12274 declined at first, but, on being pressed had yielded; and, in the
12275 course of their drive, Mrs Weston had, by gentle encouragement,
12276 overcome so much of her embarrassment, as to bring her to converse
12277 on the important subject.  Apologies for her seemingly ungracious
12278 silence in their first reception, and the warmest expressions of the
12279 gratitude she was always feeling towards herself and Mr Weston,
12280 must necessarily open the cause; but when these effusions were put by,
12281 they had talked a good deal of the present and of the future state
12282 of the engagement.  Mrs Weston was convinced that such conversation
12283 must be the greatest relief to her companion, pent up within her own
12284 mind as every thing had so long been, and was very much pleased
12285 with all that she had said on the subject.

12286 "On the misery of what she had suffered, during the concealment
12287 of so many months," continued Mrs Weston, "she was energetic.
12288 This was one of her expressions.  `I will not say, that since I
12289 entered into the engagement I have not had some happy moments; but I
12290 can say, that I have never known the blessing of one tranquil hour:' -- 
12291 and the quivering lip, Emma, which uttered it, was an attestation
12292 that I felt at my heart."

12293 "Poor girl!" said Emma.  "She thinks herself wrong, then, for having
12294 consented to a private engagement?"

12295 "Wrong!  No one, I believe, can blame her more than she is disposed
12296 to blame herself.  `The consequence,' said she, `has been a state
12297 of perpetual suffering to me; and so it ought.  But after all the
12298 punishment that misconduct can bring, it is still not less misconduct.
12299 Pain is no expiation.  I never can be blameless.  I have been acting
12300 contrary to all my sense of right; and the fortunate turn that every
12301 thing has taken, and the kindness I am now receiving, is what my
12302 conscience tells me ought not to be.'  `Do not imagine, madam,'
12303 she continued, `that I was taught wrong.  Do not let any reflection
12304 fall on the principles or the care of the friends who brought
12305 me up.  The error has been all my own; and I do assure you that,
12306 with all the excuse that present circumstances may appear to give,
12307 I shall yet dread making the story known to Colonel Campbell.'"

12308 "Poor girl!" said Emma again.  "She loves him then excessively,
12309 I suppose.  It must have been from attachment only, that she could
12310 be led to form the engagement.  Her affection must have overpowered
12311 her judgment."

12312 "Yes, I have no doubt of her being extremely attached to him."

12313 "I am afraid," returned Emma, sighing, "that I must often have
12314 contributed to make her unhappy."

12315 "On your side, my love, it was very innocently done.  But she
12316 probably had something of that in her thoughts, when alluding
12317 to the misunderstandings which he had given us hints of before.
12318 One natural consequence of the evil she had involved herself in,"
12319 she said, "was that of making her _unreasonable_.  The consciousness
12320 of having done amiss, had exposed her to a thousand inquietudes,
12321 and made her captious and irritable to a degree that must have been -- 
12322 that had been -- hard for him to bear.  `I did not make the allowances,'
12323 said she, `which I ought to have done, for his temper and spirits -- 
12324 his delightful spirits, and that gaiety, that playfulness
12325 of disposition, which, under any other circumstances, would, I am sure,
12326 have been as constantly bewitching to me, as they were at first.'
12327 She then began to speak of you, and of the great kindness you
12328 had shewn her during her illness; and with a blush which shewed me
12329 how it was all connected, desired me, whenever I had an opportunity,
12330 to thank you -- I could not thank you too much -- for every wish and
12331 every endeavour to do her good.  She was sensible that you had never
12332 received any proper acknowledgment from herself."

12333 "If I did not know her to be happy now," said Emma, seriously,
12334 "which, in spite of every little drawback from her scrupulous
12335 conscience, she must be, I could not bear these thanks; -- for, oh!
12336 Mrs Weston, if there were an account drawn up of the evil
12337 and the good I have done Miss Fairfax! -- Well (checking herself,
12338 and trying to be more lively), this is all to be forgotten.
12339 You are very kind to bring me these interesting particulars.
12340 They shew her to the greatest advantage.  I am sure she is very good -- 
12341 I hope she will be very happy.  It is fit that the fortune
12342 should be on his side, for I think the merit will be all on hers."

12343 Such a conclusion could not pass unanswered by Mrs Weston.
12344 She thought well of Frank in almost every respect; and, what was more,
12345 she loved him very much, and her defence was, therefore, earnest.
12346 She talked with a great deal of reason, and at least equal affection -- 
12347 but she had too much to urge for Emma's attention; it was soon gone
12348 to Brunswick Square or to Donwell; she forgot to attempt to listen;
12349 and when Mrs Weston ended with, "We have not yet had the letter
12350 we are so anxious for, you know, but I hope it will soon come,"
12351 she was obliged to pause before she answered, and at last obliged
12352 to answer at random, before she could at all recollect what letter it
12353 was which they were so anxious for.

12354 "Are you well, my Emma?" was Mrs Weston's parting question.

12355 "Oh! perfectly.  I am always well, you know.  Be sure to give me
12356 intelligence of the letter as soon as possible."

12357 Mrs Weston's communications furnished Emma with more food for
12358 unpleasant reflection, by increasing her esteem and compassion,
12359 and her sense of past injustice towards Miss Fairfax.  She bitterly
12360 regretted not having sought a closer acquaintance with her, and blushed
12361 for the envious feelings which had certainly been, in some measure,
12362 the cause.  Had she followed Mr Knightley's known wishes, in paying
12363 that attention to Miss Fairfax, which was every way her due; had she
12364 tried to know her better; had she done her part towards intimacy;
12365 had she endeavoured to find a friend there instead of in Harriet Smith;
12366 she must, in all probability, have been spared from every pain
12367 which pressed on her now. -- Birth, abilities, and education,
12368 had been equally marking one as an associate for her, to be received
12369 with gratitude; and the other -- what was she? -- Supposing even that
12370 they had never become intimate friends; that she had never been
12371 admitted into Miss Fairfax's confidence on this important matter -- 
12372 which was most probable -- still, in knowing her as she ought,
12373 and as she might, she must have been preserved from the abominable
12374 suspicions of an improper attachment to Mr Dixon, which she had
12375 not only so foolishly fashioned and harboured herself, but had so
12376 unpardonably imparted; an idea which she greatly feared had been made
12377 a subject of material distress to the delicacy of Jane's feelings,
12378 by the levity or carelessness of Frank Churchill's.  Of all the sources
12379 of evil surrounding the former, since her coming to Highbury,
12380 she was persuaded that she must herself have been the worst.
12381 She must have been a perpetual enemy.  They never could have been
12382 all three together, without her having stabbed Jane Fairfax's peace
12383 in a thousand instances; and on Box Hill, perhaps, it had been
12384 the agony of a mind that would bear no more.

12385 The evening of this day was very long, and melancholy, at Hartfield.
12386 The weather added what it could of gloom.  A cold stormy rain set in,
12387 and nothing of July appeared but in the trees and shrubs, which the
12388 wind was despoiling, and the length of the day, which only made
12389 such cruel sights the longer visible.

12390 The weather affected Mr Woodhouse, and he could only be kept tolerably
12391 comfortable by almost ceaseless attention on his daughter's side,
12392 and by exertions which had never cost her half so much before.
12393 It reminded her of their first forlorn tete-a-tete, on the evening
12394 of Mrs Weston's wedding-day; but Mr Knightley had walked
12395 in then, soon after tea, and dissipated every melancholy fancy.
12396 Alas! such delightful proofs of Hartfield's attraction, as those
12397 sort of visits conveyed, might shortly be over.  The picture which
12398 she had then drawn of the privations of the approaching winter,
12399 had proved erroneous; no friends had deserted them, no pleasures
12400 had been lost. -- But her present forebodings she feared would
12401 experience no similar contradiction.  The prospect before her now,
12402 was threatening to a degree that could not be entirely dispelled -- 
12403 that might not be even partially brightened.  If all took place
12404 that might take place among the circle of her friends, Hartfield must
12405 be comparatively deserted; and she left to cheer her father with the
12406 spirits only of ruined happiness.

12407 The child to be born at Randalls must be a tie there even dearer
12408 than herself; and Mrs Weston's heart and time would be occupied
12409 by it.  They should lose her; and, probably, in great measure,
12410 her husband also. -- Frank Churchill would return among them no more;
12411 and Miss Fairfax, it was reasonable to suppose, would soon cease
12412 to belong to Highbury.  They would be married, and settled either
12413 at or near Enscombe.  All that were good would be withdrawn; and if
12414 to these losses, the loss of Donwell were to be added, what would
12415 remain of cheerful or of rational society within their reach?
12416 Mr Knightley to be no longer coming there for his evening comfort! -- 
12417 No longer walking in at all hours, as if ever willing to change
12418 his own home for their's! -- How was it to be endured?  And if he were
12419 to be lost to them for Harriet's sake; if he were to be thought
12420 of hereafter, as finding in Harriet's society all that he wanted;
12421 if Harriet were to be the chosen, the first, the dearest, the friend,
12422 the wife to whom he looked for all the best blessings of existence;
12423 what could be increasing Emma's wretchedness but the reflection never far
12424 distant from her mind, that it had been all her own work?

12425 When it came to such a pitch as this, she was not able to refrain
12426 from a start, or a heavy sigh, or even from walking about the room
12427 for a few seconds -- and the only source whence any thing like consolation
12428 or composure could be drawn, was in the resolution of her own
12429 better conduct, and the hope that, however inferior in spirit and
12430 gaiety might be the following and every future winter of her life
12431 to the past, it would yet find her more rational, more acquainted
12432 with herself, and leave her less to regret when it were gone.



12433 CHAPTER XIII


12434 The weather continued much the same all the following morning;
12435 and the same loneliness, and the same melancholy, seemed to
12436 reign at Hartfield -- but in the afternoon it cleared; the wind
12437 changed into a softer quarter; the clouds were carried off;
12438 the sun appeared; it was summer again.  With all the eagerness
12439 which such a transition gives, Emma resolved to be out of doors
12440 as soon as possible.  Never had the exquisite sight, smell,
12441 sensation of nature, tranquil, warm, and brilliant after a storm,
12442 been more attractive to her.  She longed for the serenity they might
12443 gradually introduce; and on Mr Perry's coming in soon after dinner,
12444 with a disengaged hour to give her father, she lost no time ill
12445 hurrying into the shrubbery. -- There, with spirits freshened,
12446 and thoughts a little relieved, she had taken a few turns, when she
12447 saw Mr Knightley passing through the garden door, and coming
12448 towards her. -- It was the first intimation of his being returned
12449 from London.  She had been thinking of him the moment before,
12450 as unquestionably sixteen miles distant. -- There was time only for
12451 the quickest arrangement of mind.  She must be collected and calm.
12452 In half a minute they were together.  The "How d'ye do's" were quiet
12453 and constrained on each side.  She asked after their mutual friends;
12454 they were all well. -- When had he left them? -- Only that morning.
12455 He must have had a wet ride. -- Yes. -- He meant to walk with her,
12456 she found.  "He had just looked into the dining-room, and as he
12457 was not wanted there, preferred being out of doors." -- She thought
12458 he neither looked nor spoke cheerfully; and the first possible
12459 cause for it, suggested by her fears, was, that he had perhaps been
12460 communicating his plans to his brother, and was pained by the manner
12461 in which they had been received.

12462 They walked together.  He was silent.  She thought he was often
12463 looking at her, and trying for a fuller view of her face than it
12464 suited her to give.  And this belief produced another dread.
12465 Perhaps he wanted to speak to her, of his attachment to Harriet;
12466 he might be watching for encouragement to begin. -- She did not,
12467 could not, feel equal to lead the way to any such subject.
12468 He must do it all himself.  Yet she could not bear this silence.
12469 With him it was most unnatural.  She considered -- resolved -- and, trying
12470 to smile, began -- 

12471 "You have some news to hear, now you are come back, that will rather
12472 surprize you."

12473 "Have I?" said he quietly, and looking at her; "of what nature?"

12474 "Oh! the best nature in the world -- a wedding."

12475 After waiting a moment, as if to be sure she intended to say no more,
12476 he replied,

12477 "If you mean Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill, I have heard
12478 that already."

12479 "How is it possible?" cried Emma, turning her glowing cheeks
12480 towards him; for, while she spoke, it occurred to her that he
12481 might have called at Mrs Goddard's in his way.

12482 "I had a few lines on parish business from Mr Weston this morning,
12483 and at the end of them he gave me a brief account of what had happened."

12484 Emma was quite relieved, and could presently say, with a little
12485 more composure,

12486 "_You_ probably have been less surprized than any of us, for you have
12487 had your suspicions. -- I have not forgotten that you once tried to give
12488 me a caution. -- I wish I had attended to it -- but -- (with a sinking
12489 voice and a heavy sigh) I seem to have been doomed to blindness."

12490 For a moment or two nothing was said, and she was unsuspicious
12491 of having excited any particular interest, till she found her arm
12492 drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him
12493 thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low,

12494 "Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound. -- Your own
12495 excellent sense -- your exertions for your father's sake -- I know
12496 you will not allow yourself -- ."  Her arm was pressed again,
12497 as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, "The feelings
12498 of the warmest friendship -- Indignation -- Abominable scoundrel!" -- 
12499 And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, "He will soon
12500 be gone.  They will soon be in Yorkshire.  I am sorry for _her_.
12501 She deserves a better fate."

12502 Emma understood him; and as soon as she could recover from the
12503 flutter of pleasure, excited by such tender consideration, replied,

12504 "You are very kind -- but you are mistaken -- and I must set you right. -- 
12505 I am not in want of that sort of compassion.  My blindness to what
12506 was going on, led me to act by them in a way that I must always
12507 be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many
12508 things which may well lay me open to unpleasant conjectures, but I
12509 have no other reason to regret that I was not in the secret earlier."

12510 "Emma!" cried he, looking eagerly at her, "are you, indeed?" -- 
12511 but checking himself -- "No, no, I understand you -- forgive me -- I am
12512 pleased that you can say even so much. -- He is no object of regret,
12513 indeed! and it will not be very long, I hope, before that becomes
12514 the acknowledgment of more than your reason. -- Fortunate that your
12515 affections were not farther entangled! -- I could never, I confess,
12516 from your manners, assure myself as to the degree of what you felt -- 
12517 I could only be certain that there was a preference -- and a preference
12518 which I never believed him to deserve. -- He is a disgrace to the name
12519 of man. -- And is he to be rewarded with that sweet young woman? -- 
12520 Jane, Jane, you will be a miserable creature."

12521 "Mr Knightley," said Emma, trying to be lively, but really confused -- 
12522 "I am in a very extraordinary situation.  I cannot let you continue in
12523 your error; and yet, perhaps, since my manners gave such an impression,
12524 I have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing that I never have
12525 been at all attached to the person we are speaking of, as it might
12526 be natural for a woman to feel in confessing exactly the reverse. -- 
12527 But I never have."

12528 He listened in perfect silence.  She wished him to speak, but he
12529 would not.  She supposed she must say more before she were entitled
12530 to his clemency; but it was a hard case to be obliged still to lower
12531 herself in his opinion.  She went on, however.

12532 "I have very little to say for my own conduct. -- I was tempted
12533 by his attentions, and allowed myself to appear pleased. -- 
12534 An old story, probably -- a common case -- and no more than has happened
12535 to hundreds of my sex before; and yet it may not be the more excusable
12536 in one who sets up as I do for Understanding.  Many circumstances
12537 assisted the temptation.  He was the son of Mr Weston -- he was
12538 continually here -- I always found him very pleasant -- and, in short,
12539 for (with a sigh) let me swell out the causes ever so ingeniously,
12540 they all centre in this at last -- my vanity was flattered, and I
12541 allowed his attentions.  Latterly, however -- for some time, indeed -- 
12542 I have had no idea of their meaning any thing. -- I thought them
12543 a habit, a trick, nothing that called for seriousness on my side.
12544 He has imposed on me, but he has not injured me.  I have never been
12545 attached to him.  And now I can tolerably comprehend his behaviour.
12546 He never wished to attach me.  It was merely a blind to conceal
12547 his real situation with another. -- It was his object to blind
12548 all about him; and no one, I am sure, could be more effectually
12549 blinded than myself -- except that I was _not_ blinded -- that it was my
12550 good fortune -- that, in short, I was somehow or other safe from him."

12551 She had hoped for an answer here -- for a few words to say that her
12552 conduct was at least intelligible; but he was silent; and, as far
12553 as she could judge, deep in thought.  At last, and tolerably
12554 in his usual tone, he said,

12555 "I have never had a high opinion of Frank Churchill. -- I can suppose,
12556 however, that I may have underrated him.  My acquaintance with
12557 him has been but trifling. -- And even if I have not underrated
12558 him hitherto, he may yet turn out well. -- With such a woman he has
12559 a chance. -- I have no motive for wishing him ill -- and for her sake,
12560 whose happiness will be involved in his good character and conduct,
12561 I shall certainly wish him well."

12562 "I have no doubt of their being happy together," said Emma;
12563 "I believe them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached."

12564 "He is a most fortunate man!" returned Mr Knightley, with energy.
12565 "So early in life -- at three-and-twenty -- a period when, if a man
12566 chuses a wife, he generally chuses ill.  At three-and-twenty
12567 to have drawn such a prize!  What years of felicity that man,
12568 in all human calculation, has before him! -- Assured of the love of
12569 such a woman -- the disinterested love, for Jane Fairfax's character
12570 vouches for her disinterestedness; every thing in his favour, -- 
12571 equality of situation -- I mean, as far as regards society, and all the
12572 habits and manners that are important; equality in every point but one -- 
12573 and that one, since the purity of her heart is not to be doubted,
12574 such as must increase his felicity, for it will be his to bestow the
12575 only advantages she wants. -- A man would always wish to give a woman
12576 a better home than the one he takes her from; and he who can do it,
12577 where there is no doubt of _her_ regard, must, I think, be the happiest
12578 of mortals. -- Frank Churchill is, indeed, the favourite of fortune.
12579 Every thing turns out for his good. -- He meets with a young woman
12580 at a watering-place, gains her affection, cannot even weary her
12581 by negligent treatment -- and had he and all his family sought round
12582 the world for a perfect wife for him, they could not have found
12583 her superior. -- His aunt is in the way. -- His aunt dies. -- He has
12584 only to speak. -- His friends are eager to promote his happiness. -- 
12585 He had used every body ill -- and they are all delighted to forgive him. -- 
12586 He is a fortunate man indeed!"

12587 "You speak as if you envied him."

12588 "And I do envy him, Emma.  In one respect he is the object of my envy."

12589 Emma could say no more.  They seemed to be within half a sentence
12590 of Harriet, and her immediate feeling was to avert the subject,
12591 if possible.  She made her plan; she would speak of something
12592 totally different -- the children in Brunswick Square; and she
12593 only waited for breath to begin, when Mr Knightley startled her,
12594 by saying,

12595 "You will not ask me what is the point of envy. -- You are determined,
12596 I see, to have no curiosity. -- You are wise -- but _I_ cannot be wise.
12597 Emma, I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it
12598 unsaid the next moment."

12599 "Oh! then, don't speak it, don't speak it," she eagerly cried.
12600 "Take a little time, consider, do not commit yourself."

12601 "Thank you," said he, in an accent of deep mortification, and not
12602 another syllable followed.

12603 Emma could not bear to give him pain.  He was wishing to confide in her -- 
12604 perhaps to consult her; -- cost her what it would, she would listen.
12605 She might assist his resolution, or reconcile him to it;
12606 she might give just praise to Harriet, or, by representing to him
12607 his own independence, relieve him from that state of indecision,
12608 which must be more intolerable than any alternative to such a mind
12609 as his. -- They had reached the house.

12610 "You are going in, I suppose?" said he.

12611 "No," -- replied Emma -- quite confirmed by the depressed manner
12612 in which he still spoke -- "I should like to take another turn.
12613 Mr Perry is not gone."  And, after proceeding a few steps, she added -- 
12614 "I stopped you ungraciously, just now, Mr Knightley, and, I am afraid,
12615 gave you pain. -- But if you have any wish to speak openly to me
12616 as a friend, or to ask my opinion of any thing that you may have
12617 in contemplation -- as a friend, indeed, you may command me. -- I will
12618 hear whatever you like.  I will tell you exactly what I think."

12619 "As a friend!" -- repeated Mr Knightley. -- "Emma, that I fear is
12620 a word -- No, I have no wish -- Stay, yes, why should I hesitate? -- 
12621 I have gone too far already for concealment. -- Emma, I accept your offer -- 
12622 Extraordinary as it may seem, I accept it, and refer myself to you
12623 as a friend. -- Tell me, then, have I no chance of ever succeeding?"

12624 He stopped in his earnestness to look the question, and the expression
12625 of his eyes overpowered her.

12626 "My dearest Emma," said he, "for dearest you will always be,
12627 whatever the event of this hour's conversation, my dearest,
12628 most beloved Emma -- tell me at once.  Say `No,' if it is to be said." -- 
12629 She could really say nothing. -- "You are silent," he cried,
12630 with great animation; "absolutely silent! at present I ask no more."

12631 Emma was almost ready to sink under the agitation of this moment.
12632 The dread of being awakened from the happiest dream, was perhaps
12633 the most prominent feeling.

12634 "I cannot make speeches, Emma:"  he soon resumed; and in a tone
12635 of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was
12636 tolerably convincing. -- "If I loved you less, I might be able
12637 to talk about it more.  But you know what I am. -- You hear nothing
12638 but truth from me. -- I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you
12639 have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it. -- 
12640 Bear with the truths I would tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as
12641 you have borne with them.  The manner, perhaps, may have as little
12642 to recommend them.  God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover. -- 
12643 But you understand me. -- Yes, you see, you understand my feelings -- 
12644 and will return them if you can.  At present, I ask only to hear,
12645 once to hear your voice."

12646 While he spoke, Emma's mind was most busy, and, with all the wonderful
12647 velocity of thought, had been able -- and yet without losing a word -- 
12648 to catch and comprehend the exact truth of the whole; to see that
12649 Harriet's hopes had been entirely groundless, a mistake, a delusion,
12650 as complete a delusion as any of her own -- that Harriet was nothing;
12651 that she was every thing herself; that what she had been saying
12652 relative to Harriet had been all taken as the language of her
12653 own feelings; and that her agitation, her doubts, her reluctance,
12654 her discouragement, had been all received as discouragement
12655 from herself. -- And not only was there time for these convictions,
12656 with all their glow of attendant happiness; there was time also to
12657 rejoice that Harriet's secret had not escaped her, and to resolve
12658 that it need not, and should not. -- It was all the service she could
12659 now render her poor friend; for as to any of that heroism of sentiment
12660 which might have prompted her to entreat him to transfer his affection
12661 from herself to Harriet, as infinitely the most worthy of the two -- 
12662 or even the more simple sublimity of resolving to refuse him
12663 at once and for ever, without vouchsafing any motive, because he
12664 could not marry them both, Emma had it not.  She felt for Harriet,
12665 with pain and with contrition; but no flight of generosity run mad,
12666 opposing all that could be probable or reasonable, entered her brain.
12667 She had led her friend astray, and it would be a reproach to
12668 her for ever; but her judgment was as strong as her feelings,
12669 and as strong as it had ever been before, in reprobating any such
12670 alliance for him, as most unequal and degrading.  Her way was clear,
12671 though not quite smooth. -- She spoke then, on being so entreated. -- 
12672 What did she say? -- Just what she ought, of course.  A lady always does. -- 
12673 She said enough to shew there need not be despair -- and to invite him
12674 to say more himself.  He _had_ despaired at one period; he had received
12675 such an injunction to caution and silence, as for the time crushed
12676 every hope; -- she had begun by refusing to hear him. -- The change had
12677 perhaps been somewhat sudden; -- her proposal of taking another turn,
12678 her renewing the conversation which she had just put an end to,
12679 might be a little extraordinary! -- She felt its inconsistency;
12680 but Mr Knightley was so obliging as to put up with it, and seek no
12681 farther explanation.

12682 Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure;
12683 seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised,
12684 or a little mistaken; but where, as in this case, though the conduct
12685 is mistaken, the feelings are not, it may not be very material. -- 
12686 Mr Knightley could not impute to Emma a more relenting heart than
12687 she possessed, or a heart more disposed to accept of his.

12688 He had, in fact, been wholly unsuspicious of his own influence.
12689 He had followed her into the shrubbery with no idea of trying it.
12690 He had come, in his anxiety to see how she bore Frank Churchill's
12691 engagement, with no selfish view, no view at all, but of endeavouring,
12692 if she allowed him an opening, to soothe or to counsel her. -- The rest
12693 had been the work of the moment, the immediate effect of what he heard,
12694 on his feelings.  The delightful assurance of her total indifference
12695 towards Frank Churchill, of her having a heart completely disengaged
12696 from him, had given birth to the hope, that, in time, he might gain
12697 her affection himself; -- but it had been no present hope -- he had only,
12698 in the momentary conquest of eagerness over judgment, aspired to be
12699 told that she did not forbid his attempt to attach her. -- The superior
12700 hopes which gradually opened were so much the more enchanting. -- 
12701 The affection, which he had been asking to be allowed to create,
12702 if he could, was already his! -- Within half an hour, he had passed
12703 from a thoroughly distressed state of mind, to something so like
12704 perfect happiness, that it could bear no other name.

12705 _Her_ change was equal. -- This one half-hour had given to each the
12706 same precious certainty of being beloved, had cleared from each
12707 the same degree of ignorance, jealousy, or distrust. -- On his side,
12708 there had been a long-standing jealousy, old as the arrival,
12709 or even the expectation, of Frank Churchill. -- He had been in love
12710 with Emma, and jealous of Frank Churchill, from about the same period,
12711 one sentiment having probably enlightened him as to the other.
12712 It was his jealousy of Frank Churchill that had taken him from
12713 the country. -- The Box Hill party had decided him on going away.
12714 He would save himself from witnessing again such permitted,
12715 encouraged attentions. -- He had gone to learn to be indifferent. -- 
12716 But he had gone to a wrong place.  There was too much domestic
12717 happiness in his brother's house; woman wore too amiable a form in it;
12718 Isabella was too much like Emma -- differing only in those striking
12719 inferiorities, which always brought the other in brilliancy before him,
12720 for much to have been done, even had his time been longer. -- He had
12721 stayed on, however, vigorously, day after day -- till this very morning's
12722 post had conveyed the history of Jane Fairfax. -- Then, with the
12723 gladness which must be felt, nay, which he did not scruple to feel,
12724 having never believed Frank Churchill to be at all deserving Emma,
12725 was there so much fond solicitude, so much keen anxiety for her,
12726 that he could stay no longer.  He had ridden home through the rain;
12727 and had walked up directly after dinner, to see how this sweetest
12728 and best of all creatures, faultless in spite of all her faults,
12729 bore the discovery.

12730 He had found her agitated and low. -- Frank Churchill was a villain. -- 
12731 He heard her declare that she had never loved him.  Frank Churchill's
12732 character was not desperate. -- She was his own Emma, by hand and word,
12733 when they returned into the house; and if he could have thought
12734 of Frank Churchill then, he might have deemed him a very good sort
12735 of fellow.



12736 CHAPTER XIV


12737 What totally different feelings did Emma take back into the house
12738 from what she had brought out! -- she had then been only daring to hope
12739 for a little respite of suffering; -- she was now in an exquisite
12740 flutter of happiness, and such happiness moreover as she believed
12741 must still be greater when the flutter should have passed away.

12742 They sat down to tea -- the same party round the same table -- 
12743 how often it had been collected! -- and how often had her eyes fallen
12744 on the same shrubs in the lawn, and observed the same beautiful
12745 effect of the western sun! -- But never in such a state of spirits,
12746 never in any thing like it; and it was with difficulty that she could
12747 summon enough of her usual self to be the attentive lady of the house,
12748 or even the attentive daughter.

12749 Poor Mr Woodhouse little suspected what was plotting against him
12750 in the breast of that man whom he was so cordially welcoming, and so
12751 anxiously hoping might not have taken cold from his ride. -- Could he
12752 have seen the heart, he would have cared very little for the lungs;
12753 but without the most distant imagination of the impending evil,
12754 without the slightest perception of any thing extraordinary in
12755 the looks or ways of either, he repeated to them very comfortably
12756 all the articles of news he had received from Mr Perry, and talked
12757 on with much self-contentment, totally unsuspicious of what they
12758 could have told him in return.

12759 As long as Mr Knightley remained with them, Emma's fever continued;
12760 but when he was gone, she began to be a little tranquillised
12761 and subdued -- and in the course of the sleepless night, which was
12762 the tax for such an evening, she found one or two such very serious
12763 points to consider, as made her feel, that even her happiness
12764 must have some alloy.  Her father -- and Harriet.  She could not be
12765 alone without feeling the full weight of their separate claims;
12766 and how to guard the comfort of both to the utmost, was the question.
12767 With respect to her father, it was a question soon answered.
12768 She hardly knew yet what Mr Knightley would ask; but a very short
12769 parley with her own heart produced the most solemn resolution
12770 of never quitting her father. -- She even wept over the idea of it,
12771 as a sin of thought.  While he lived, it must be only an engagement;
12772 but she flattered herself, that if divested of the danger of
12773 drawing her away, it might become an increase of comfort to him. -- 
12774 How to do her best by Harriet, was of more difficult decision; -- 
12775 how to spare her from any unnecessary pain; how to make
12776 her any possible atonement; how to appear least her enemy? -- 
12777 On these subjects, her perplexity and distress were very great -- 
12778 and her mind had to pass again and again through every bitter
12779 reproach and sorrowful regret that had ever surrounded it. -- 
12780 She could only resolve at last, that she would still avoid a
12781 meeting with her, and communicate all that need be told by letter;
12782 that it would be inexpressibly desirable to have her removed just
12783 now for a time from Highbury, and -- indulging in one scheme more -- 
12784 nearly resolve, that it might be practicable to get an invitation
12785 for her to Brunswick Square. -- Isabella had been pleased with Harriet;
12786 and a few weeks spent in London must give her some amusement. -- 
12787 She did not think it in Harriet's nature to escape being benefited
12788 by novelty and variety, by the streets, the shops, and the children. -- 
12789 At any rate, it would be a proof of attention and kindness in herself,
12790 from whom every thing was due; a separation for the present; an averting
12791 of the evil day, when they must all be together again.

12792 She rose early, and wrote her letter to Harriet; an employment
12793 which left her so very serious, so nearly sad, that Mr Knightley,
12794 in walking up to Hartfield to breakfast, did not arrive at all too soon;
12795 and half an hour stolen afterwards to go over the same ground again
12796 with him, literally and figuratively, was quite necessary to reinstate
12797 her in a proper share of the happiness of the evening before.

12798 He had not left her long, by no means long enough for her to have
12799 the slightest inclination for thinking of any body else, when a letter
12800 was brought her from Randalls -- a very thick letter; -- she guessed
12801 what it must contain, and deprecated the necessity of reading it. -- 
12802 She was now in perfect charity with Frank Churchill; she wanted
12803 no explanations, she wanted only to have her thoughts to herself -- 
12804 and as for understanding any thing he wrote, she was sure she was
12805 incapable of it. -- It must be waded through, however.  She opened
12806 the packet; it was too surely so; -- a note from Mrs Weston to herself,
12807 ushered in the letter from Frank to Mrs Weston.

12808 "I have the greatest pleasure, my dear Emma, in forwarding
12809 to you the enclosed.  I know what thorough justice you will
12810 do it, and have scarcely a doubt of its happy effect. -- I think
12811 we shall never materially disagree about the writer again;
12812 but I will not delay you by a long preface. -- We are quite well. -- 
12813 This letter has been the cure of all the little nervousness I have
12814 been feeling lately. -- I did not quite like your looks on Tuesday,
12815 but it was an ungenial morning; and though you will never own being
12816 affected by weather, I think every body feels a north-east wind. -- 
12817 I felt for your dear father very much in the storm of Tuesday
12818 afternoon and yesterday morning, but had the comfort of hearing
12819 last night, by Mr Perry, that it had not made him ill.
12820                               "Yours ever,
12821                                                        "A. W."

12822                        [To Mrs Weston.]
12823                                                        WINDSOR-JULY.
12824 MY DEAR MADAM,

12825 "If I made myself intelligible yesterday, this letter will be expected;
12826 but expected or not, I know it will be read with candour and indulgence. -- 
12827 You are all goodness, and I believe there will be need of even
12828 all your goodness to allow for some parts of my past conduct. -- 
12829 But I have been forgiven by one who had still more to resent.
12830 My courage rises while I write.  It is very difficult for the
12831 prosperous to be humble.  I have already met with such success
12832 in two applications for pardon, that I may be in danger of thinking
12833 myself too sure of yours, and of those among your friends who have
12834 had any ground of offence. -- You must all endeavour to comprehend
12835 the exact nature of my situation when I first arrived at Randalls;
12836 you must consider me as having a secret which was to be kept
12837 at all hazards.  This was the fact.  My right to place myself
12838 in a situation requiring such concealment, is another question.
12839 I shall not discuss it here.  For my temptation to _think_ it a right,
12840 I refer every caviller to a brick house, sashed windows below,
12841 and casements above, in Highbury.  I dared not address her openly;
12842 my difficulties in the then state of Enscombe must be too well
12843 known to require definition; and I was fortunate enough to prevail,
12844 before we parted at Weymouth, and to induce the most upright female
12845 mind in the creation to stoop in charity to a secret engagement. -- 
12846 Had she refused, I should have gone mad. -- But you will be ready to say,
12847 what was your hope in doing this? -- What did you look forward to? -- 
12848 To any thing, every thing -- to time, chance, circumstance, slow effects,
12849 sudden bursts, perseverance and weariness, health and sickness.
12850 Every possibility of good was before me, and the first of blessings
12851 secured, in obtaining her promises of faith and correspondence.
12852 If you need farther explanation, I have the honour, my dear madam,
12853 of being your husband's son, and the advantage of inheriting
12854 a disposition to hope for good, which no inheritance of houses
12855 or lands can ever equal the value of. -- See me, then, under these
12856 circumstances, arriving on my first visit to Randalls; -- and here I
12857 am conscious of wrong, for that visit might have been sooner paid.
12858 You will look back and see that I did not come till Miss Fairfax
12859 was in Highbury; and as _you_ were the person slighted, you will
12860 forgive me instantly; but I must work on my father's compassion,
12861 by reminding him, that so long as I absented myself from his house,
12862 so long I lost the blessing of knowing you.  My behaviour,
12863 during the very happy fortnight which I spent with you, did not,
12864 I hope, lay me open to reprehension, excepting on one point.
12865 And now I come to the principal, the only important part of my
12866 conduct while belonging to you, which excites my own anxiety,
12867 or requires very solicitous explanation.  With the greatest respect,
12868 and the warmest friendship, do I mention Miss Woodhouse; my father
12869 perhaps will think I ought to add, with the deepest humiliation. -- 
12870 A few words which dropped from him yesterday spoke his opinion,
12871 and some censure I acknowledge myself liable to. -- My behaviour
12872 to Miss Woodhouse indicated, I believe, more than it ought. -- 
12873 In order to assist a concealment so essential to me, I was led
12874 on to make more than an allowable use of the sort of intimacy
12875 into which we were immediately thrown. -- I cannot deny that Miss
12876 Woodhouse was my ostensible object -- but I am sure you will believe
12877 the declaration, that had I not been convinced of her indifference,
12878 I would not have been induced by any selfish views to go on. -- 
12879 Amiable and delightful as Miss Woodhouse is, she never gave me
12880 the idea of a young woman likely to be attached; and that she was
12881 perfectly free from any tendency to being attached to me, was as much
12882 my conviction as my wish. -- She received my attentions with an easy,
12883 friendly, goodhumoured playfulness, which exactly suited me.
12884 We seemed to understand each other.  From our relative situation,
12885 those attentions were her due, and were felt to be so. -- Whether Miss
12886 Woodhouse began really to understand me before the expiration of
12887 that fortnight, I cannot say; -- when I called to take leave of her,
12888 I remember that I was within a moment of confessing the truth,
12889 and I then fancied she was not without suspicion; but I have no
12890 doubt of her having since detected me, at least in some degree. -- 
12891 She may not have surmised the whole, but her quickness must
12892 have penetrated a part.  I cannot doubt it.  You will find,
12893 whenever the subject becomes freed from its present restraints,
12894 that it did not take her wholly by surprize.  She frequently gave
12895 me hints of it.  I remember her telling me at the ball, that I
12896 owed Mrs Elton gratitude for her attentions to Miss Fairfax. -- 
12897 I hope this history of my conduct towards her will be admitted
12898 by you and my father as great extenuation of what you saw amiss.
12899 While you considered me as having sinned against Emma Woodhouse,
12900 I could deserve nothing from either.  Acquit me here, and procure
12901 for me, when it is allowable, the acquittal and good wishes of that
12902 said Emma Woodhouse, whom I regard with so much brotherly affection,
12903 as to long to have her as deeply and as happily in love as myself. -- 
12904 Whatever strange things I said or did during that fortnight, you have
12905 now a key to.  My heart was in Highbury, and my business was to get
12906 my body thither as often as might be, and with the least suspicion.
12907 If you remember any queernesses, set them all to the right account. -- 
12908 Of the pianoforte so much talked of, I feel it only necessary to say,
12909 that its being ordered was absolutely unknown to Miss F -- , who would
12910 never have allowed me to send it, had any choice been given her. -- 
12911 The delicacy of her mind throughout the whole engagement,
12912 my dear madam, is much beyond my power of doing justice to.
12913 You will soon, I earnestly hope, know her thoroughly yourself. -- 
12914 No description can describe her.  She must tell you herself what she is -- 
12915 yet not by word, for never was there a human creature who would
12916 so designedly suppress her own merit. -- Since I began this letter,
12917 which will be longer than I foresaw, I have heard from her. -- 
12918 She gives a good account of her own health; but as she never complains,
12919 I dare not depend.  I want to have your opinion of her looks.
12920 I know you will soon call on her; she is living in dread of the visit.
12921 Perhaps it is paid already.  Let me hear from you without delay;
12922 I am impatient for a thousand particulars.  Remember how few
12923 minutes I was at Randalls, and in how bewildered, how mad a state:
12924 and I am not much better yet; still insane either from happiness
12925 or misery.  When I think of the kindness and favour I have met with,
12926 of her excellence and patience, and my uncle's generosity, I am mad
12927 with joy:  but when I recollect all the uneasiness I occasioned her,
12928 and how little I deserve to be forgiven, I am mad with anger.
12929 If I could but see her again! -- But I must not propose it yet.
12930 My uncle has been too good for me to encroach. -- I must still add
12931 to this long letter.  You have not heard all that you ought to hear.
12932 I could not give any connected detail yesterday; but the suddenness,
12933 and, in one light, the unseasonableness with which the affair burst out,
12934 needs explanation; for though the event of the 26th ult., as you
12935 will conclude, immediately opened to me the happiest prospects,
12936 I should not have presumed on such early measures, but from the
12937 very particular circumstances, which left me not an hour to lose.
12938 I should myself have shrunk from any thing so hasty, and she would have
12939 felt every scruple of mine with multiplied strength and refinement. -- 
12940 But I had no choice.  The hasty engagement she had entered into with
12941 that woman -- Here, my dear madam, I was obliged to leave off abruptly,
12942 to recollect and compose myself. -- I have been walking over the country,
12943 and am now, I hope, rational enough to make the rest of my letter
12944 what it ought to be. -- It is, in fact, a most mortifying retrospect
12945 for me.  I behaved shamefully.  And here I can admit, that my manners
12946 to Miss W., in being unpleasant to Miss F., were highly blameable.
12947 _She_ disapproved them, which ought to have been enough. -- My plea of
12948 concealing the truth she did not think sufficient. -- She was displeased;
12949 I thought unreasonably so:  I thought her, on a thousand occasions,
12950 unnecessarily scrupulous and cautious:  I thought her even cold.
12951 But she was always right.  If I had followed her judgment, and subdued
12952 my spirits to the level of what she deemed proper, I should have
12953 escaped the greatest unhappiness I have ever known. -- We quarrelled. -- 
12954 Do you remember the morning spent at Donwell? -- _There_ every little
12955 dissatisfaction that had occurred before came to a crisis.  I was late;
12956 I met her walking home by herself, and wanted to walk with her,
12957 but she would not suffer it.  She absolutely refused to allow me,
12958 which I then thought most unreasonable.  Now, however, I see nothing
12959 in it but a very natural and consistent degree of discretion.
12960 While I, to blind the world to our engagement, was behaving one
12961 hour with objectionable particularity to another woman, was she
12962 to be consenting the next to a proposal which might have made
12963 every previous caution useless? -- Had we been met walking together
12964 between Donwell and Highbury, the truth must have been suspected. -- 
12965 I was mad enough, however, to resent. -- I doubted her affection.
12966 I doubted it more the next day on Box Hill; when, provoked by
12967 such conduct on my side, such shameful, insolent neglect of her,
12968 and such apparent devotion to Miss W., as it would have been
12969 impossible for any woman of sense to endure, she spoke her
12970 resentment in a form of words perfectly intelligible to me. -- 
12971 In short, my dear madam, it was a quarrel blameless on her side,
12972 abominable on mine; and I returned the same evening to Richmond,
12973 though I might have staid with you till the next morning,
12974 merely because I would be as angry with her as possible.  Even then,
12975 I was not such a fool as not to mean to be reconciled in time;
12976 but I was the injured person, injured by her coldness, and I went
12977 away determined that she should make the first advances. -- I shall
12978 always congratulate myself that you were not of the Box Hill party.
12979 Had you witnessed my behaviour there, I can hardly suppose you would
12980 ever have thought well of me again.  Its effect upon her appears
12981 in the immediate resolution it produced:  as soon as she found I
12982 was really gone from Randalls, she closed with the offer of that
12983 officious Mrs Elton; the whole system of whose treatment of her,
12984 by the bye, has ever filled me with indignation and hatred.
12985 I must not quarrel with a spirit of forbearance which has been
12986 so richly extended towards myself; but, otherwise, I should loudly
12987 protest against the share of it which that woman has known. -- 
12988 `Jane,' indeed! -- You will observe that I have not yet indulged myself
12989 in calling her by that name, even to you.  Think, then, what I must
12990 have endured in hearing it bandied between the Eltons with all
12991 the vulgarity of needless repetition, and all the insolence of
12992 imaginary superiority.  Have patience with me, I shall soon have done. -- 
12993 She closed with this offer, resolving to break with me entirely,
12994 and wrote the next day to tell me that we never were to meet again. -- 
12995 _She_ _felt_ _the_ _engagement_ _to_ _be_ _a_ _source_ _of_ _repentance_ _and_ _misery_
12996 _to_ _each_:  _she_ _dissolved_ _it_. -- This letter reached me on the very
12997 morning of my poor aunt's death.  I answered it within an hour;
12998 but from the confusion of my mind, and the multiplicity of business
12999 falling on me at once, my answer, instead of being sent with all
13000 the many other letters of that day, was locked up in my writing-desk;
13001 and I, trusting that I had written enough, though but a few lines,
13002 to satisfy her, remained without any uneasiness. -- I was rather
13003 disappointed that I did not hear from her again speedily;
13004 but I made excuses for her, and was too busy, and -- may I add? -- 
13005 too cheerful in my views to be captious. -- We removed to Windsor;
13006 and two days afterwards I received a parcel from her, my own letters
13007 all returned! -- and a few lines at the same time by the post,
13008 stating her extreme surprize at not having had the smallest reply
13009 to her last; and adding, that as silence on such a point could
13010 not be misconstrued, and as it must be equally desirable to both
13011 to have every subordinate arrangement concluded as soon as possible,
13012 she now sent me, by a safe conveyance, all my letters, and requested,
13013 that if I could not directly command hers, so as to send them
13014 to Highbury within a week, I would forward them after that period
13015 to her at -- :  in short, the full direction to Mr Smallridge's,
13016 near Bristol, stared me in the face.  I knew the name, the place,
13017 I knew all about it, and instantly saw what she had been doing.
13018 It was perfectly accordant with that resolution of character
13019 which I knew her to possess; and the secrecy she had maintained,
13020 as to any such design in her former letter, was equally descriptive
13021 of its anxious delicacy.  For the world would not she have seemed
13022 to threaten me. -- Imagine the shock; imagine how, till I had actually
13023 detected my own blunder, I raved at the blunders of the post. -- 
13024 What was to be done? -- One thing only. -- I must speak to my uncle.
13025 Without his sanction I could not hope to be listened to again. -- 
13026 I spoke; circumstances were in my favour; the late event had softened
13027 away his pride, and he was, earlier than I could have anticipated,
13028 wholly reconciled and complying; and could say at last, poor man!
13029 with a deep sigh, that he wished I might find as much happiness
13030 in the marriage state as he had done. -- I felt that it would be
13031 of a different sort. -- Are you disposed to pity me for what I must
13032 have suffered in opening the cause to him, for my suspense while
13033 all was at stake? -- No; do not pity me till I reached Highbury,
13034 and saw how ill I had made her.  Do not pity me till I saw her wan,
13035 sick looks. -- I reached Highbury at the time of day when, from my
13036 knowledge of their late breakfast hour, I was certain of a good chance
13037 of finding her alone. -- I was not disappointed; and at last I was
13038 not disappointed either in the object of my journey.  A great deal
13039 of very reasonable, very just displeasure I had to persuade away.
13040 But it is done; we are reconciled, dearer, much dearer, than ever,
13041 and no moment's uneasiness can ever occur between us again.  Now, my
13042 dear madam, I will release you; but I could not conclude before.
13043 A thousand and a thousand thanks for all the kindness you have
13044 ever shewn me, and ten thousand for the attentions your heart
13045 will dictate towards her. -- If you think me in a way to be happier
13046 than I deserve, I am quite of your opinion. -- Miss W. calls me
13047 the child of good fortune.  I hope she is right. -- In one respect,
13048 my good fortune is undoubted, that of being able to subscribe
13049 myself,
13050                     Your obliged and affectionate Son,
13051                                           F. C. WESTON CHURCHILL.



13052 CHAPTER XV


13053 This letter must make its way to Emma's feelings.  She was obliged,
13054 in spite of her previous determination to the contrary, to do
13055 it all the justice that Mrs Weston foretold.  As soon as she
13056 came to her own name, it was irresistible; every line relating
13057 to herself was interesting, and almost every line agreeable;
13058 and when this charm ceased, the subject could still maintain itself,
13059 by the natural return of her former regard for the writer, and the
13060 very strong attraction which any picture of love must have for her at
13061 that moment.  She never stopt till she had gone through the whole;
13062 and though it was impossible not to feel that he had been wrong,
13063 yet he had been less wrong than she had supposed -- and he had suffered,
13064 and was very sorry -- and he was so grateful to Mrs Weston,
13065 and so much in love with Miss Fairfax, and she was so happy herself,
13066 that there was no being severe; and could he have entered the room,
13067 she must have shaken hands with him as heartily as ever.

13068 She thought so well of the letter, that when Mr Knightley came again,
13069 she desired him to read it.  She was sure of Mrs Weston's wishing
13070 it to be communicated; especially to one, who, like Mr Knightley,
13071 had seen so much to blame in his conduct.

13072 "I shall be very glad to look it over," said he; "but it seems long.
13073 I will take it home with me at night."

13074 But that would not do.  Mr Weston was to call in the evening,
13075 and she must return it by him.

13076 "I would rather be talking to you," he replied; "but as it seems
13077 a matter of justice, it shall be done."

13078 He began -- stopping, however, almost directly to say, "Had I been offered
13079 the sight of one of this gentleman's letters to his mother-in-law a few
13080 months ago, Emma, it would not have been taken with such indifference."

13081 He proceeded a little farther, reading to himself; and then,
13082 with a smile, observed, "Humph! a fine complimentary opening:
13083 But it is his way.  One man's style must not be the rule of another's.
13084 We will not be severe."

13085 "It will be natural for me," he added shortly afterwards, "to speak my
13086 opinion aloud as I read.  By doing it, I shall feel that I am near you.
13087 It will not be so great a loss of time:  but if you dislike it -- "

13088 "Not at all.  I should wish it."

13089 Mr Knightley returned to his reading with greater alacrity.

13090 "He trifles here," said he, "as to the temptation.  He knows
13091 he is wrong, and has nothing rational to urge. -- Bad. -- He ought
13092 not to have formed the engagement. -- `His father's disposition:' -- 
13093 he is unjust, however, to his father.  Mr Weston's sanguine
13094 temper was a blessing on all his upright and honourable exertions;
13095 but Mr Weston earned every present comfort before he endeavoured
13096 to gain it. -- Very true; he did not come till Miss Fairfax was here."

13097 "And I have not forgotten," said Emma, "how sure you were that he
13098 might have come sooner if he would.  You pass it over very handsomely -- 
13099 but you were perfectly right."

13100 "I was not quite impartial in my judgment, Emma: -- but yet, I think -- 
13101 had _you_ not been in the case -- I should still have distrusted him."

13102 When he came to Miss Woodhouse, he was obliged to read the whole
13103 of it aloud -- all that related to her, with a smile; a look;
13104 a shake of the head; a word or two of assent, or disapprobation;
13105 or merely of love, as the subject required; concluding, however,
13106 seriously, and, after steady reflection, thus -- 

13107 "Very bad -- though it might have been worse. -- Playing a most
13108 dangerous game.  Too much indebted to the event for his acquittal. -- 
13109 No judge of his own manners by you. -- Always deceived in fact by his
13110 own wishes, and regardless of little besides his own convenience. -- 
13111 Fancying you to have fathomed his secret.  Natural enough! -- 
13112 his own mind full of intrigue, that he should suspect it
13113 in others. -- Mystery; Finesse -- how they pervert the understanding!
13114 My Emma, does not every thing serve to prove more and more the
13115 beauty of truth and sincerity in all our dealings with each other?"

13116 Emma agreed to it, and with a blush of sensibility on Harriet's account,
13117 which she could not give any sincere explanation of.

13118 "You had better go on," said she.

13119 He did so, but very soon stopt again to say, "the pianoforte!
13120 Ah!  That was the act of a very, very young man, one too young
13121 to consider whether the inconvenience of it might not very much
13122 exceed the pleasure.  A boyish scheme, indeed! -- I cannot
13123 comprehend a man's wishing to give a woman any proof of affection
13124 which he knows she would rather dispense with; and he did
13125 know that she would have prevented the instrument's coming if she could."

13126 After this, he made some progress without any pause.
13127 Frank Churchill's confession of having behaved shamefully
13128 was the first thing to call for more than a word in passing.

13129 "I perfectly agree with you, sir," -- was then his remark.
13130 "You did behave very shamefully.  You never wrote a truer line."
13131 And having gone through what immediately followed of the basis
13132 of their disagreement, and his persisting to act in direct
13133 opposition to Jane Fairfax's sense of right, he made a fuller pause
13134 to say, "This is very bad. -- He had induced her to place herself,
13135 for his sake, in a situation of extreme difficulty and uneasiness,
13136 and it should have been his first object to prevent her from
13137 suffering unnecessarily. -- She must have had much more to contend with,
13138 in carrying on the correspondence, than he could.  He should have
13139 respected even unreasonable scruples, had there been such; but hers
13140 were all reasonable.  We must look to her one fault, and remember
13141 that she had done a wrong thing in consenting to the engagement,
13142 to bear that she should have been in such a state of punishment."

13143 Emma knew that he was now getting to the Box Hill party,
13144 and grew uncomfortable.  Her own behaviour had been so very improper!
13145 She was deeply ashamed, and a little afraid of his next look.
13146 It was all read, however, steadily, attentively, and without
13147 the smallest remark; and, excepting one momentary glance at her,
13148 instantly withdrawn, in the fear of giving pain -- no remembrance
13149 of Box Hill seemed to exist.

13150 "There is no saying much for the delicacy of our good friends,
13151 the Eltons," was his next observation. -- "His feelings are natural. -- 
13152 What! actually resolve to break with him entirely! -- She felt
13153 the engagement to be a source of repentance and misery to each -- 
13154 she dissolved it. -- What a view this gives of her sense of
13155 his behaviour! -- Well, he must be a most extraordinary -- "

13156 "Nay, nay, read on. -- You will find how very much he suffers."

13157 "I hope he does," replied Mr Knightley coolly, and resuming the letter.
13158 "`Smallridge!' -- What does this mean?  What is all this?"

13159 "She had engaged to go as governess to Mrs Smallridge's children -- 
13160 a dear friend of Mrs Elton's -- a neighbour of Maple Grove; and,
13161 by the bye, I wonder how Mrs Elton bears the disappointment?"

13162 "Say nothing, my dear Emma, while you oblige me to read -- not even
13163 of Mrs Elton.  Only one page more.  I shall soon have done.
13164 What a letter the man writes!"

13165 "I wish you would read it with a kinder spirit towards him."

13166 "Well, there _is_ feeling here. -- He does seem to have suffered in finding
13167 her ill. -- Certainly, I can have no doubt of his being fond of her.
13168 `Dearer, much dearer than ever.'  I hope he may long continue to feel
13169 all the value of such a reconciliation. -- He is a very liberal thanker,
13170 with his thousands and tens of thousands. -- `Happier than I deserve.'
13171 Come, he knows himself there.  `Miss Woodhouse calls me the child
13172 of good fortune.' -- Those were Miss Woodhouse's words, were they? -- 
13173 And a fine ending -- and there is the letter.  The child of good fortune!
13174 That was your name for him, was it?"

13175 "You do not appear so well satisfied with his letter as I am;
13176 but still you must, at least I hope you must, think the better
13177 of him for it.  I hope it does him some service with you."

13178 "Yes, certainly it does.  He has had great faults, faults of
13179 inconsideration and thoughtlessness; and I am very much of his
13180 opinion in thinking him likely to be happier than he deserves:
13181 but still as he is, beyond a doubt, really attached to Miss Fairfax,
13182 and will soon, it may be hoped, have the advantage of being constantly
13183 with her, I am very ready to believe his character will improve,
13184 and acquire from hers the steadiness and delicacy of principle
13185 that it wants.  And now, let me talk to you of something else.
13186 I have another person's interest at present so much at heart,
13187 that I cannot think any longer about Frank Churchill.  Ever since I
13188 left you this morning, Emma, my mind has been hard at work on
13189 one subject."

13190 The subject followed; it was in plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike English,
13191 such as Mr Knightley used even to the woman he was in love with,
13192 how to be able to ask her to marry him, without attacking the
13193 happiness of her father.  Emma's answer was ready at the first word.
13194 "While her dear father lived, any change of condition must be impossible
13195 for her.  She could never quit him."  Part only of this answer,
13196 however, was admitted.  The impossibility of her quitting her father,
13197 Mr Knightley felt as strongly as herself; but the inadmissibility
13198 of any other change, he could not agree to.  He had been thinking
13199 it over most deeply, most intently; he had at first hoped to induce
13200 Mr Woodhouse to remove with her to Donwell; he had wanted to believe
13201 it feasible, but his knowledge of Mr Woodhouse would not suffer
13202 him to deceive himself long; and now he confessed his persuasion,
13203 that such a transplantation would be a risk of her father's comfort,
13204 perhaps even of his life, which must not be hazarded.  Mr Woodhouse
13205 taken from Hartfield! -- No, he felt that it ought not to be attempted.
13206 But the plan which had arisen on the sacrifice of this, he trusted
13207 his dearest Emma would not find in any respect objectionable;
13208 it was, that he should be received at Hartfield; that so long as
13209 her father's happiness in other words his life -- required Hartfield
13210 to continue her home, it should be his likewise.

13211 Of their all removing to Donwell, Emma had already had her own
13212 passing thoughts.  Like him, she had tried the scheme and rejected it;
13213 but such an alternative as this had not occurred to her.
13214 She was sensible of all the affection it evinced.  She felt that,
13215 in quitting Donwell, he must be sacrificing a great deal of independence
13216 of hours and habits; that in living constantly with her father,
13217 and in no house of his own, there would be much, very much,
13218 to be borne with.  She promised to think of it, and advised him
13219 to think of it more; but he was fully convinced, that no reflection
13220 could alter his wishes or his opinion on the subject.  He had
13221 given it, he could assure her, very long and calm consideration;
13222 he had been walking away from William Larkins the whole morning,
13223 to have his thoughts to himself.

13224 "Ah! there is one difficulty unprovided for," cried Emma.  "I am
13225 sure William Larkins will not like it.  You must get his consent
13226 before you ask mine."

13227 She promised, however, to think of it; and pretty nearly promised, moreover,
13228 to think of it, with the intention of finding it a very good scheme.

13229 It is remarkable, that Emma, in the many, very many, points of view
13230 in which she was now beginning to consider Donwell Abbey, was never
13231 struck with any sense of injury to her nephew Henry, whose rights
13232 as heir-expectant had formerly been so tenaciously regarded.
13233 Think she must of the possible difference to the poor little boy;
13234 and yet she only gave herself a saucy conscious smile about it,
13235 and found amusement in detecting the real cause of that violent
13236 dislike of Mr Knightley's marrying Jane Fairfax, or any body else,
13237 which at the time she had wholly imputed to the amiable solicitude of
13238 the sister and the aunt.

13239 This proposal of his, this plan of marrying and continuing at Hartfield -- 
13240 the more she contemplated it, the more pleasing it became.
13241 His evils seemed to lessen, her own advantages to increase,
13242 their mutual good to outweigh every drawback.  Such a companion
13243 for herself in the periods of anxiety and cheerlessness before her! -- 
13244 Such a partner in all those duties and cares to which time must be
13245 giving increase of melancholy!

13246 She would have been too happy but for poor Harriet; but every
13247 blessing of her own seemed to involve and advance the sufferings
13248 of her friend, who must now be even excluded from Hartfield.
13249 The delightful family party which Emma was securing for herself,
13250 poor Harriet must, in mere charitable caution, be kept at a
13251 distance from.  She would be a loser in every way.  Emma could not
13252 deplore her future absence as any deduction from her own enjoyment.
13253 In such a party, Harriet would be rather a dead weight than otherwise;
13254 but for the poor girl herself, it seemed a peculiarly cruel necessity
13255 that was to be placing her in such a state of unmerited punishment.

13256 In time, of course, Mr Knightley would be forgotten, that is,
13257 supplanted; but this could not be expected to happen very early.
13258 Mr Knightley himself would be doing nothing to assist the cure; -- 
13259 not like Mr Elton.  Mr Knightley, always so kind, so feeling,
13260 so truly considerate for every body, would never deserve to be
13261 less worshipped than now; and it really was too much to hope even
13262 of Harriet, that she could be in love with more than _three_ men
13263 in one year.



13264 CHAPTER XVI


13265 It was a very great relief to Emma to find Harriet as desirous
13266 as herself to avoid a meeting.  Their intercourse was painful
13267 enough by letter.  How much worse, had they been obliged to meet!

13268 Harriet expressed herself very much as might be supposed,
13269 without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied
13270 there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in
13271 her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate. -- 
13272 It might be only her own consciousness; but it seemed as if an
13273 angel only could have been quite without resentment under such a stroke.

13274 She had no difficulty in procuring Isabella's invitation;
13275 and she was fortunate in having a sufficient reason for asking it,
13276 without resorting to invention. -- There was a tooth amiss.
13277 Harriet really wished, and had wished some time, to consult a dentist.
13278 Mrs John Knightley was delighted to be of use; any thing of ill
13279 health was a recommendation to her -- and though not so fond of a
13280 dentist as of a Mr Wingfield, she was quite eager to have Harriet
13281 under her care. -- When it was thus settled on her sister's side,
13282 Emma proposed it to her friend, and found her very persuadable. -- 
13283 Harriet was to go; she was invited for at least a fortnight; she was
13284 to be conveyed in Mr Woodhouse's carriage. -- It was all arranged,
13285 it was all completed, and Harriet was safe in Brunswick Square.

13286 Now Emma could, indeed, enjoy Mr Knightley's visits; now she
13287 could talk, and she could listen with true happiness, unchecked by
13288 that sense of injustice, of guilt, of something most painful,
13289 which had haunted her when remembering how disappointed a heart was
13290 near her, how much might at that moment, and at a little distance,
13291 be enduring by the feelings which she had led astray herself.

13292 The difference of Harriet at Mrs Goddard's, or in London, made perhaps
13293 an unreasonable difference in Emma's sensations; but she could not
13294 think of her in London without objects of curiosity and employment,
13295 which must be averting the past, and carrying her out of herself.

13296 She would not allow any other anxiety to succeed directly to the place
13297 in her mind which Harriet had occupied.  There was a communication
13298 before her, one which _she_ only could be competent to make -- 
13299 the confession of her engagement to her father; but she would
13300 have nothing to do with it at present. -- She had resolved to defer
13301 the disclosure till Mrs Weston were safe and well.  No additional
13302 agitation should be thrown at this period among those she loved -- 
13303 and the evil should not act on herself by anticipation before the
13304 appointed time. -- A fortnight, at least, of leisure and peace of mind,
13305 to crown every warmer, but more agitating, delight, should be hers.

13306 She soon resolved, equally as a duty and a pleasure, to employ half
13307 an hour of this holiday of spirits in calling on Miss Fairfax. -- 
13308 She ought to go -- and she was longing to see her; the resemblance of
13309 their present situations increasing every other motive of goodwill.
13310 It would be a _secret_ satisfaction; but the consciousness of a
13311 similarity of prospect would certainly add to the interest with
13312 which she should attend to any thing Jane might communicate.

13313 She went -- she had driven once unsuccessfully to the door, but had
13314 not been into the house since the morning after Box Hill, when poor
13315 Jane had been in such distress as had filled her with compassion,
13316 though all the worst of her sufferings had been unsuspected. -- 
13317 The fear of being still unwelcome, determined her, though assured
13318 of their being at home, to wait in the passage, and send up her name. -- 
13319 She heard Patty announcing it; but no such bustle succeeded as poor
13320 Miss Bates had before made so happily intelligible. -- No; she heard
13321 nothing but the instant reply of, "Beg her to walk up;" -- and a moment
13322 afterwards she was met on the stairs by Jane herself, coming eagerly
13323 forward, as if no other reception of her were felt sufficient. -- 
13324 Emma had never seen her look so well, so lovely, so engaging.
13325 There was consciousness, animation, and warmth; there was every
13326 thing which her countenance or manner could ever have wanted. -- 
13327 She came forward with an offered hand; and said, in a low, but very
13328 feeling tone,

13329 "This is most kind, indeed! -- Miss Woodhouse, it is impossible
13330 for me to express -- I hope you will believe -- Excuse me for being
13331 so entirely without words."

13332 Emma was gratified, and would soon have shewn no want of words,
13333 if the sound of Mrs Elton's voice from the sitting-room had not
13334 checked her, and made it expedient to compress all her friendly
13335 and all her congratulatory sensations into a very, very earnest
13336 shake of the hand.

13337 Mrs Bates and Mrs Elton were together.  Miss Bates was out,
13338 which accounted for the previous tranquillity.  Emma could have
13339 wished Mrs Elton elsewhere; but she was in a humour to have patience
13340 with every body; and as Mrs Elton met her with unusual graciousness,
13341 she hoped the rencontre would do them no harm.

13342 She soon believed herself to penetrate Mrs Elton's thoughts,
13343 and understand why she was, like herself, in happy spirits;
13344 it was being in Miss Fairfax's confidence, and fancying herself
13345 acquainted with what was still a secret to other people.
13346 Emma saw symptoms of it immediately in the expression of her face;
13347 and while paying her own compliments to Mrs Bates, and appearing
13348 to attend to the good old lady's replies, she saw her with a sort
13349 of anxious parade of mystery fold up a letter which she had apparently
13350 been reading aloud to Miss Fairfax, and return it into the purple
13351 and gold reticule by her side, saying, with significant nods,

13352 "We can finish this some other time, you know.  You and I shall
13353 not want opportunities.  And, in fact, you have heard all the
13354 essential already.  I only wanted to prove to you that Mrs S. admits
13355 our apology, and is not offended.  You see how delightfully
13356 she writes.  Oh! she is a sweet creature!  You would have doated
13357 on her, had you gone. -- But not a word more.  Let us be discreet -- 
13358 quite on our good behaviour. -- Hush! -- You remember those lines -- 
13359 I forget the poem at this moment:

13360         "For when a lady's in the case,
13361         "You know all other things give place."

13362 Now I say, my dear, in _our_ case, for _lady_, read --  -- mum! a word
13363 to the wise. -- I am in a fine flow of spirits, an't I?  But I want
13364 to set your heart at ease as to Mrs S. -- _My_ representation, you see,
13365 has quite appeased her."

13366 And again, on Emma's merely turning her head to look
13367 at Mrs Bates's knitting, she added, in a half whisper,

13368 "I mentioned no _names_, you will observe. -- Oh! no; cautious as
13369 a minister of state.  I managed it extremely well."

13370 Emma could not doubt.  It was a palpable display, repeated on every
13371 possible occasion.  When they had all talked a little while in harmony
13372 of the weather and Mrs Weston, she found herself abruptly addressed with,

13373 "Do not you think, Miss Woodhouse, our saucy little friend here is
13374 charmingly recovered? -- Do not you think her cure does Perry the
13375 highest credit? -- (here was a side-glance of great meaning at Jane.)
13376 Upon my word, Perry has restored her in a wonderful short time! -- 
13377 Oh! if you had seen her, as I did, when she was at the worst!" -- 
13378 And when Mrs Bates was saying something to Emma, whispered farther,
13379 "We do not say a word of any _assistance_ that Perry might have;
13380 not a word of a certain young physician from Windsor. -- Oh! no;
13381 Perry shall have all the credit."

13382 "I have scarce had the pleasure of seeing you, Miss Woodhouse,"
13383 she shortly afterwards began, "since the party to Box Hill.
13384 Very pleasant party.  But yet I think there was something wanting.
13385 Things did not seem -- that is, there seemed a little cloud upon
13386 the spirits of some. -- So it appeared to me at least, but I might
13387 be mistaken.  However, I think it answered so far as to tempt one
13388 to go again.  What say you both to our collecting the same party,
13389 and exploring to Box Hill again, while the fine weather lasts? -- 
13390 It must be the same party, you know, quite the same party,
13391 not _one_ exception."

13392 Soon after this Miss Bates came in, and Emma could not help being diverted
13393 by the perplexity of her first answer to herself, resulting, she supposed,
13394 from doubt of what might be said, and impatience to say every thing.

13395 "Thank you, dear Miss Woodhouse, you are all kindness. -- It is impossible
13396 to say -- Yes, indeed, I quite understand -- dearest Jane's prospects -- 
13397 that is, I do not mean. -- But she is charmingly recovered. -- 
13398 How is Mr Woodhouse? -- I am so glad. -- Quite out of my power. -- 
13399 Such a happy little circle as you find us here. -- Yes, indeed. -- 
13400 Charming young man! -- that is -- so very friendly; I mean good Mr Perry! -- 
13401 such attention to Jane!" -- And from her great, her more than commonly
13402 thankful delight towards Mrs Elton for being there, Emma guessed
13403 that there had been a little show of resentment towards Jane,
13404 from the vicarage quarter, which was now graciously overcome. -- 
13405 After a few whispers, indeed, which placed it beyond a guess,
13406 Mrs Elton, speaking louder, said,

13407 "Yes, here I am, my good friend; and here I have been so long,
13408 that anywhere else I should think it necessary to apologise;
13409 but, the truth is, that I am waiting for my lord and master.
13410 He promised to join me here, and pay his respects to you."

13411 "What! are we to have the pleasure of a call from Mr Elton? -- 
13412 That will be a favour indeed! for I know gentlemen do not like
13413 morning visits, and Mr Elton's time is so engaged."

13414 "Upon my word it is, Miss Bates. -- He really is engaged from morning
13415 to night. -- There is no end of people's coming to him, on some pretence
13416 or other. -- The magistrates, and overseers, and churchwardens,
13417 are always wanting his opinion.  They seem not able to do any thing
13418 without him. -- `Upon my word, Mr E.,' I often say, `rather you than I. -- 
13419 I do not know what would become of my crayons and my instrument,
13420 if I had half so many applicants.' -- Bad enough as it is, for I
13421 absolutely neglect them both to an unpardonable degree. -- I believe
13422 I have not played a bar this fortnight. -- However, he is coming,
13423 I assure you:  yes, indeed, on purpose to wait on you all."  And putting
13424 up her hand to screen her words from Emma -- "A congratulatory visit,
13425 you know. -- Oh! yes, quite indispensable."

13426 Miss Bates looked about her, so happily! -- 

13427 "He promised to come to me as soon as he could disengage himself
13428 from Knightley; but he and Knightley are shut up together
13429 in deep consultation. -- Mr E. is Knightley's right hand."

13430 Emma would not have smiled for the world, and only said, "Is Mr Elton
13431 gone on foot to Donwell? -- He will have a hot walk."

13432 "Oh! no, it is a meeting at the Crown, a regular meeting.
13433 Weston and Cole will be there too; but one is apt to speak only
13434 of those who lead. -- I fancy Mr E. and Knightley have every thing
13435 their own way."

13436 "Have not you mistaken the day?" said Emma.  "I am almost certain
13437 that the meeting at the Crown is not till to-morrow. -- Mr Knightley
13438 was at Hartfield yesterday, and spoke of it as for Saturday."

13439 "Oh! no, the meeting is certainly to-day," was the abrupt answer,
13440 which denoted the impossibility of any blunder on Mrs Elton's side. -- 
13441 "I do believe," she continued, "this is the most troublesome parish
13442 that ever was.  We never heard of such things at Maple Grove."

13443 "Your parish there was small," said Jane.

13444 "Upon my word, my dear, I do not know, for I never heard the subject
13445 talked of."

13446 "But it is proved by the smallness of the school, which I have heard
13447 you speak of, as under the patronage of your sister and Mrs Bragge;
13448 the only school, and not more than five-and-twenty children."

13449 "Ah! you clever creature, that's very true.  What a thinking brain
13450 you have!  I say, Jane, what a perfect character you and I should make,
13451 if we could be shaken together.  My liveliness and your solidity
13452 would produce perfection. -- Not that I presume to insinuate, however,
13453 that _some_ people may not think _you_ perfection already. -- But hush! -- 
13454 not a word, if you please."

13455 It seemed an unnecessary caution; Jane was wanting to give her words,
13456 not to Mrs Elton, but to Miss Woodhouse, as the latter plainly saw.
13457 The wish of distinguishing her, as far as civility permitted,
13458 was very evident, though it could not often proceed beyond a look.

13459 Mr Elton made his appearance.  His lady greeted him with some
13460 of her sparkling vivacity.

13461 "Very pretty, sir, upon my word; to send me on here, to be an
13462 encumbrance to my friends, so long before you vouchsafe to come! -- 
13463 But you knew what a dutiful creature you had to deal with.
13464 You knew I should not stir till my lord and master appeared. -- 
13465 Here have I been sitting this hour, giving these young ladies
13466 a sample of true conjugal obedience -- for who can say, you know,
13467 how soon it may be wanted?"

13468 Mr Elton was so hot and tired, that all this wit seemed thrown away.
13469 His civilities to the other ladies must be paid; but his subsequent
13470 object was to lament over himself for the heat he was suffering,
13471 and the walk he had had for nothing.

13472 "When I got to Donwell," said he, "Knightley could not be found.
13473 Very odd! very unaccountable! after the note I sent him this morning,
13474 and the message he returned, that he should certainly be at home
13475 till one."

13476 "Donwell!" cried his wife. -- "My dear Mr E., you have not been
13477 to Donwell! -- You mean the Crown; you come from the meeting at the Crown."

13478 "No, no, that's to-morrow; and I particularly wanted to see Knightley
13479 to-day on that very account. -- Such a dreadful broiling morning! -- 
13480 I went over the fields too -- (speaking in a tone of great ill-usage,)
13481 which made it so much the worse.  And then not to find him at home!
13482 I assure you I am not at all pleased.  And no apology left, no message
13483 for me.  The housekeeper declared she knew nothing of my being expected. -- 
13484 Very extraordinary! -- And nobody knew at all which way he was gone.
13485 Perhaps to Hartfield, perhaps to the Abbey Mill, perhaps into his woods. -- 
13486 Miss Woodhouse, this is not like our friend Knightley! -- Can you
13487 explain it?"

13488 Emma amused herself by protesting that it was very extraordinary,
13489 indeed, and that she had not a syllable to say for him.

13490 "I cannot imagine," said Mrs Elton, (feeling the indignity as a wife
13491 ought to do,) "I cannot imagine how he could do such a thing by you,
13492 of all people in the world!  The very last person whom one should expect
13493 to be forgotten! -- My dear Mr E., he must have left a message for you,
13494 I am sure he must. -- Not even Knightley could be so very eccentric; -- 
13495 and his servants forgot it.  Depend upon it, that was the case:
13496 and very likely to happen with the Donwell servants, who are all,
13497 I have often observed, extremely awkward and remiss. -- I am sure I
13498 would not have such a creature as his Harry stand at our sideboard
13499 for any consideration.  And as for Mrs Hodges, Wright holds
13500 her very cheap indeed. -- She promised Wright a receipt, and never
13501 sent it."

13502 "I met William Larkins," continued Mr Elton, "as I got near
13503 the house, and he told me I should not find his master at home,
13504 but I did not believe him. -- William seemed rather out of humour.
13505 He did not know what was come to his master lately, he said, but he
13506 could hardly ever get the speech of him.  I have nothing to do with
13507 William's wants, but it really is of very great importance that _I_
13508 should see Knightley to-day; and it becomes a matter, therefore,
13509 of very serious inconvenience that I should have had this hot walk
13510 to no purpose."

13511 Emma felt that she could not do better than go home directly.
13512 In all probability she was at this very time waited for there;
13513 and Mr Knightley might be preserved from sinking deeper in aggression
13514 towards Mr Elton, if not towards William Larkins.

13515 She was pleased, on taking leave, to find Miss Fairfax determined
13516 to attend her out of the room, to go with her even downstairs;
13517 it gave her an opportunity which she immediately made use of,
13518 to say,

13519 "It is as well, perhaps, that I have not had the possibility.
13520 Had you not been surrounded by other friends, I might have been
13521 tempted to introduce a subject, to ask questions, to speak more
13522 openly than might have been strictly correct. -- I feel that I should
13523 certainly have been impertinent."

13524 "Oh!" cried Jane, with a blush and an hesitation which Emma thought
13525 infinitely more becoming to her than all the elegance of all her
13526 usual composure -- "there would have been no danger.  The danger
13527 would have been of my wearying you.  You could not have gratified
13528 me more than by expressing an interest -- .  Indeed, Miss Woodhouse,
13529 (speaking more collectedly,) with the consciousness which I
13530 have of misconduct, very great misconduct, it is particularly
13531 consoling to me to know that those of my friends, whose good
13532 opinion is most worth preserving, are not disgusted to such a
13533 degree as to -- I have not time for half that I could wish to say.
13534 I long to make apologies, excuses, to urge something for myself.
13535 I feel it so very due.  But, unfortunately -- in short, if your
13536 compassion does not stand my friend -- "

13537 "Oh! you are too scrupulous, indeed you are," cried Emma warmly,
13538 and taking her hand.  "You owe me no apologies; and every body to
13539 whom you might be supposed to owe them, is so perfectly satisfied,
13540 so delighted even -- "

13541 "You are very kind, but I know what my manners were to you. -- 
13542 So cold and artificial! -- I had always a part to act. -- It was a life
13543 of deceit! -- I know that I must have disgusted you."

13544 "Pray say no more.  I feel that all the apologies should be on my side.
13545 Let us forgive each other at once.  We must do whatever is to be
13546 done quickest, and I think our feelings will lose no time there.
13547 I hope you have pleasant accounts from Windsor?"

13548 "Very."

13549 "And the next news, I suppose, will be, that we are to lose you -- 
13550 just as I begin to know you."

13551 "Oh! as to all that, of course nothing can be thought of yet.
13552 I am here till claimed by Colonel and Mrs Campbell."

13553 "Nothing can be actually settled yet, perhaps," replied Emma,
13554 smiling -- "but, excuse me, it must be thought of."

13555 The smile was returned as Jane answered,

13556 "You are very right; it has been thought of.  And I will own
13557 to you, (I am sure it will be safe), that so far as our living
13558 with Mr Churchill at Enscombe, it is settled.  There must be
13559 three months, at least, of deep mourning; but when they are over,
13560 I imagine there will be nothing more to wait for."

13561 "Thank you, thank you. -- This is just what I wanted to be assured of. -- 
13562 Oh! if you knew how much I love every thing that is decided and open! -- 
13563 Good-bye, good-bye."



13564 CHAPTER XVII


13565 Mrs Weston's friends were all made happy by her safety;
13566 and if the satisfaction of her well-doing could be increased
13567 to Emma, it was by knowing her to be the mother of a little girl.
13568 She had been decided in wishing for a Miss Weston.  She would
13569 not acknowledge that it was with any view of making a match
13570 for her, hereafter, with either of Isabella's sons; but she was
13571 convinced that a daughter would suit both father and mother best.
13572 It would be a great comfort to Mr Weston, as he grew older -- 
13573 and even Mr Weston might be growing older ten years hence -- to have
13574 his fireside enlivened by the sports and the nonsense, the freaks
13575 and the fancies of a child never banished from home; and Mrs Weston -- 
13576 no one could doubt that a daughter would be most to her; and it
13577 would be quite a pity that any one who so well knew how to teach,
13578 should not have their powers in exercise again.

13579 "She has had the advantage, you know, of practising on me,"
13580 she continued -- "like La Baronne d'Almane on La Comtesse d'Ostalis,
13581 in Madame de Genlis' Adelaide and Theodore, and we shall now see
13582 her own little Adelaide educated on a more perfect plan."

13583 "That is," replied Mr Knightley, "she will indulge her even more
13584 than she did you, and believe that she does not indulge her at all.
13585 It will be the only difference."

13586 "Poor child!" cried Emma; "at that rate, what will become of her?"

13587 "Nothing very bad. -- The fate of thousands.  She will be disagreeable
13588 in infancy, and correct herself as she grows older.  I am losing
13589 all my bitterness against spoilt children, my dearest Emma.
13590 I, who am owing all my happiness to _you_, would not it be horrible
13591 ingratitude in me to be severe on them?"

13592 Emma laughed, and replied:  "But I had the assistance of all
13593 your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people.
13594 I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it."

13595 "Do you? -- I have no doubt.  Nature gave you understanding: -- 
13596 Miss Taylor gave you principles.  You must have done well.
13597 My interference was quite as likely to do harm as good.  It was
13598 very natural for you to say, what right has he to lecture me? -- 
13599 and I am afraid very natural for you to feel that it was done
13600 in a disagreeable manner.  I do not believe I did you any good.
13601 The good was all to myself, by making you an object of the tenderest
13602 affection to me.  I could not think about you so much without doating
13603 on you, faults and all; and by dint of fancying so many errors,
13604 have been in love with you ever since you were thirteen at least."

13605 "I am sure you were of use to me," cried Emma.  "I was very often
13606 influenced rightly by you -- oftener than I would own at the time.
13607 I am very sure you did me good.  And if poor little Anna Weston is
13608 to be spoiled, it will be the greatest humanity in you to do as much
13609 for her as you have done for me, except falling in love with her
13610 when she is thirteen."

13611 "How often, when you were a girl, have you said to me, with one
13612 of your saucy looks -- `Mr Knightley, I am going to do so-and-so;
13613 papa says I may, or I have Miss Taylor's leave' -- something which,
13614 you knew, I did not approve.  In such cases my interference was giving
13615 you two bad feelings instead of one."

13616 "What an amiable creature I was! -- No wonder you should hold
13617 my speeches in such affectionate remembrance."

13618 "`Mr Knightley.' -- You always called me, `Mr Knightley;' and,
13619 from habit, it has not so very formal a sound. -- And yet it is formal.
13620 I want you to call me something else, but I do not know what."

13621 "I remember once calling you `George,' in one of my amiable fits,
13622 about ten years ago.  I did it because I thought it would offend you;
13623 but, as you made no objection, I never did it again."

13624 "And cannot you call me `George' now?"

13625 "Impossible! -- I never can call you any thing but `Mr Knightley.'
13626 I will not promise even to equal the elegant terseness of Mrs Elton,
13627 by calling you Mr K. -- But I will promise," she added presently,
13628 laughing and blushing -- "I will promise to call you once by your
13629 Christian name.  I do not say when, but perhaps you may guess
13630 where; -- in the building in which N. takes M. for better, for worse."

13631 Emma grieved that she could not be more openly just to one
13632 important service which his better sense would have rendered her,
13633 to the advice which would have saved her from the worst of all
13634 her womanly follies -- her wilful intimacy with Harriet Smith;
13635 but it was too tender a subject. -- She could not enter on it. -- 
13636 Harriet was very seldom mentioned between them.  This, on his side,
13637 might merely proceed from her not being thought of; but Emma
13638 was rather inclined to attribute it to delicacy, and a suspicion,
13639 from some appearances, that their friendship were declining.
13640 She was aware herself, that, parting under any other circumstances,
13641 they certainly should have corresponded more, and that her
13642 intelligence would not have rested, as it now almost wholly did,
13643 on Isabella's letters.  He might observe that it was so.  The pain
13644 of being obliged to practise concealment towards him, was very little
13645 inferior to the pain of having made Harriet unhappy.

13646 Isabella sent quite as good an account of her visitor as could
13647 be expected; on her first arrival she had thought her out of spirits,
13648 which appeared perfectly natural, as there was a dentist to
13649 be consulted; but, since that business had been over, she did not
13650 appear to find Harriet different from what she had known her before. -- 
13651 Isabella, to be sure, was no very quick observer; yet if Harriet
13652 had not been equal to playing with the children, it would not have
13653 escaped her.  Emma's comforts and hopes were most agreeably carried on,
13654 by Harriet's being to stay longer; her fortnight was likely to be
13655 a month at least.  Mr and Mrs John Knightley were to come down
13656 in August, and she was invited to remain till they could bring her back.

13657 "John does not even mention your friend," said Mr Knightley.
13658 "Here is his answer, if you like to see it."

13659 It was the answer to the communication of his intended marriage.
13660 Emma accepted it with a very eager hand, with an impatience all alive
13661 to know what he would say about it, and not at all checked by hearing
13662 that her friend was unmentioned.

13663 "John enters like a brother into my happiness," continued Mr Knightley,
13664 "but he is no complimenter; and though I well know him to have,
13665 likewise, a most brotherly affection for you, he is so far from
13666 making flourishes, that any other young woman might think him rather
13667 cool in her praise.  But I am not afraid of your seeing what he writes."

13668 "He writes like a sensible man," replied Emma, when she had read
13669 the letter.  "I honour his sincerity.  It is very plain that he
13670 considers the good fortune of the engagement as all on my side,
13671 but that he is not without hope of my growing, in time, as worthy
13672 of your affection, as you think me already.  Had he said any thing
13673 to bear a different construction, I should not have believed him."

13674 "My Emma, he means no such thing.  He only means -- "

13675 "He and I should differ very little in our estimation of the two,"
13676 interrupted she, with a sort of serious smile -- "much less, perhaps,
13677 than he is aware of, if we could enter without ceremony or reserve
13678 on the subject."

13679 "Emma, my dear Emma -- "

13680 "Oh!" she cried with more thorough gaiety, "if you fancy your
13681 brother does not do me justice, only wait till my dear father is in
13682 the secret, and hear his opinion.  Depend upon it, he will be much
13683 farther from doing _you_ justice.  He will think all the happiness,
13684 all the advantage, on your side of the question; all the merit
13685 on mine.  I wish I may not sink into `poor Emma' with him at once. -- 
13686 His tender compassion towards oppressed worth can go no farther."

13687 "Ah!" he cried, "I wish your father might be half as easily convinced
13688 as John will be, of our having every right that equal worth can give,
13689 to be happy together.  I am amused by one part of John's letter -- 
13690 did you notice it? -- where he says, that my information did not take
13691 him wholly by surprize, that he was rather in expectation of hearing
13692 something of the kind."

13693 "If I understand your brother, he only means so far as your having
13694 some thoughts of marrying.  He had no idea of me.  He seems perfectly
13695 unprepared for that."

13696 "Yes, yes -- but I am amused that he should have seen so far into
13697 my feelings.  What has he been judging by? -- I am not conscious
13698 of any difference in my spirits or conversation that could prepare
13699 him at this time for my marrying any more than at another. -- 
13700 But it was so, I suppose.  I dare say there was a difference when I
13701 was staying with them the other day.  I believe I did not play
13702 with the children quite so much as usual.  I remember one evening
13703 the poor boys saying, `Uncle seems always tired now.'"

13704 The time was coming when the news must spread farther, and other persons'
13705 reception of it tried.  As soon as Mrs Weston was sufficiently
13706 recovered to admit Mr Woodhouse's visits, Emma having it in view
13707 that her gentle reasonings should be employed in the cause,
13708 resolved first to announce it at home, and then at Randalls. -- 
13709 But how to break it to her father at last! -- She had bound herself
13710 to do it, in such an hour of Mr Knightley's absence, or when it
13711 came to the point her heart would have failed her, and she must
13712 have put it off; but Mr Knightley was to come at such a time,
13713 and follow up the beginning she was to make. -- She was forced
13714 to speak, and to speak cheerfully too.  She must not make it a more
13715 decided subject of misery to him, by a melancholy tone herself.
13716 She must not appear to think it a misfortune. -- With all the spirits
13717 she could command, she prepared him first for something strange,
13718 and then, in a few words, said, that if his consent and approbation
13719 could be obtained -- which, she trusted, would be attended with
13720 no difficulty, since it was a plan to promote the happiness of all -- 
13721 she and Mr Knightley meant to marry; by which means Hartfield
13722 would receive the constant addition of that person's company
13723 whom she knew he loved, next to his daughters and Mrs Weston,
13724 best in the world.

13725 Poor man! -- it was at first a considerable shock to him, and he tried
13726 earnestly to dissuade her from it.  She was reminded, more than once,
13727 of having always said she would never marry, and assured that it
13728 would be a great deal better for her to remain single; and told of
13729 poor Isabella, and poor Miss Taylor. -- But it would not do.  Emma hung
13730 about him affectionately, and smiled, and said it must be so; and that
13731 he must not class her with Isabella and Mrs Weston, whose marriages
13732 taking them from Hartfield, had, indeed, made a melancholy change:
13733 but she was not going from Hartfield; she should be always there;
13734 she was introducing no change in their numbers or their comforts but
13735 for the better; and she was very sure that he would be a great deal
13736 the happier for having Mr Knightley always at hand, when he were once
13737 got used to the idea. -- Did he not love Mr Knightley very much? -- 
13738 He would not deny that he did, she was sure. -- Whom did he ever want
13739 to consult on business but Mr Knightley? -- Who was so useful to him,
13740 who so ready to write his letters, who so glad to assist him? -- 
13741 Who so cheerful, so attentive, so attached to him? -- Would not he
13742 like to have him always on the spot? -- Yes.  That was all very true.
13743 Mr Knightley could not be there too often; he should be glad to see
13744 him every day; -- but they did see him every day as it was. -- Why could
13745 not they go on as they had done?

13746 Mr Woodhouse could not be soon reconciled; but the worst was overcome,
13747 the idea was given; time and continual repetition must do the rest. -- 
13748 To Emma's entreaties and assurances succeeded Mr Knightley's,
13749 whose fond praise of her gave the subject even a kind of welcome;
13750 and he was soon used to be talked to by each, on every fair occasion. -- 
13751 They had all the assistance which Isabella could give, by letters
13752 of the strongest approbation; and Mrs Weston was ready,
13753 on the first meeting, to consider the subject in the most
13754 serviceable light -- first, as a settled, and, secondly, as a good one -- 
13755 well aware of the nearly equal importance of the two recommendations
13756 to Mr Woodhouse's mind. -- It was agreed upon, as what was to be;
13757 and every body by whom he was used to be guided assuring him that
13758 it would be for his happiness; and having some feelings himself
13759 which almost admitted it, he began to think that some time or other -- 
13760 in another year or two, perhaps -- it might not be so very bad
13761 if the marriage did take place.

13762 Mrs Weston was acting no part, feigning no feelings in all that she
13763 said to him in favour of the event. -- She had been extremely surprized,
13764 never more so, than when Emma first opened the affair to her;
13765 but she saw in it only increase of happiness to all, and had
13766 no scruple in urging him to the utmost. -- She had such a regard
13767 for Mr Knightley, as to think he deserved even her dearest Emma;
13768 and it was in every respect so proper, suitable, and unexceptionable
13769 a connexion, and in one respect, one point of the highest importance,
13770 so peculiarly eligible, so singularly fortunate, that now it seemed
13771 as if Emma could not safely have attached herself to any other creature,
13772 and that she had herself been the stupidest of beings in not having
13773 thought of it, and wished it long ago. -- How very few of those men
13774 in a rank of life to address Emma would have renounced their own
13775 home for Hartfield!  And who but Mr Knightley could know and bear
13776 with Mr Woodhouse, so as to make such an arrangement desirable! -- 
13777 The difficulty of disposing of poor Mr Woodhouse had been always
13778 felt in her husband's plans and her own, for a marriage between Frank
13779 and Emma.  How to settle the claims of Enscombe and Hartfield had
13780 been a continual impediment -- less acknowledged by Mr Weston than
13781 by herself -- but even he had never been able to finish the subject
13782 better than by saying -- "Those matters will take care of themselves;
13783 the young people will find a way."  But here there was nothing to be
13784 shifted off in a wild speculation on the future.  It was all right,
13785 all open, all equal.  No sacrifice on any side worth the name.
13786 It was a union of the highest promise of felicity in itself,
13787 and without one real, rational difficulty to oppose or delay it.

13788 Mrs Weston, with her baby on her knee, indulging in such reflections
13789 as these, was one of the happiest women in the world.  If any thing
13790 could increase her delight, it was perceiving that the baby would
13791 soon have outgrown its first set of caps.

13792 The news was universally a surprize wherever it spread;
13793 and Mr Weston had his five minutes share of it; but five minutes
13794 were enough to familiarise the idea to his quickness of mind. -- 
13795 He saw the advantages of the match, and rejoiced in them with all
13796 the constancy of his wife; but the wonder of it was very soon nothing;
13797 and by the end of an hour he was not far from believing that he
13798 had always foreseen it.

13799 "It is to be a secret, I conclude," said he.  "These matters are
13800 always a secret, till it is found out that every body knows them.
13801 Only let me be told when I may speak out. -- I wonder whether Jane has
13802 any suspicion."

13803 He went to Highbury the next morning, and satisfied himself on
13804 that point.  He told her the news.  Was not she like a daughter,
13805 his eldest daughter? -- he must tell her; and Miss Bates being present,
13806 it passed, of course, to Mrs Cole, Mrs Perry, and Mrs Elton,
13807 immediately afterwards.  It was no more than the principals were
13808 prepared for; they had calculated from the time of its being known
13809 at Randalls, how soon it would be over Highbury; and were thinking
13810 of themselves, as the evening wonder in many a family circle,
13811 with great sagacity.

13812 In general, it was a very well approved match.  Some might think him,
13813 and others might think her, the most in luck.  One set might
13814 recommend their all removing to Donwell, and leaving Hartfield
13815 for the John Knightleys; and another might predict disagreements
13816 among their servants; but yet, upon the whole, there was no serious
13817 objection raised, except in one habitation, the Vicarage. -- There,
13818 the surprize was not softened by any satisfaction.  Mr Elton
13819 cared little about it, compared with his wife; he only hoped "the
13820 young lady's pride would now be contented;" and supposed "she had
13821 always meant to catch Knightley if she could;" and, on the point
13822 of living at Hartfield, could daringly exclaim, "Rather he than I!" -- 
13823 But Mrs Elton was very much discomposed indeed. -- "Poor Knightley!
13824 poor fellow! -- sad business for him. -- She was extremely concerned;
13825 for, though very eccentric, he had a thousand good qualities. -- 
13826 How could he be so taken in? -- Did not think him at all in love -- 
13827 not in the least. -- Poor Knightley! -- There would be an end of all
13828 pleasant intercourse with him. -- How happy he had been to come and dine
13829 with them whenever they asked him!  But that would be all over now. -- 
13830 Poor fellow! -- No more exploring parties to Donwell made for _her_.
13831 Oh! no; there would be a Mrs Knightley to throw cold water on
13832 every thing. -- Extremely disagreeable!  But she was not at all sorry
13833 that she had abused the housekeeper the other day. -- Shocking plan,
13834 living together.  It would never do.  She knew a family near Maple
13835 Grove who had tried it, and been obliged to separate before the end
13836 of the first quarter.



13837 CHAPTER XVIII


13838 Time passed on.  A few more to-morrows, and the party from London
13839 would be arriving.  It was an alarming change; and Emma was thinking
13840 of it one morning, as what must bring a great deal to agitate and
13841 grieve her, when Mr Knightley came in, and distressing thoughts
13842 were put by.  After the first chat of pleasure he was silent;
13843 and then, in a graver tone, began with,

13844 "I have something to tell you, Emma; some news."

13845 "Good or bad?" said she, quickly, looking up in his face.

13846 "I do not know which it ought to be called."

13847 "Oh! good I am sure. -- I see it in your countenance.  You are trying
13848 not to smile."

13849 "I am afraid," said he, composing his features, "I am very much afraid,
13850 my dear Emma, that you will not smile when you hear it."

13851 "Indeed! but why so? -- I can hardly imagine that any thing which
13852 pleases or amuses you, should not please and amuse me too."

13853 "There is one subject," he replied, "I hope but one, on which
13854 we do not think alike."  He paused a moment, again smiling,
13855 with his eyes fixed on her face.  "Does nothing occur to you? -- 
13856 Do not you recollect? -- Harriet Smith."

13857 Her cheeks flushed at the name, and she felt afraid of something,
13858 though she knew not what.

13859 "Have you heard from her yourself this morning?" cried he.
13860 "You have, I believe, and know the whole."

13861 "No, I have not; I know nothing; pray tell me."

13862 "You are prepared for the worst, I see -- and very bad it is.
13863 Harriet Smith marries Robert Martin."

13864 Emma gave a start, which did not seem like being prepared -- 
13865 and her eyes, in eager gaze, said, "No, this is impossible!"
13866 but her lips were closed.

13867 "It is so, indeed," continued Mr Knightley; "I have it from Robert
13868 Martin himself.  He left me not half an hour ago."

13869 She was still looking at him with the most speaking amazement.

13870 "You like it, my Emma, as little as I feared. -- I wish our opinions were
13871 the same.  But in time they will.  Time, you may be sure, will make
13872 one or the other of us think differently; and, in the meanwhile,
13873 we need not talk much on the subject."

13874 "You mistake me, you quite mistake me," she replied, exerting herself.
13875 "It is not that such a circumstance would now make me unhappy,
13876 but I cannot believe it.  It seems an impossibility! -- You cannot mean
13877 to say, that Harriet Smith has accepted Robert Martin.  You cannot
13878 mean that he has even proposed to her again -- yet.  You only mean,
13879 that he intends it."

13880 "I mean that he has done it," answered Mr Knightley, with smiling
13881 but determined decision, "and been accepted."

13882 "Good God!" she cried. -- "Well!" -- Then having recourse to her workbasket,
13883 in excuse for leaning down her face, and concealing all the
13884 exquisite feelings of delight and entertainment which she knew she
13885 must be expressing, she added, "Well, now tell me every thing;
13886 make this intelligible to me.  How, where, when? -- Let me know it all.
13887 I never was more surprized -- but it does not make me unhappy,
13888 I assure you. -- How -- how has it been possible?"

13889 "It is a very simple story.  He went to town on business three days ago,
13890 and I got him to take charge of some papers which I was wanting
13891 to send to John. -- He delivered these papers to John, at his chambers,
13892 and was asked by him to join their party the same evening to Astley's.
13893 They were going to take the two eldest boys to Astley's. The party
13894 was to be our brother and sister, Henry, John -- and Miss Smith.
13895 My friend Robert could not resist.  They called for him in their way;
13896 were all extremely amused; and my brother asked him to dine with
13897 them the next day -- which he did -- and in the course of that visit
13898 (as I understand) he found an opportunity of speaking to Harriet;
13899 and certainly did not speak in vain. -- She made him, by her acceptance,
13900 as happy even as he is deserving.  He came down by yesterday's coach,
13901 and was with me this morning immediately after breakfast, to report
13902 his proceedings, first on my affairs, and then on his own.
13903 This is all that I can relate of the how, where, and when.
13904 Your friend Harriet will make a much longer history when you see her. -- 
13905 She will give you all the minute particulars, which only woman's
13906 language can make interesting. -- In our communications we deal only
13907 in the great. -- However, I must say, that Robert Martin's heart seemed
13908 for _him_, and to _me_, very overflowing; and that he did mention,
13909 without its being much to the purpose, that on quitting their
13910 box at Astley's, my brother took charge of Mrs John Knightley
13911 and little John, and he followed with Miss Smith and Henry;
13912 and that at one time they were in such a crowd, as to make Miss Smith
13913 rather uneasy."

13914 He stopped. -- Emma dared not attempt any immediate reply.  To speak,
13915 she was sure would be to betray a most unreasonable degree
13916 of happiness.  She must wait a moment, or he would think her mad.
13917 Her silence disturbed him; and after observing her a little while,
13918 he added,

13919 "Emma, my love, you said that this circumstance would not now make
13920 you unhappy; but I am afraid it gives you more pain than you expected.
13921 His situation is an evil -- but you must consider it as what satisfies
13922 your friend; and I will answer for your thinking better and better
13923 of him as you know him more.  His good sense and good principles would
13924 delight you. -- As far as the man is concerned, you could not wish your
13925 friend in better hands.  His rank in society I would alter if I could,
13926 which is saying a great deal I assure you, Emma. -- You laugh at me
13927 about William Larkins; but I could quite as ill spare Robert Martin."

13928 He wanted her to look up and smile; and having now brought herself
13929 not to smile too broadly -- she did -- cheerfully answering,

13930 "You need not be at any pains to reconcile me to the match.  I think
13931 Harriet is doing extremely well.  _Her_ connexions may be worse than _his_.
13932 In respectability of character, there can be no doubt that they are.
13933 I have been silent from surprize merely, excessive surprize.
13934 You cannot imagine how suddenly it has come on me! how peculiarly
13935 unprepared I was! -- for I had reason to believe her very lately more
13936 determined against him, much more, than she was before."

13937 "You ought to know your friend best," replied Mr Knightley;
13938 "but I should say she was a good-tempered, soft-hearted girl,
13939 not likely to be very, very determined against any young man who told
13940 her he loved her."

13941 Emma could not help laughing as she answered, "Upon my word,
13942 I believe you know her quite as well as I do. -- But, Mr Knightley,
13943 are you perfectly sure that she has absolutely and downright
13944 _accepted_ him.  I could suppose she might in time -- but can she already? -- 
13945 Did not you misunderstand him? -- You were both talking of other things;
13946 of business, shows of cattle, or new drills -- and might not you,
13947 in the confusion of so many subjects, mistake him? -- It was not
13948 Harriet's hand that he was certain of -- it was the dimensions of some
13949 famous ox."

13950 The contrast between the countenance and air of Mr Knightley and
13951 Robert Martin was, at this moment, so strong to Emma's feelings,
13952 and so strong was the recollection of all that had so recently
13953 passed on Harriet's side, so fresh the sound of those words,
13954 spoken with such emphasis, "No, I hope I know better than to think
13955 of Robert Martin," that she was really expecting the intelligence
13956 to prove, in some measure, premature.  It could not be otherwise.

13957 "Do you dare say this?" cried Mr Knightley.  "Do you dare to suppose
13958 me so great a blockhead, as not to know what a man is talking of? -- 
13959 What do you deserve?"

13960 "Oh!  I always deserve the best treatment, because I never put
13961 up with any other; and, therefore, you must give me a plain,
13962 direct answer.  Are you quite sure that you understand the terms
13963 on which Mr Martin and Harriet now are?"

13964 "I am quite sure," he replied, speaking very distinctly, "that he
13965 told me she had accepted him; and that there was no obscurity,
13966 nothing doubtful, in the words he used; and I think I can give you
13967 a proof that it must be so.  He asked my opinion as to what he
13968 was now to do.  He knew of no one but Mrs Goddard to whom he
13969 could apply for information of her relations or friends.  Could I
13970 mention any thing more fit to be done, than to go to Mrs Goddard?
13971 I assured him that I could not.  Then, he said, he would endeavour
13972 to see her in the course of this day."

13973 "I am perfectly satisfied," replied Emma, with the brightest smiles,
13974 "and most sincerely wish them happy."

13975 "You are materially changed since we talked on this subject before."

13976 "I hope so -- for at that time I was a fool."

13977 "And I am changed also; for I am now very willing to grant you all
13978 Harriet's good qualities.  I have taken some pains for your sake,
13979 and for Robert Martin's sake, (whom I have always had reason to believe
13980 as much in love with her as ever,) to get acquainted with her.
13981 I have often talked to her a good deal.  You must have seen that
13982 I did.  Sometimes, indeed, I have thought you were half suspecting me
13983 of pleading poor Martin's cause, which was never the case; but, from all
13984 my observations, I am convinced of her being an artless, amiable girl,
13985 with very good notions, very seriously good principles, and placing
13986 her happiness in the affections and utility of domestic life. -- 
13987 Much of this, I have no doubt, she may thank you for."

13988 "Me!" cried Emma, shaking her head. -- "Ah! poor Harriet!"

13989 She checked herself, however, and submitted quietly to a little
13990 more praise than she deserved.

13991 Their conversation was soon afterwards closed by the entrance of
13992 her father.  She was not sorry.  She wanted to be alone.  Her mind
13993 was in a state of flutter and wonder, which made it impossible for her
13994 to be collected.  She was in dancing, singing, exclaiming spirits;
13995 and till she had moved about, and talked to herself, and laughed
13996 and reflected, she could be fit for nothing rational.

13997 Her father's business was to announce James's being gone out to put
13998 the horses to, preparatory to their now daily drive to Randalls;
13999 and she had, therefore, an immediate excuse for disappearing.

14000 The joy, the gratitude, the exquisite delight of her sensations
14001 may be imagined.  The sole grievance and alloy thus removed in the
14002 prospect of Harriet's welfare, she was really in danger of becoming
14003 too happy for security. -- What had she to wish for?  Nothing, but to
14004 grow more worthy of him, whose intentions and judgment had been
14005 ever so superior to her own.  Nothing, but that the lessons
14006 of her past folly might teach her humility and circumspection in future.

14007 Serious she was, very serious in her thankfulness, and in her resolutions;
14008 and yet there was no preventing a laugh, sometimes in the very midst
14009 of them.  She must laugh at such a close!  Such an end of the doleful
14010 disappointment of five weeks back!  Such a heart -- such a Harriet!

14011 Now there would be pleasure in her returning -- Every thing would
14012 be a pleasure.  It would be a great pleasure to know Robert Martin.

14013 High in the rank of her most serious and heartfelt felicities,
14014 was the reflection that all necessity of concealment from
14015 Mr Knightley would soon be over.  The disguise, equivocation,
14016 mystery, so hateful to her to practise, might soon be over.
14017 She could now look forward to giving him that full and perfect
14018 confidence which her disposition was most ready to welcome as a duty.

14019 In the gayest and happiest spirits she set forward with her father;
14020 not always listening, but always agreeing to what he said;
14021 and, whether in speech or silence, conniving at the comfortable
14022 persuasion of his being obliged to go to Randalls every day,
14023 or poor Mrs Weston would be disappointed.

14024 They arrived. -- Mrs Weston was alone in the drawing-room: -- 
14025 but hardly had they been told of the baby, and Mr Woodhouse
14026 received the thanks for coming, which he asked for, when a glimpse
14027 was caught through the blind, of two figures passing near the window.

14028 "It is Frank and Miss Fairfax," said Mrs Weston.  "I was just
14029 going to tell you of our agreeable surprize in seeing him arrive
14030 this morning.  He stays till to-morrow, and Miss Fairfax has been
14031 persuaded to spend the day with us. -- They are coming in, I hope."

14032 In half a minute they were in the room.  Emma was extremely glad
14033 to see him -- but there was a degree of confusion -- a number of
14034 embarrassing recollections on each side.  They met readily and smiling,
14035 but with a consciousness which at first allowed little to be said;
14036 and having all sat down again, there was for some time such a blank
14037 in the circle, that Emma began to doubt whether the wish now indulged,
14038 which she had long felt, of seeing Frank Churchill once more,
14039 and of seeing him with Jane, would yield its proportion of pleasure.
14040 When Mr Weston joined the party, however, and when the baby
14041 was fetched, there was no longer a want of subject or animation -- 
14042 or of courage and opportunity for Frank Churchill to draw near her
14043 and say,

14044 "I have to thank you, Miss Woodhouse, for a very kind forgiving
14045 message in one of Mrs Weston's letters.  I hope time has not made
14046 you less willing to pardon.  I hope you do not retract what you
14047 then said."

14048 "No, indeed," cried Emma, most happy to begin, "not in the least.
14049 I am particularly glad to see and shake hands with you -- and to give
14050 you joy in person."

14051 He thanked her with all his heart, and continued some time to speak
14052 with serious feeling of his gratitude and happiness.

14053 "Is not she looking well?" said he, turning his eyes towards Jane.
14054 "Better than she ever used to do? -- You see how my father and
14055 Mrs Weston doat upon her."

14056 But his spirits were soon rising again, and with laughing eyes,
14057 after mentioning the expected return of the Campbells, he named
14058 the name of Dixon. -- Emma blushed, and forbade its being pronounced
14059 in her hearing.

14060 "I can never think of it," she cried, "without extreme shame."

14061 "The shame," he answered, "is all mine, or ought to be.  But is it
14062 possible that you had no suspicion? -- I mean of late.  Early, I know,
14063 you had none."

14064 "I never had the smallest, I assure you."

14065 "That appears quite wonderful.  I was once very near -- and I wish I had -- 
14066 it would have been better.  But though I was always doing wrong things,
14067 they were very bad wrong things, and such as did me no service. -- 
14068 It would have been a much better transgression had I broken the bond
14069 of secrecy and told you every thing."

14070 "It is not now worth a regret," said Emma.

14071 "I have some hope," resumed he, "of my uncle's being persuaded
14072 to pay a visit at Randalls; he wants to be introduced to her.
14073 When the Campbells are returned, we shall meet them in London,
14074 and continue there, I trust, till we may carry her northward. -- But now,
14075 I am at such a distance from her -- is not it hard, Miss Woodhouse? -- 
14076 Till this morning, we have not once met since the day of reconciliation.
14077 Do not you pity me?"

14078 Emma spoke her pity so very kindly, that with a sudden accession
14079 of gay thought, he cried,

14080 "Ah! by the bye," then sinking his voice, and looking demure for
14081 the moment -- "I hope Mr Knightley is well?"  He paused. -- She coloured
14082 and laughed. -- "I know you saw my letter, and think you may remember
14083 my wish in your favour.  Let me return your congratulations. -- 
14084 I assure you that I have heard the news with the warmest interest
14085 and satisfaction. -- He is a man whom I cannot presume to praise."

14086 Emma was delighted, and only wanted him to go on in the same style;
14087 but his mind was the next moment in his own concerns and with his
14088 own Jane, and his next words were,

14089 "Did you ever see such a skin? -- such smoothness! such delicacy! -- 
14090 and yet without being actually fair. -- One cannot call her fair.
14091 It is a most uncommon complexion, with her dark eye-lashes and hair -- 
14092 a most distinguishing complexion!  So peculiarly the lady in it. -- 
14093 Just colour enough for beauty."

14094 "I have always admired her complexion," replied Emma, archly; "but do not
14095 I remember the time when you found fault with her for being so pale? -- 
14096 When we first began to talk of her. -- Have you quite forgotten?"

14097 "Oh! no -- what an impudent dog I was! -- How could I dare -- "

14098 But he laughed so heartily at the recollection, that Emma could
14099 not help saying,

14100 "I do suspect that in the midst of your perplexities at that time,
14101 you had very great amusement in tricking us all. -- I am sure you had. -- 
14102 I am sure it was a consolation to you."

14103 "Oh! no, no, no -- how can you suspect me of such a thing?
14104 I was the most miserable wretch!"

14105 "Not quite so miserable as to be insensible to mirth.  I am sure it
14106 was a source of high entertainment to you, to feel that you were taking
14107 us all in. -- Perhaps I am the readier to suspect, because, to tell
14108 you the truth, I think it might have been some amusement to myself
14109 in the same situation.  I think there is a little likeness between us."

14110 He bowed.

14111 "If not in our dispositions," she presently added, with a look of
14112 true sensibility, "there is a likeness in our destiny; the destiny
14113 which bids fair to connect us with two characters so much superior
14114 to our own."

14115 "True, true," he answered, warmly.  "No, not true on your side.  You can
14116 have no superior, but most true on mine. -- She is a complete angel.
14117 Look at her.  Is not she an angel in every gesture?  Observe the turn
14118 of her throat.  Observe her eyes, as she is looking up at my father. -- 
14119 You will be glad to hear (inclining his head, and whispering seriously)
14120 that my uncle means to give her all my aunt's jewels.  They are to be
14121 new set.  I am resolved to have some in an ornament for the head.
14122 Will not it be beautiful in her dark hair?"

14123 "Very beautiful, indeed," replied Emma; and she spoke so kindly,
14124 that he gratefully burst out,

14125 "How delighted I am to see you again! and to see you in such
14126 excellent looks! -- I would not have missed this meeting for the world.
14127 I should certainly have called at Hartfield, had you failed to come."

14128 The others had been talking of the child, Mrs Weston giving an
14129 account of a little alarm she had been under, the evening before,
14130 from the infant's appearing not quite well.  She believed she had
14131 been foolish, but it had alarmed her, and she had been within half
14132 a minute of sending for Mr Perry.  Perhaps she ought to be ashamed,
14133 but Mr Weston had been almost as uneasy as herself. -- In ten minutes,
14134 however, the child had been perfectly well again.  This was
14135 her history; and particularly interesting it was to Mr Woodhouse,
14136 who commended her very much for thinking of sending for Perry,
14137 and only regretted that she had not done it.  "She should always send
14138 for Perry, if the child appeared in the slightest degree disordered,
14139 were it only for a moment.  She could not be too soon alarmed,
14140 nor send for Perry too often.  It was a pity, perhaps, that he
14141 had not come last night; for, though the child seemed well now,
14142 very well considering, it would probably have been better if Perry
14143 had seen it."

14144 Frank Churchill caught the name.

14145 "Perry!" said he to Emma, and trying, as he spoke, to catch Miss
14146 Fairfax's eye.  "My friend Mr Perry!  What are they saying
14147 about Mr Perry? -- Has he been here this morning? -- And how does
14148 he travel now? -- Has he set up his carriage?"

14149 Emma soon recollected, and understood him; and while she joined
14150 in the laugh, it was evident from Jane's countenance that she
14151 too was really hearing him, though trying to seem deaf.

14152 "Such an extraordinary dream of mine!" he cried.  "I can never think
14153 of it without laughing. -- She hears us, she hears us, Miss Woodhouse.
14154 I see it in her cheek, her smile, her vain attempt to frown.
14155 Look at her.  Do not you see that, at this instant, the very passage
14156 of her own letter, which sent me the report, is passing under her eye -- 
14157 that the whole blunder is spread before her -- that she can attend to
14158 nothing else, though pretending to listen to the others?"

14159 Jane was forced to smile completely, for a moment; and the smile
14160 partly remained as she turned towards him, and said in a conscious,
14161 low, yet steady voice,

14162 "How you can bear such recollections, is astonishing to me! -- 
14163 They _will_ sometimes obtrude -- but how you can court them!"

14164 He had a great deal to say in return, and very entertainingly;
14165 but Emma's feelings were chiefly with Jane, in the argument; and on
14166 leaving Randalls, and falling naturally into a comparison of the two men,
14167 she felt, that pleased as she had been to see Frank Churchill,
14168 and really regarding him as she did with friendship, she had never
14169 been more sensible of Mr Knightley's high superiority of character.
14170 The happiness of this most happy day, received its completion, in the
14171 animated contemplation of his worth which this comparison produced.



14172 CHAPTER XIX


14173 If Emma had still, at intervals, an anxious feeling for Harriet,
14174 a momentary doubt of its being possible for her to be really cured
14175 of her attachment to Mr Knightley, and really able to accept
14176 another man from unbiased inclination, it was not long that she
14177 had to suffer from the recurrence of any such uncertainty.
14178 A very few days brought the party from London, and she had no
14179 sooner an opportunity of being one hour alone with Harriet,
14180 than she became perfectly satisfied -- unaccountable as it was! -- 
14181 that Robert Martin had thoroughly supplanted Mr Knightley,
14182 and was now forming all her views of happiness.

14183 Harriet was a little distressed -- did look a little foolish at first:
14184 but having once owned that she had been presumptuous and silly,
14185 and self-deceived, before, her pain and confusion seemed to die
14186 away with the words, and leave her without a care for the past,
14187 and with the fullest exultation in the present and future; for, as to
14188 her friend's approbation, Emma had instantly removed every fear of
14189 that nature, by meeting her with the most unqualified congratulations. -- 
14190 Harriet was most happy to give every particular of the evening at
14191 Astley's, and the dinner the next day; she could dwell on it all
14192 with the utmost delight.  But what did such particulars explain? -- 
14193 The fact was, as Emma could now acknowledge, that Harriet had
14194 always liked Robert Martin; and that his continuing to love her had
14195 been irresistible. -- Beyond this, it must ever be unintelligible
14196 to Emma.

14197 The event, however, was most joyful; and every day was giving her
14198 fresh reason for thinking so. -- Harriet's parentage became known.
14199 She proved to be the daughter of a tradesman, rich enough to afford
14200 her the comfortable maintenance which had ever been hers, and decent
14201 enough to have always wished for concealment. -- Such was the blood
14202 of gentility which Emma had formerly been so ready to vouch for! -- 
14203 It was likely to be as untainted, perhaps, as the blood of many
14204 a gentleman:  but what a connexion had she been preparing for
14205 Mr Knightley -- or for the Churchills -- or even for Mr Elton! -- 
14206 The stain of illegitimacy, unbleached by nobility or wealth,
14207 would have been a stain indeed.

14208 No objection was raised on the father's side; the young man was
14209 treated liberally; it was all as it should be:  and as Emma became
14210 acquainted with Robert Martin, who was now introduced at Hartfield,
14211 she fully acknowledged in him all the appearance of sense and worth
14212 which could bid fairest for her little friend.  She had no doubt
14213 of Harriet's happiness with any good-tempered man; but with him,
14214 and in the home he offered, there would be the hope of more,
14215 of security, stability, and improvement.  She would be placed in the
14216 midst of those who loved her, and who had better sense than herself;
14217 retired enough for safety, and occupied enough for cheerfulness.
14218 She would be never led into temptation, nor left for it to find her out.
14219 She would be respectable and happy; and Emma admitted her to be
14220 the luckiest creature in the world, to have created so steady and
14221 persevering an affection in such a man; -- or, if not quite the luckiest,
14222 to yield only to herself.

14223 Harriet, necessarily drawn away by her engagements with the Martins,
14224 was less and less at Hartfield; which was not to be regretted. -- 
14225 The intimacy between her and Emma must sink; their friendship must
14226 change into a calmer sort of goodwill; and, fortunately, what ought
14227 to be, and must be, seemed already beginning, and in the most gradual,
14228 natural manner.

14229 Before the end of September, Emma attended Harriet to church, and saw
14230 her hand bestowed on Robert Martin with so complete a satisfaction,
14231 as no remembrances, even connected with Mr Elton as he stood
14232 before them, could impair. -- Perhaps, indeed, at that time she
14233 scarcely saw Mr Elton, but as the clergyman whose blessing at the
14234 altar might next fall on herself. -- Robert Martin and Harriet Smith,
14235 the latest couple engaged of the three, were the first to be married.

14236 Jane Fairfax had already quitted Highbury, and was restored to the
14237 comforts of her beloved home with the Campbells. -- The Mr Churchills
14238 were also in town; and they were only waiting for November.

14239 The intermediate month was the one fixed on, as far as they dared,
14240 by Emma and Mr Knightley. -- They had determined that their marriage
14241 ought to be concluded while John and Isabella were still at Hartfield,
14242 to allow them the fortnight's absence in a tour to the seaside,
14243 which was the plan. -- John and Isabella, and every other friend,
14244 were agreed in approving it.  But Mr Woodhouse -- how was Mr Woodhouse
14245 to be induced to consent? -- he, who had never yet alluded to their
14246 marriage but as a distant event.

14247 When first sounded on the subject, he was so miserable, that they
14248 were almost hopeless. -- A second allusion, indeed, gave less pain. -- 
14249 He began to think it was to be, and that he could not prevent it -- 
14250 a very promising step of the mind on its way to resignation.
14251 Still, however, he was not happy.  Nay, he appeared so much otherwise,
14252 that his daughter's courage failed.  She could not bear to see
14253 him suffering, to know him fancying himself neglected; and though
14254 her understanding almost acquiesced in the assurance of both the
14255 Mr Knightleys, that when once the event were over, his distress
14256 would be soon over too, she hesitated -- she could not proceed.

14257 In this state of suspense they were befriended, not by any sudden
14258 illumination of Mr Woodhouse's mind, or any wonderful change of his
14259 nervous system, but by the operation of the same system in another way. -- 
14260 Mrs Weston's poultry-house was robbed one night of all her turkeys -- 
14261 evidently by the ingenuity of man.  Other poultry-yards in the
14262 neighbourhood also suffered. -- Pilfering was _housebreaking_ to
14263 Mr Woodhouse's fears. -- He was very uneasy; and but for the sense
14264 of his son-in-law's protection, would have been under wretched alarm
14265 every night of his life.  The strength, resolution, and presence
14266 of mind of the Mr Knightleys, commanded his fullest dependence.
14267 While either of them protected him and his, Hartfield was safe. -- 
14268 But Mr John Knightley must be in London again by the end of the
14269 first week in November.

14270 The result of this distress was, that, with a much more voluntary,
14271 cheerful consent than his daughter had ever presumed to hope for at
14272 the moment, she was able to fix her wedding-day -- and Mr Elton was
14273 called on, within a month from the marriage of Mr and Mrs Robert
14274 Martin, to join the hands of Mr Knightley and Miss Woodhouse.

14275 The wedding was very much like other weddings, where the parties
14276 have no taste for finery or parade; and Mrs Elton, from the
14277 particulars detailed by her husband, thought it all extremely shabby,
14278 and very inferior to her own. -- "Very little white satin, very few
14279 lace veils; a most pitiful business! -- Selina would stare when she
14280 heard of it." -- But, in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes,
14281 the hopes, the confidence, the predictions of the small band
14282 of true friends who witnessed the ceremony, were fully answered
14283 in the perfect happiness of the union.

14284 FINIS

14285 End of Emma, by Jane Austen